#so he told me to shut it down and had to call the other station to tell them to let me in for free bc my phone is trying to end me

[pathologicalreid]

prisoner | s.r.

in which you and Spencer conduct a custodial interview with a serial killer - Spencer's first since he was released

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: post prison reid, fwb but also mutual pining, serial killers, prison, panic attack, chiromancy word count: 3.66k a/n: i originally came up with this idea in 2023 😭 😭 it's about time i finished it lol. definitely suffers from exposition overload but i don't caaaaare.

Fourteen times.

You had asked him fourteen times if he thought he was going to be okay doing the custodial interview. No one else was available to do it, but you still had your reservations. Sending Spencer to a prison felt wrong, even if he wasn’t on the inside of the bars anymore.

Without telling him the reason, Emily elected to send you with him to the facility, she said it was because you had never done one before, but you knew it was deeper than that. “How many victims?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the road as you drove to the destination.

“Eight,” Spencer answered, looking through the case file. The killer had asked for the interview, hoping to be transferred to a minimum-security facility. The odds weren’t good, but you needed to oblige the request even if it wouldn’t prove successful.

You hummed, turning down the road, you pulled up to the security station. Presenting your credentials to the guard, he lifted the gate for you, and you found your reserved parking. “Do you want to take the lead?” You asked him, trying to gauge how he was doing.

Nodding, Spencer got out of the SUV. You shut off the engine and followed suit. “Unless it doesn’t seem like he’s responding to me, I’d rather not present him with someone who fits in with his victim pool.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you said sardonically, grabbing your bag from the backseat before locking the car and following Spencer inside.

The two of you went through security, locking up your weapons and going through metal detectors. It wasn’t until you went inside the first gate that you noticed it; Spencer was fiddling with the belt loop of his slacks. “I can feel you staring,” he whispered so only you could hear. You watched his posture relax when the gate buzzed and opened in front of him.

You smiled softly, “I can see you fidgeting,” you responded. At work, the two of you were merely coworkers who knew each other really well, so you couldn’t just reach out and take his hand. Not that you’d want to, in a prison full of serial killers.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, implying that he wasn’t right now. The smile fell off your face as the two of you followed the guard into the warden’s office.

At the sight of you, the warden stood and smiled, “You must be Agents Y/L/N and Reid, thank you for making the trip down here.”

Raising your eyebrows, you reach out your hand for the warden to shake, “He’s Dr. Reid, actually.” You corrected, seeing as Spencer didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Ah, my apologies, Dr. Reid,” he responded kindly, gesturing for the two of you to follow him.

Spencer gently brushed your hand as you followed the warden. It was so subtle that someone else could’ve brushed it off as an accident, but Spencer Reid never did anything without purpose.

“Marshal Lukins is the most prolific killer we’ve had in my time here, we aren’t expecting anything to come of this, but you know as well as I do that we have to humor the psychos,” Warden McCall told you, stopping in front of a gate and calling out for it to be opened.

You raised your eyebrows, deciding against telling the warden that Lukins profiled as a sociopath, not a psychopath. “How’s his behavior been here?”

The warden shrugged, “He won’t be winning any merit badges any time soon, that’s for sure. Spends most of his time in solitary, really.”

“His file said he had gotten into an altercation with another prisoner, what was that about?” Spencer asked.

McCall cleared his throat, “turf war. You know, prison gangs can get rowdy. Especially when they find out the feds are coming.”

You raised your eyebrows, grateful you couldn’t see Spencer’s expression. “Oh, yeah,” he said quietly.

Then you were in front of a serial killer, someone who had been put away years ago, but the way he looked at you sent shivers down your spine. “Marshal Lukins?” You confirmed.

“Why hello, pretty lady,” Lukins responded, rising from the chair. His legs were chained to the ground, but his hands were free.

Behind you, Spencer cleared his throat, “Sit down,” he ordered. Taking a tone of authority that you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him.

Taking your seat across from Lukins, you looked him in the eyes, “You may call me Agent Y/L/N.” 

Your interviewee shrugged, “I’ll call you whatever I want in my mind later.”

Ignoring the hairs that stood up on the back of your neck, you rolled your eyes at the skeevy pervert. “If you want to be transferred, you’re not making a very good first impression,” Spencer intervened, likely aware of your discomfort.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first criminal to make a pass at you, and in your line of work, it likely wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m not much worried about first impressions, people usually have a first opinion about me before they even hear my voice,” he responded, leaning back in the chair.

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from responding, yeah, that happens when you murder eight women. “What would you rather our opinion of you be? That you’re misunderstood? Did you find god in prison, Marshal?” You asked him.

He leaned over the table ever so slightly, yellowed teeth flashing beneath the fluorescent light that hung above the interrogation table, “Would you like me to show him to you?”

Raising your eyebrows, you maintained a bored disposition while flipping open your files, “No.”

With custodials like this, you weren’t allowed to have photos in your files. Lukins was a sexual sadist, and the profile that Aaron Hotchner had put together was damning, describing the man in front of you to a T. He even got the age correct, right down to the receding hairline. Even though Lukins was in prison, you’d never provide him with visual aids to relive his crimes.

“Why did you request this interview if you weren’t interested in playing nice?” Spencer asked, setting his own files on the table in front of him, but he refrained from opening them. He managed to memorize their contents on the drive from Quantico, enabling him to weaponize his memory.

Lukins put his hands up in mock surrender, “I was hoping they’d send me someone nice to look at, make a good conversation with, and boy am I glad I took that chance.”

Spencer clasped his hands together and set them on the steel table, “Thank you,” he responded, keeping himself stone-faced in the presence of the killer.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the criminal in front of you snapped, jutting his chin in your direction.

Bored, your partner spoke up again, “Yes, you are,” he corrected. You were unable to communicate with Spencer without tipping off Lukins, so you let him continue, trusting that he knew where he was going with this. “In your trial, you said all of your victims were your sheep,” Spencer recalled from the file, “Is that why you shaved their heads before gutting them?”

Lukins scoffed, bored easily within the confines of the interview, “My sheep were my friends, but every sheep needs a wolf. Isn’t that right, Bo Peep?” He asked you, meeting your gaze despite the fact that Spencer all but told him not to engage with you.

You narrowed your gaze at him, tilting your head innocently, “Would you have let me be one of your sheep?”

He gave you a look that made you feel like you needed a shower, “You would’ve been a nice addition, could’ve rounded out my numbers.”

He reached out a hand, trying to take a piece of your hair between his grimy fingers, but you stood up quickly, stepping back from the table and almost tripping over your chair in response.

A few prison guards came in at the sudden movement, and Spencer had a vice-like grip on Lukins’ wrist, keeping him away from you. Tossing his arm back at him, Spencer glared at the killer, “No touching,” he instructed, looking back at you to check-in. He opened the door to the room, ushering you out before looking at the guards, “I want him in cuffs.”

With a hand on the small of your back, Spencer herded you to the private space that the two of you were expected to inhabit for the day. “Hey,” you spoke to him once the door was shut behind you.

Spencer was filled to the brim with nervous energy, shaking out his hands in an attempt to expel his nerves, “We should just go back to Quantico.” He shook his head, brown curls fanning out around his face, “There’s no way he can tell us anything that will get us to endorse his transfer.”

Watching him like this made your chest ache, and you had no idea what to do with that emotion. Your relationship with Spencer was strictly horizontal—usually—and you found yourself floundering when it came to how to act outside of bed. You wanted to take his hand, desperate to run your fingers over his knuckles and find the familiar callus from where his pencil rests on his finger, but you just couldn’t get yourself to reach out.

You hadn’t known Spencer before he was arrested in Mexico, but you made your mark on him without ever letting him lay his eyes on you. You sent letters to him along with the rest of the team, refraining from talking about cases and instead choosing to use your letters as a personal diary, chronicling your first three months with the Behavioral Analysis Unit with your prison pen pal. Periodically, you put money in his commissary account, despite the rest of the team telling you that you shouldn’t feel inclined to.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, your eyes tracked his pacing in the conference room before you started to voice your concern, “We have to go back in, Reid.” You grabbed a water bottle from the counter and twisted the cap off before handing it to him.

He took the water begrudgingly, glaring at you as he did so, “Why do we have to go back in, exactly?” After taking a sip of the water, he handed it to you so you could have some. You could’ve grabbed your own, but surely this was quicker.

“Lukins said I would’ve rounded out his numbers,” you told him, nervously fiddling with the cap of the water bottle as you waited for him to get it.

Spencer adjusted his tie, pulling the silk fabric further from his neck, “Yeah, I heard him.” It bothered him, the slightest implication that you were endangered in that interview room put him on edge, but all you could do was sit down and watch him.

You sighed, “We only have a record of eight victims. We don’t know what he’s rounding to, but that’s at least two more bodies that we don’t know about.” Lukins could be rounding up to ten, which would be the closest option, or you were looking at the possibility of a considerably higher body count. Your fear was that he would use those additional kills as a bartering tool to get a transfer.

He stopped in his tracks while he processed what you were telling him. Spencer turned to you, lips parted before he nodded, eventually agreeing with you even if it pained him to do so. “We should call Emily and let her know what’s going on,” he told you, taking a seat across from you and placing his head in his hands. “I’m gonna step outside for a second,” he said, getting up just as quickly as he took a seat and swinging the door open, leaving you alone in the conference room.

Holding your tongue, you stopped yourself from voicing your approval, even though you did think some fresh air would be good for him. Instead, you watched the door click shut before fishing your phone out of your pocket, tapping on Emily’s contact before bringing the phone to your ear.

“How’s it going?” Emily asked you as soon as she answered, and you couldn’t help but picture your unit chief waiting by her phone, hoping to hear from you or Spencer.

You sighed, inadvertently cluing her into how the custodial interview was going, “We might have a problem,” you told her. Continuing on to explain what had happened between you and Marshal Lukins, all the way up through your discovery that he might have a higher victim count.

Prentiss clicked her tongue on the other end of the line, “What does Spencer think?”

The question didn’t come as a surprise to you, neither did the fact that her inflection told you that she was sneakily trying to ask you how Spencer was. Wiping your free palm along the fabric of your pants, you leaned against the table, “Reid thinks Lukins is out for blood.” You opened your mouth to continue but were interrupted by an alarm being tripped, your head snapped up as lights started to flash on the walls.

“What’s going on?” Emily questioned you over the phone, but you could barely hear her over the blare of the alarm, a low-pitched buzzing sound that made your brain feel like it was vibrating within your skull.

Clambering to your feet, you grabbed your water bottle and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you as you looked aimlessly around the prison for someone who could offer you an explanation. “I’ve gotta go,” you blurted into the receiver, stuffing your phone in your pocket and making your way to the front of the prison, ignoring the men who shouted at you from behind bars.

You looked down the walkway, watching as the failsafe on the doors was triggered and they slowly started to shut, triggering you to try and make a run for it. “Y/N,” Spencer called out your name, picking up his own pace from the opposite direction.

It didn’t take you long to realize that you weren’t going to make it, skidding to a halt as the bars clicked shut in front of you. You weren’t scared until you watched Spencer pull at the door, frantically trying to slide it open, “Reid,” you said his name, trying to get his attention. “Reid,” you shouted that time, trying to make sure he heard you over the alarm.

He didn’t pause to look at you, he simply continued to pull at the bars.

“Spence,” you said desperately, and that time his eyes snapped to yours. Wide brown eyes bore into yours as you placed one of your hands on his, both of them encircling the bar. “It’s not going to open,” you reminded him. A fact he was well aware of but didn’t want to acknowledge.

Silently, he leaned back into the wall, sliding down the side of it and looking up at the ceiling, pulling at his tie again, this time taking it all the way off. “It’s a lockdown,” he panted helplessly, “They’re in a lockdown.”

You nodded softly, having drawn that conclusion on your own, “It’s okay,” you told him softly, reaching through the bars and taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re alright, Spence,” you continued, your tone bordering on a coo.

He pulled his knees to his chest and slung his free arm over his legs, hugging himself.

It broke your heart to watch him like this. You pointed in the direction he came from, “Look. Hey, you could be free to leave, I’m the one who’s locked in,” you told him, highlighting the fact that the bars were blocking you, but Spencer could make his way back to the entryway.

“Not helping,” he told you, his voice almost a gasp as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Your shoulder’s slumped forward slightly, “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

Spencer just shook his head, squeezing your hand in response when you started sweeping your thumb over his knuckles. You ignored the buzzing of your phone in your pocket as you watched him, completely focused on making sure he was okay before you did anything else.

With your free hand, you grabbed the water bottle that you took from the conference room and slipped it through the bars. “Here, take this,” you murmured, setting it on the ground next to him when he didn’t take the bottle from you.

He visibly relaxed when the alarm stopped going off, but the lights were still flashing, which offered somewhat of an explanation as to why the door hadn’t opened yet.

You fiddled with his hand, opening up his palm and tracing the lines on his hand with your index finger, “Have you ever had your palm read?” You asked him, twisting your head to get a better look at it.

He looked at you, the panicked look in his eyes had subsided, promptly replaced with incredulity, “When have I ever struck you as the kind of person who would get my palm read?”

Shrugging, you slowly traced his love line, “You like Halloween, I thought maybe you’d let your curiosity get the best of you.” Although you supposed if Spencer really wanted to have his palm read, he’d just do it yourself. “When I was in college, my summer job was reading palms in a booth at an amusement park,” you informed him.

Spencer chuckled at your revelation, and the sound made your heart sing, “That is… oddly endearing.”

Nodding, you looked at his hand again, “Chiromancy says men were born with their left hand, and their right is what they accumulate throughout life,” you told him softly, sliding your other hand through the bar.

“Actually, I was born with both of my hands,” Spencer responded, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, studying his left hand intently, “You have water hands,” you said, showing him his own palm as if he’d never seen it before.

Spencer raised his eyebrows at you, “Well, now you’re just making things up,” he openly teased you that time, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

Humming, you furrowed your brows and pointed at his hand, “This is your head line,” you explained. “See how it’s long and straight? It sort of tapers off before the end of your palm—that means you tend to think realistically.”

“I could’ve told you that,” he challenged, but his eyes were following along as you pointed at his palm.

You shook your head and sighed, “Here’s your life line,” you said, pointing to a different line and tracing it with your fingertip. “It’s straight and goes down to the edge of your palm, which means you’re cautious about relationships,” you continued softly, leaning your head against one of the bars of the door.

He was silent after that one, briefly taking his bottom lip between his teeth and looking down at his hand. You could tell that even though he didn’t quite believe what you were saying, he was perfectly fine with humoring you.

“This is your fate line,” you told him, entirely expecting to lose him the moment you began discussing fate. “It’s broken down the middle and curved in different directions, and that means you’re prone to a lot of changes in life. Changes influenced by external forces.”

Gently, Spencer pulled his hand away from yours, flexing his hand before looking down at it, “You’ve officially lost me.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up, “I’m surprised you lasted this long.” Just long enough apparently, the doors buzzed soon after, and you withdrew your hands from the slots as the bars slid into a hole in the wall.

Spencer got up first, dusting off his hands before he extended a hand to help you up. Your hand lingered in his for just a moment too long, the exchange oddly intimate for the two of you before his arms dropped to his side, “Thank you,” he murmured, a shy smile on his face.

Shrugging, you crossed your arms in front of your stomach, “There’s nothing to thank, Reid.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that it was disappointment that flashed across his face at your reply.

The warden had rather unceremoniously asked the two of you to leave, citing security concerns and letting you know that he’d be in contact with Emily to reschedule. Emily had called you six times during the lockdown, but you’d texted her once everything was clear.

Which left you heading back to the SUV with Spencer, there were prisoners out in the yard, so he walked on the inside, blocking your body from the view of the inmates. “Are you alright?” You asked him, feeling more free to inquire now that you were in the open air.

He nodded, “I’m fine, I just really wasn’t expecting something like that to happen when I asked Emily to send me on this custodial.”

Your footsteps faltered at his words, “You asked to go on this custodial?”

Spencer frowned, “I was on this case originally ten years ago, so I asked Emily to let me go.”

“And she said yes?” You asked incredulously.

Spencer opened the back door for you to place your bag in, “Not initially, but eventually she realized that I’d be her only option if she wanted to get it done today.” He shut the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, “It’s a lot earlier than I thought we’d be getting back, do you want to stop and get lunch on the way back to Quantico?”

Your eyes went wide and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your expression, “Uh, sure. Why not?”

“Perfect,” he said, “Maybe I can get you to tell me why you avoided reading my love line.”

[angelltheninth]

Yuji and Sukuna Share You in the Public Bathroom

Pairing: Yuji Itadori x Fem!Reader x Ryomen Sukuna

Tags: nsfw, smut, threeway, mirror sex, competitive sex, rivalry, clit stimulation, gentle to rough sex, creampie, eye contact, name calling, degradation, cunillingus, Sukuna's hand mouth

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: It's that time of the month and I'm going feral.

Out of the three of you Yuji was the most patient, he could have waited until you got out of the station, back home to his place, but you and Sukuna had other plans. Mostly it was Sukuna, you just went along with it. That's how you found yourself barely balancing on your feet, gripping the edge of a cold sink, moaning while Yuji fucked you from behind and Sukuna ran his palms and mouths all over your thighs.

"Ya sure know how to pick them, don't ya Yuji? She was pretending to be all nice and tame but fuck her a few times and look at what we got. A real eager slut." Sukuna's tongue licked it's way up your thigh and between your legs, the tattooed appendage pressing against your clit and staying there, feeling you shake.

Yuji groaned against your neck, pressing hot kisses against hotter flesh. He nudged your legs apart with his foot, his hard cock sinking deeper. You knew you should have kept your mouth shut but it was proving to be impossible.

"I told you, we should have waited." He huffed, hips smacking against your ass. "But you got me all riled up baby. And now I have to... I have to... not gonna let him... beat me to it."

"Yuji, keep going. I'm so close, I want to come." Your eyes met his, equally as hungry as wild but still with that underline of softness you're used to from him. Not like Sukuna, not like his mouth wrapping, kissing and sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "Yeess, oh fuck. Harder!"

"Sweetheart, ya know I love to hear ya, but right now we need ya to be quiet for a bit." The other hand moved up your chin and cheek, tongue licking your skin until it pushed inside your mouth. It was a feeling you still needed to get used to, being stimulated in so many places at once. Your pussy clamped down around Yuji's cock and you moved one leg up on the sink, letting it hit deeper inside you. "Ha, see that Yuji? Our little cockslut wants it so bad. Practically a bitch in heat."

"Beautiful. You're so beautiful when you get like this. You're taking me so well baby. Let me come inside you yeah?" Yuji stumbled, pace growing uneven and sloppy.

You pulled away from Sukuna's mouth while grinding your hips in a circle, riding Yuji's dick and Sukuna's mouth. "I want it yes, need you to come inside me Yuji, Sukunaa-ah! Keep your tongue right there!" It was like you didn't have control of your body anymore, it craved them both, cock, mouth, tongue, all of them, fucking you until you came with a moan that sounded off every wall in the bathroom.

Yuji groaned his release against your ear, nearly snarling, as his cm flooded your womb, overflowing onto the floor.

"Aw, can't be making a mess now can we?" Sukuna chuckled and pushed his tongue into your cunt right as Yuji pulled his cock out. "Come on bitch, one more, give me one more, right on my tongue." You barely bucked your hips against his hand, the thick, long tongue licking inside of you, right up against your sweet spot. "That's it, my good slut." Sukuna hummed against your pussy as you pressed your legs closed and came for the second time, your vision blurry and eyes unfocused.

"Hey, don't pass out. That'd look real bad." You registered the slow flow of water, followed by Yuji's cold hand against your cheek rousing you back to consciousness. "Let's get you home babe."

[daisiescomelate]

Checkout line

Prompt: Sukuna is too proud to ask for cuddles so you pretty much have to guess what he's pouting about when he does. But this time if he wants cuddles, he will have to explicitly ask for them.

Content: Sukuna/Reader, silly, jealous sukuna, toji cameo, unwelcomed flirting, cursing.

div. k1ssyoursister - masterlist

It always starts with Sukuna sitting a little bit closer than usual and being especially quiet.

It is the most subtle of changes, that’s why you miss it most of the time.

You sat on the sofa on your phone and Sukuna –who is normally a big fan of his personal space and is always keeping himself busy with something– sat on the other end of the couch and stared at the wall without saying anything.

When proximity was not enough to call your attention, he sighed loudly, spreading his legs on the cushions and his arms over the back of the couch. He throws his head back and looks at the ceiling, waiting for you to ask him what's wrong.

'Nothing' he would answer, and look away from you; so you would ignore it and keep doing your thing.

When being dramatic didn't work he would throw side glances your way, and you had to be very dense to miss them because he was in no way subtle about it. He would bounce his leg up and down, crack his neck and knuckles or even click his tongue. Anything but calling your name and telling you what he wanted.

Normally that would let you know he wanted something, but sometimes you had your mind on something else and you let it be.

If that didn't do the trick either you would be facing a problem, because Sukuna's next tactic to gain attention was starting a fight.

It was cute, needy Sukuna throwing a tantrum. You never knew why he refused to ask for a hug or to lay his head on your lap directly, but Sukuna's pouty lips had their charm. And today you felt like playing him around for a bit.

“The brat told me the cashier from the grocery store flirted with you again”, he suddenly spoke.

There it was.

He had the tendency to start fights when he wanted something from you because you had the habit of offering pets and kisses in exchange for forgiveness, or to help him calm down when he was particularly cranky.

It was true.

That morning Yuuji and you went to the store together to restock on food and snacks.

Sukuna had been up late trying to fix a plumbing issue in the bathroom so you didn't want to bother him so early in the morning, but postponing the task for later also felt like an inconvenience.

You called the youngest of the Itadori for some company and he turned up to be planning on running his errants as well. To celebrate such coincidence, you both agreed on going to a coffee shop together to have breakfast after going to the store while the grumpy ghoul slept.

So you picked Yuuji up and drived with him to the market, and you both got there early enough to avoid any of the exhausting waiting lines.

But after you finish gathering all the items on your list, because you were chatting with Yuuji the whole time, you didn't realize you both had queued behind a lady over that man's station.

The first time you crossed paths with this cashier a few weeks ago, his eyes had pissed you off a little bit, even when his words might have sounded sweet to anyone else. You thought a sterned look would be enough to shut him up for good, but apparently it wasn't because he had tried again that very morning.

It was infuriating.

You raged about the guy and his condescendent smile the whole way to the car. Yuuji had also wanted to go back and complain to someone about the man because he had also perceived his nasty attitude. You wished you could, but at the time you decided against it –for Yuuji's sake.

Yuuji was a ray of sunshine, always kind and smiling. But he was still an Itadori. His personality could be deceiving for what laid under the surface, he was just as predisposed to get into fights as his brother. Ugly fights.

You would get the guy next time. You couldn't afford getting Yuuji into trouble because of that asshole.

So you moved on with your day. Yuuji and you eventually forgot all about it after some cake and tea at the cafe, reason why the whole deal didn't come to mind when you finally came back home to a Sukuna that had just rolled out of bed on sweatpants and without a shirt on, and whose hair spiked in every direction. It was a sight that often made you forget about things.

But now that uncomfortable situation could be of use to you.

“Oh... Was that what it was?” You said non chantlant without lifting your eyes from your phone.

Sukuna scolded you with his expression, crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “Was it the same dude as last time?”

“Yeah… I think it was. The big guy with the black hair and the scar on his lip.” You saw him clench his jaw on the corner of your eyes. He sat up straight, fully turning at you with the whole intention of seeming offended.

“And what did you do about it?”, he asked with a stern voice.

You guessed deep down, it was annoying for him to hear about another guy flirting with his partner, but if that really were a problem for him he would be less sulky and more –like you said before– picking up the car and going to find the guy for a quick talk.

Right now Sukuna was probably half putting up an act, half wary about your odd reaction to him being defensive about something. Normally when he used that tone with you, you would match it, annoyed at him for talking to you as if accusing you of something.

You kept to your roll, not letting him stir you.

Calm and collected.

“There was not much to do about it. He just gave me a compliment, I said ‘thank you’ and paid for my groceries.”

In truth you told him to go to hell.

Maybe you should ask Sukuna to have a quick talk with the guy.

“Is that all? ‘Just a compliment’? Did you even mention that you had a boyfriend?”

Oh, the guy sure knew that. After all, the first time he hit on you Sukuna was right beside you and he was very vocal about what he thought he should do with his compliments.

“He didn’t ask.”

“He didn’t—?!”, he inhaled sharply. His next line was delivered between greeted teeth, “Don’t you remember how much you complained about him flirting with you even after you told him that we were there together, two weeks ago?”

“Yes, I remember. But if you think about it he wasn’t doing anything wrong.” Bullshit. You paused hiding a smirk, feeling his burning gaze of disbelief from the side. “Also, he’s very good looking. I was kind of flattered.” Yeah, right.

At your comment, Sukuna stood out from the couch as if his pants were on fire. “’Good looking’”, he repeated fuming, “’flattered’”.

“Yes,” you added for some flavor, “you don’t compliment me like you used to. It was nice to hear it.”

“THAT I DON’T—” Sukuna repeated as a broken record, incredulous.

Sukuna wasn't the type to give compliments with words. Yes, he said them because he knew you liked them, but when he actually saw something he liked about you he was more... physical about it. Pulling you close, kissing and staring in a way that made your skin tingle and your blood go hot. Sometimes he made you feel as if he could actually take a bite out of you, he would.

Sukuna walked the few steps that separated the two of you in a blink. You dropped your phone so you could see him in the eyes. One of his eyebrows twitched out of pure anger. Soon he was bending over you on the couch, both his hands pressing over the cushions next to each of your shoulders, cornering you.

“You’re needy for more of my attention, is that what you’re saying?”

You bit your lip to keep a smile from slipping out of you. You could never get enough of Sukuna's attention, that's for sure. You reinforce your serious expression. “I kind of do, yes.”

His nostrils flattered open as he snorted at your complaint.

“C’mon, Suku”, you chimed, seeing your scheme work. “Don’t be angry. I know you don’t do it on purpose.” You flashed an angelic smile at him, “No hard feelings, really. Why don’t you lay on the sofa so I can give you pets?”

“I don’t want your pets”, he bit off.

Ding, ding, ding!

We have a winner!

“You are right,” he said while still looking enraged, “I neglected you, let’s fix that right now.”

Yes! Let's fix that– wait.

It took you a second to understand what he meant but it was long enough for you to not be able to react in time to avoid the way he locked his hands on your hips.

“Suku, wait.” You tried to stop him but your protest fell on deaf ears as he used all his strength to pick you up from the couch. “Suku! You're gonna drop me, hold on.”

Sukuna lifted you up without showing much effort, in a way that left you no other choice but to wrap your legs around his waist for balance. He adjusted your weight so he could hold you properly.

“Don’t get all cranky now, I’m trying to mend my mistake.” You held on to him as best as you could, pirsing the back of his neck with your nails, while he walked with you on his arms towards the other side of the room. "Poor you, needing strangers to compliment you because your boyfriend wouldn't do his job right."

“Suku, it was a joke!”

“Joke or not, it’s true that I haven’t taught you some manners in a while.” He said and he kicked the bedroom door open.

You let out a high pitched cry, and like that, both of you disappear into your bedroom.

A/N: imagine sukuna as a ravish dog you can unleash to go after men that annoy you on the streets.

[sugar-coat-it]

Know It's For The Better

CW: Girlie is drunk!!

Fem! Reader

Contains: George’s younger sister! Reader, Matty taking care of drunk girlie, mutually secret pining, SICKLY amount of yearning, they’re so in love but so stupid :(, reader is turned down because she’s drunk, sad sad sad 

WC: ~4,300

—----------------------------

You get too drunk and Matty comes to take care of you. The lines of a longtime friendship are blurred. 

—----------------------------

“C’mon…” Matty mutters, keeping you supported with an arm under your shoulders as he leads you out of the bar. 

“Matty? Matty, what are you doing here, you’re supposed to be… doing music…” you giggle, almost tripping over your own feet as you lean into him. 

“Yeah, I should be doing music, but right now I’m looking out for you,” he says, shaking his head as you laugh at nothing in particular, “you really got yourself into a mess tonight, hm?”

“What do you mean?”

Your brows furrow as you look up at him, pouting like you still don’t fully understand why he’s here. Matty uses one hand to open his car door, the other firmly wrapped around you. He shoots you a look, his eyebrows almost raising high enough to meet his hairline. There are a few beats of silence like he’s allowing you a moment to realize how ridiculous the question is. Your blank stare tells him all he needs to know. 

“I mean you’re plastered,” he sighs, helping you into the car seat, your lack of balance making it somewhat difficult. 

“Ohh… yeah,” you nod in agreement that you are in fact plastered, shitfaced, sloshed, and whatever he’d like to call it. 

You slump back against the seat as your eyes flutter shut, smiling to yourself as you relish in the warmth of being so totally wasted, the world spinning just slightly. Matty is silent as he rounds the car to get into the driver's seat, now reaching to strap in your seat belt. You crack your eyes open just enough to catch the clench of his jaw. 

“Andrea told me on the phone that you begged her not to call your brother to come and get you. Which is why I’m here instead,” he explains, not seeming too impressed. 

Right. Your brother, George. That was the last person you wanted to come and get you, already knowing the lecture that would come with it. You vaguely remember insisting that Andrea call Matty instead, knowing he’d take good care of you like he always has. He glances over at you to make sure you’re still upright as he starts his car, the engine rumbling to life with a purr.

 The drive is quiet as you stare out of the windshield, watching the street lights streak across the night like they’re melting. His hand moves across the center console to turn on the radio, the station already being set to his favorite, indie classics. He never did like silence, Matty fills it any way he can. 

“What were you drinking anyways, darling?” he asks, sounding more curious than patronizing.

You love that about Matty. He’s older than you and certainly protective of you, but he doesn’t always fault you for wanting to act your age, for doing something on the wilder side. Some might call it a bad influence, he prefers “learning from the best”. 

“Umm,” you squint like you’re trying to remember what was in the shots, “tequila.”

“Tequila! Wow, you really went for it, didn’t you?” he chuckles before clicking his tongue, knowing damn well that you only drink tequila when you’re trying to crash and burn. 

You frown, sensing a slightly frustrated lilt in his voice. Maybe you had actually gone too far this time. You shift your body to face him, your cheek smushed against the headrest. Your stomach lurches at the idea of him being upset with you, especially since you’d been tying yourself in knots since you were a teen to appeal to him, to be the kind of girl he would want. Suddenly, you’re 17 again and you’re staring at yourself in the mirror, picking apart every piece of yourself that you think he wouldn’t like. Over and over. Anything for him to notice you. Your face is illuminated ruby by the traffic lights, the car rolling to a stop. Matty drums his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the soft beat of the radio. 

“Are you mad?” you mumble, your chin tilting down slightly as you struggle to keep your head up. 

“Mad?” Matty echoes, his eyes snapping to you with a newfound softness, a vastness of gentle, honey brown, “No, no, I just- what got into you tonight?” 

Relief washes over you like the gentlest wave, you know even if he was mad, he couldn’t stay that way, not when you’re draped over his passenger’s seat. You’re proudly self-proclaimed to be his weak spot, it’s always been that way. A dazed smile pulls at your lips at the confirmation, and he just playfully rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the road. 

“I dunno. Was just having fun,” you shrug, toying with the strap of your seatbelt. 

Matty knows better, but he doesn’t push for more details. Not yet anyway. You can practically see his thoughts racing as he stares at the yellow lines of the street, his lips pressed into a thin line. But, he can pick your mind about why you got so drunk later, right now he’s trying to focus on the main task: getting you home and safely in bed. He’s already mentally mapping where you keep your Tylenol so he can leave some on your nightstand for you before he goes. Now comes the fun part as he parks his car in front of your apartment building, he gets to take you up the stairs. Joy. 

It’s a slow process, Matty instructing you to hold on tight and “don’t fucking let go, you’ll crack your pretty head open”. You laugh like it’s the most well-crafted joke he’s ever told but still abide by his word. Your giggles ring through the stairwell, a bright sound like a melody to Matty’s ears. One step at a time, you make your way up the stairs, successfully keeping your head in one piece with his hold keeping you steady. When did he get so strong? You almost wish there were just a few more steps so his hands could stay on you, ringed fingers firmly pressed into your skin. 

“Stay with me here, we’re gonna get you to bed, okay?” he reassures, looking over at you every couple of seconds.

“Nooo, wait, I don’t wanna go to bed. I’m not tired,” you complain, protesting with pursed, glossy lips.

“Not tired, huh? You were about seconds away from nodding off in the car,” he chuckles, giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. 

He doesn’t bother with letting you aimlessly fish through your purse for your keys once you reach your front door, taking the bag from you to stick his hand in and retrieve them. Matty keeps you steadily at his side as he unlocks the door, slinging the strap of your purse over his shoulder. The door pushes open with a creak and he ushers you inside, the hand on your lower back sending a shiver skittering up your spine. He follows behind you, watching as you wobble your way to the couch instead of to your bedroom. He rakes a hand through his curls streaked with gray before pressing his fingers into his temples, knowing this night was going to be longer than expected. You drop down onto the cushions with your head tilted back, a lazy smile plastered on your face. 

“Darling, bed is this way, you can’t sleep on the couch,” he says gently, placing your purse down on your coffee table.

You ignore him as he approaches you, instead frowning as you reach to soothe your fingers over the red marks marred into your heels from your shoes. Without missing a beat and without a word, Matty drops to his knees in front of you, batting your hands away from your feet. He carefully undoes the straps of your heels, nimble fingers grazing your skin. You can’t help but stare at the spectacle of Matty Healy being on his knees before you, his muss of curls shadowing his tired eyes as he works. He places both heels to the side after sliding them off, giving your knee a pat before he stands up to his full height. Immediately, you grasp the sleeve of his button-down shirt, like the thought of him being any further away is unbearable. 

“Stay? Chat with me. I’d like to chat,” you suggest, your fingers curling into the crisp fabric. 

“You’re unbelievable, really,” he mutters, shaking his head, “Fine. But we’re not falling asleep here, okay?”

You nod eagerly, you’d agree to any terms he set as long it meant he’d stay. Matty sits down next to you, allowing you to curl up against him with your head resting on his shoulder, your arms loosely around him. A tentative hand snakes up your back to your arm, holding you there as he stares forward, knowing his heart might burst if he looks down at you all cozied up to him. His thumb gently strokes up and down against your skin, like he’s confining himself from touching you any more than just that. Matty asks if he can get you anything, but you decline, not needing anything other than this moment. Who were you to ask for more?

The gentle rhythm is lulling you into a bit of a daze, but you force your eyes to stay open to have the privilege of gazing upon him when he’s so close. So warm. So real. You find yourself studying his features, half-lidded eyes searching his face. 

“I think I’m jealous of you,” you admit, your voice low. 

Matty lets out a gasping sort of laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth. What on earth were you on about? 

“Jealous of me? Why?” he smiles, an amused glint in his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Matty’s expression changes, shifting into something you can’t quite read. His lips part with surprise, but his words catch in his throat. You move your head off of his shoulder to get a better view of him, reaching out slowly to cup his face as you shift your body. His hand on your arm keeps you steady, knowing you could easily topple over. You’ve never been so bold as to touch him this way in your whole life. Matty clears his throat, a crooked smile forming on his lips. 

“Guys can’t be beautiful, sweetheart,” he says. 

Oh, but they can. You’ve been quietly admiring his beauty for so long, how could he say such a thing? You’ve watched him change over time, seen him grow from a gangly, unsure, freckle-faced thing to a confident man who slicks back his unruly hair and wears button-down shirts instead of faded band tees. You thought every version of him was beautiful in his own way. 

Silently, you take one of your hands and begin to trace the features of his face, delicately drawing your fingertips along the bridge of his nose, the slope of his forehead, and the slight rosy hue of his cheeks. Every bit of him is perfection to you. He opens his mouth like he’s about to question what you’re doing, his eyebrows drawing together, but he doesn’t make a sound. He just stares back at the focused look on your face, noticing your quiet wonderment, your gentle, sparkling adoration. It’s like you’re dissecting him, and it’s making him feel so exposed to you, like you’ve stripped him of everything right to his very soul. He tells himself that you’re just drunk, you don’t mean any of it, but that doesn’t change the way his heart is intensely thrumming against his ribs faster and faster. No one had ever touched him that way before, so delicately, and he certainly hadn’t expected to like it so much. He feels like he could melt right into the cushions. He loves you. Loves you loves you loves you. 

You let out a satisfied hum as you finish, sliding your hands off of his cheeks and down onto his chest instead, absentmindedly drawing little swirls with your nails against his shirt. His body shudders just slightly at the feeling, a tingly sensation erupting under your touch. 

“You done feeling up my face and shit?” he teases, trying to play off how you’ve just flustered him to his bones. 

You just beam at him, haziness written all over your expression as you let your head drop to his shoulder again. You chat a little longer about trivial things, Matty keeping the conversations simple so you can keep up. He asks you if your favorite color is still the same as it was when you were younger. When you mutter out a “yes”, suddenly, it’s like his whole world has been painted with it. You smile to yourself that he even remembered. His fingers gently trail up and down your arm, almost like his fingertips are ghosting over your skin. A few beats of silence pass before Matty goes for the heart of the issue, the question like a bucket of water over your head. 

“Are you gonna tell me why you actually got so wasted?” he murmurs, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. 

“... Was just feeling… sorta lonely, or something. Sorry for myself, and all that,” you sigh, not entirely sure why you’re telling him something that sounds so pathetic, but your words are tumbling out faster than you can process them. 

Matty hums thoughtfully, feeling as you bury yourself further into his neck, like you’re trying to hide from him, from reality. He knows he’s dampening your fun a little, reminding you of why it all happened, but he just couldn’t leave it alone, not when he knew you were hurting. You distract yourself by drawing small, languid swirls on his chest, the beat of his heart keeping you grounded.

“What happened? I thought you were fiercely independent. A one-woman show,” he snickers, thinking back to the exasperation he was met with when he’d asked why you were still single (“I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy, Matty. I have aspirations, you know. I’m focused on more important things,” you’d preached.)

When you say nothing in response, the realization creeps up on him that teasing you isn’t the right approach at the moment. Clearly, even you weren’t above the lamentations of the heart. You didn’t need a jab at how your fierce independence was what led you to bed alone every night. He swallows thickly, as if literally swallowing his pride before he speaks again, his tone laced with what you could only label as tenderness from the normally brash man.

“What’s been on your mind?” 

“I’m gonna fucking die alone,” you groan, covering your face with your hands, having totally forgotten that you were wearing makeup. 

He stifles a laugh, both at how you’ve smudged your eyeliner and because of your intoxicated overreaction. Obviously, this wasn’t a joke to you, and he needed to get this right. He raises his hand slowly, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face. Your stomach swoops, you swear you’ve seen this in a dream before. 

“You’re a lovely girl, sweetheart. Anyone who doesn’t see that is either stupid or blind. You’ll find what you’re looking for, and you won’t die alone, silly,” he says, punctuating the word “silly” with a poke to your side. 

A lovely girl. He thought you were a lovely girl. One that wouldn’t die alone. That’s… comforting, you suppose, even if it’s in an odd way. Part of you wonders if you’ll die with your feelings for him held close to your chest. The other part isn’t sure if you could truly hide it that long, or if your devotion would spill from your clutches like water between your fingers. Would he drink it from your palms if it did? 

“Do you ever get lonely, Matty?” you ask in return, your words slightly slurred. 

Matty pauses. Seemingly, he didn’t expect this to be turned around on him. He makes an awkward “erm” sound as he evaluates the question. With countless adoring fans, many of them being gorgeous women, how could he ever feel alone? It wouldn’t make any sense. So why does the void never go away? Why does coming home after throwing himself into his work at the studio feel so totally melancholic? He’s supposed to be living his dream.

“I suppose sometimes I do. But that’s just being human, innit?” he shrugs, ignoring the pang in his chest. 

Your fingers pause their patterns, stilling on his shirt. You allow your hand to press flat over his heart, feeling it thrum under your palm. What if this was it? You’re both lonely and after all, he just said he thinks you’re lovely. Urges rattle at the back of your mind, you’re replaying every single moment that he’s looked at you a little too long, every time that his touch created sparks from a lingering brush. It had to all have been real, you weren’t crazy. Your head is swimming, you’re moving before you can even fully process it, and it feels like the room is tilting with your body. With your hands on his shoulders, you wobble as you lift one leg over his lap to straddle him. Matty’s eyes go wide, he hastily reaches out and grasps your hips, trying to keep you steady. You feel like you’re burning up from the inside, you can only think about him, his cologne, his calloused fingertips, his mouth, his tattooed skin. Hot, liquid need is consuming you, eroding any bit of rationality left. 

“We could help each other, y’know?” you suggest, your voice dripping with implication. 

Matty glances down at your lips for a moment, but he tears his eyes away just as quickly as if he’d been burned. He looks stunned, his body totally rigid against the couch as his fingers dig into your hips, his blunt nails biting at your skin through your clothes. You look like a wet dream perched on his lap like that, but the very idea of this continuing when you were in this state made Matty’s stomach churn. He shakes his head, swallowing hard as he starts to speak, his voice strained as he tries to reason with you. 

“Darling, listen to me-” 

“No one would have to know. George wouldn’t know, it could be… it could be a secret,” you interrupt, biting your lip as you speak in a hushed voice.

The reminder of your brother’s existence just added to the urgency of getting you off of his lap. Hell, he’d probably wring Matty’s neck just for not immediately taking you to your room and promptly leaving. He didn’t want you to be a secret like you were some kind of dirty indulgence for him. No, you didn’t deserve that, and it frankly broke his heart that you would let him treat you that way. 

“No. We can’t,” he asserts, his tone coming out much firmer.

Many people think “heartache” is just an expression, but they’ve never felt the actual squeeze in their chest. A sobering rush goes straight to your head as your heart clenches, shame flooding your body. You loosen your hold on his shoulders, letting your hands drop to your sides. You take a shuddering breath, stammering something that neither of you can decipher because of how scrambled your thoughts are. Part of you wants to beg, to tell him you’ll be the best he’d ever had if he let you. But you don't, you let everything come crashing down around you. 

“You’re drunk, you’re not thinking straight. I absolutely will not take advantage of that,” Matty says softly, watching your face drop. 

“But- but I… I just wanted to… wanted you…”

“I know.”

Matty gently slides you off of his lap, feeling like the biggest monster in the world. He knows he’s doing exactly what he should, but the look on your face has guilt gnawing at his insides. Silence settles over the two of you like a layer of snow, you wrap your arms around your body to shield yourself from its frigidity. He’s about to apologize, to tell you how much he’d love to quell your loneliness another time but you speak first, your voice shockingly even, like you hadn’t had a drop to drink. 

“Can you just take me to my room?” 

He’s quiet for a moment before nodding, sensing your almost palpable embarrassment and regret. Matty gets up off of the couch first, reaching his hands out to you to help you up. It feels bittersweet to take them as you stand, finding his touch both comforting and sickening. You want him near but also want him as far away as possible, it’s like the push and pull of the cruelest magnet. 

He helps you sit down on your bed, your little black dress starkly standing out against your soft white sheets. You have a faraway look on your face, and Matty has no clue what to say or do to make any of this better. He knows he can’t pick up the pieces, but he slowly reaches out to rub away some of the mascara that’s smudged under your eyes. You’re trying your hardest to bite back tears, shaking your head as he asks you if you want to change or take off your makeup. You don’t know how to describe the feeling in your stomach as anything other than disgusting. You just want to sleep and forget. 

“Oh, my dear…” he murmurs sympathetically, “I’ll let you get some rest, okay?” You find yourself a little panicked at the idea of him leaving your side, automatically grasping his arms. You coax him closer, despite the shame biting at your ankles, nipping at your skin. Quietly, he understands. He eases himself into your bed next to you, letting you curl up at his side, your head on his chest. You feel it rise and fall under your cheek with each breath. Slowly, your body becomes less rigid as you let yourself melt into him. Exhaustion is seeping in, but this time the physical kind.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” you whisper, letting out a humorless chuckle at your expense. 

“And why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Because I’m a mess. And I threw myself at you.”

Matty smiles softly, letting out an amused exhale through his nose. You’re laying there wondering how he isn’t repulsed by you, and he’s gazing down at you thinking about how beautiful you look in this light. 

“You’re just drunk and a bit lonely. Nothing to kick yourself over, sweetheart, we’ve all been there. You were only bein’ a little affectionate.”

“Affectionate? I was trying to jump your bones.”

He laughs at that, a loud, uproarious noise that’s completely unmelodic, and yet it’s your favorite sound. His chest rumbles with his barking laughter under your cheek and you find yourself smiling, just a little. You can’t help it, even when it almost hurts to breathe. As his chuckles subside, he begins stroking your hair, running his fingers through the unruly strands. Your eyelids are getting heavier, it’s as if time is moving in slow motion, dragging on to an unceremonious stop. You’d daydreamed about falling asleep in his arms, but not like this. On the brink of slipping into sleep, your heart begins to pour out in a delirious confession.

“I know you'll never see me the way I see you. But that's okay. I can quietly admire you. I just want you to be happy. Even if that's with somebody else," you mumble.

You don't know why you’re doing this. You can hardly think straight. You just love him. You’ve loved and wanted him for too long. Longer than anyone should have to bear. 

“What are you talking about?” he whispers, his smile fading. 

"You know what I mean," you continue, the stream of consciousness making you feel somewhat lighter, "you're gonna... you're gonna marry a model... and be happy... and I'll find something... and I'll be fine.”

What you’re saying doesn’t make much sense to him, but it pulls him apart regardless. He can’t help but feel sick to his stomach that you don’t see yourself in his future. Matty gives you a soft squeeze, staring at the top of your head as you barely cling to consciousness. He wants to tell you how he feels so badly, it’s killing him. Everything inside is screaming at him to confess, but he can’t, not when you might not even remember it. He decides this will have to suffice. 

“Sweetheart, I promise you, I would not be happy in that scenario. Not without you.”

“What?” you mutter, sounding dazed. 

Well, sure, you’ll be there. You’ll go visit him in his house that’s far bigger than necessary and force a smile when you greet his impossibly beautiful wife. But… the way he said it… no. You shouldn’t delude yourself any further. 

“Look, you need some rest. We can talk about this later, yeah?” Matty sighs, burying his nose in your hair as he kisses the top of your head. 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

You feel sleep’s forgiving embrace wrap her arms around you. If you’re lucky, maybe you've drunk enough so you won’t remember any of this in the morning. Blissfully unaware, you wouldn’t have to carry this weight. Whatever happens to you, you know it’s for the better. 

Before you truly drift off, you say one last thing. Barely audible, but just loud enough to drive a dagger through Matty’s heart.

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

It’s like the air has been crushed from his lungs. You’ve left him alone with his rampant thoughts, his regrets. God, how he wishes this could have gone differently. After some time, he hears your breathing slow into a quiet steady rhythm, signaling that you’re sound asleep. Then, and only then does he softly speak into the silence of the night.

“I love you too.”

——————————————————————

… sorry?

Thank you to my lovely birthday twin Mads (@toomuchracket ) for previewing the early draft of this!!! Dedicated to you, I hope it’s half as good as your angst <3 <3

[oval3000]

Chapter 5

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse Reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

-------------------------------------------------------

"Seriously, I'm talking to you and you're dismissing me!" Dr. Smith followed Mr. Miller trying to get off the elevator.

He turned around clenching his fist. His stared at her with pure hatred, "shut. Up. You are a psychiatrist! Do your dam fucking job and leave me out of it. The only way you get to talk to me is if it's work related not to fulfill your pathetic needs. If you're so desperate for sex? Get a dam husband!"

He left the elevator, leaving her shocked. He walked towards the nurse's station and saw you doing your work on the computer. He hasn't spoken to you after his attempt and neither have you. You avoided him like like the plague. After the comfort König gave you, you apologized for how inappropriate it was for a worker to get her personal feelings get in the way of work. He spoke to you with his thick accent, telling you that you're more than just his nurse. It really took you back at how wrong it was for you to have this sort of connection towards a patient. You had to keep your distance, even König made it a bit hard for you.

He's been more comfortable giving you physical touch by touching your cheek with his finger or tracing your hand with his. Even so, he's noticed the distance you made with him. He didn't enjoy it.

Everything has been complicated for you. Your co-wrokers wanted to know why Mr. Miller called you in his office. They were too curious about it and kept nagging you for an answer, but you told them that nothing happened. You wanted to march out those doors and never come back, but it means giving up your lifestyle you have sacrificed to live.

The heels of Dr. Smith came near you and the scent of her strong perfume lingered around you. "Check König's vitals."

"I already did." You pointed to the computer screen of König's last vital check.

She crossed her arms, rolling her eyes, her eyebrows form a sharp arch as her wrinkles showed more perfoundly, "and I'm asking you to do it again." You looked at back the computer, not staring at the screen perse, but just nothing. "Is there a problem (y/n)?"

"No." You got your supplies ready and went into König's room.

He was surprised you came in three times already and dinner time hasn't even passed. However, you're lonely visit was interrupted when Mr. Miller entered the room. He shut the door, which alarmed you. No, he wouldn't, he couldn't possibly, not infront of König, you thought.

"I think we need to talk." He said, watching you prepare to check König. You haven't made eye contact with anyone yet. "About what happened the other day." König tilted his head, listening to the conversation. His fingers tingled a bit, feeling a bit of a twitch. Mr. Miller reached to touch the side of your arm only for you to quickly yank yourself away. " I didn't mean to do those things to you. I was just stress with everything that is going on. Look, your wonderful and beautiful." His placed his hand on your back reaching," why don't I take you out for dinner, my treat," down to your ass. You felt as he gave it a squeeze, which made you jump causing you to bump into the cart. This caused König to stand up.

Was he foolish, stupid. König couldn't believe it. He swooped in and stood between you and Mr. Miller. He stood tall and broad in front of him, making him look like a child wearing a suit. "Wh-what are you doing, König. Get back on your bed." He pointed his finger on his chest, shaky, but trying to keep his confidence. "Listen to me now! Go back to your bed...you fucking looser," he whispered.

"Looser! Looser!"

Without a single thought, a single hesitation. He grasp his finger and with a quick, smooth, swift, König move it to the side. Mr. Miller let out a shriek of pain as he felt the bone of his finger breaking in half. He saw the blood coming out as the bone sticked out. "AAAHH! SHIT!"

He moved his hand with the compound fracture close to him, blood driping down to the floor, covering the white tiles with red liquid.

You covered your ears with the loud scream he made. "HELP ME (Y/N)!" He screamed at you. You were facing König's back. You were afraid. Afraid of everything.

He is going to hurt you too? Is he going to turn around and break your neck? You thought.

"FUCK!" Mr. Miller took another look at his finger and saw the bone clear as day. You peaked through and saw. You walked in front of König and saw the fracture. You were about to grab Mr. Millers hand with the wound, until you felt big, strong, hands on your arm, yanking you away from Mr. Miller. It made you collaps onto König's torso.

You heard multiple people trying to open the door. People screaming at others to get the extra key.

You felt König's breath near your neck. He lowered his head to get close to you. You felt his lips near your ear, "Is he the one, schatz?" Not breaking eye contact with Mr. Miller.

The one. The one that almost raped you in his office. You didn't say anything, you just shook your head to give him an answer.

The door eventually flew open as guards rushed in to assist the situation. They looked at Mr. Miller and saw his despair of his broken finger. Jacob and the fellow nurse rushed to help him, wrapping gauze around to help stop the bleeding while they called 911. Dr. Smith made her way and saw the scene. She was left in shock. Her jaw dropping to the floor. Her eyes widen so big it looked like her eyeballs were going to pop off her eye socket. She followed the blood trails and saw you in Königs brace.

The guards telling König to let you go. Were you his next victim? you thought. Was he going to kill you? Everything was killing you on the inside.

König released the grip he had on your arm. You walked away from him and went towards the guards.

"Sedate him." Dr. Smith demanded one of the nurses. You didn't stand up. You didn't interfere. You watched as they stuck a needle into Königs arm.

He flopped onto his bed unconscious. Everyone left the room including you. They took Mr. Miller to the hospital as the rest of the staff made in the report. Dr. Smith wasn't happy. Not one bit.

She was furious. She stared you and thought about how stupid you look. Just standing there, in shock..maybe. You didn't mutter a word. Your workers tried to question you, what happened? But you didn't give them an answer.

"(Y/n). (Y/n)!" Dr. Smith yelled out. It finally got your attention. Everything went back into sync. The blurred vision finally cleared and the echoing finally stopped. "You need to come with me for the report. Now!"

You followed her into the elevator. Her feisty walked made her heels clink harder on the floor.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, you felt the palm of her hand smacking up against your left cheek. "You stupid bitch!" Your head turned to the side, holding your irritation it developed.

"You bitch! Instead of studying, you're becoming a whore!" The mother smacked the girls cheek, making the girl cry in pain.

"Mom!? Why would you hit me!?" She cried out.

"For being a slut! Just like that cunt that stole your father!" She yelled back at her.

"We were only studying. I was just tutoring him. We did nothing wrong!" The girl tried to reason with her mother, who was in distress with what she thought she caught her daughter trying to seduce one of her fellow classmates, but the truth is she was just tutoring him.

That's all. She was just tutoring the boy who was struggling with math. Until her own mother came in and saw, greeting herself to him, saying goodbye to him. The innocent daughter thinking her mother would be proud of her for helping someone in need. Instead it was all...

"Lies! Don't lie to me (y/n)! I know exactly what you were doing. Seducing that man for your liking." She argued with her 15 year old daughter. "How dare you do this to me. Becoming a prostitute while your own mother is sick!"

"I'm sorry, mom. I wasn't doing anything to him, I swear!" The last plea she gave to her mom before recieving one last slap from her mother.

"You are a nurse and you can't even help someone in need! You let someone like Mr. Miller, who has been nothing but nice to you, get hurt like that!" She yelled at you. Your hand was trying to sooth the irritated left cheek she gave you. "So pathetic! If you think you can get away from this then think again. As soon as he's back, you'll be walking out of here."

She told you to leave. To clock out and take the rest of the day off. She said, she couldn't bare to look at you anymore. Everything you do is a disaster.

"Auughh! What a day!" Jacob groaned, closing the cabinet with the medical supplies.

"I know. Poor (y/n). I feel bad for her. Having to deal with someone like König." She sighed smacking the bottle for it to open.

The other nurse pitched in giving glances to them, "I heard that she gets triple the pay, just to take care of König. That's the reason why we are short staffed and lack of working supplies."

"Are you kidding me! She gets like what? Four patients and gets paid way more then us. Way more then Jacob, who does the heavy lifting. " The nurse, Mia, the one who banged the bottle to open, said.

"Don't feel bad for her anymore, Mia?" Jacob said, standing next to Mia.

"I did, but it's hard to feel bad for someone who does less work and gets paid more then us even though we all have the same title." She scuffed "We all went to nursing school to get our degrees only for us to get bitch slapped. I guess I feel bad, I mean, almost getting killed isn't worth anything."

"I heard that she fucks König and the administrator." The nurse, Wendy, said crossing her arms.

Mia let out a laugh of denial, "No! How!?"

"I mean she's always defending König and the way he held her earlier. They definitely fuck. Plus everytime, she leaves his room, she's happy. You don't walk out of a lunatics room unless he shoved his cock inside your pussy." Wendy leaned in closer to Jacob and Mia, "and i heard from Mr. Miller's secretary that she heard Mr. Miller talking about how good (y/n)s pussy looks like. And that she saw (y/n) walking out of his office with her clothes looking a little shriveled."

"Oh my gosh! Is that why she didn't want to tell us why she was called to his office?" Mia exclaimed with joy, like she was on celebrities gossip. "I mean it makes sense that König broke his finger. Two lovers fighting for the same vigina."

"Are you guys finish gossiping" Dr. Smith said towards the three nurses all huddled up together.

"Sorry." They said in a union.

Dr. Smith smacked the file of paperwork into the small desk. She wasn't deaf, she heard what they were gossiping about.

Mr. Miller and (Y/n). Dr. Smith didn't love it. She stared down at her wedding ring finger.

"You're leaving me!?"

"Sarah, I can't do this. Not with you!" The men screamed at her as he packed his suitcase.

"You're leaving me for that slutty waitress!" She screamed at her husband, yanking out his clothes from the dresser.

"Don't call her a slut! The only slut is you!" He words tamed with anger, burning her heart like acid.

"How many times do I have to apologize!? Me and Ben, it was only a one time thing." She plead trying to get her husband's affection. "I thought we pushed back this."

"No! You pushed it back! You wanted to pretend like nothing happened after you slept with another men! With! Your! Colleague! In! Our! Bed! Sarah!" He pulled his arm away from his soon to be ex- wife from her touch.

"And what! You don't think it hurts me too, to see you with another women. What is it!? What does she have that I don't!?" She cried to him. For an answer an answer as to why her husband went out to sleep with a beautiful waitress that attends him with his needs.

"Loyalty! Respect! Careness!" He answered her walking away from their shared bedroom, rolling his suitcase with him.

"Loyalty!? A homewrecker doesn't have any loyalty!" She chased after him.

He turned to her, hovering over her, "And you do!? She's not a homewrecker. The only homewrecker here is you when you slept with that Miller. You ruined this marriage, not her. You ruined this for us, not her. So go cry to Ben, because I don't care. Goodbye Sarah, have a nice fucking life."

Sarah saw as her husband left her. She reached to her phone. "Ben. Ben is me. He left me, Ben. I'm all alone." She cried to him.

"Dr. Smith."

"So what? You want to fuck her? Is that it. Never head young pussy before?"

"Dr. Smith." She snapped away from her thoughts and looked at Jacob. "König. He's awake."

"Check up on him." She said.

Jacob gave her a nod and walked away.

Jacob entered Königs room alongside a guard. He placed his medication on the table. König stood up. It alarmed them.

All of them.

Dr. Smith couldn't comprehend anything. She was so in her own thoughts, the screams of pain went passed her.

The screams of nurses and guards running. It finally caught her attention. She turned around in her chair and saw Jacob on the floor. His neck slit opened. The blood squirting out of his neck and into the walls and tiles. He tried his hardest to crawl away.

But nothing stopped König. She saw him coming out of his room. The guards ran to him, to hold him down, but all König did was to smash their heads into the wall. Nurses running away from him, but he quickly yanked their hair closer to him. He twisted Mia's neck all the way to the back until her spine cracked open. Wendy tripped on the blood and got her head stomped by his large foot.

Dr. Smith stood up from her chair, seeing the massacre. The screams from guards and nurses ringing in her ears. His eyes landed on her.

She ran. She ran as far as she could. She opened the door for the emergency staircase. She ran while looking back to see if he was still chasing her. Her stupidity of not paying attention caused her heel to miss a step, making her trip down.

Her hands landed on the floor, preventing her face from smashing into the tile floor. She groaned in pain. She looked down and saw her knees, right below her dress skirt, bleeding. She heard the door open and saw König walking down the stairs. She saw the look on his eye.

"Please! Please don't hurt me!" That doesn't stop him from getting close to her. She tried getting up, but her legs felt like they're going to snap. She stumbled down and landed on the floor.

She cried her eyes out. Turning around so her back is faced away from him. " *hic* please! Please don't hurt me! Please!" The Burning tears made it hard for her to see clearly.

König grabbed her neck, lifting her up from the ground. "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I...I'm SO SORRY!"

He grabbed a chunk of her dirty, blonde, hair and with a quick movement, he smashed her head onto the wall...repeatedly. Over and Over.

The blood coming out. The chunk of skull falling to the floor. Her brain matter slushing out.

He threw her dead body to the floor and walked the rest of the stairs down. Finding his old clothing where he first arrived here. His tight compressed black t-shirt, his tan trousers and his black t-shirt- mask, his combat boots.He placed the needle inside his pants and went on to his destination.

Being a computer analyst and specialist really come in handy.

But nothing beats the help of his good ol'pal.

"Hello?"

"Horangi. It's König."

-------------------------------------------------------

The night fell. The moon shining through your curtains. You took off your shower robe, put on a bra and a white tank top and some comfy shorts. You fixed your hair and went to the kitchen.

You opened up a tea bag and dumped it into the mug with hot, boiling, water.

Silence filled the room in your apartment. You decided to enjoy this time off. To take advantage of it.

You made your way to the living room and placed the mug onto the glass table, next to the couch. You roamed around to see the remote, but couldn't find it.

The sound a bang coming from your bedroom startled you frozen. You have a view of your room and saw the window, near your bed, open.

Either be stupid like the characters in horror films and check it out, or walk out of this building.

Either way, ignorance is bliss. Pretending that you never heard anything in the first place.

You entered the bedroom, taking precaution, quickly glancing you room and found nothing.

You entered to grab your blanket when out of sudden you felt a hand covering your mouth, preventing you from making any noise. The large hand covering your entire bottom half face. You felt strong wall behind you. "It's okay, die liebe"

He pulled out a needle, the same needle they use to sedate him. He injected it into your arm.

It didn't take long for you to fall unconscious. He lifted you up and carried you, bridal style. He carried you out and placed you in his car. "Don't worry, schatz. Ich bringe dich nach Hause. (I'm taking you home.)" He caressed your cheek, giving you a light kiss on the lips. "unser Zuhause. (Our home.)"

"Mein Liebling."

"Mine."

[melancholyhigh]

LATE NIGHT CALLS.

ft. leon x coworker!reader

synopsis. leon misses you so he gives you a call.

content. smut. 1.3k words. phone sex, leon's pov, needy leon, masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, mommy kink.

note. hello?? thank you guys for 700 followers!! i haven't even figure out what i wanted to do for 500 as yet. i appreciate all of you guys so much <33

masterlist. i love feedback & reblogs :3

Leon huffs as he lies in his bed. He can’t help but think about you.

He wonders what you’re up to. It was midnight the last time he checked, and you’re probably working on a case. He doesn’t like when you’re up late, coming to work the next day with exhausted eyes and greeting him with a tired smile. Maybe he should check up on you like you always did for him. 

He didn’t want to disturb you, though. But he needed you so badly.

Glaring at his phone on the bedside table, he thinks about how he’d explain himself for calling you in the dead of night. 

I really fucking need you. Leon thinks to say, but that might be too straightforward.

He regrets not talking to you after getting back from his mission. It wasn’t his fault. It was the one thing he looked forward to doing. Leon knew you’d greet him with the biggest grin on your face even though your brows were etched with worry when you asked him if he was alright.

Good job, agent. You would praise. You’re amazing. You know that?

It’s the exact words you uttered that one night. The entire mission was blurry, except for the sweet phrases you let slip as you comforted him. 

The both of you were stationed at a rundown motel for the night, awaiting further instructions. He vaguely remembers that there was one bed, and you persisted for him to take it. 

“You always have a stick up your ass, Kennedy?” you mused. “You need rest. You’re giving yourself a hard time.” 

Leon had rolled his eyes before giving in, resting on the rock-hard mattress before succumbing to slumber. It has been mainly calm — as peaceful as a crusty motel can be until he recalls you waking him up, concern lacing your voice.

He felt the tears in his eyes slipping down his face, and then it hit that he had a nightmare. Leon inwardly cringes at the memory, grateful he doesn’t recall the dream. It felt so childish, a nightmare. But at that point, you didn’t care. 

He was so weak and vulnerable, and you tended to him. You sat with him, talked to him, and told him everything would be alright. The recollection has heat blooming within his chest. 

From then on, the relationship between that you and him changed. You’re closer, and he’s honestly disappointed that it took so long for him to acknowledge you.

–-

Leon sighs. Why did most nights end up with him thinking of you? It had been worse since he was away for a few weeks. He feels neglected even though you owe nothing to him.

He lets his mind wander, thinking about your touch featherlight along his body. He allows his hand to trail to his tummy, abs flexing, as he mimics how you would touch him or how he wishes you would handle him.

Leon gasps softly, palming his hardening cock through the confines of his boxers. His eyes squeeze shut, and his other hand squeezes his pec.

Fuck it. Grabbing the phone off the bedside table, Leon dials your number, placing his phone to his ear. After a few rings, you answer. 

“Hey, Leon, everything okay?” your ask, your voice soft, and you’re clearly exhausted. He feels wrong for calling, but his need outweighs his morals.

“‘M good. I just wanted to talk to you,” Leon says, trying to keep his voice from faltering. He hears a laugh from the other side and the rustling of your blanket, he assumes.

“It’s late. You should be getting your beauty sleep, pretty boy.” 

Leon scoffs, hypocrite. Though the way you mutter the pet name has him breathless.

“I miss you,” he grumbles, eyes squeezing shut again. 

“Oh, really?” The tone is teasing, and he imagines that’s what you’d say when he’s pleading for your touch.

“Yeah– can you tell me how your day was? Talk to me, please?”

“Uh, okay, Leon. Are you sure you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine! J- just keep talking, please.” 

You were thoughtful, asking him if he was alright, but he’s selfish. Getting off to your voice because he was so fucking horny for you. 

“Well, my day was pretty bad. My week, actually. It felt like something was missing, ya know?” You sigh.

“Uh-huh,” Leon responds, not even sure what you said.

His body is so fucking warm. It feels like he’s burning. Not just from arousal but the guilt that lies with him as he shamelessly pulls his boxers down, his dick swollen as it slaps his stomach.

The guilt washes away when you tell him you missed him too. Blood runs straight to his cock as he moans loudly. He hasn’t even touched himself as yet.

Your thoughts are cut short, and there’s a beat of silence as you gather yourself. 

It’s over. Leon thinks.

“Leon? Are you touching yourself?” you questioned. You sound confused, not mad, and he wonders if there’s not enough blood pumping to his head. He doesn’t know how to respond.

“Is that why you called me at one in the morning? Pretty baby just wanted to cum.” You mock, and fuck does it go straight to his cock.

“I needed you so badly,” Leon exasperates. He got onto his tummy, burying his head into his pillow and rutting his hips into the mattress. His precum dripped onto the sheets of his bed.

“Mhm, did you come as yet, pretty boy?” your whisper.

“N- no, mommy.” It slips out, and he can’t help it. Gosh, can he embarrass himself even further? 

“Oh? Did you want mommy to help you, Leon? It’s okay, baby,” you sigh before instructing, “Want you to stroke your pretty dick f’me, honey.”

He shifts onto his back again, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he grasps the shaft and gradually tugs it. Soft groans escape him as precums oozes out the tip, leaking onto his tummy.

“I wish it was your hand, mommy,” Leon whimpers. He’s so far gone. He had wished for moments like these where he’d be yours, though he hoped for different circumstances.

“Me too, baby. I’d take my time with you,” you mumbled breathlessly. He wonders if you’re touching yourself. Rubbing your puffy clit as you listen to him whine in your favour, your cunt stuffed with your fingers. 

He increases his pace, pumping his aching cock faster. He’s so loud, and he’d be embarrassed if you weren’t encouraging him to be louder.

“You sound so sexy, Leon. I can’t wait to have you.” How were you going to have your way with him? Maybe you’ll stroke his cock like he’s doing, pinching his nipples, sucking on them til they're abused and red. He hopes you’ll ride him, bouncing on his cock for pleasure, not letting him come once. 

Sloppily fucking his fist now, his head tilts back into the pillow, his hair sprawled out, and his phone is next to his ear as he listens for your quiet moans. 

He can’t wait to get his hands on you, sucking on your tits or clit, as you ride his face until utter bliss.

“Come for me, Leon. Come as if you’re inside of me.”

“Holy shit.” Leon groans, the knot inside his tummy snapping as he spurts his cum out, trickling onto him as he rides his orgasm out.

You’re still on call as Leon breathes heavily, trying to collect himself. You break the silence.

“Wish I could’ve seen you coming,” you huff out. “Bet you look even prettier.”

“Did you touch yourself?” Leon asks in disbelief, cleaning himself off with the box of tissues near his bedside table.

“How could I not? You had me dripping. I have to change my sheets now.” you joke, and Leon blushes, grateful you can’t see him. He couldn’t believe he had such an effect on you.

“Can I take you out sometime?” Leon asks nervously. He hopes this doesn’t change the relationship you shared for the worse just because he was a horny mess.

You giggle, and he swears it’s the most gorgeous sound ever.

“Sure thing, baby. Where do you plan to take mommy, hm?”

You weren’t going to let him live that down won’t you? Not that he minds, of course.

[kizzer55555]

Ultimate Escape Room

Sam, Danny, and Tucker are bored. Nothing seems to be a challenge anymore. Summer vacation is coming up but they can’t agree on anything . Themepark? What’s a better roller coaster than Jack driving? Scary movie? I’m sorry, nothing beats Fright Knight’s nightmare realm. Bungie jumping? Danny can fly. Then Tucker, who’s been typing on his computer, asks “what about an escape room?”. The others are about to shut the idea down because seriously? Easy. But Tucker just grins and shows them his computer screen.

“Ever heard of Arkham?”

Danny and Sam lean over to read the description and all three turn to each other and grin. 

Now, what’s the fastest way to get into Arkham?

…

So the chaos trio do ✨something✨ that gets them locked up in Arkham and then try to escape and they keep. You know, normal stuff for Arkham inmates. Except this trio? Keep. Getting. Out. Of. Their. Cells. So they are just passing by locked up rogues and waving at them as an army of prison guards chase after them. Sure they could get out the easy way (Aka powers) but no, this is a challenge so they have the normal rules of an escape room. Aka, you can’t break anything and an extra rule where if a guard catches you, then you can’t fight back (also, no one can get hurt). (They make fake identities and everything). So they need to go through the whole process. Figure out how to unlock cuffs. Could be learning to pick a lock with a spoon/stick/long nails. Then find the keys. Possibly having to crawl through vents to get in the warden’s office. Or making deals with prison inmates. Like, I’ll get this for you if you give me that (however they extract a promise that the rogue can’t kill anyone with whatever they help them with.) So they are in prison literally doing errands like find freeze’s weapons in exchange for him telling them the passcode to the gate or something. Or getting Waylon some meat from the cafeteria and he’ll break the lock on this movable vault that has materials to make smoke bombs they can use to distract the front guards. 

These kids are just going wild and it gets to the point where Arkham has to call the bats (like no Waylon, we won’t escape with you, we have to do it without breaking any walls!) So literally the only reason they are not escaping is because they want to do it ‘right’. But they are also aiding other rogues in their escape (at least certain ones. They aren’t helping joker no matter what he offers)

It’s driving the bats mad. They have vigilantes stationed in each hall, in multiple monitor rooms.

They aren’t even using anything clever to block the cameras. They’re using mirrors. Mirrors! Where did they even get so many handheld mirrors! 

They are running circles around the bats. The escaped rogues literally aren’t doing anything yet because they want to see how the three hellions will escape the entire bat clan. They have bets going. So there is a temporary truce.

Just imagine the conversations/interrogations the bats will have with trio, trying to figure out their master plan - because surely there's something more going on than three chaos young adults playing a game, right?

They trio each have a different story. And they are so passionate/convincing actors that no one knows which story is real. At least one of them told a sob story with legitimate tears.

Danny: (all mysterious) You shall never know our master plan….until it is too late. And just casually dropping hints that there is something greater or that the bats are playing right into their hands. Even using ridiculous scenarios like yesss the ketchup explosion in the cafeteria….We are one step further….Mwa ha ha! (Rubs his hands together)

Sam: (absolutely distraught with literal tears running down her face and ruining her mascara.) There is a terrible organization holding their parents hostage. They had been framed and forced to be in Arkham. If they don’t do exactly as they are told, their loved ones are in danger! Should we stay? Should we escape and help them!? No one will believe us and what if we make things worse? We don’t know what to do!

Tucker: (takes a long slurp of a smoothie. Where he got one? No one knows). Yeah we were bored and had nothing better to do than mess with you guys. (Sluuuuurp).

The bats are trying to figure it out. Is the black haired guy telling the truth and the other two are just manipulating them? Is it the girl and the others are only following the plot of the organization? IS THE BARET KID RIGHT AND THEY’RE JUST MESSING WITH US!? WHICH STORY IS IT!?

Under normal circumstances, Sam wouldn’t give a sob story because It’s not really her vibe. But Sam has the opportunity to pull one over on a bat. Do you honestly think she won’t take a chance to mess with them? Also, Dick is the one who is interrogating Sam.

He’s crying too by the end of the story.

Poor guy, Sam will play his heart like a fiddle. 

Also, their fake identities are Jordan for Danny. Mortica for Sam (or Macey for short) and Phineas for Tucker. The fact that they are using fake identities is the only thing they all agree on in the interview. But the bats find nothing on them and the identities are so realistic they wonder if they are even fake at all. If the three are faking fake IDs to throw them off their tail from looking deeper. Apparently their ‘parents’ having a missing persons report.

Damian is interrogating Danny. It’s just so easy to rile him up and get under his skin. It’s absolute drama in that interrogation room. 

Danny: ah yessss. Master plan.

Damian: you shall never succeed! Justice shall prevail evil scum!

And Duke is interrogating Tucker. He just…has no idea how to respond to this. He wasn’t trained for this response. Hostile, yes. Mysterious, yes. Scared, yes. Civilian, yes. Even Flirtatious! YES! But not…this. What does he do? should he take out his note cards?

Also, I’m adding a mix of home alone elements to this. They have to get past the bats somehow and it can’t be lethal. Poor Jason and Steph who are patrolling the halls fall victim to most of this.

At one point, both of them are tied up together and hanging from the ceiling. While the trio just casually walk by under them. 

It’s dental floss. Really strong dental floss.

Then the bats start taking sides. 

Jason? once he hears Sam's story, he's immediately willing to help her. He and Dick are searching for that missing person's report almost religiously.

Tim believes Danny's story. part of it is because it makes the most sense, and the other part is that he's slightly biased from becoming an evil megalomaniac in every timeline he's seen so he's subconsciously trying to stop that from happening here.

Cass believes Tucker because come on, it's Cass.

Steph is siding with Tim because her father was cluemaster so same reasons.

Bruce is trying to fact check all of them and is failing desperately.

Sam added some ‘clues’ in her interrogation and basically threw the GIW under the bus as the organization. So the bats do find a shady organization but so far no missing persons so the other bats still don’t know if what Sam is saying is true or not while Dick takes this as absolute proof and Jason feels like it doesn’t matter if she’s telling the truth at this point. It’s a corrupt organization. So he’ll still blow it up.

I think in this AU, the GIW isn’t a threat and more of an annoyance so Sam just plays them up as even worse. Like, she doesn’t say anything untrue just makes it sound worse out of context. Oh yeah, they opened fire on this random kid. (Gregory when they thought he was phantom) Oh yes, they have destroyed Danny’s house at one point. (The prank war with Vlad) Yes, the have an unhealthy obsession with dissecting people. (Even though they are too incompetent to actually catch anyone).

So again, they don’t know if Sam is telling the truth of the organization or they just used this random organization to draw their attention away from the three’s plans (as Danny implied). Possibly an enemy organization or a competitor.

I know everyone makes the GIW a big threat but I decided to change it up. They aren’t a threat but still get obliterated by a pissed off Red Hood and Nightwing.

And that’s  another reason why Sam gives the sob story. Danny and Tucker are great but they wouldn’t actually sick a crime lord on the GIW. Sam? Absolutely would. She does not care what happens to them. They tore up her garden one time with a stray shot. She wants revenge. And sure, she didn’t actually know what would happen to them after the bats find out but she still doesn’t care.

And through all of this, the rogues are sitting back and eating popcorn while Joker screams bloody murder from his cell. 

[piningforstan]

Talking in Your Sleep

Part One | Part Two

Summary: You start to suspect that there’s more to Stan than what he tells you, at least while he’s awake. Asleep is a different story

Pairings: Stanley Pines x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None, just angst

A/N: Don’t ask me why I put characters I love so much through so much heartache. There might be something wrong with me

“You dated him, didn’t you?”

“Hm?” You pretended not to be paying attention, wiping down the bar. No matter how many times you cleaned it, it stayed perpetually grimy to the touch. You doing the rag over your shoulder. “Who?”

“Weird guy. Lives in the woods.”

“Pines,” the other guy at the bar supplied. The foam of the cheap beer left a rim around his mouth. The former nodded.

“Oh, yeah,” you said casually, though it was anything but. Dated as in committed every dip and plane of his body to memory, told him about your childhood, envisioned a life unfolding before you with this man you considered your best friend. Until his lies ripped it away.

The two men continued their conversation then as if they only needed you to confirm something they already knew.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t partially want the job at Skull Fracture because you knew it was a notorious house of gossip and rumors, a way to check on Stan without actually having to speak to him. You picked up bits and pieces of what he was up to, how he was, all without actually inserting yourself.

In a small town like Gravity Falls there wasn’t much to talk about, and Stan posed a compelling story every time. You supposed it was a good thing that they never tired of him, speculating about his life and his job and everything else. You were of minor interest, too, since everyone knew you had lived and worked with him. But you never revealed much. It disgusted you, this unwavering loyalty to Stan. What did you owe him?

It became well known, anyway, that you refused to offer much in terms of fodder for gossip. You were intriguing in a vague, less interesting sense, a lens through which they hoped to grasp a better understanding of Stan.

The roar of the bar usually muted those thoughts of him. Music blared at all times of the day, men smoked and fought and cursed, greasy-smelling food wafted from the kitchen, and you facilitated all of it with a plastered smile. You needed money after leaving Stan. Gravity Falls wasn’t exactly a hotbed of employment opportunities, and unless you wanted to be stuck in the lumber business you had no other option than barkeep.

Your name floated over the din of drunk bikers, your manager appearing out of the back. “There’s a call. For you.”

You wiped your hands on your thighs and followed him to the phone. “Hello?”

“Doll, you gotta help me out.”

Stan’s voice, deep and rasping, struck you like a slap. Your stomach dropped. It took you a few moments to eke out a response. “Stan?”

“They, uh, got me down at the station. Some bogus arrest.”

“What?” You shook your head. “Stan, you got arrested?”

“Just say you’ll come down, eh?”

“Why are you calling me? I’m at work.”

A pause on his end, the sound of a door being slammed shut. “I ain’t got no one else.”

You inhaled sharply and exhaled out your mouth, fingers digging into the phone. You could examine your decision making abilities later. “Fine. Fine, Stan. How much is bail?”

“S’not much.”

It s’was much, you came to find out, nearly all of your savings. But for some godawful reason, you still loved Stan, and you knew since his voice rang out on the line that you would do anything he asked. You loathed yourself for this, loathed him for putting you in this position.

Stan was grinning sheepishly and rubbing his wrists as he walked out of the station. Everything you had to say, all of the reprimands and lectures, vanished upon seeing him.

“You cut your hair,” you blurted stupidly.

Gone was the mullet, the unruly curls. You quickly admired the shape of his jaw leading into his neck, his slightly too big ears that endeared you to him even more. He looked younger this way.

Stan rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. “Yeah. If bad haircuts were a crime, I would’ve been arrested a lot sooner.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that you had loved his mullet, but promptly closed it again. It hurt to look at him, properly, since that night in the basement; the ache you carried in your heart increased tenfold now, throbbing so painfully that you thought you might now understand how people could die from broken hearts. You tore your gaze from him. Suddenly the bushes outside the station held your rapt attention.

“Listen, uh, thanks. For bailing me out. How much do I owe ya?”

“Stan, you’ve forgotten I’ve balanced your books. You couldn’t pay me back even if you wanted.”

“That’s not true,” Stan protested, “the Shack’s been breakin’ even most days. She’s doin’ alright. Not the same without you, though.”

He rushed this last part, an afterthought that he wanted to retract but had already brought to life.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” you said. Perhaps if you pretended you didn’t hear him entirely, it wouldn’t take roost in your mind.

“I’ve been meanin’ to tell ya —”

“I have to get back to work, Stan,” you said, sharper than you meant to. You couldn’t think with the amount of hurt being in his company afforded you. ���Do you need a ride?”

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The drive back transpired in silence. Your headlights sliced through the darkened woods like two sabers, finally falling onto the Mystery Shack as you pulled into the gravel lot. You still considered it more home than your place now, a room you rented from one of the locals. You didn’t realize just how much you missed it.

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Have a good night, Stan.”

“You should come in. Please. I won’t keep ya long.”

Your resolve, well, dissolved. Not that it was heavily fortified to begin with. You found yourself crossing the lot to the porch and in through the front door, the process a lot like slipping into a familiar piece of clothing. It smelled distinctly Stan-ish, you noticed, though not unkindly. He had kept the place neat since you left. The reminder of that afternoon, dragging your meager belongings out, glared in your memory. Stan watching out the window as you drove away.

“Jus’ one cup. I swear.” He placed a mug of coffee in front of you. Your mug. The one you forgot.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. You were grateful for the excuse to do something with your hands, even though the coffee tasted like mornings with your feet in his lap and his lips on your shoulder.

“I hear yer workin’ at the bar now.”

You smiled grimly. “Regrettably.”

“Ya know you always have a job here,” Stan said.

“What’re you doing?” You set down the mug on the table. The anger boiled in you, words escaping like trapped steam with no where else to go. “You can’t just act like nothing happened. Like this is normal.”

“I jus’ wanted to talk,” Stan told you. His throat bobbed uncertainly. “To apologize.”

You stayed quiet.

When he realized you wouldn’t be responding, he forged ahead. “I should’ve been honest with you. From the beginning. But ya don’t understand where I was when I met you — I finally reconnected with my brother after ten years and then I lost him. Again. Because I fucked up.”

His hands formed into fists. Stan took a breath, seemingly to steady himself. “I was lost. I was angry. It was easier to lie. And what was I s’ppose to do? Spill the whole truth? When I first met you, you were a stranger. I had no idea that you would stick around w’me as long as you did.”

“That’s…fair.” Stan looked relieved at this, though it wasn’t long lasting. “But why not tell me the truth when I asked?”

“I didn’t know how. Every time I tried, I…I couldn’t. Would you have had a different reaction, though? I knew you would leave.”

“At least I would’ve heard it from you straight, Stan. I had to find out while you were asleep that you were keeping these huge secrets from me.”

“I know. I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to end the way they did.”

You bit down on your lip to keep the tears at bay. “Neither did I.”

“We could try it again, ya know.”

The way he looked at you was so earnest, so genuine, that you had to close your eyes to ward off the image of him as a skinned-knee child, the one who solved problems with his fists and resided just below the surface of this man now.

“Stan —”

“Please?”

You swallowed, your throat thick with emotion. “I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

“The truth is out now. You know everything.”

“But I will never be able to ignore the feeling that you’re hiding something from me,” you said. “So much is still unclear to me.”

“Ask me anythin’. I’ll tell ya.”

You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes as you said, “Stop building the portal or whatever you’re doing. Focus on the people — here — in your life.”

Focus on me, you inwardly pleaded.

Stan’s jaw feathered. “I can’t stop working to get him back.”

The swift finality of his words washed over you, a decisive blow to the traitorous hope you still clung to. Coffee not even halfway drank, you stood and rounded the table. Stan’s cheeks were wet with tears as you put your hands to them, pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, Stanley.”

The bar shined. It was never dirty for long, you ensured that when you bought it, ensured that you wiped away every mess. You could even see the door opening in the reflection of the bar, two small bodies stepping through. You looked up.

It wasn’t rare for new faces to visit. It was summer, the height of tourism season, and your bar was preferable to Skull Fracture. Gentle music drifted from the speakers. Bar wasn’t even the right word — you served small meals and drinks of all kinds, not just alcohol. You smiled at the two children as they approached. “Thirsty?”

“Yes!” The girl, buried in a sweater despite the heat, smiled brightly at you. Her braces winked in the low lighting.

“And,” the boy said, her brother, glancing at her purposefully, “we need to ask some questions.”

You nodded. “Ask away. Lemonade okay?”

The juxtaposition of the two, the girl, looking around eagerly, and the boy, doing his best to present himself as mature and composed, brought a smile to your face. He laid a notebook on the bar counter, brows furrowed.

“Where were you the night of June twenty-first?”

“Hm. At home, I suppose.”

“Can anyone confirm that?”

You peered at him. Amusement ignited inside you, a flicker of affection. You loved kids, always have. “I live alone, so, no.”

“Did you see anything…peculiar that night?”

“Not that I can recall.” You set down two glasses of lemonade in front of them. “Why?”

“There was a reported sighting of an unidentifiable object in the sky,” the boy said. “We were just gathering information about it.”

The girl wiggled her fingers, whispering conspiratorially, “Aaaaaliens.”

“We don’t know that,” the boy countered.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Strange things always happen in this town,” you said.

“You see them too?”

You smiled softly at the two of them. “I do.”

“I’m Dipper. This is my sister, Mabel,” the boy introduced, jerking a thumb at her. “Would you mind telling me stories about what you’ve seen?”

You entertained their questions, recalling the unexplainable things you’d seen over the last thirty years. You refilled their drinks twice. They listened intently to your stories, interrupting only to clarify something specific.

There was something familiar in their shape of their mouths, the keen way that they interacted with their world. Had they been in town before? You knew some families returned to Gravity Falls every summer to enjoy the wilderness and disconnect.

“What did it look like?” Dipper asked, leaning forward in interest.

You had been telling them about the time you swear you saw glowing lights in the trees, floating blue spheres leading you away from the path. “Well, they —”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dipper said. “I should be putting this in the journal.”

“Dipper,” Mabel warned him.

Dipper ignored her. “Would you mind following us home? I’d love to write everything down and-and draw a picture, if you don’t mind.”

His cheeks flushed at this.

You gazed around the empty bar, then shrugged. What point was there to owning your own business if you couldn’t close down when you wanted?

“Sure, give me one moment.”

The twins appealed to you. And you were curious to find out more about them. Not to mention, it had been a long time since someone wanted to talk to you. Really talk. You weren’t lonely, per se, but you sometimes missed the comfort of another person. As you closed the cash register and locked up, you couldn’t ignore the fact that you had wanted kids, long ago, but the years slipped away and now the dream was gone.

You liked these kids. Even though you’d only known them for an afternoon, you’d taken a shine to them — smart and witty, perceptive, the right amount of childish enthusiasm. You told them to put their bikes in the trunk of your car and followed their direction back home.

“You live…here?” Your stomach dropped as the Mystery Shack emerged from the dense forest, the S lying precariously on the roof.

“Kinda,” Mabel said, “we’re staying with our Grunkle Stan for the summer.”

Dipper, insisting that he got the front seat, turned to you. “Do you know him?”

“Kinda,” you muttered. “If it’s all the same to you, I might just stay in the car.”

The twins exchanged a look. A pointed, knowing look, like they suspected their uncle had done something to lose your favor. They weren’t wrong, exactly. Dipper and Mabel ran inside with the promise to return shortly. All you could do was stare at the Shack numbly, imagine the man within and the memories you held with him. You should’ve known that he would make an appearance, stomp out onto the porch after his niece and nephew to investigate.

Stan’s expression crumbled.

You couldn’t hear, but he uttered something to them. They gesticulated frantically back. Your heart had leapt into your throat by the time the three of them walked back to the car, Stan lingering a few steps behind.

“Grunkle Stan says we shouldn’t bother you,” Mabel said, pouting.

You finally forced your gaze to him. Stan had aged well, you reluctantly noticed, still unbearably handsome. The same broad shoulders. The features that you knew so well, lined with the years you spent apart.

“They aren’t bothering me,” you choked out.

“You shouldn’t fill their heads w’stories,” Stan replied, refusing to meet your eyes.

“They aren’t stories,” you and Dipper both protested at the same time. You shared a secretive smile with him.

“Jus’ tell the nice person sorry and let them get on with her day.”

Mabel tugged on his suit jacket. “They told us that you knew each other.”

“We-We did,” Stan said.

You supplied, “A long time ago.”

“Then come inside and catch up!” Mabel beamed at the idea. “You gave us lemonade so it’s only fair. I can make you Mabel-cakes!”

“If it’s fine with your uncle.”

Stan studied you closely. You could only imagine what he saw, your greying hair and swollen knuckles. “Uh, yeah…’course.”

You were both pleased and devastated to see how the inside of the Shack had changed. Judging by the “exhibits” and amount of items in the gift shop, business was prosperous. A redheaded girl at the register waved at you as you passed. Dipper disappeared upstairs to fetch his journal, and Mabel busied herself preparing the pancake mix, leaving you alone with Stan.

“It’s, uh, been awhile,” Stan said, effectively breaking the silence.

You feigned an interest in the water stains on the ceilings. “It has.”

The last time you were together had been almost— what, two years ago? You had knocked. Stan had answered. He touched you with expert precision, years of exploring one another resulting in experiences both familiar and new, somehow each brief encounter over the years never dulling your attraction. You weren’t proud, necessarily, of your weakness in the form of Stan Pines. You had almost overcome it until today; you should’ve known that the twins were Pines.

“How’s the bar?” Stan asked.

“Fine.”

“I’m sorry if they were botherin’ ya. Kids.”

“They weren’t,” you said, and you meant it. “They seem really great. They’re your niece and nephew?”

“Great niece and nephew. My brother’s grandkids.” When you arched a brow in confusion, Stan grimaced. “Other brother.”

“Oh.” You hugged your arms around yourself. Should you ask him how his search was? You wanted to care, but found it hard when it only brought back painful memories. Clearly it hadn’t been well, not if his brother was still absent.

You bit your lip. “Do they know?”

“No, they don’t.” Stan’s face shuttered closed.

Indignation swelled inside you, pressed against your rib cage. “You haven’t told them?”

“Everyone thinks that —” he lowered his voice, “—that Stanley Pines is dead. Including their parents and my brother.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“What I do with my life isn’t your problem,” Stan snapped. “You made that clear.”

“They’re good kids, Stan.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“Don’t push them away, too,” you told him softly. “I-I need to go. Can you tell them I’m sorry? Say that I had to go back to work or something.”

Stan’s words chased you out the door: “Whose the liar now?”

Tags:

@gimmemorecherries @tellybearryyyy

[steddieas-shegoes]

sir, this is a wendy's

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'modern au' rated t wc: 765 tags: established relationship, proposal, kinda silly

-----------------------------------------------

"They're out of the cookies, sweetheart," Eddie turned to Steve as he came back from the restroom of the Wendy's.

They were still nearly six hours from home and exhausted, a little bit grumpy if Steve's silence for the last hour was anything to go by.

"I'll have a Frosty then."

"Machine's down."

Steve blinked at him before sighing.

"I guess nothing then, right? Just the burger and fries."

Eddie sighed, too.

The visit with Robin hadn't gone...well. She'd told them she was taking a year to study abroad and part of the program meant she could only come home for one week during their summer break. Steve wasn't taking it well that she'd go from being an eight hour drive away to an eight hour flight away.

He was being patient.

He knew Steve hated change like this, and he'd only been sitting with it for about 12 hours.

Eddie turned back to the cashier with a smile.

"Two number two's, one with no onions and one with no tomatoes please."

Steve was standing next to him, staring down at his phone. When Eddie looked over, he had a tab open showing the program details of Robin's study abroad track.

While they waited for their food, Eddie watched Steve biting his lip, then his thumbnail, and then his lip again.

"Stevie, what's goin' on in your head?" Eddie finally asked.

Steve shoved his phone in his pocket and looked at the floor.

"Nothin'."

"It's clearly somethin'. You worried about Robin?"

"Obviously," Steve huffed.

"Love, she's-"

"Steve Munson!"

Both of them whipped their heads back to the counter, where a woman was pushing a tray of food towards them.

Steve's wide eyes looked back at Eddie, cheeks a bright red.

Eddie walked up to grab their food, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of Steve actually being Steve Munson.

It's not that he hadn't thought about it before; He had thought about it most days for the last year.

There was a ring in his drawer at their apartment to prove it.

"Table?" Eddie choked out, avoiding eye contact with Steve.

They were quiet as they sat down, taking their food off the tray and looking at it. Not eating, not even touching it anymore, just looking.

"Um."

"So."

They looked at each other, then back down at their food.

"Steve Munson sounds kinda nice," Eddie said hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Steve was picking at the wrapper around his burger now.

"I mean, I've thought so for a while."

"You have?"

Eddie was really about to propose in this Wendy's.

Without a ring or a real speech.

Just himself and a few old people in the corner eating chili.

"I'm gonna do this for real somewhere that isn't a Wendy's on an exit in some shitty town that has two gas stations and a Wal-Mart, but for now." He cleared his throat and reached across the table to take Steve's hand. "I dunno why they called that name, but maybe it's a sign. I love you. I know right now you're having a lot of thoughts, and you don't have to answer me. I'm not even on one knee, but really this is a Wendy's and my knee's been hurting for the entire ride. I love you. I said that already."

Steve giggled and Eddie couldn't help smiling back at him.

"I love you. I'll say it as much as you want, as long as it makes that smile happen. I'll say it when you're sad and grumpy, when you're happy and silly, when you're tired, when you're hyper. If it's okay with you, I'll scream it right here."

"In the Wendy's?"

"Yes, in the Wendy's."

Steve just nodded.

"Attention everyone! This man right here? I love him!" Eddie was saying loudly, gaining the attention of everyone around them. "And I'm asking him right now, to be my husband!"

"Sir, this is a Wendy's," an old lady sitting in the booth across from them said.

Eddie and Steve immediately started laughing.

"Well, is he sayin' yes so you'll shut up or what?" An old man said from the other end of the lobby.

Eddie looked at Steve with a smirk.

"Yeah, I'll marry you," Steve said loud enough for everyone to hear.

A couple people clapped, but for the most part, everyone went back to ignoring them.

Eddie kissed Steve softly, chastely.

"Was this a distraction from the Robin thing?" Steve asked.

"Not intentionally. Worked though."

Steve rolled his eyes fondly.

"You better make the real proposal a spectacle."

"Anything for you, my love."

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You  Part II

Hi again! Welcome back for part II of Until We Found You, please head the tags: Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

The police were practically useless with your case. After your parents had arrived, they checked the house while they told you to pack a bag. You went back upstairs, still cautious in case the killer was lurking somewhere. You felt your foot slip beneath you, remembering the papers on the floor. You picked them up from the ground, stuffing them into your backpack, following it up with clothes and whatever else you needed to take. You looked out of your window, seeing a red beetle pulling into your driveway and Tatum and Sidney getting out of it. You sighed, finishing packing your bag up, hearing the police begin to make their way to your room. “You can all interview her tomorrow, I want her somewhere safe for the night,” you heard your mom's voice from down the hall, putting your shoes on before peeking your head out and looking up at the officer in front of you. “Dewey,” you called out, seeing the man look back at you. “Hey, are you okay? Did the paramedics check you out already,” he questioned, nodding and offering a tiny smile. “Yup, I wasn’t hurt, just kinda scared I guess,” you murmured, what if the killer got the smart idea to frame it all on you now? Why didn’t they kill you? You weren’t scared for your life, just scared they would ruin it by setting you up.

“Oh, good, yeah. You gave your statement already, right?” He asked, you gave a hum in response. “Crazed masked killer wearing a black outfit, yup. Creepy call too, he asked me about an old horror movie, you know, the one I named Irena after. It was fucking creepy,” You said, recalling the incident from less than an hour ago. “Dewey!” Tatum called, pushing past the other officers with Sidney trailing right behind her. “Oh my god, are you okay? Did they hurt you or anything,” Tatum asked as she pulled you in for a hug. “No, I’m- I’m okay,” you reassured her as Sidney wrapped her arms around you as well.

“Honey,” your dad called, making you pull away from the girls. “The Machers said they would be happy to keep watch on all you kids tonight. I’d feel a little better knowing all your friends will be with you,” he said, you nodded. “Yeah, I’d feel better too, did you guys call Randy and Billy already?” You asked as you turned back to Sidney and Tatum. “Yeah, we called them on the way, we asked Stu if we could stay at his since his is the biggest. We kinda figured you didn’t want to be alone tonight,” Sidney said, making you smile a bit as you nodded. “Thanks,” you said before going to your parents. “What about you guys? Where are you going to stay tonight,” you didn’t want the killer to go after them, next to Irena they were the only thing you cared about. “We’ll be at your aunt's house, we will be safe. You just try relaxing okay? We’ll pick you up in the morning to take you to the station,” your mom said before hugging you. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she sighed out.

“I guess you aren’t the killer after all, or maybe you have an accomplice helping you to throw police off your trail,” Randy said in a teasing way to you, huffing when you kicked at him. “Maybe it was you, Randy. Maybe you saw one too many Halloweens and thought you’d take some inspo,” you said as you put your head back onto Sidney’s lap. “Yeah, Randy’s a perfect killer. He probably did it because you wouldn’t sleep with him,” Stu added, making the group laugh except for Randy. “And who says it wasn’t you, Stu? Maybe you got jealous of her seeing your girlfriend's tits more than you,” Randy retorted, making Stu laugh as he looked at you. “Yeah, what's to say it wasn’t me trying to gut you tonight?” Stu asked in a teasing manner, Tatum hitting his shoulder as Billy sounded in. “Can you two idiots shut up about it? Watch the fucking movie,” he huffed out. “Billy’s right guys, I just want to relax tonight. I don’t want to hear about that stupid fucking mask anymore,” you huffed out. You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart was a little hurt. You had been obsessed with the killings, you didn’t think Weary had killed Maureen, you think it was someone who was still on the loose, the same someone who killed Casey and Steve. The use of knives, the fact that no one saw their face, and how they were killed, it was all too coincidental. You spent over a whole year obsessing over them, only to be betrayed and nearly killed. You were almost killed by the one person who made you feel alive again, someone who brought you excitement, you were hurt by that.

“I’m gonna grab a beer, anyone else want one,” Stu asked as everyone chimed in. “Then someone come and help,” he demanded as he stood, you got off of Sidney’s lap and stood up, “I’ll help. Got anything other than shitty beer down there?” You questioned as he laughed, “I think,” he replied as you two headed down to the garage.

“You know, I’m surprised the horror hottie would follow someone all alone to a dark place,” Stu teased, earning him a shove to his shoulder. “Shut up, Stu. Everyone knows you would probably go searching through my underwear drawer before trying to kill me,” you laughed, “who says I didn’t?” He questioned, making you stumble in your walk for a moment. “Chill out, I was with Tate on the phone while it was going on. I’m just fucking with you,” He chuckled, opening up the fridge and handing you the beers. “Got patron or hard lemonade, take your pick,” he hummed, you pointed at the lemonade. “Hey, Randy’s getting cut off the dumbass keeps talking about his theories,” you heard Billy from the doorway, Stu laughing as he took one of the beers from your hands. “More for me then,” Stu said as he closed the fridge. You turned and saw Billy looking at you, a bit more intensely than his usual crazy eyes. “What? Scared to be near the girl who almost got killed,” you joked as he flashed a smile. “No, surprised you’re still alive though.” “Same here,” Stu said as he looked at Billy, Billy narrowed his eyes at Stu for a moment before he went over to you to help with the beers. “Maybe ghostface has a thing for you or something,” Billy said as you laughed. “Doubt it, I think he got scared that my parents were getting home,” you said, which was partially true, but you couldn’t deny that maybe your obsession helped you survive tonight. “Maybe you have a thing for ghostface then,” Stu chimed in, making your head whip to him. You blushed, shaking your head, “as if,” you huffed out, giving a little laugh to cover up your nervousness.

Time passed by quickly that night, you all spent the night drinking and watching movies, mostly horror movies involving Jamie Lee Curtis since Stu insisted on watching them. Tate was cooped up in Stu’s room with him, Randy had passed out on the couch and Sidney and Billy were probably in the guest room fast asleep. You had snuck out into the backyard, letting your mind wander once again as you stared up at the stars. Your phone began to ring, you stared at it and debated answering before seeing it was Sidney’s number. You sighed and picked it up, wondering if she needed anything. “Hey,” you answered, hearing a familiar voice. “The Machers, huh? Don’t you know not to split up?” The voice questioned, making you sit up. “You let me live, why are you calling?” You asked, looking around before standing and heading back for the door to get inside. “I wanted to talk to my fan, I saw all your papers. Thought you would like a phone call, or are you mad I didn’t slit that pretty little throat,” the person taunted as you messed around with the doorknob, it had locked behind you when you left. “That was before I realized I was on your kill list,” you retorted, heading around the house to the front door to wake Randy up. “No hard feelings, it was before I realized you were a fan. Leave your window open when you’re back at home. I would like to see what my pretty little fan is willing to do for not slitting her throat.” The killer said, chuckling as you blushed a little, about to respond before you heard the beeping that indicated they had hung up. You smiled slightly, happy that they wanted to see you again.

The front door opened, Billy looking at you with panicked eyes and a knife in hand. “Jesus, I thought you were the weirdo, I heard you trying to open the back door,” he said, making you laugh a bit. “Yeah, sorry, the back door was locked,” you said as he moved out of the doorway. “Come on, get inside before you end up like Casey,” he said as you walked in, “not funny, Billy.” You said as you yawned. “Mind if I crash with you and Sid? I don’t want Randy to make any passes,” you asked as Billy laughed, heading to the kitchen to put up the knife. “Be my guest, you and Sid can have the bed, I’ll take the floor.” “What a gentleman,” you teased. “Shut up before I let Randy take a stab at you.” He said, mimicking a stabbing movement as you laughed and pushed him.

[slytherinshua]

INTERTWINED SOULS, CLASHING LIPS

genre. vampire au. fluff. brief reference to vampire seungwoo for @haecien and cien alone teehee. warnings. reader is briefly a bat sdkjsk lmao. blood and fangs and other vampire stuff. hanbin's tattoos are magical!! kissing and the tiniest bit of biting. like 1 second of nudity i'm not sure but it's nothing sexual guys promise. not proofread. pairing. vampire!hanbin x vampire!reader. wc. 997. request. no. a/n. i mean he was practically asking me to write this when he dropped his aotm...

read part 2 here read part 3 here

Hanbin’s collarbone was burning, which, despite the pain, was a good sign. His tattoos were reacting to a signal that only you could have put out. And he knew that you were coming home, back to him.

It had been a few years since you had been sent out on your mission by the elders. Hanbin had never worried about you making it back to him. You dying from a mission was a ridiculous notion, no matter how dangerous the task was. You always rose above your station and completed every commission you were given. But the years you had been apart from him, although barely even worth counting, had started to become noticeable to him.

Compared to the hundreds of years you had been united with him, a couple years gone on a mission was almost nothing. But with time had grown fondness, and Hanbin couldn’t help the way his heart yearned for you.

As the burning grew more intense and his tattoos glowed brightly, he knew it was only a matter of minutes before you were back in his arms. He waited with baited breath on the top of his tower, eyes sharply focused for any bat that emerged from the forest. Exactly 8 minutes later, he saw the silhouette of one.

He rubbed his palm against his sternum, subsiding the pain that had grown to its worst. The cost of uniting two vampire’s souls in hopes of greater power was an equal amount of pain. Hanbin held out his hands, and the bat landed carefully on them. It slumped forward a second after, completely exhausting its energy. Hanbin cupped it gently, and carried it inside. 

“I told you not to fly with the pain. Now you’re stuck.” He scolded the bat as he placed it on the soft bed. He closed his eyes in concentration, and with his right hand flattened over his moon tattoo, slowly summoned his power. The ink glowed, and so did the palm of his hand.

He moved his hand to the bat's head, ignoring the screech it let out as he let the magic flow through its body. A few seconds of writhing around later, the bat shapeshifted back into its vampire form.

“You couldn’t have been a little gentler with that? You nearly suffocated me.” You coughed, shooting a glare at the man dressed in black. He handed you a robe with a shake of his head, and you wrapped it around your bare body.

“Would you rather live as a bat for the next thousand years? You should be thankful.” He tsked, averting his gaze from your figure so as to try to not seem so obvious. You had called him out many times for his bad habit of staring.

“All you do is nag me. Someone needs to shut you up.” You stood up, grabbing Hanbin’s wrist before he could continue making moves to leave the room.

“As if you’d survive a day without a word from me.” He countered, red eyes shining a bit brighter at your touch. He hadn’t felt his magic surge so powerfully since the last time you had been back.

“I survived a few years. A few more days would be a piece of cake.” You replied, pulling his face down before he could think of another witty response. 

Maybe it was the familiarity of it all that made you feel as if nothing had changed. Hanbin’s lips tasted just like you remembered. Exactly the same as the many nights you had imagined it in hopes of soothing the ache in your heart. Coming back to Hanbin meant coming back to a missing part of your soul. The longer you were separated from each other, the weaker you both became. And, as the reverse, the closer you were, the stronger. That is why the elders were so pleased with your clearly undying infatuation with each other. 

Hanbin’s former reprove towards you completely melted away the moment his lips made contact with yours. The clash of soft lips and sharp fangs stole all his breath, clouding his brain with only one thought: relief. Restlessness always followed him when you were away. Your weak state when you landed in his hand filled him with worry, but feeling your kiss now gave him consolation. 

He pulled away breathlessly, and a satisfied smirk lifted on his lips, just wide enough to uncover one of his fangs. You looked at his face, admiring his gleaming eyes, bruised lips, pearly teeth, and smooth skin. Your gaze dropped slightly lower, eyeing the marking on his collarbone, of which you also displayed below the dip of your neck.

You pressed a small kiss to the sun, which granted Hanbin his strength and surged his magic. Next, your lips found the star, which allowed him to cast complex spells, both to aid in combat or alter the very fabric of time. Lastly, you grazed the moon emblem which stored his healing abilities. With it, he was easily able to nurse you back to health within seconds. Pulling him closer again, you travelled up to his neck and teasingly nipped at his skin.

“Did you not get your fill of biting people while on your mission? You’re insatiable.” He commented in amusement. The sensation pricked his skin with a whisper of pain that was soon soothed completely by your lips. Although he would gladly let you have free rein over him for as long as you wanted, one glance at the time urged him to pull you off of him gently.

“We should announce your return to Seungwoo and the others. They’ve been expecting you.” He urged you, and a flash of pride showed in his eyes. You were sure to be rewarded generously for your excellence during the past few years you were gone. Now more than ever, Hanbin felt fortunate that he was intertwined with you in every function of life. For, even your very souls laced together perfectly.

↳ zerobaseone taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @okshu,, @chewryy,, @haecien,, @sobun1est,,

@emmylksblog,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @chenleszone,, @sxmmerberries,,

@talking-saxy,, @cupidslovearrows,, @dimplewonie,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,,

@kristianities,, @kangtaehyunzzz

[mvltisstuff]

hi!! could you possibly do a one-shot where buck and reader are flirting during the dosed episode? like they get high and are handcuffed and are just giggling and flirting and then accidental confession or something and then the next day they’re just like “i’m pretty sure we’re dating now..” thank you so so much!! this idea just made me giggle so <33

you get me so high - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif does not belong to me

a/n: i adore this idea, thank you for sharing <3 i worked on this very sporadically, and i’m not the biggest fan of it but i hope you enjoy!

whoever brought those brownies in was an angel to y/n. yeah, a felony for sure, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t secretly enjoy it.

even though the whole station had been haunted by taylor and her team the entire day, all of the worries of the job seemed to vanish. buck wasn’t sure why, but he just saw everything different than he has before. nature called for him and he was more than excited to be at his job.

he just wanted to laugh at everything, each little girl in front of him was the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. he watched y/n from across the room, sitting on the floor and playing with a girl in a massive dress shaped like a pastry.

“where did you get this dress?” she asks, running her fingers down the satin on the side.

“my mommy bought it for me!”

“can she buy one for me?” y/n asks, turning her head to see the grown firefighter skipping over.

“y/n!” he shoots out quickly, jogging over to lean next to her on the ground.

“hi buck! will you buy me a dress like this?”

“only if you buy me one,” he smiles. “maybe we should put bobby in one.” he starts completely laughing at the thought of bobby in a pretty pink dress, with a sash and a tiara.

“what is going on- buck!” chim shouts. “can someone help us over here?”

“how are we not helping?” buck asks, leading y/n to just shrug. they glance over at eddie in the corner, looking at all the pageant girls like they have 5 heads. he almost looks fearful of them, swaying in his spot.

the next few minutes were a blur, and suddenly they were all handcuffed together against a wall. hen, eddie, buck, and y/n were all connected by their hands, being watched by athena like they misbehaved at school.

“ooh, you made him cry!” buck teases, looking at the tears streaming down eddie’s face. y/n just looks closer to athena’s face.

“you’re a hot cop, thena,” y/n speaks airily, just smiling cheekily at the officer in front of her.

“you guys are high as hell and you’re on duty.”

“what?” hen exclaims. “i didn’t smoke anything-“

“well you ate something! someone brought marijuana brownies into the station, so you’re all off work.”

the team just looks around in shock, not fully caring until y/n and buck start giggling once more. “just- just sit down against this wall, and do not move.” athena demands, walking away to deal with the other emergency in the main room.

y/n and buck sat fine against the wall, comparing hands and very lightly slapping each other on the sides. a few spouts of silence would happen for a few minutes while the group of stoners just watched the world pass in front of them.

“buck,” y/n whispers.

“what?” he asks.

“you’re really cute, like i just figured i’d let you know.”

“thanks, you’re a cutie, too,” she giggles at his words, throwing her head back against the wall as he just glances at her. normal, sober buck would’ve had a racing heart and nerves fluttering all over his body because she told him he was cute. he knows he’s not bad looking, but hearing it from her is when he truly believes it. now, he just figured why not? yolo, anyway.

“no, you’re like cute cute. like hot oiled up firefighter cute.”

“that means so much, y/n,” he says, the sly remark almost making his heart clench.

“i want you under my christmas tree.”

“well, i want you in an easter egg for me.”

“well, i want you-“

“can you just shut up?” eddie asks, still distressed about being handcuffed and drugged. “we get it, you’re into each other. and what happens when you’re not high?”

“i don’t remember talking to you,” buck teases, giving eddie a side eye but keeping his head directed towards the pretty girl next to him.

“alright,” athena comes back into sight. “let’s get you all home, maybe sleep off some of this.”

the next morning, y/n remembered every little thing she said to buck, and he remembered every little thing he said to her. they hoped maybe it was like alcohol, making them forget what they may or may not have said, but nope. it was clear as day. it didn’t feel as awkward, though. it felt easier. like a weight was off their shoulders after being weighed down for so long.

when they both arrived at work, the look from the other just told them everything they had to know. buck meant everything he said, and so did she. her eyes lightly wandered over his, and he didn’t even make her say anything. they both knew that those cookies made a great thing burst open.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Drive My Car

————————————————————————-

Summary: You still haven't learned your lesson… and are back with a Joe prank! Now it's calling your poor husband to tell him about your discovery of “Christmas gas”.

Warnings: Fluff, slight illusion to smut

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

December 12th, 2023

I still don't know how Joe isn't tired of me and my tricks yet. After all of the pranks I've pulled on him I just keep finding more.

Bored in bed since Joe was gone, I found a prank I could do on him over the phone and immediately got down to business.

He was at his parent's house helping his mom build a new dresser like the amazing son he is while I stayed at home with Tyson and Miles. They weren't awake yet so I could put Joe on speaker while recording with his iPad.

After making my hair look decent I pulled Joe’s contact up and called him.

In usual amazing husband fashion, he answered in less than two rings.

“Hey Joey.” - you

“Hey, Mama. What's up? Do I need to step outside for this.” - Joe

Even though I loved Robin with my whole heart, I really didn't want her to think I was a ditz who thought diesel was “Christmas gas”.

“Uhm, yes.” - you

“Okay gimme a sec.” - Joe

A few moments later you could hear the back sliding door shut and Joe told you to keep going.

“Okay so the other day I saw this TikTok about this thing called Christmas gas and I wanted to try it. So I did. Now my car barely even got home and it was making a weird sound.” - you

“Baby… what? What the fuck is Christmas gas and where did you get it?” - Joe

“The gas station we always go to! It's just gas that's supposed to smell like pine wood for the holidays.” - you

I had to mute myself because I was dying laughing. Joe sighed and groaned out of pure annoyance before clearing his throat to speak.

“You actually put it in your car?” - Joe

“Mhm. Should I have not of?” - you

“I don't know, y/n! I've never heard of damn Santa gas or whatever the hell!” - Joe

“Christmas gas! It’s a limited edition!” - you

“Limited edition… baby why would they have limited edition gas?” - Joe

“I don't know. It was like three more dollars a gallon though and didn't even smell like pine wood.” - you

“Oh my god. y/n, was it coming from the green nozzle?” - Joe

“Yes! You have heard of it!” - you

“y/n, that's diesel babe! Did you put diesel in your car?” - Joe

“No, I put the Christmas gas in.” - you

“The green nozzle is diesel, y/n. That's why it was 3 more dollars than the regular gas, and why your car isn't working, because you put diesel in your gas car!” - Joe

“Are you sure? The gas station was decorated for Christmas and the green pump even had lights on it.” - you

“Yes, I'm sure! I'm gonna have to call the mechanic and take your car in when I get home later. Hopefully, your engine isn't ruined.” - Joe

“Is my car going to be ruined, Joey?” - you

“I don't know baby. You have to stop doing those stupid TikTok trends, y/n.” - Joe

“I’m sorry Joe. If my car’s ruined don't feel like you have to get it fixed.” - you

“That's BS. Imma get your damn car fixed. Just promise you won't do stuff like that till you run it by me because it might be a scam.” - Joe

“Okay, baby. I love you.” - you

“I love you too, just don't use your car till I get home. If you need to go somewhere before I do just take one of mine.” - Joe

“Thank you, just one more thing to tell you before you go.” - you

“Please tell me you didn't get your oil changed with reindeer piss.” - Joe

I busted out laughing and Joe giggled along with me, proud of how he was quick enough to make a funny joke.

“No! But… this was a prank.” - you

“Oh my god y/n! So your car is fine?” - Joe

“Yes. I haven't even left the house… or even the bed yet today.” - you

“Shit babe, you had me worried for a minute. Well, I'm gonna go. I love you.” - Joe

“I love you too! Kinda sad I won't get to see you play sexy mechanic though.” - you

“Pregnancy hormones?” - Joe chuckled

“They’re through the roof.” - you giggled

“I’ll help when I get home.” - Joe

I could practically hear his smirk in his lust-laced promise.

“Bye, Joey.” - you

“Bye, Mama. Don’t be buyin’ any gasoline from elves ya hear?” - Joe

“Yes, sir.” - you laughed and Joe hung up

That gorgeous man is a saint for putting up with me.

————————————————————————-

Authors note: this is my favorite thing ever?! Saw this request in my inbox and IMMEDIATELY started writing.

Request for this fic;

[boydepartment]

for real? for real. - nishimura riki x gn! reader

this is a pt. 2 from a drabble i posted a few days ago :) i had ppl in the comments ask for a pt 2 and the comments made me giggle. here is their tags and thank you for enjoying my content ❤️@keiipopped @kxppachu @sugariricookies @flaminghotyourmom - masterlist - wc- 200-300

holiday season was coming up, which meant the bakery was busy and you were stacked with hours. you didn’t have to deal with the public much as your manager kept you decorating. it was tense in the work place and it didn’t help that you haven’t spoken to riki since the freezer incident.

your manager told you to pick up pace and you nodded, running back and forth for waiting orders. tiered cakes. special frosted cakes. and more.

while everyone was busy working there was a yelp in the back and you called out.

“are you alright?!” you yelled out, your manager, jihyo, was up front helping the girls in the front counter.

“um…” one of the other frosters responded, it was taki. your brows furrowed and you walked over.

your eyes widening when you saw riki holding his hand on his white apron that was now stained red.

“riki cut his hand open! i don’t know what to do!”

it was sunday so the only real adult here was jihyo, baker bahng had weekends off.

your jaw fell to the floor and you walked over to him, you almost vomited when you saw his hand.

“it’s fine i’ll just wrap it up and continue fro-“

“GROSS DUDE NO…” taki yelled and shoved him, “go to the hospital! what if you bleed in the frosting! we’d get shut down! we don’t serve vampires! we can’t shut down i need this job!”

you felt nauseous, “i think i’m going to throw up..” you mumbled and got the first aid kit quick. you were quickly bandaging riki up. the moment quiet, well as quiet as it could be with taki freaking out. riki just kept watching you, a soft look on his features. jihyo came to the back and saw riki and her eyes widened, “good lord what happened?!”

“um…” riki looked awkward and looked at her. jihyo immediately sent him to have his sister pick him up and take him to the doctor. he could pick up his car later.

and so for the rest of the day riki was absent until closing when he came to pick up his bags and car. he walked into the bakery and saw you cleaning your station.

“busy?”

you looked up at him, your heart jumped you were worried and you missed him, “fuck are you alright?” you walked up to him and looked at his hand. he got new bandages and they pretty much just stitched him up.

“i’m okay… do you have a ride home?” he asked, you shook your head no, “you do now. we need to talk anyways.”

you felt your breath hitch and you became nervous, so you clocked out and the next thing you knew, you were in his car.

“can you even drive?” you asked softly, he looked at you, the lights from the dashboard illuminating his face, he had a small smirk as he turned around to back up the car.

“yeah i can drive. my hand is fine..” he murmured and then started to drive

“don’t you need my address?” you asked.

“after food. i’m hungry and i assume you haven’t eaten in awhile?” he side eyed you, you nodded.

“it was too busy.” you mumbled shyly. he nodded and took you guys to a drive through. he paid for your food and he parked in the back of the parking lot.

“so i wanted to talk to you because we went from arguing, to that moment in the freezer, to not speaking at all..” riki said and sipped his strawberry milkshake. you sipped your milkshake and nodded.

“i know and im sorry…” you mumbled and didn’t look at him. riki sighed and took a bite of his fries.

“i should apologize i think i made it weird..” he spoke and took a deep breath.

you looked at him now and immediately disagreed, “no! i’m awkward and weird and i’m shy an-“

riki started to laugh and he looked at you, his laugh was pretty sounding, “you’re so cute.”

you stopped talking and your jaw dropped.

his eyes tired and he ran a hand through his hair, “y/n, i like you. a lot. and i hope it’s not weird.”

your face was pink and you thanked god it was dark in the car, “you actually like me?”

riki started to laugh again, “y/n! yes! obviously!”

you looked at him, “like for real?”

the boy looked at you funny and put his hand on your cheek, leaning in, his eyes dancing across your features and they landed on your lips, “for real…”

your eyes looked at him, you wanted to kiss him so badly.

“can i kiss you..?” he asked quietly, almost scared you’ll say no.

you nodded and he smiled as he leaned in to kiss you.

when his lips met yours a million sparks went off and your hands went to his shoulders as he leaned into the center console to kiss you. he tasted like strawberry milkshake

a few seconds later he parted, “you’re my favorite by the way.”

you looked at him, “favorite what?” your smile was present.

“favorite everything. coworker, person, partner…?” he questioned

“partner.” you reassured your smile never faltering with him.

[rbbrbikerthorp]

Homeward Bound (Part 2)

Unbeknown to me the skinhead gets up from his seat. He lifts my head, which has fallen forwards. When he’s satisfied I’m unconscious and won’t cause him any trouble, he gets his phone and makes a call. 

“I’ve got one.. [pause] Yeah, he’s out but I took more that two to finish him off. [pause] Yeah, bring the van - you know where to meet us”.

As if in some distant dream I had a vague recollection of an announcement - something about some station, but it wasn't one I'd leave the train at. I sensed the skinhead lifting me out of my seat. I think he said something like “C’mon mate - you had a couple too many. I’ll help you. Yeah, watch yer step. The lads are meeting us so they will give you a lift home”.  I think I 'caught the eye' of one of two other passengers. Hoping they might intervene. I mean, surely it wasn't right for a half-cut smartly dressed office worker to be carried off a train by a skinhead thug?

I imagine they sit passively - not wanting to intervene. He hauls me off the train, leaving behind all my belongings - my coat with my phone and my rucksack with all its contents. It would be the last time anyone who knew me then would see the old me. 

As the train pulls up at the station the skinhead’s mates are waiting on the platform. I feel the train grind to a halt. Then vaguely recall the beeps of the door opening.

I sense the cold evening air and can 'taste' the smell of the diesel fumes emitted from the train. As a result, I become a bit more lucid.

“Is this him?” One of them shouts above the noise of the diesel engine.  

A bit older than we’d normally collect?” says another lad. 

“Give me a hand” says the skinhead from the train.

I feel someone else grab me and help get me down from the train onto the platform. My arms are held firmly. I hear more footsteps getting closer to me. Then I sense warm, smokey breath on my neck.

I lift my head a little and try to focus.

I can see two skinheads near the platform edge. I'm sure one was groping the other. Between snogs I could hear them talking. I listened in as best as I could.

"Nice capture Gav! You've earned this".

"Thanks Mick. It took a 'little encouragement', but I got him in the end.

They snogged again. I'd never seen two men show affection to one another, let alone two skinheads.

Then breaking their embrace, I heard one of the other lads say, "yes I suppose he is a bit older but when we break him, I'm sure he’ll be perfect."

I had to wonder what did they mean, 'he'll be perfect'?

Another one of the skinheads spoke, "yeah, wasn't there a guy from somewhere near Birmingham who asked if we could 'recruit' something more mature"?

I hear them all laugh. I can't be sure but I think it was called Mick who spoke next.

"Now shut the fuck up and let’s get him in the van while there's still no one around.” 

I feel myself lifted by two of the skinheads. I listen to the stomping of their boots. I'm still trying to work out how many of them there are. Three, maybe four - I can't be sure. I hear the sound of a van door sliding.

"Right, get him inside".

I'm hoisted roughly into the van. I hear the familiar sound of a can opening. Then the door slid closed.

"He needs a bit more of our concoction to knock him out for the journey. Sit him up straight."

I'm put into a seated position on the floor, with my back resting against the side of the van.

"Open wide," I think it was the one called Gav this time. He then grabs onto my jaw.

I resisted momentarily. Bad move, you could sense the change in his demeanor.

"I said OPEN. Don't make me hurt you."

Not wanting to face his wrath I did as told and opened. Slowly he tipped the can to my lips. "Urgh" - there was that weird taste again. I tried match my swallowing to the speed he was pouring. I know that quite a lot of the beer was dribbling down my chin.

Then, pow! "Mmm the taste". All of a sudden something inside me triggered a desire for more. As I did earlier on the train, I started glugging the beer.

One of the skins laughing commented on how much I appeared to like their 'special brew'. In no time at all I'd finished the can.

"Need another Gav?"

"Just wait," he replied.

It only took a few moments and I started drifting away. Before I fell unconscious again I heard the door slide open, boots land on the ground and the door close again. I pretty sure I heard a lock turn. The last thing I remember is the van's engine start up.

Sometime later...

“I think the push fucker is coming around”.

I was regaining my awareness. I felt terrible, my head banging and my mouth tasted like a dustbin. I don't know where I am. The room feels cold. The air seems thick with the stench of bodies, mixed with the pungent smell of tobacco...and something else?

I open my eyes, there in front of my face is a heavy duty black boot with white laces. I see a face a sniggering and then a plume of smoke hits me.

I begin a fit of coughing. In a reflex action I try moving but find my arms are restrained, as are my legs. I'm laid on the floor, a few feet from someone I'd normally cross the street to avoid.

I hear more laughter and sense more bodies entering the room.

One of the voices I remember hearing at the station spoke up. I turned to where the sound was coming from.

"Yeah wake up fucker. It's time to begin your new life".

My coughing fit is ending just as more smoke it blown in my face. I turn my head away from the smoke. That's when I figured out what the something else was, it was the smell of leather.

There, just inches from my face were two pairs of those heavy duty black boots with white laces.

What is to become of me?

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

touchin', m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook has got ten minutes and a hard dick. So he says. You learn you can't trust everything he says though.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; lovers that call themselves friends-with-benefits because JK is a fool; both parties are freaking annoying tbh; smut (fem reader, double lip piercing JK, heavy petting, standing doggy with clothes on, lots of neck making out, light nipple play, low-key forearm kink); fluff; non-idol!AU - JK is wearing the outfit from his 2023.06.29 Weverse live

--

“I have ten minutes and a hard dick.”

You rubbed your temples.

“Jungkook, why are you calling me?”

Breathless surprise, as if the man on the other side of the line didn’t realize how jarring it was to call someone announcing a time limit and a stiff rod. “I have–”

“I heard you,” you growled back, interrupting him sharply as you heard the knock on your front door. “I just can’t believe you. You’ve got plenty of people trying to get in your pants.” You unlocked the door and wretched it open. “Yes?” you blurted out impatiently.

What?

You weren’t expecting anyone decent at near midnight.

Big peepers stared back.

“But I don’t want anybody else in my pants,” Jeon Jungkook told your ear and your face.

You rolled your eyes and dropped your phone. “You look like an egg.”

He did. Black beanie jammed onto his head, his black-brown hair sticking out every which way underneath, even a dropped jaw to emulate that pointed side of said metaphorical egg. White Nike t-shirt two sizes too big for him. Loose black sweatpants. Cute monochrome black-and-white sneakers you would not be letting into your home.

He bit his lower lip, still clutching his smartphone. You noticed there was another piercing on his lip now.

“I thought… we were…”

You pulled him by the front of his shirt and yoinked him inside.

“Don’t just stand out there with your mouth agape,” you scolded gently, shutting the door. “I don’t want you talking about your hard dick to my neighbors. Take off your shoes.”

It was an awkward moment of bodies pressed together and hastily followed instruction. You had to pluck his phone from him and end the call because it seemed like Jungkook had decided his primary task was ogling you and your bare legs. A large, vintage band t-shirt was good enough pajamas for you. You bent down to shove his shoes against the wall and you were very sure Jungkook’s eyeballs were glued to your ass. All that was well and good, but what was thinking, calling you up about his hard di–

His lock screen flashed on when your thumb grazed against it.

You spotted one of your Instagram photos hiding behind the time stamp and his numerous notifications.

Huh.

You looked away.

“Take this,” you muttered, jamming his phone back into his open hand. “What are you doing out so late anyw–”

You cut yourself off once you realized how close Jungkook was.

In this entire space of your front entrance, he had picked centimeters away from your chest to be his standing spot, forcing you to look up at him and his big dark brown peepers. Seemed like he was eating well. He had a little more fullness to his cheeks tonight, although he still had his sharp jawline and that silver hardware gleaming on the right side of his lip. One hoop, one new stud.

“I… I, uh…”

You intended to deliver some firm comeback, but instead you relented under that gaze and pressed your thigh against his. Just to feel him. Not too much, but enough to have the contact and strike the friction between bodies.

“Um…” He was mumbling, struggling to think. “I have to go meet my parents at the train station. They said they picked up some stuff for me and that I should go get it.”

You frowned. “So… why are you here?”

A jolt as you realized he was closer and taking your hand, pulling it down, lower.

Lower.

“I can’t go like this…”

Pressing your hand to his crotch, his lips already on yours as you palmed his rock-hard erection through his pants.

Yeah, you can, and Jungkook could tell what you were thinking from your smirk against his kiss and the tease of your tongue. There was no reason to make this easy for him, no matter how easy he was. You smiled, avoiding too much pressure in the kiss, both to frustrate him and because you were uncertain about irritating the new piercing, but Jungkook chased you, sharpness in his inhale, following your steps deeper into your dark home.

The one light you had on was in your bedroom, but you might not make it at this rate.

Strong hands grabbing the back of your head, fingers spreading out over your scalp, pulling you closer, and you met his insistence with calm, tracing your tongue over his lips and flitting in and out. Saliva and softness, the backs of his hands roughly hitting the wall, crowding you with his larger frame as you snaked your hand up and down his length, the fingers of your other hand sliding up the hem of his shirt and hooking over the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging him to you.

He moaned into your mouth when your fingertips caressed taut skin.

“What am I gonna do with you?” you purred, teasing him, nicking at his lower lip. The heat of his body was radiating and addictive. Too many clothes for how aroused he was. “I thought you said we weren’t that serious, hm?”

His hands in your hair tightened. “I t-take it back…” he whimpered. “I told you… I don’t want anyone else…”

You touched him all over, massaging his balls and toying with his cock, smearing the pre-cum over your palm and his length, pressing your soft thigh against his hard one. Rolled your body against his, your hot breath on his chin, his moan smoke above your eyes, and now he could feel that you weren’t wearing a bra under your shirt.

He shivered in delight.

You chuckled.

“I think you would say anything to have my hand on your dick.”

Pressed your lips to his throat and kissed down, wrapping your hand around his length. His pants were falling down his legs. You felt one hand leave your head and then his pants shifted. Then his fist hit the wall, a thunderous boom amidst his shudders that you felt through tongue and teeth, careful not to leave marks.

“H… Harder…”

You snickered. “You’re going to see your parents. I can’t leave hickeys.”

He whined, but you ignored it, flicking his earrings and licking under his earlobe. Tingling kisses left behind in your wake. He smelled like his usual clean soap. The tips of his hair feathered against your temples as you kissed the space under his ear, delicately sucking on it.

That was enough.

Time crunch and all that shit.

You were about to slide down the wall, but Jungkook stopped you, grabbing your shoulder.

You looked up, cocking an eyebrow. Half-laughing inside because his beanie was barely on his head, his unruly hair spilling out. There were visible beads of sweat by his furrowed brow, but you bit your words back and focused on those lidded dark eyes and flushed pink lips gasping your name breathlessly.

“B-Bend over.”

It would have a sterner effect if he hadn’t stuttered.

The side of your lips curled up irresistibly. “Oh?”

He lifted his fist off the wall and the foil packet caught the light.

You smirked.

“You’re so fun, you know that?”

Jungkook grinned and smacked the condom into your cheek, dragging your face to his, wild black hair over his eyes as he kissed you, indenting your lip with his jewelry.

There was something extra slutty about being mostly dressed and fucking standing doggy against the wall. He pressed his palm on your lower back but you were already slipping further down the wall, your panties at your knees, ass up, and you heard him swear when the throbbing head pressed into your dripping heat.

“Fuck… me… are you a virgin or what? Fuck!”

He would know from personal experience that you most certainly were not. You neglected to remind him he hadn’t warmed you up himself. Instead, you hiked your shirt up more and tilted your head playfully. Added commentary to be extra insufferable. For fun, of course.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m not…”

Your hand hit the wall. Both palms flat, lowering more and pushing back as he pushed in, the ache viciously filled with his girth, pleasure suddenly racing up your spine and devouring the equilibrium.

“I’m not, fuck, thanking you, a-ah…!”

He was the one with his hands gripping your hips but you were the one to start off the bruising pace, sucking a breath between teeth and shoving your ass into his crotch, amplifying the power of his thrust, warmth swirling in your core, satisfaction blooming in your exhale.

“Mmmm, Jungkook, yeah, fuck, just like that…”

Your fingers curling into fists, immediate fire in your veins, clenching around his hard length and enjoying every second. Power and lust and savage sweetness, feeling his fingers dig into your hips, hearing his breath hitch, his moan vibrating in his throat. You had to stifle a laugh as you realized that he was suffocating all his sounds so he could concentrate, hm, how interesting, but you let yourself fall into the pleasure, tipping your head back and sighing, the building wave of orgasm seeping out and spreading over your lower belly, pulsing around him.

You dropped your torso a little lower and heard Jungkook groan, gripping your ass harder.

“Hah… so good… fuck…”

His name falling from your lips, with desire and grace, not hiding the feeling but burning in the fervor, remembering his insincere face telling you a bold lie, we’re not that serious, and you recalled thinking, is he just saying that because he thinks I’m intimidating or what, but you let him think what he thought and want what he wanted, his nails clawing into your back, harder, regular plans becoming more irregular, breathing heavier, hotter, until he was constantly searching for you with those shining brown eyes of his, pulling you to his embrace and trying to lock down this escape artist with his lips.

Maybe it worked.

Who knows.

You pressed your fist into the wall and let out a hiss of hot breath, clenching your core and all around him, ah, chasing that brutal fullness, that declivous slick friction with every loud smack, the prickling crawling up your legs and ribcage, come on, give it to me, your low purr intoxicated by the carnal desire and Jungkook couldn’t say anything, probably clenching his jaw and burning up from the heat, closer, his pants turning into coarse gasps, choppy and erratic, faster, hotter, throbbing, there.

He didn’t have time to warn you.

You felt your inner walls pulse and flinch, squeezing hard, the rush injected into the tension and making you gasp, thrown off by the sudden shaking ecstasy, your hand slipping on the wall. Catching yourself mid-slide and feeling Jungkook jerk, freezing your hips in place as he came in intense jerks, straining against your tightness, your name in a silvery, fucked-out moan.

Damn.

Could get used to that.

Your hair was all over your face, making the dark room even darker. “Heh. Trying not to cum too fast, huh?”

“S… Shut up…”

He barely forced it out, his hands giving out and sliding up your stomach. Oof, he was warm, his chest radiating heat onto your back, and yet you smiled as you felt his fingertips rub against your hard nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through you in the afterglow. You pushed half of your hair back, amused at seeing his beanie somehow now on the floor. He lifted you up even though you didn’t ask, slipping out and shoving his sweaty face into the back of your neck.

“Hey,” you were about to protest, but he was squeezing your breasts and nipples, making you buck against him as he sighed into your skin.

“You smell so good, mmmm…” he was mumbling, ignoring your squirming.

You tried to reorient him even though he was the one trying to distract you. “Oi, aren’t you supposed to be going somewhere?”

“Wuh?”

You tried to unstick his hands from your chest but he pressed his forearms to your sides. Instantly, a tremor danced through your muscles, thundering, not allowing the arousal to subside. You sucked in a tight breath, feeling him clamp down on your waist with his arms. “What happened to ten minutes, I gotta go see my parents?”

“Oh… eh… it’s okay,” Jungkook hummed, kissing your neck through your hair. “I made that up anyway.”

Somehow, you had low-key guessed that, but there was no reason to let him get away with it. “I don’t like lying, you know,” you curtly reminded him.

“Sorry…”

He pushed your hair aside with his nose and plopped his head on your shoulder, hugging you tightly with his sweaty body. Your arms were hanging a bit limply in front of you, but that was because of his muscular embrace. It made you feel a bit like a caught kitty cat.

“Don’t do things like that,” you scolded, but he was shoving his nose in your jaw, warm breath and feathering kisses over the curve of your neck while massaging your breasts.

“Sorry… I just wanna be with you,” he murmured breathlessly. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute,” you retorted, burning comfortably and uncomfortably from his touch and words, respectively.

“And pretty. And smart.” He was ignoring you even though he was the one making out with your ear. “I was afraid you would find me annoying…”

“You are freaking annoying,” you confirmed, placing your hands on the backs of his, but not pulling them away. “I told you to tell me when you were horny, not make shit up.”

You could practically hear his pout. “Well, I didn’t know I was until I was driving over here.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

He changed the subject. Classic. “Why do you have to wear clothes?”

“I can’t answer the door naked.”

“But it was me.”

“How would I know that?”

It was hard to describe the comfortable kind of exasperated he made you. A welcome, spontaneous, borderline ridiculous distraction. You somehow managed to get him to untangle himself from you and clean up, his clothes carelessly flung in random places, and you shook your head at him, you’re gonna have to pick those up later, but as soon as he had washed up, Jungkook was pushing you down on your bed, pressing your naked body to his and sighing softly, his hair a floofy mess.

“I didn’t say yes to you spending the night,” you said calmly as he kissed your collarbones, sparks lingering from the contact of his lips. You looked down. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Those round, shining eyes lit up in the semi-darkness of your bedroom.

“Like what?”

Pretending like he didn’t know, uh huh.

You shook your head and tangled one of your hands in his hair, nudging him up.

“Come here.”

He scooted up earnestly. You placed a fingertip on his lower lip as he neared, making him pause breathlessly.

“Is this new?”

You couldn’t miss the sparkling in his gaze as you mentioned it. “Y-Yeah…”

You raised your head and kissed it softly. “Should take good care of it as it heals, mmmm? So let’s just be rough down here…” you breathed, your other hand raking over his thigh, smiling as he flexed under your touch, moaning into your mouth, a sweet taste that you couldn’t stop craving, and yet you had to point it out one more time.

He had the audacity to pretend, after all.

“But we’re not that serious, right?”

Jungkook groaned and shoved his face into your neck as you laughed. “I take it back! Stop being mean…!”

There was just something about his impatient whine.

“Alright, alright…”

Bad decisions were made.

Like staying up until four in the morning fucking.

Ah, shit.

--

drabbles masterpost | masterpost