#spiderhead x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Dollhouse 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as fear, coercion, violence, noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary: Five girls move into a shared residence for the upcoming school year but not all is as it seems. 

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Captain Syverson, Steve Abnesti, Lloyd Hansen, and Peter Parker 

This fic features five named readers; Ann, Lulu, Polly, Barbie, and Molly. This chapter features Polly and Ann. Please note that characters may switch but will maintain second-person POV.

Note: 💗

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3 

Love you all until you can’t stand it. Take care. 💖 

Barbie sets up her vanity on the desk. She opens the little plastic doors on the mirror to reveal the built-in lights before bending over to plug it in. You’re amused at her efforts as she reaches around the legs in search of a socket. 

You’re so excited. You’ve been counting down the days since your best friend came up with the idea. She found the ad online and forwarded it to you. It was almost too good to be true. You came together to meet the building manager, Jonathan, and he showed you all around. You can’t believe you both snagged a room. 

Barbie stands and pushes a button on the base of the mirror. She fiddles with her phone and there’s a chiming noise. Music starts to play from the speakers behind the vanity. Nifty. 

She lifts her makeup chest onto the desk and unrolls her collection of brushes and other tools. Her passion is admirable. You guess that’s why you are friends; she doesn’t shy away from what she loves. For her, it’s cosmetics, for you, it’s clothes. 

Lulu watches her as she hovers around the door. The girl hasn’t stopped moving since you go there. She’s like a hummingbird, always fluttering. She has this nervous laugh that seems to escape her without notice. 

“What are you taking, Lu?” You ask, hoping to distract her from her nerves. 

“Oh, uh, mathematics.” 

“Math? Wow.” 

“I’m not much for numbers but I have to do accounting courses if I want my business degree,” Barbie snips as she sorts through her makeup pads. 

“Business? That’s cool. What about you, Polly?” Lulu sways and tucks her hands behind her back. 

“Interior design. My mom forbade me from going into fashion but I convinced her to let me do this instead,” you explain. “It’s good money and I can still sew on the side, I guess.” 

“That’s interesting. I don’t know much about fashion. Vogue or whatever,” she tentatively peeks over at Barbie. “You have so much makeup.” 

“I’m a collector,” Barbie trills. “You want me to do you up? I don’t mind and I’m religious about cleaning my stuff.” 

“Oh, uh, you don’t have to,” Lulu waves her hands. 

“I don’t have to but I want to,” Barbie insists. 

“It’s her hobby,” you say, “just don’t let her get you with the glitter.” 

Lulu shrugs, “okay, nothing too heavy. I have sensitive skin.” 

“Oh, you don’t need much,” Barbie assures her, “your eyes are the perfect shape.” 

You hide a yawn as your leg bounces, jiggling the whole bed with it. You lean back on the heels of your hand, bored but not unhappy. The music fills the lull as Barbie searches through her palettes. 

You flinch as you hear something in the hallway. You get up as Barbie asks Lulu her opinion on lip gloss. You open the door and peek out. A girl carries and old looking suitcase down the hall, a box cradled in her other arm. You step out and she tosses the box in surprise. 

“Oh, hi,” she touches her chest and catches her breath. She looks over in dread at the scattered contents of the box. “Uh... sorry. You scared me.” 

“I’m sorry, I was just coming to say hi,” you go to her as she leaves her suitcase to the side and gets down to gather up her belongings. You help her, picking up a framed photo of a woman. She looks a lot like her. Maybe her mother? 

“I’m Ann,” she says as she takes the frame. 

“Polly,” you reply. “There’s some other girls in there,” you point over your shoulder. “You’re welcome to join us once you get your stuff down.” 

“Uh, sure, maybe,” she lifts the box and stands. “Tired.” 

“Right, yeah, I think everyone is. Been a long day.” 

“Is everyone else already here?” She asks. 

“I think. There’s two others downstairs. I guess you didn’t see them on your way in.” 

“Just the boy, uh, Peter? He’s nice. He wanted to play some ping pong but my hands were full,” she backs up to grab her bag, “I’ll knock on the door if I get a chance.” 

“Sure, yeah, we’d be happy to have ya. I know we were thinking of drinks so... maybe later.” 

“Okay,” she nods and lets herself into the last empty room.  

You go back into Barbie’s room as she bends to ply powder to Lulu’s face. “Someone here?” She asks. 

“Yeah, the last girl. Ann.” 

“Ann? That’s so pretty. Was she nice?” She asks. 

“Oh, super nice. She seemed a bit tired but I think we all get that. I told her to stop by if she has the energy.” 

“Awesome,” Barbie preens and stands back to examine Lulu. 

You wade around the room restlessly. Now that everyone is here, you’re impatient. You go to the window and glance out at the yard. It’s green and lush and perfectly groomed. You touch the window. The glass feels peculiarly thick. You twist the latch between the panes and push out. Heavy, too. 

As you do, you notice the figure below. Steve notices you too. The large blond man turns and peers up. You stand dumbly as you are. He raises a hand in a casual wave. You frown and pull back without returning the gesture. 

“Oof, that pollen’s going to get me good,” Barbie sniffles, “honey, will you look in my bag for my claritan?” 

“You’re always so dramatic,” you tease her as you tuck down your concern. 

You go to Barbie’s purse and search around for the pills. You don’t want to worry her by asking about that man. If everyone’s here, shouldn’t he be headed out. Jonathan touted the new security system and he mentioned routine check-ins. You really don’t like the idea of constant surveillance, even if it’s for your own safety. 

“You okay?” Barbie asks as you approach her with the box of tablets. 

“Fine, fine, just... adjusting.” 

“We all are,” she sets down her brush and take the medicine. “Right, Lu?” 

“Oh, yeah, everything’s so new,” the girl wiggles on the chair and giggles. “And far from home.” 

You give her a sympathetic smile. You can’t even imagine what it’s like to be in a whole different country. The more you think about it, the more your own homesickness mounts. Your family isn’t the best but you can’t help but miss them just a little bit. 

You put the portrait on the empty desk next to the box. You’re too exhausted to unpack. You drag your feet and sit on the bed. There’s a tidy stack of folded sheets on top, next to a card. Strange. 

You reach for the envelope and tear it open. Inside, you read the little welcome; ‘Consider this a housewarming. Please don’t hesitate to call should you have any issues with your housing. Jonathan Pine.’ Under his name, he’s written the number you already have in your phone. You lower it to your lap and something slides out of the envelope. 

You bend forward to take the gift card from the floor. Huh. That’s a bit too generous. A gift card to the local mall. You wouldn’t spit in the face of kindness but this all seems a bit much, especially after staying so long with Marla. 

You put it all back in the envelope and lay sideways on the bed, legs still over the edge. You were so happy to get a room there; clean, affordable, great location. Not that you’re there, you’re overwhelmed by it all. All these pretty girls, younger yet well ahead of you. 

It won’t do to get hung up on age or time or whatever. You should at least try to make friends. They seem lovely so far. Besides, you didn’t just miss out on classes for all those years you took off, no, you lost out on the social scene. 

You huff and push yourself up. Better be a human and go and meet your roommates. The long you wait, the more awkward it’ll be. Besides, you’re done with being left behind. 

You peek out into the hall before you emerge. You step out and shut the door gently. You cross the white carpet with blue roses and knock on the same door that girl Polly came out of. The moment your knuckles hit the wood, a brew of nerves begins in your stomach. 

It doesn’t take long for an answer. It’s almost like Polly’s waiting for you on the other side. You smile and give an awkward wave. Why did you do that? 

“Hey, offer stand?” You ask. 

“Oh, hi! Yes, come on in and meet everyone,” she steps back. You poke your head in before the rest of you and push your shoulders up, “hi, I’m Ann.” 

“Barbie,” the one standing up introduces, her focus on the other as she draws on her eyelids with liner. “This is Lulu. She’s an exchange student.” 

“Hi,” Lulu squeaks then giggles as she keeps her eyes closed. 

“Stay still,” Barbie tuts. She gets an apology and another tinkling laugh. 

“It’s just the three of you?” Ann asks. “And Peter?” 

“And Molly,” Barbie answers as she pulls back and caps the liner. “Quiet but sweet.” She sucks her teeth as she looks over Lulu. “We’ll do your mascara and gloss and then we’ll go do some driiiiinks.” She shimmies as she sings the last words. 

“I brought vodka if you wanna share,” Polly offers, “Barbie only drinks tequila.” 

“Can’t go wrong with a margarita,” Barbie counters. 

“I’ve never drank,” Lulu says. “My mom never let it in the house.” 

“Oh my god! Alright, well, we’ll make sure to give you a starter drink,” Barbie chirps. 

“Vodka’s fine, thanks,” you say to Polly. You look around and take in the large makeup chest with its many shelves and the roll of brushes in all sizes. 

“Barbie’s really into cosmetics. We go on dates to Sephora.” 

“They know me by name,” Barbie brags. 

“Mm,” you nod and clasp your hands together. You don’t know what to say. “So, uh, super nice building huh?” 

“Oh, it’s fucking perfect,” Barbie says. “I lived on campus last year and the showers were always clogged with hair. Ew.” 

“Hah, yeah, well, just wait a couple months,” Polly scoffs. 

“Mm, and there’s good security,” you suggest as you drag your hand up your arm, “I met that guy on the way in. Steve.” 

“Ah, yes, he’s nice,” Barbie says. 

Polly hums and her lips thin as she glances at the window. Lulu giggles again but doesn’t add anything. 

“And Jonathan is a sweetheart. That accent, too,” Barbie laughs. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, he’s nice.” 

“Sy is... nice too,” Lulu says. “The gardener.” 

“Honey, I need to do your lips,” Barbie chides. 

“Sorry,” Lulu stills and lets the other girl paint her with pink gloss. 

“There’s a gardener?” You ask as you share a look with Polly. 

“Done,” Barbie announces and stand straight. 

Lulu looks at herself in the mirror and bats her lashes, “oh my god, it’s awesome! Wow! I don’t even look like me!” 

“You do. I just highlighted your beauty,” Barbie assures her. “Ann, how about it? You want a glow up?” 

“Uh, no, that’s fine. Lulu, you said there’s a gardener?” 

“Of course,” Barbie shrugs, “I mean, look at the yard. I’m not trimming the hedges, are you?” 

“Yeah, he’s a big guy. Super helpful. The other day, I got locked out by accidents. Oh, you gotta be careful with the front door.” 

“Right,” you squint. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“We got all year to complain about the house, guys, let’s go get the others and get the party started,” Barbie whines as she looks around and flits over to a Louis Vuitton bag, “let me just get my tequila. Pol, go get your bottle and we’ll ball out.” 

You force a smile but it’s not entirely fake. You’re excited. You’re finally getting started on your life after dwelling so long on the end of it. You just wish your mom was here to see it. You wish you could call her so she could tell you she’s proud. 

She would be, wouldn’t she?

[theliterarybeldam]

I’ve been on a Miles Teller kick if y’all couldn’t tell.

I already have a fic in my drafts for Jeff from Spiderhead.

Kindaaaaa thinking of a few for everyone’s favorite chicken.

Someone give me their thoughts on doing fics for like real life people that Miles has played, aka Vinny Paz and Al Ruddy?

[obsessedwithfictionalmen01]

NOT MILES TELLER BEING A MULLET DADDY 😭

sir pls give me a break

[okdeedee]

help the miles tellerification of my Late January 2023 is NOT ideal

(know that i am not 21 now. i just went on a date with a 31 year old at 21.)

36 vs early-mid 20s is technically not the most age appropriate but it sure is more appropriate than the crush i have on pedro pascal.

[littlebosleepmusings]

Welcome to Spiderhead // Transgression Masterlist

A03

chapter one chapter two chapter three

[njpuckbunny]

hey guys! my links weren’t working for my master list :(( so i’m sorry abt that!! also , my requests are still open for everyone on my master list + more plz send requests!!!

[minkieater]

spiderhead → yj

tattoo artist!yeonjun x fem!reader

smut mdni, cheating, alcohol consumption, toxic relationship wc. ~6k

the buzz from tattoo guns spread across the room as if there were a swarm of bees  — the shop was busy today. yeonjun’s mouth tasted of tobacco and menthol, his favorite combination, his index and middle fingers stained with the scent from years of use. he rain a hand through his hair, feeling the ends tickle his neck, before burying both hands in the soft, fleece lined pocket of his hoodie. 

he made his way over to his station, checking his tools, cleaning up the area so he could prepare for his next client. the steps whirled in his head as they always did when he fixed his area: wash his hands, put gloves on, sterilize his tools, cover his equipment, disinfect all surfaces. he loved this part, the organization, having everything accessible to make his art easier to complete. 

god, yeonjun loved his fucking job. just the plain idea of him drawing and coloring on people’s bodies, having his art stay there forever, it was magical to him. yeonjun knew in high school that he wanted to be a tattoo artist — he bought a shitty tattoo gun online, spent his weekends drunk in beomgyu’s basement leaving wonky doodles on his friends in places no one would ever see. at parties, people would beg him to whip out the tattoo gun, implore him to etch small designs on their skin on the big leather couch in soobin’s parents’ house. 

those nights turned into lonely ones spent in his bedroom, cross hatching lines into fake skin on his desk, shading with pointillism in designs he’d seen on pinterest, smoke from his lit joint dancing into the air of his bedroom. he had a year long apprenticeship at a tattoo shop in the middle of brooklyn when he turned nineteen, he tried college for a year when he graduated high school but quickly realized it just wasn’t for him. now, four years later, he was thriving: he was booked, he was busy, he was a real fucking tattoo artist and made real fucking money. 

he grabbed his phone to check the time before he started disinfecting, only five more minutes before his client was supposed to show. he scrolled his lock screen, eyes thinning when he read the notifications. 

v: did u turn the lights off before u left v: if my electric bill is high again just know you’re paying that shit

his lips pulled into a line, thumbs moving a mile a minute. 

yj: yes i turned them off yj: u dont have to remind me every single day 

he locked his phone and set it face down on the counter that ran along the back of the shop, packed cabinets filled with saran wrap, disinfectant and ink caps underneath. he shook his head, irritation flooding his thoughts, he’d left the lights on one time and now he’ll never hear the end of it. 

well over a year now, together but still not quite official — on and off but pretty much living together, yeonjun has spent more time in your bushwick apartment than he has at his own downtown. granted the shop was closer to your apartment than his own, but he’s always liked your apartment more, anyway. tall ceilings, funky art, maps and concert posters on the walls, a unique touch to your living space with your red lacquered kitchen cabinets and dark wood accents where his own looked cheesy and cheap in comparison.

two bedrooms, one full bathroom and a separate room just for the television and couch, yeonjun thought you were fucking loaded when he first stepped foot in your apartment. it had to be your parents paying your bills, or maybe you were a nepo baby – this is new york, after all – but as your relationship grew and he learned more about your occupation, how much you truly made between high commission and tips, he’d never thought a hairstylist could make so much fucking money. 

both of you in your careers, working full time with the public, both creative people that spend their days creating art that lives on people’s bodies. your canvases were humans, walking, breathing pieces of scrap paper that you drew on, painted on, poked, cut, shaded. the two of you related to one another too much in too many areas, on too many levels, so many conversations about people and their critiques, their wishes, their families, their stories. if you and yeonjun could do anything, it was talk. 

you’d met on your twenty first birthday, a little over a month after yeonjun’s twenty second. you and your girl friends and coworkers he later learned circled up on the dance floor with you in the middle, rolling your hips to the beat of the song, head tipped back in a drunken haze and a cocktail in your hand. he eyed you from the bar, thinking nothing of it other than the fact that you were a drunk twenty one year old about to be obnoxiously loud in his ear all night. he sipped his glass of whiskey, neat, tattooed fingers wrapping around the glass that dripped sweat onto his palm. 

the bar was hot, too hot for the outfit he had on — oversized black hoodie with the hood over his head, black pants, boots on his feet. he was dressed for early november in new york, layered to fight off the chill of brooklyn, not for whatever the hell was going on in his favorite bar. 

you approached him first, slurring over your words, tucking your hair behind your ear which was already tucked. you batted your eyelashes, your eyes glossed over in intoxication — yeonjun was not biting, he wasn’t interested in the slightest. he gave you a tight lipped smile, clinked his glass with your own and turned his attention away from you, a small gesture to say what you’re looking for is not me, keep it moving.

but when you strolled into his shop two weeks later as a walk-in and yeonjun had a cancellation, only then was he taking the bait, the bait you had no idea you were dangling from a hook right in front of his own two eyes. you didn’t seem to recall your interaction on your birthday, you didn’t seem to recognize yeonjun at all and that only made him curious.

you asked for a ruler along your index finger, two lines to show the public what two inches really is. he laughed at that, a small puff of amusement leaving his perfect plump lips just as the words left yours. 

“is that stupid?” you asked, head cocked to the side, eyebrows furrowed in question but your eyes wide and he swore he could see them shine as you looked up to him. he was taken then, from just that one look in your eyes – he knew he was in trouble.

“not at all,” he said as she shook his head, smile still dancing on his cheeks, “it’s funny, i’ll take you back.” 

you sat down on the bench, yeonjun went searching for a ruler in the cabinets lining the back of the shop. you spoke mindlessly about your job as he searched, immediately telling him a story about a client you had a few days ago who wanted a balayage and not highlights but they couldn’t decipher between the two — they insisted on highlights when what they were describing was clearly a balayage. you spoke with such enthusiasm, your mouth running a mile a minute, words spilling from your lips just as fast as you thought them. 

yeonjun had no idea what you were talking about but he knew you were adorable — much different from when you first tried to pick him up at that bar. your eyes are bright, words controlled, movements sharp and alert. what did stay the same was the confidence, your outward extrovertedness made it so yeonjun didn’t have to say much, just nodding and listening to your little story as he tried his best to keep his head on straight. 

“finger tattoos don’t last as long as they do on other parts of the body,” he interrupted as your story ended, finally pulling a small red plastic ruler from the cabinet to his left. 

you shrug, “i figured as much, my hands are in water a lot, too.” 

yeonjun sucked a breath in through his teeth, “that makes it even worse.” 

“so what, i have to come back and get it touched up, then? big deal,” your hands came up at your sides, shrugging altogether, “as long as you still work here when i have to get it touched up then it’s fine.” 

“already commending my work when i haven’t even done the tattoo yet?” yeonjun wears a lazy, teasing smile as he sits down on his stool, grabbing the arm rest for you to lay your forearm on. 

“who said i was talking about the tattoo?” yeonjun’s eyes shot up at you who was already wearing a smirk, his lips parted ever so slightly. he immediately cracked a smile, shaking his head as he looked back down to your hand. 

“that’s crazy,” he mumbled under his breath as he put the ruler up to your finger, then grabbed his pen from his tray to mark the inches. maybe you did know — maybe you were purposely dangling the bait, or maybe the two of you just had the same amount of interest in each other. maybe there was no bait to begin with.

“i don’t think it's crazy,” he didn’t expect you to hear him or respond, but it seems you don’t have a filter of any kind as you keep going, “you’re hot, i’m hot, we have a lot in common already.” 

“we have a lot in common?” he raised an eyebrow, looking up to you again after marking the second inch, he grabbed a different pen to mark the eighths. 

“we’re both creative, both work with the public, we have picky people as clients, have to listen to unrealistic expectations, both work in careers that aren’t super common — not common, maybe abnormal? or maybe i’m trying to say we can be abnormal because our careers aren’t super judgemental? appearance wise, i guess, whatever, anyways, we also both know how to talk to people, i can keep going…”

“so all we have in common are our careers?” he’s still playing along as he finishes marking out the lines, “how does that look?”

“looks good to me,” you say after a quick glance, barely an inspection of your finger, “pretty much, but our careers teach us a lot about ourselves. oh! and we can do art trades, i’ll do your hair and you give me tattoos.” 

“are you bribing me or pimping yourself out?” the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and the smile that paints itself on your face feigns innocence, he’d save that look for his sketchbook later tonight.

“maybe a little bit of both. are either of them working?” you cocked your head to the side again, swinging the feet that hung from the bench ever so slightly, careful not to kick anything in front of you. yeonjun had to reel himself in.

yeonjun had to be honest — with himself, and you — it started working the moment you stepped into the shop. you had no visible tattoos, a casual outfit on, sweatpants and a tee shirt that left just a sliver of skin between the hems of your clothes. your hair was done but it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, you didn’t seem like anything special off first glance– in fact, you seemed the exact opposite of his type, the girls he usually went for. yeonjun was just as confused with himself as he was enamored by you. 

“i don’t know, i think you might have to try a lil’ harder,” he faked a deciding face, eyebrows scrunched as he moved back in his stool, ushering for you to stand up. he looked at your finger from all angles, analyzing it as you stood to the side, lifting your hands, flexing your fingers as you stood. he was happy with his sketch, his outline, he was more then prepared to freehand a couple lines. 

“you should let me try harder over some drinks if the tattoo comes out good,” your eyes were trained on your hand as you followed his instructions, moving your hands into every position he asked for. 

yeonjun laughed at that, “if the tattoo comes out good? what, am i the one picking you up now?” 

you shrugged as he ushered you to sit back down, “you might be, i’m trying to find out.”

he nodded with his lips pursed, folded into a frown that wasn’t exuding any sort of negative reaction, more impressed than anything. “fair game.”

your tattoo came out flawless, the lines he free handed onto your finger came out straight, perfect in thickness. as easy as it seemed, you knew the talent it took, the patience and a steady hand needed for such precision. after you paid, tipping him generously, your flirting returned with vengeance.

“i think we hit it off if i’m being honest,” you smiled, showing all of your teeth to the black haired man behind the counter, “do you have anyone else after me?” 

he shook his head, “you’re my last, i had a cancellation.”

“oh my god– do you believe in fate? yeonjun, i think that’s what this is, i’m being so serious,” your eyes were wide, eyebrows shot up, smile wide. excitement bled from you, your veins, you were nothing but honest. so shameless, not a thought in your pretty little head that he’d reject you – he wasn’t sure if you’d care if he did. 

he laughed, something he seemed to do too much during your entire service, his head hanging low in front of him before he picked it back up, looking at you who was already staring expectantly at him. “i don’t, but maybe if we go get drinks you can change my mind.”

you raised your fists, “i’ve won.”

the bar was halfway to your apartment, almost smack ass between the tattoo shop and your place. you’d been there before with your girlfriends, once or twice since your birthday – you could finally join in on the fun. yeonjun was dressed in all black, you’d soon come to find out he was always dressed in all black, and he never looked like he got enough sleep. you seemed so bright next to him, with your hair and your clothes and the plush keychains attached to your purse. you looked like total opposites, when you knew you had much more in common than what meets the eye.  

that one night bled into the next year of your lives – something he was not expecting after your first interaction. it’s not like he’s never had a client try to bag him before, but something about you was different, it drove him insane that he couldn’t put a finger on it. he was used to playing games, always the winner, never the loser. he was used to confusion, being stuck in the inbetween, the gray area that sometimes came with relationships, or lack thereof. with you it was so straight forward, a slippery slope, not a hole he dug himself into but instead a well, one full of water, full of life. he never wanted to stop drinking from it, gulp after gulp, chugging until he was so full he thought he might spill over. 

the spilling didn’t come until six and a half months in. your first two months were every man’s wet dream – he had every inch of you, every fistful of perpetually iron-curled hair, every corner of plush skin burned to memory – on every surface of your apartment and his. 

in yeonjun’s past relationships, he never seemed to be the problem. if anything, he was the victim.

small fights to massive blown out arguments over petty shit, staying out too late with his coworkers at his favorite bar to beomgyu stealing him for a night out clubbing, missed texts and phone calls to going MIA for three days. yeonjun never seemed to understand what the issue was – petty arguments were never his thing, he’d rather stay silent than give into whatever the fuck his current plaything was yelling about this time. so what if he stayed out too late with his coworkers? he still came home. there’s no harm in a night out clubbing with his boys, she didn’t even know about the girl that was grinding against his dick all night, or the other one that had her lipstick smeared across his lips in the corner of the dark club. he went MIA for three days because his phone was dead, not because he had her number blocked. it was ridiculous, really, the things women would try and pin on him – yeonjun never seemed to think he was the issue at all. 

the thought never crossed yeonjun’s brain that these behaviors were learned, or that he could teach them to anyone else. he never thought that his pretty, bright eyed new girlfriend would turn into a different version of himself – if she did, he’d be grateful, he thought himself pretty fucking cool – yeonjun never thought any of his behaviors were bad, but when yeonjun got a taste of his own medicine he knew he met his match. 

he showed up at your apartment past midnight, drunk off his ass, clothes oozing whiskey, weed and burberry her. he let himself in with his key, the one you gave him after three months in, the one you told him to use whenever he wanted. he called out your name, searching from room to room, but you were nowhere to be found. he’d never shown up to an empty apartment, there’s never been a lack of you, cuddled up in a fuzzy robe, either under your duvet or sitting on the couch watching reruns of your favorite drama. yeonjun was confused, his dazed head couldn’t think up a proper reason for your absence, he decided to do what he absolutely fucking hated to be done to him. 

he called you about thirty six times, texted you about forty two times. he also left four voicemails, not one of them nice. 

he sat there on your couch – after a much needed shower, a bottle of water and a change of clothes you kept for him in your bottom drawer, he sobered up real quick. he felt more level headed, but he couldn’t ignore the anger that began to grow, a pit that sat heavy in his stomach: where the fuck were you? who were you with? 

you damn near fell into the room an hour later, keys falling to the floor after you ripped them out of the door. you giggled to yourself, your heels in your hands, fingers curled into the heel of your black pumps. the strapless, sparkly scrap of fabric he could barely call a dress was crooked, your hair that was always purposely styled to perfection was a mess, your red lipstick was smudged down your chin. yeonjun’s seen this scene before, he’s done it, he’s lived it.

“who fucked you?” were the first words that left his mouth as he stood in the living room, oversized black clothes hanging off his frame like hade’s robes. the breath that left his nostrils was hot, burning his cupid’s bow, his jaw locked with his usually plump lips scrunched to a thin line. 

you laughed – you fucking laughed. “you’re a fucking psychopath, junie. i just came back from a night with the girls!”

yeonjun was not buying it – he stepped closer. the stench of alcohol was masked by dior sauvage, a smell he knew too well, a smell that drifted past him as you nearly pushed him out of your way. yeonjun was dumbfounded and raging, his eyebrows furrowed together, his hands held out in front of him like he didn’t know what to do with them. 

his girl, his only girl – well, other than the girl he made out with earlier – he couldn’t fathom the thought of someone else’s hands on you, being so close to you that you came home smelling like him. he followed you to the bathroom.

you were already stripped down bare – no bra and no panties to be seen on the pile on the floor with that thin scrap of fabric, yeonjun couldn’t collect his thoughts fast enough, his rage was creeping up his spine, sitting in his stomach like food poisoning, threatening to come out whether he wanted it to or not.

“you’re lying,” was all he could get out as you brushed through your hair, putting it in a tight knot atop your head, a small smile still sitting on your cheeks. he didn’t sound angry enough, his voice wasn’t stable, his feelings weren’t enough to give his voice ground to stand on. 

“no i’m not,” you said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, like your words were the honest to god truth. you turned to him, your best innocent look paired with that award winning smile, “wanna shower with me? or did you already when you came home from the club?”

yeonjun had a full body reaction, his eyebrows furrowed and his face scrunched up in disbelief and shock, for just a moment there he thought he might be insane. did he make that up? was the dior he smelled just remnants from being with beomgyu earlier? no, no he showered, that was all you. he was not insane. he stepped closer. 

the smell of a shower he’d taken just an hour ago filled the room, the body wash that you always used was the only scent he could decipher. he took a breath, “you fucked someone.”

“i think you might still be drunk, baby,” you wore a fake pout, raising your right hand to run your thumb across his bottom lip, “happy anniversary, by the way. six months!”

that was the start of everything – his pretty little bright eyed girlfriend was buried somewhere, six feet deep in wet soil, replaced with something akin to a fucking monster. when yeonjun first met you, you had told him you had so much in common, yeonjun didn’t believe it, didn’t see it. he thought the two of you were polar fucking opposites, yet he liked you anyway, liked that you introduced him to a new type of relationship. while yeonjun spent six months subconsciously teaching you his own behaviors, you spent the time purposely teaching him quite a few of your own. 

goodmorning texts to goodnight texts to facetime – yeonjun never did any of that shit before. yeonjun has never bought a single person a bouquet of flowers in his entire life. yet here you stood, his pretty little bright eyed girlfriend, in the middle of your salon surrounded by a herd of your coworkers with a bouquet signed ‘your junie <3 love you baby!’

his friends called him whipped, a simp, a cuck, every name in the fucking book because yeonjun adored you, and it was painfully obvious. you’d come to beomgyu’s garage, parading around in a mini skirt and your tiny little purse that yeonjun was sure only had lip gloss inside, getting him beers from the fridge and cracking them open, handing them to him with a smile and sitting straight on your throne: his lap. his friends adored you too, they couldn’t figure out what you saw in yeonjun – with his dark clothes, heavy tattoos that covered his body, bags under his eyes, black hair and too much metal through holes in his face. his friends were constantly flirting with you, getting you whatever you needed, they were the ones cracking beers and serving them to you, yet you were doing it for yeonjun. 

yeonjun was filled with pride, he loved it. a trophy they could look at but never touch. he’d never had this type of relationship before, someone so obsessed with him, someone willing to wait on him hand and foot, he slipped deeper and deeper into an emotion he’d never experienced before without even realizing it. 

the day he did realize it, that was when the true fun began, because while he was unconsciously slipping, swimming deeper into that well, you stood at the top, holding the rope, pulling bucket by bucket out of the well with that award winning, innocent smile etched into your skin. 

you weren’t kidding when you said you’d do art trades, even his coworkers knew your face by now, taehyun two stations down always offered his services when you sat down on yeonjun’s bench. you giggled and flipped your hair, saying why would i do that when my boyfriend’s a better artist than you?

god, yeonjun loved to hear those words leave your lips. it was a bit the two of you did, taehyun acted as if he was shot through the heart, a poisoned arrow slipping straight through his skin, and yeonjun could hear the sweet melody of your giggle through the shop. yeonjun has filled up one of your arms by now and half of the other– a garden, flowers, bees, butterflies, tattoos that were so undoubtedly you he couldn’t even make fun of you for them. he wouldn’t expect you to have anything else.

his favorite, though, was the YJ right above your hip. it was in yeonjun’s own handwriting, a doodle he marked on your skin for life, late at night after too many drinks – it was like he was in high school again. that was four months in. 

that night, yeonjun felt the closest thing to his entire world caving in on him – he needed to go. he stared at the scribble on your hip while his face was buried between your thighs, you were writhing above him, hands buried in his hair, you always looked so fucking gorgeous like that. instead of being focused on you, determined to push you over the edge like usual, yeonjun’s head was clouded – hazy. he wondered how a person he’d met by chance just a few months ago could become so important, so detrimental to his life, he feared he would be a shell of himself if you ever chose to leave him.

it terrified him. he’d never felt this way about anyone before.

before that night, your relationship was golden – yeonjun was something out of a dream, a hero, the prince in your story, you were convinced you’d spend your life with him. he was honest, he was smart, he told you everything that he had wrapped up in his complex, dark brain, and you accepted every word that came from his mouth, every thought that popped into his head.

when he left that night, hours after shoving a twelve gauge needle in your skin with ink the color of his hair, you didn’t stress. you woke with a panic, of course, where the hell did your boyfriend go? but after twelve hours of no response, a trip to his shop, a night spent in his favorite bar, hours bent over your ikea bed frame, you knew what this was. you recognized this fear, you saw straight through him, yeonjun wasn’t as masked as he thought himself out to be. you’d shared too much, you knew too much about one another for yeonjun to be anything but transparent. 

you paid attention. late nights, coming home smelling like another woman’s perfume, earrings that fell from his pocket when you did laundry, long and short pink and blonde and brown pieces of hair found around every inch of your apartment – you looked at the tattoo that sat above your hip, you knew there was no one else for you in the world. if yeonjun wanted to play the game, you’d play it too, you’d play it better. 

the first three or four or twenty two times you did it – yeonjun didn’t notice. you even sent him home in one of yeonjun’s tees, one of his favorites, one that you successfully convinced yeonjun he left at his own apartment. when he couldn’t find it there, it wasn’t your issue anymore – with half of your wardrobe in two different places, you’re bound to lose a shirt or two. 

it was only when you got sloppy, when you wanted him to notice, that he did. two months in, six and a half months after your relationship began, he’d caught you and you were so fucking close to convincing him that he didn’t. 

“we’re fucking done,” he was seething as you stepped out of the shower, wrapping a plush beige towel around your torso, no effort needed to keep yourself calm. 

“why’s that?” you continued to feign innocence, stepping in front of the mirror to start applying your skincare, not even glancing at the man who stood next to you, his hands balled into fists. 

“i know you fucked someone tonight,” his voice was stern, it was hideous on him. you loved the cool, calm yeonjun better – you loved your yeonjun, the one you spent endless nights with, looking through his sketchbook, where he showed you all of his doodles, his drawings, when he let himself be the most vulnerable. “there’s no use in denying it, v.”

“and what have you been doing for the past two months, yeonjun?” your head snapped to look at him, your voice matching his, cadence slipping into something more harsh, laying yourself bare for him. you supposed your time was up. his mouth opened and closed. 

“great,” his head dropped, low, sarcastic laughter slipping from his lips, “you fuck someone and blame it on me? project your cheating onto me?”

“there’s no use denying it, jun. have you talked to beomgyu? maybe you should ask him what he did after he dropped you off.”

you physically watched his face turn red – ears hot, crimson bubbling up from his chest to his throat to his face – you had to stop yourself from smiling. he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, and you slept like a baby. freshly fucked, coming down from a solid drunk, you felt brand new. 

it was a week before you saw him again – honestly, you were shocked it took that long. that gorgeous, long black hair that curled around his ears, peeked from the hem of his hoodie, you longed to touch it, feel it between your fingers. he looked like he hadn’t slept since the last time he saw you, his bags sat heavy, dark, in your entryway, key in hand. you wanted to take care of him, wanted him to get a good night’s rest – next to you. 

you sat on your couch, not a muscle to be moved in his direction, the two of you just stared at each other from across the room. moments went by, you’re sure maybe a full minute, then he was pacing towards you. 

“hello?” you asked in disbelief and concern before he was pulling you up by your wrists, smashing his lips against yours. his lips tasted of whiskey, neat, cigarette smoke, menthol. you thought maybe you were addicted to tobacco too from the way his mouth felt euphoric against yours, an old friend you’d missed. it’s only been a week but it could’ve been a year for all you knew. 

“you’re mine, you know that?” he’d asked between kisses, his mouth swallowing yours, his tongue stealing the words you couldn’t begin to think let alone speak. instead you nodded into his lips, fingers tangling in his hair, body forcing itself into his, you missed him. you missed his smell, his touch, the feeling of him against you, you missed everything. you never wanted to part from him again. 

he had you split open on the couch as he knelt on the floor, head between your thighs again, eyes trained on the YJ that sat on your hip. he hadn’t seen it in a week, his brand on you, his initials that were inked into your skin for the rest of your life – he missed being between your legs, missed tasting you, missed taking everything you had to fucking offer. he missed you, his other half, the monster he created, his comfort, his home.

yeonjun would be lying if he said he was willing to part ways with you, but he’d also be lying if he said he was willing to acknowledge to the full extent of what he felt for you. yeonjun felt betrayed, played, messed with, like you snuck into his brain and plucked every single thought out of his head and fucking warped it. god, he loved you. he was so scared.

he told you as he barreled into you, fucking you like he hated you, whispering those words in a choked breath over and over into the shell of your ear. he couldn’t believe he was admitting it, couldn’t believe he was saying those three little words – you’re different, you’re everything. he loved you.

the months to follow were dancing right on the edge, together, but not quite. apart, but were you ever really apart? every night, wrapped in your sheets or his sheets – always someone’s sheets, always together. you never discussed sleeping with beomgyu, yeonjun never brought it up again, he looked back at that moment in his head and all he saw was weakness, a time where he let you slip away – let you get away from him. you never spoke of it, but it was always there, between the two of you like a wall. 

that wall that stood between you was tall and rock solid, unlike the glass doors to yeonjun’s head, yeonjun’s thoughts, that wall of his was unbreakable – even when he came home smelling like burberry her again no argument in the world could pry that night out of him again.

you knew better this time than to try with beomgyu again, he hadn’t reached out since the night yeonjun left your apartment, you knew better than to try with anyone. instead of fighting fire with fire, you got distant, you spoke less, you asked less, you tried less. you became the ghost of his pretty, bright eyed girlfriend, one that had been to hell and back, one that learned from her mistakes. you became a reflection of yeonjun. 

yeonjun checked his phone after his client, only two hours had gone by, surprisingly enough. it was a solid first session for his client’s leg sleeve, but his bones were aching, his eyes sore from being focused for so long.

v: you left the fucking lights on

[sanjoongie]

FFF~ Day 7

♡Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader (f)

♡Genre: Smut with no plot :)

♡Au: prisoner (inspired by the movie Spiderhead)

♡Word Count: 1,720

♡Warnings: aphrodisiac, dub con, hate sex, rough sex, breast manhandling, penetrative sex (no barrier), creampie, m and f orgasm

♡Rated: 18+ MDNI

♡Masterlist link~ | Previous Day~ Auralism, CS | Next Day~ Degradation, JWY

♡Dedication~@downtoamagicalland & @mejuii the unholy trinity beta team

New World prison wasn’t like the typical state prisons. First of all, it was privately funded. Secondly, it was a prison where a certain pharmaceutical company tested their experimental drugs. The prisoners, in exchange for freer living, agreed to be the test subjects of said drugs. Each prisoner sported a small pack that sent the drugs directly into their system. 

You, having been a prisoner there for almost a year now, had experienced most of the drugs. The rage-induced one was a bit of a blur, but the way that the room you had been locked in was beyond damaged and you came to panting,it  indicated you had a very satisfying ‘tantrum’. The drug that produced sadness had you crying over the smallest things but also dragged out your deepest despairs. 

But each time you had been tested, you had been in a room alone. Today, you were in a room with another prisoner and you weren’t happy about it.

Park Seonghwa, the lead scientist, leaned forward to turn on the mic and speak into it. “Prisoner Number Seven, you don’t look very happy to be here.”

“I’m not happy to be in a room with Jongho,” You clarified, derision coating your tongue.

Jongho scoffed in the chair beside you. “The feeling is mutual.”

Seonghwa took some notes. “I see. Would you say there is no love lost between you two?”

Jongho’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger. “She thinks she owns the place!”

“I really hope you’re not getting us to test the anger drug, Doc, because I might do some irreparable damage to this bitch,” You snorted.

“Irreparable?” Jongho shouted, getting to his feet, “I’d tear you in half with my bare hands?”

Seonghwa turned the mic on again. “Prisoner Sixty, please sit down.”

Jongho sat down but not without sending a glare your way. “What are we doing here, Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa was busy behind his glass in the opposite office writing something on a notepad. Nonetheless, he pressed his button to turn on the mic and answered. “If I tell you, Prisoner Sixty, then that would defeat the purpose.”

" 'Kay, then, what are we waiting for?" You demanded. You did not want to spend one more minute with Jongho than you had to.

"One final question," Seonghwa looked you then Jongho in the eye, "Given the chance, would you fuck each other?"

"Hell no," You and Jongho answered at the same time.

Seonghwa grinned, and it was a combination of excitement, curiosity and a hint of maliciousness. "Do you both consent to the administration of the drug and to all consequences that follow?"

You and Jongho nodded tightly.

"Then let the testing begin."

You heard the woosh of the drug being administered and gripped the chair arms. You expected perhaps fear this time. There was a tingle in your skin and you anticipated your adrenaline to spike. Instead, you felt your underwear flood and your nipples tighten.

"How do you feel, Prisoner Sixty?" Seonghwa inquired.

"No difference whatsoever," Jongho replied through gritted teeth.

You began to pant like a bitch in heat and pushed your legs together. That definitely didn't help things. You yelped at the sudden pleasure that gave you and Jongho’s eyes rolled your way. He looked fearful. Did he have a different drug than you?

"This doesn't work if you don't answer truthfully, Prisoner Sixty," Seonghwa reminded him.

"Does she have to be here?" Jongho whined and you frowned at him.

"You did indicate that you were heterosexual on your preferences, did you not? Perhaps I need to up the dosage if you're not feeling anything--"

"No! No. That's not necessary," Jongho insisted.

"Then please answer the question again," Seonghwa encouraged.

"Doc," You whimpered. Your pussy was practically tingling with anticipation of getting fucked. The doctor was actually quite handsome and his sugary sweet voice was doing things to you.

"Prisoner Sixty," Seonghwa snapped with frustration. It made your spine go ramrod straight, even though the tone wasn't directed towards you.

"It's taking everything in me not to rip off all her clothes and fuck her sweet tight pussy like it deserves," Jongho admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

"The fuck, Jongho?" You demanded. Your eyes went straight to his lap, however, and you saw he was sporting a raging hardon in his sweats.

"Like you aren't dripping right now, bitch," Jongho cursed at you. "If I was anyone else, you'd probably be grinding up against my dick, begging for me to take you."

"Prisoners, let me remind you that none of this is being recorded and we encourage all the test subjects to follow through with any and all urges that the drug prompts," Seonghwa intoned. He raised his eyebrows as if to say 'well? I'm waiting'. 

"We will never speak of this EVER," You emphasized.

"Agreed," Jongho said.

There was no flurry of clothes discarded, simply, pushing the clothing out of the way. Your shorts and underwear were moved to the side, your bra and sweater tugged up to your neck. Jongho kept all his clothes on except his sweats were down to reveal thick thighs that you had never noticed before. Jongho got distracted by your breasts, and started to manhandle them immediately. You moaned wantonly and arched your back to thrust more of them into his eager hands.

"Fuck these tits are everything," Jongho said in small wonder.

"Be more rough with them, god, didn't you threaten to split me in half earlier?" You complained.

Jongho squeezed and pinched and pulled and you cried out. "I'll split you in half with my dick," he mumbled before sucking a hickey on the swell of one of your tits.

"Not gonna happen if you're not inside of me, at all, Jongho," You said in a snippy tone.

"Well stop pushing your boobs into my mouth and maybe I'll get to it!" Jongho frowned and then sucked hard on a nipple, bringing almost half of your boob into his mouth. His teeth pressed down on the sensitive skin. Your hands went to both his shoulders to grab onto something.

"Fuck me or leave my tits alone!" You argued. "Now is not the time to see if I'm one of those girls who can come by having their tits played with."

Jongho looked up at you in fascination. "Some girls can come by having their tits played with?" He echoed you.

You rolled your eyes. "Dick. In. Side. Me. Now!" You barked.

"Hold your horses," Jongho grumbled, "I haven't sucked on a good pair of tits in a while, okay? Fuck me."

The both of you groaned in unison as Jongho sunk into you. His hands gripped your ass, preparing to guide you up and down on his cock. The noise of skin slapping against skin permeated the room. Jongho was soon flexing his pelvic muscles so you could bounce on him more efficiently. 

“Fuck, I knew your pussy was sweet for me,” Jongho moaned. His eyes were glued to where his cock continued to disappear inside of you. “You’re so fucking wet, I bet you could fit two dicks inside of you easily.”

“Jongho!” You scolded him, “How come your mouth can run so much when you should be focusing on fucking me.”

Jongho grinned up at you, cocky and confident at the same moment. “I’m just that good, Baby.”

You frowned at the nickname but then moaned when his cock hit your g-spot. “Oh god, just like that, please, I wanna scream when I come, harder, Jongho, harder.”

Jongho did exactly that, speeding up his pace as well. The two of you were a moaning wreck, focused on nothing but the meeting of your bodies so that the both of you could come. Well, Jongho was still watching your boobs bounce in front of his face, trying to figure out how he could suck on them and fuck you like you wanted. But the fucking won out. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Your breathy cries only spurred him on until he remained deep inside of you. Your cunt spasmed around him and you shut your eyes closed, not wanting to see his dumb face when he came. And come hard Jongho did, with a quiet grunt and his fingernails digging deep into the flesh of your ass. He came so much that his cum slowly began to drip out of your stuffed hole and down his balls. 

But that wasn’t the end.

When the drug finally ran its course through both of your systems, you had lost count of the amount of times Jongho had ejaculated inside of you and on you. Your orgasm count was lost between flashes of tongue and fingers. The high of being so fucking horny had consumed your pride. Embarrassment and anger washed through you and then you realized… Seonghwa had been there observing the entire time. 

You quickly rearranged your clothes, glancing at the window where Seonghwa sat. His head was down, his hand zooming across his page in note taking. You were the least of his concerns, it seemed.

“Doc? Can we leave now? Unlock the doors please?” You raised your voice to get his attention.

Seonghwa snapped out of it, but his eyes were unfocused and his cheeks were pink. “Ah. Yes. Certainly. Thank you.”

You sent him an uncertain look but when you heard the locks click, you made your way out of the room. You really didn’t want to--

“Hey!” Jongho shouted at you, taking a jog to catch up.

“Jongho,” You shook your head, “I thought we agreed to never talk about this outside of that room?”

Jongho pressed his pretty pink lips together. Wait, pretty? “I know but…”

“But what?” You snapped in irritation.

“I can’t help but think about your tits. I want them bouncing in my face again. I--” Jongho shook his head, cutting himself off, “I think there’s some side effects to the drugs that we don’t know about yet.”

You sighed. You had a feeling Jongho was right. After all, wasn’t lust and love two sides of the same coin, with a small edge separating them?

“Fine. When I’m done with my supper duties, you can come to my room. But be discreet about it, alright? And don’t mark me up next time! I hate that shit.”

♡Masterlist link~ | Previous Day~ Auralism, CS | Next Day~ Degradation, JWY

[slashingdisneypasta]

Are there any new villians or characters that you are obsessed with?

Hmm, new villains... /: I've mostly been re watching stuff lately, but I do have a list of villains I don't really talk about but really want to!

Here it is! ^^ Bolded ones are the ones I'm REALLY REALLY into XD

Stuntman Mike, Death Proof

Look at him !! I could get lost in writing about a nasty creep like him. I want him to kiss me but I also wanna smack him; I dunno XD

Agent Eddie Zane, Man of the House

He's Bo-age Brian Van Volt (Literally the same year) and his character is a sneaky scoundrel who pretends to be the protagonists friend so he can get close to his daughter (And he calls her doll)- need I say more?? No, I don't think I do. Damnn.

Steve Abnesti, Spiderhead

Not gonna lie, I wanna write some really dark stuff for Steve.

Eleanor, Do Revenge

David Harris/Unknown, The Stepfather 2009

I love this movie so so much!! It always makes me want peanut butter toast, which is a little weird if you've seen the movie. David, though, oooffffff. He's so AWFUL. And he's got this shit under control, and his energy is so soulless, but ohhh boy, when he finally loses it?? I'm so obsessed. This is honestly one of my favourite movies and his character is played perfectly.

Suzie Marie Toller, wild things

MEAN GENIUS. MEAN GENIUS. MEAN GENIUS-

Rusty Nail, Joyride

LakePlacid3!Reba, Lake Placid

Gary Sitterson, Cabin in the Woods

I don't know, there's just something cute about him XD He's not full villain, but I'm very very intrigued.

Helene, Tony, and Becky Le Domas, Ready or Not

Chef Slowick, The Menu

He's so sad, I just wanna give him a cuddle and encourage him to cook at a soup kitchen. He's the kinda character where you just wanna be his favourite person- the only person not expendable to him (Including himself!!).

Chase McKinney, Now You See Me 2

Detective Wayne Bailey/Kirsch, Scream 6

Warwick, Graveyard Shift

Another one I could write some really dark stuff for... :D :D :D Sorry, haha XDD

Alexis Butler and Val, We Summon the Darkness

They're so crazy. I wanna be friends (Or more) with them so badly XD I just love any crazy women in horror movies- we need more crazy women in horror movies. I just love watching them to be gross and terrible, theirs something cathartic about it.

Pearl, X + Pearl

Pelle, Midsommar

Norman Bates, Psycho

Brenda Bates, Urban Legend

Another crazy lady. Rebecca Gayheart just did so amazing as Brenda, and she's so much fun, and just... yeah. I love funny Slashers.

Mulgarath, Spiderwick

Have you heard his voice? Its Nick Nolte.

... Count Olaf... Series of Unfortunate Events

Look, leave me be. He's just so GROSS. I love gross, irredeemable villains that you know the writers really just went 'I am going to make this character so unlikeable'. Truly top tier.

Capricorn, Cockerell and Flatnose, Inkheart

I always thought Cockerell especially was pretty XD Kinda Otis B Driftwood-Style.

Dag, Barnyard

I MEAN?? Ugh. I'm sorry. I know he's a coyote. But he's such a bastard and I love it. He's been a favourite of mine since I was a kid!

Lady Van Tassel and the Hessian, Sleepy Hollow

I know one person especially will be happy to see the Hessian on here- XD

Velma Von Tussle, Hairspray

She's so mean... Agh. Haha XD I wanna write that Wilbur scene in the joke shop with reader in his place XD

The Colonal, Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron

Verosika Mayday, Crimson and Paimon, Helluva Boss

Nathanial Demerest, Wishmaster

The Trapper, Dead By Daylight

T.G. McCabe, S.W.A.T 2003

Little greedy coward that he is... I so wanna write for him XD

Please, anyone, if you're interested in any of these guys please tell me about it!

[hopip99]

Spiderhead Masterlist

Masterlist

Jeff

An Unending Nightmare (Jeff x Reader)

[iwrit3]

Quiche;&

Jeff x Reader

Summary: You think Jeff is in love w Lizzy, Jeff thinks you hate him, and Heather thinks you're gonna screw.

{a/n}; hi!👋🏽 this is my first posted piece of work, still needs some work done but i’ve decided to let it go for now. this is a work i just think of as s.o.l. but slightly fluffy? and i really wanted to post something b4 i dozed off. hope you enjoy it! *debbie ryan ear tuck*

WARNINGS: voluntary drug use, but if anything slipped my mind feel free to let me know. Yet, if any of this^ above TRIGGERS you please do not read this or read at your own risk. And please DO NOT REPOST nor ALTER my work, but reblogging to share is fine.

please enjoy.

You shoved your head further into your lone pillow as 'Died in Your Arms' by Cutting Crew plays on the overhead. While a classic, it yanks you out of your deep sleep, something you don't appreciate.

"Wakey, wakey everyone! Let's have a great-productive day, yeah?", Steve exclaims through the mic. Groaning you turn, facing the door to stretch before you decide to get up to start your day. Being mindful of your surgically inserted vial pack at the base of your spine, that Mark restocks on occasion, although it hasn’t caused you any problems so far.

Sliding your feet to the floor you hear others thudding past the door to your private room. Getting up you grab a change of clothes and go through your daily routine, which just consisted of a shower and taming your mane.

You've decided to hit the kitchen before you lounge in the commons, shutting the door you begin gliding through the halls passing your fellow inmates, and walking into the kitchen. "Hey, Angel~", Lizzy practically sings to you, finishing up the tray in front of her while dancing to her walkman. Jeff just nods your way whilst leaning against the island.

"Hey lovebirds~", you reply waving your hand slightly grabbing an hors d'oeuvre off of her tray. She gives you a look and for a moment you're not sure it's because of you taking the food before it's actually being served or calling them lovebirds.

Until she grabs the tray so you can't nab anymore and jokes, "We are not lovebirds. I mean how could we when we haven’t even named our fifth child yet? Hm?", with Jeff laughing out an accusatory, "Yeah!" You smile at the two walking back toward the arch of the kitchen shaking your head, off to the commons.

Picking back up into the book you were reading you suddenly are pulled into the thought of Jeff and Lizzy changing things around here, a good change of course, how they would be a nice couple.

You always assumed Rogan and Heather would end up being the starting couple of the compound, or the very very slim chance of him acknowledging Sarah because of her assuring him of her interest in him by openly flirting with him when she gets the chance.

Observing more so than 'taking action' you almost always noticed when you saw one- other than when we are needed for the trials Steve and Mark were running- there was also the other. A little jealous, you envied their relationship even though you could've cut yourself some slack because you were only admitted recently.

Yet you could argue that you've fit in well, with Heather inviting you to pick through her limited wardrobe or the 'girl talk' you engage in- really being about how Sarah sometimes shoots her nasty looks when she thinks Rogan isn't paying attention. Or when you help Lizzy out with the meals of the day, and Steve passes the halls to greet everyone but always seems to stop and get into in-depth convos with you. And gaining the moniker: Angel, amongst your ’crew’.

You jump out of your thoughts when feedback shoots from the overhead, Steve called, "Hey, uhh, can I have our Angel and my friend Jeff join us in our examination room, please?" Putting the book you ended up skimming back onto the end table, you stand moving your clothes back into place glancing across the room you lock eyes with tw-three? three people surprisingly.

First, Heather, she's smirking whilst giving you a thumbs up with the hand furthest from you as if to hide it. Next Sarah, giving you the look she primarily reserves for the former. And then an unreadable look from Rogan, furrowing your brow towards them he just turns back to his book, and you just shrug and maneuver your way out and towards the examination room.

Cracking open the formerly air-sealed door, you slide into the dark room spotting the cushioned yellow seats, and took the one furthest from the entrance, force of habit to keep an eye on your exits as per your previous 'experiences'. You make yourself comfortable before Abnes-Steve begins the trial for however long it may take, while you guess they are preparing in their observation bay in front of you.

After a few moments, your right ear perks to the sound of the door releasing its pressure and giving way to the new silhouette entering the room. Eyes adjusting to the room again after the brief exposure to the light in the halls, the figure you realize is Jeff sitting across from you also getting settled in his seat and waving his right hand in greeting, "Hey." "Hi.", you reply tucking back into yourself, eyes sweeping the room from being idle. Jeff suddenly shifts in his seat after seemingly lost in thought, looking into your eyes he opens his mouth to speak, "Uhm, hey Angel, do you want t-" but the sunroof begins pouring light into the room and he stops himself, looking toward the elevated room adjacent to you.

Turning back to your left, you notice the now-lit observation room with Mark and Steve sitting in a similar manner as Jeff and you. Moving toward the console and pressing a button speaking into the mic in front of him, Steve welcomes you with, "Thanks for coming in you two, how have you been feeling lately?" You pick up the left corner of your mouth before replying, "Just peachy. And you?" refraining from using either of his names because you'd always get conflicted when wanting to be casual yet respectful. Jeff grins at your response stating, "Great-good, things are going good."

Steve reclines in his seat pleased with your answers. "That's great! I mean awesome! So, uhm, Jeff! What are your thoughts on Angel here?" Slightly throwing his head back in shock he asks, "Ang-On Angel?" "Yes, Angel.", Steve affirms. "Right, uhm. They’re… I’m not sure how to describe them really. Just a nice, cool person I guess.”, Jeff gets out.

“Okay, uhm permission to administer B-15? Just to help you guys out a bit. Drip on?”, Steve echoes in the room. ��Acknowledge.”, Admits Jeff. “Acknowledge.”, You voice, interested in Jeff’s take on you. From his desk Steve swipes a dial on his phone, activating the Verbaluce vial in your body packs also known as the drug B-15. “Alright Jeff, Angel. Please continue.”, he tells you both as he sits upright to focus on your responses. Jeff shifts on his sofa before saying, “Angel is a helpful, charismatic, admirable person.” “Jeff”, You start as he turns his attention to you. “..Is a nice, caring, and understanding guy.” After a moment of surprisingly not awkward eye contact, you two are met with silence. Facing the oversized bay window, you stare wondering what’s taking them.

A few more moments pass and Jeff clears his throat into the still of the room. With an inhale he calls out, “Hey uhm…” You break your stare, ”Yeah?” answering him. He sighs deeply, “Let’s talk later.” Tensing you pause before speaking, “Okay.”

What could it be about? Does he need help with something? Maybe advice with Liz? Or to get something off his chest? Hm… Why are they taking so lo- “Alright, thanks you guys, that’ll be all.” “That’s it?”, you question to yourself as you hear a sigh of relief to your right.

Jeff pats the arm of the chair before standing, then turns to the door and hastily makes it out of the room. Standing to do pretty much the same, you give a quick wave and are on your way. You start to the commons to actually finish your book this time, but Jeff wanting to talk and not being sure what it’s about is already racking your mind so you b-line to the dorms.

Picking up the pace you almost crash into what you presumed to be another attendee of the establishment, but the close-fitting grey slacks lead you to think otherwise. Meeting blue hues and already fixing an apology on your tongue you’re cut short with a raised hand. “I’m sorr-“ “Don’t bother, you were obviously in a rush and I stopped you my apologies. Don’t worry, I won’t hold you this time.”, Steve grins at you, expressing his sympathies. “Uhm, what was that about?”, you ask. “You mean…”, he drags off placing his hands on his waist, unsure of the question. “Oh, the trial I mean.”, explaining to him you notice someone standing just behind him, Jeff. He throws his head to the side as to tell you to follow him in a secluded section in the hall, leaning on the wall behind him. Eyes flickering back to the man in front of you to catch what he was telling you, “ .. yeah, just a quick routine trial for B-15.” “Oh okay, well I’m gonna go now.” Holding up both hands he sends you off, “By all means.”

Walking around him you slip in the small benched area and sit across from Jeff. Waiting for either the two of you to banish the quiet, you twiddle your thumbs and his eyes jump from the floor to your shoes.

Abruptly sitting upright he face’s you and works his way to the topic of conversation, “Usually I don’t even bother with things like this.” You shift, giving him attention to the best of your ability. “I don’t ever really need to because I normally don’t care but uh.. Do you not like me? Or something?” Unwillingly your face scrunches up in disbelief, mind running a mile a minute as you say, “Why would you think that?” He tilts back until his head hits the wall behind him. “Well, I just thought that whenever you, Liz, and I are around each other you see your way out.”, he admits shrugging.

Your arms cross so fast and the change in your facial expression almost gives him whiplash when you tell him, “That’s because I want to give you lovebirds some space. I know how much you like each other.” “Oh yeah? What about that time I went to ask Heather and at the same time you just so happened to really want her to try the quiche you made?” Recalling when you had to stand with her over a trash can, offering her water often as she tried to clear her throat of the quiche you almost choked her with. Averting your line of sight from him you feel your face start to heat up while you reply, “It was good quiche okay? Nothing wrong with sharing. Besides who wouldn’t like you?”

Just as he arches his brow about to retaliate you stop him laughing, “Besides Rogan.” Taking his turn to twist his face up, he bursts out in laughter gesturing to himself and where you entered the space, “You really think me and Lizzy? Sure..”

Taking a pause before continuing, “Angel I don’t like Liz, not in the way you’re thinking of anyway. I like you.” “Oh… Really?” “Definitely.”, he shuffles closer to you. “So are we doing this?”, and you to him. “Yeah, we are.” You both lean into each other, lips just brushing against one another.

Hearing multiple sets of feet and a bunch of ‘Wow!’s and ’Whoa!’s, your head whips to face Heather, Rogan, Lizzy, Sarah, and Dave? Eating a drumstick? Of course, he’s eating it’s Dave we’re talking about. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

You chuckle and glance at Jeff only to catch him looking back at you in the same position, and quickly turn back to the group. Smiling, Jeff does the same. “So... what’s everybody doing here? Not that I mind your presence.”, you quickly add. Dave only waves you off with his chicken and a shrug of understanding. Heather places her hands on her hips and with a roll of her eyes tells you, “Well nosey here couldn’t believe Liz when she came and told us that he was gonna ask you out, and Sarah just invited herself.”

Nodding in belief, Jeff points his question toward the only unspoken person here, “And Dave?” Lizzy shifts her weight from one hip to the other before explaining, “I told him I’d let him pick what we’re having for lunch for next week if he could sniff you out.” Sarah and Rogan chuckle over the bribe Dave brought himself in.

Dave stops mid-bite and tells Liz off, “Hey! You said lunch AND dinner!” “Yeah, yeah..” Just before they bicker, Heather and Sarah start getting into it. Sharing a look you and Jeff are already squeezing past them, saluting -not that they were paying attention anyways- and you two are whispering and sneaking your way into the kitchen to steal whatever Liz made for dinner.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Dollhouse 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as fear, coercion, violence, noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary: Five girls move into a shared residence for the upcoming school year but not all is as it seems. 

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Captain Syverson, Steve Abnesti, Lloyd Hansen, and Peter Parker 

This fic features five named readers; Ann, Lulu, Polly, Barbie, and Molly. This chapter features Ann and Lulu. Please note that characters may switch but will maintain second-person POV.

Note: It's thirstday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3 

Love you all until you can’t stand it. Take care. 💖 

You’ve been waiting all summer to come back. Campus is like paradise to you. Sure, it’s fun to party but there’s also all the clubs and the general sense of community. You always manage to find your way right into the heart of it all. 

You’re a bit disappointed to not be living on campus itself but you found an alternative not too far away, and in a nice neighbourhood too. Not to mention, your best friend ever, Polly, will be living with you! 

The uber pulls up to the front of the idyllic building and your cheeks bloom with excitement. You spent the extra money to haul all your bags from the station, and it was worth it. You couldn’t have dragged it all that way, even on the bus. 

The driver helps you get everything onto the curb. You thank him and tip him on the app. He looks at you with that fogginess that a lot of guys get. He asks if you need anything else and you assure him you’re just fine. He seems almost reluctant to go. His spindly fingers twiddle at his side as he slinks around the hood. 

You stand with your bags and take out your phone. Polly said she was on her way. You don’t want to go in without her. You send her a message asking how close she is.

“Hey, what’re ya standing in the middle of the sidewalk for, bitch?”  

You wince as you spin to face the grizzly snarl. You harrumph and scowl at Polly as she cackles. It’s funny to think she could do such a scary voice considering she always looks so dainty and perfect. Even then, she wears a blouse and skirt, with a scarf that reminds you of an Audrey classic. Never a stitch out of place with her. 

“You sure are dressed for moving day,” you remark dryly. 

“Mm, don’t talk to me Barbie Doll,” she tosses the derisive nickname at you, “I see you have on the classic Mattel shade today.” 

You pout your pinkened lips at her and roll your eyes, “whatever! Pol! We’re gonna be roommates!” 

You squeal together and she lifts her bag over the lip of the pavement, “hell yeah.” 

You giggle and look up at the house. You went there once before for the walkthrough and it’s even more perfect than you remember. You bend to take your smallest bag and Polly shakes her head. 

“Really? You brought all that? I hope you don’t think I’m gonna be your personal camel and carry it.” 

“Don’t be such a downer,” you stick your tongue out. 

“Excuse me,” a deep timbre rolls over as the front gate squeaks. You and Polly share a startled look then turn to the large blond man as he steps through. That isn’t Jonathan... “Are you girls here for moving day?” 

“Uhhhhh,” you drone out and once more glance at your BFF, “we are.” 

“Oh, let me explain, Jonathan can’t make it. He has an emergency at another property. He left your keys with me to deliver,” he stirs around in the pocket of his blazers as he stands across the pavement. 

He's taller than the building manager you met in July, broader too. He’s bigger in every way and just as blond. He wears a pair of square glasses and only a plain tee under his suit jacket. He fishes out two key rings and shakes them. 

“Here we are,” he grins. He steps forward and offers you one of the fobs. “Front door is a censor. All new system.” He gives Polly the other dongle. “By the way, I’m Steve. I help Jonathan with security. I’ll be popping in for routine measures but I shouldn’t bother you too much.” 

“Oh thanks. I’m Barbie, this is Polly,” you squeeze the fob and smile at the grand facade of the building. “Awesome.” 

Polly toys with her keyring and stays quiet. She’s usually a riot but around men, you’ve noticed she gets a bit shy. You don’t blame her. Steve is a big guy and his gaze doesn’t falter for a single second. 

“Well, that’s great,” you continue, “good to be safe.” 

“Yeah, especially with a house full of girls. You never know,” he says. 

You blink at the subtlety of his suggestion. Obviously, there’s always those who will have the worst intentions but you try not to think of that. Besides, you’ve been around the block and it all looks very ordinary to you. 

“Anyway, let me show you inside. You’ve already got a roommate waiting on your girls,” he announces and claps his hands. “Can I help you with some of this?” 

He nods to your bags and you shimmy as you laugh at yourself, “oh, yeah, aha. I wanted to make sure I had everything.” 

“No problem, think I can handle it,” he bends and picks up your two largest bags. He doesn’t struggle at all. You gather up the three smaller ones and Polly rolls her suitcase with her. 

He stands inside the gate as he waits for you to enter. You lead the way up the walk as Polly clicks behind you. You climb the steps and strut across the porch. 

“Go on in,” Steve calls from behind. 

You do as he says and set your bags to the side of the entryway. You pause to take off your shoes as you see another pair on the mat. A pair of round-toed flats with bows. 

“You two are upstairs,” Steve says, “at the top, rooms at the end of the hall. Do you want me to bring your bags up?” 

“Oh, no, you can leave them at the door,” you face him again. “This is so lovely. Will you let Jonathan know we got here or should I call him?” 

“I can take care of it,” he says. “I’ll be headed to him once the rest of you show up. My partner’s out of town so we’re short right now.” 

“Your partner?” 

“Like I said, security.” 

“Ah, right, ha,” you rock your shoulders and he puts your bags down lightly. 

“Sure you don’t want some help,” he peers upstairs. 

“Really, we’re all good, right Polly?” 

“Mhmm,” she nods and looks past him. 

“Right, I’ll be outside. There's three more coming.” He nods and turns to go. 

You wait until he’s out the door to proceed upstairs. As you do, Polly sighs. 

“He was nice,” you say. 

“I guess,” she agrees dully. 

“He’s just doing his job.” 

“I know, it’s just, boys, guys, or whatever, standing next to you with them is like being invisible sometimes,” she mutters. “Not your fault but... yeah.” 

“Whatever. He’s a bit old for me,” you scoff as you get to the second-floor hall. You forgot how wide it was. Probably a good thing knowing it will be a full house. 

As you come to the end of the hall, a door opens and you see a single eye peer out. You stop short and Polly hits your back. The girl shifts the door and sticks her head out. 

“Uh, hi,” she squeaks, “I’m Lulu.” 

“Hey, uh, we’re... Barbie,” you point to yourself, “and Polly.” 

Polly leans around to wave with her free hands, “hi, Lulu.” 

Lulu lets the door go and steps out, “it’s been so quiet around here. I got here last week. It’s so nice to have people around.” 

“Oh, really?” You wonder. 

“I’m on exchange so... yeah, had to fly in,” she smiles sheepishly. “Anyway, sorry to bug you. Just wanted to say hi.” 

“You’re not bugging us at all! We were just chatting with Steve--” 

“Steve?” She frowns, “oh, the big bald guy? That’s Sy.” 

You frown and look at Polly, “no, Steve. Blond hair. Big.” You make yourself wide as you say the last word. 

“Ohhhh, sorry, I haven’t been out of my room. I’ve been so nervous,” she giggles and it sounds like a tinkling bell. 

“He’s the security guy or something,” Polly says. 

“Right,” Lulu’s lips tremble, “cool. Um, anyway, if you need me to show you around...” 

“Um, sure. We’ll drop out things off then I want to have a look at the kitchen. I was thinking of having some drinks once the rest got here. Maybe we can do a housewarming,” you chirp. 

“Oh, that sounds fun,” Lulu laughs again and it seems to clog her throat. She clears it and blinks, “sorry. Nervous.” 

You smile. You like meeting new people and the most exciting part for you, is all the different personalities coming together. And there’s still three more girls on the way. 

New things are always scary. For you, even the familiar is frightening. Sometimes what you know is the most dangerous. Like the bullies you went to school with for years.

Transferring to a new college is enough stress on its own but moving to a whole new city, that’s another beast on its own. Just like a dragon on its hoard. You clutch your worn novel to your chest as you walk down the street, your bag bouncing on the cracks in the sidewalk. 

You should’ve written this down. You think you’re going in the right direction. After the greyhound, you counter the city transit into the core and from there, you’ve been walking in circles. Finally, you recognise a street name and stop to turn on your data and spend a few MBs on confirming your destination. Just at the end. Phew. 

That gate was in the photos, those hedges too. Wow, it looks so much better IRL. You slow down in disbelief as you stare up at the siding. This can’t be. For the price you’re paying, you have to have taken a wrong turn. 

“Moving in?” A chipper voice asks as a shadow skews over the pavement next to yours. 

You blanch and look over at a boy about your age with reddish brown hair and warm amber eyes. He grins as you lower your chin then turn back to the house, “uh, yeah?” 

“Me too,” he says. “Peter. It’s a pretty cool building, huh? My aunt knows the owner.” 

“Mr. Pine,” you murmur. 

“I call him Jonathan but, yeah,” he chuckles. “You’re a Thrones fan?” 

You furrow your brow and glance over again. Then you check the book in your hand. 

“I’ve only read the books,” you say. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Molly,” you answer and sniff. You stare up at the house as it sinks in. You’ll be sharing a space with him. Not only him, but four others. 

“Should we go in together?” He offers. 

“Sure, why not,” you clutch your phone against the book and drag your bag forward. “Um, Mr. Pine said we should call--” 

“Yeah, that’s whatever. Like I said, I know him,” he insists as he goes ahead of you and unlatches the gate. “Come on.” 

You come forward as he hitches up his duffle bag. Your suitcase rattles over the threshold as another figure appears from the porch, “Pete, didn’t say you were bringing your girlfriend.” 

A large blond man, built like a warrior in a fantasy novel, descends the steps, “don’t think the roommates will be very happy about that.” “Whatever, Steve. She’s one of them. We just met.” 

“Ah, another one,” the man says, “great, just one more then.” The man digs in his pocket, “Jonathan left the keys.” He takes out two fobs and doles them out between you and Peter, “I’m Steve. Security.” He explains. 

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you,” you eke out. 

“This is Molly,” Peter intones and you give a bashful look. Oops, you forgot that. 

“Right, you two are on the first floor,” Steve says, “you wanna show her around, Pete?” 

Peter clucks, “Peter,” he corrects, “Steven.” 

The large man chortles and nods at you, “let me know if he gives you any trouble. It is my job to deal with the rabble.” 

You smile tightly and Peter waves off the other man, “come on. I’m sure you don’t wanna stand out in the sun with this lump head.” 

You show your teeth apologetically before you follow Peter. He strides down the walk and up the steps. You’re a few feet behind him. 

As you enter the house, you hear voices. They hush and you listen for them as they seem to do the same. Peter stands on the mat as you unlace your sneakers. 

“Hello?” He calls out, “anybody here?” 

There’s some noise before footsteps come from somewhere deep in the house. You look up to the top of the stairs as a figure appears above. The girl bounds down as two others loom behind her. 

“Helloooooo!” She trills, “I’m Barbie!” 

“Barbie,” Peter says, “hey. I love your lipstick.” 

“It’s gloss, actually, honey,” she winks, “you two are moving in? You’re friends too?” 

“Oh, uh no,” you shake your head, “we just...” 

“Good timing,” Peter says, “Peter, Molly.” He points in tandem with his introductions. 

“So cute, Molly, well up there is Polly. That rhymes! Polly and Molly, and that’s Lulu,” she gestures up behind her as the girls wave, “think there’s only one room left.” 

“What are we thinking?” Peter asks. “Party tonight? Ice breakers?” 

“Something like that. Drinks?” Barbie suggests. 

“You’re my kinda girl, Barbs.” 

“Barbie, hon,” she chides with a wag of her finger, “anywho, I’ll let you two get cozy while we wait on the last one.” 

“I hope it’s a dude,” Peter mutters as he turns away.  

You smile at Barbie then follow him. You’re not sure where your room is but he seems to know exactly where he’s going. You wouldn’t mind a door to hide behind. 

[charnelhouse]

Soooo, did you watch Spiderhead? Will we have Steve Abnesti content in the future? 🥹🫣

A/N: Steve Abnesti x F!Reader. Straight up NON-CON. You've been warned. Dark themes. Implied abuse. Mentions of hair.

Steve’s claiming of you is not necessarily violent. 

He does not fist a hand into your hair to drag you into his bedroom. He doesn’t need to. Not really. The thing is, he doesn’t fall in love with you because of the damn drugs. He sees you and feels it. It’s like a shock to his system. The brightness of your face reminds him of the sun that sits heavy above the island.

“Mr. Abnesti,” you try, and he cuts you off.

“Steve,” he demands. “It’s Steve. C’mon, honey, you know my name.”

You duck your head, your knees knocking together as you sit in the small, white room. “Sorry,” you murmur. You’re beautifully subservient. You’re far too quiet and tender, and you remind him of a lamb. You didn’t even do anything theoretically bad. In fact, it appears that you were defending yourself. 

He turns to Mark. “She must have some real fire in her to do what she did.”

“Murdering her father?”

He nods excitedly, a grin splitting his face. He feels like laughing. If only he had killed his dear old dad. Fuck. 

“Are we going to try 40 on her?”

“No,” Steve replies a little too quickly. “No - we’re done with her for today.”

***

He takes you on walks along the island. He discusses the weather and his childhood, and his fears. He spills them all over you because he knows you’ll love him. It is guaranteed. 

“You’re really beautiful,” he tells you, nudging his knuckles across your cheek. You blink up at him, your expression bashful.

“Steve…”

“I care about you,” he continues. “I want you safe. You’re protected here. Do you feel protected?”

You curl your fingers around his wrist, your thumb scraping under his watch. “Yes,” you answer. “I…I feel safe here.”

You’re in the dress he left in your room. It’s pale blue as the sky above them. It clings to your shoulders before flowing outward. The hem brushes your thighs. He moves both his hands to your face, cradling your jaw. His palms overwhelm your head. He could engulf you. He could swallow you whole like Kronos. You’d be birthed anew. A Goddess. His Queen. His Hera. His Rhea. 

He lowers his head and presses his mouth to yours. You return his kiss, clinging to his shoulders as you try and reach him. He lifts you up; he prods his tongue against the seam of your lips, demanding entrance, and you give it to him. 

“Steve,” you whisper, pushing against him lightly. “It’s - we can’t-”

The sun is beating down on the back of his head. Your skin is soft in his hands - warm with pleasure. “We can,” he mumbles between kisses as he tries to push you to the herb-green grass. The wind ruffles his hair. He can taste sunscreen and the wisp of clouds, and he wants to drag you to the beach and make love to you in the cradle of the sea - the waves lapping at their bodies as they make something electric.

When he cups your cunt over your dress, you shudder in his arms. Your thighs clamp down on his hand. You inhale sharply. “Please not…not here…someone could see-”

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he soothes. “We can do whatever we want.”

You struggle against him, and his arms form a tight bind around your waist. Your hips caught between his hands. “You’re fine, baby…you’re perfect…just let me make you feel good.”

There’s a shocking burst of pain in his lower lip, and he stumbles backward. He touches his mouth in surprise and finds his fingertips covered in blood. He blinks at you, and you stare back - defiant and full of rage. There you are, my little murderess. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, and your brow furrows. You frown - obviously confused.

“I-I just bit you.”

“You did,” he agrees. He’s proud. He wanted this. He wanted to tap into it.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, his thumb on the screen as he swipes it to all the way to the right. “Let’s see you channel that rage into something a bit more fun.”

***

The beach is hot under his feet. His shirt is gone - torn and tossed somewhere. You’ve licked every inch of his torso, sucked on his nipples, and marked up his throat.

“Fuck, Steve,” you whine as you practically climb up his body. Your arms encircle his neck as you crash your lips together. “I want you inside me.”

Your nails bite into his shoulders. You pull at his hair. He’s got his hands under your ass as he tries to carry you into the ocean. The water is smooth. The salt dries his skin, but he can’t stop kissing you. He wants to eat you out. He wants to shove his cock down your throat until you choke. 

He struggles through the waves until he gets about waist deep. You’re still kissing him, nipping at his jaw. You’re making the softest, warbling keens. A tiny bird. You push at his swim trunks, and he curls his finger around the crotch of your panties before ripping it in two

“Steve,” you beg. “Get it inside me. I want to be full of you…forever and ever. I want you to make me see my own fucking death when you screw me.”

He shivers at that. It's so intense. It's so full of passion. He knew you'd be perfect.

You're mumbling now - a repetitive plea circling around and around like a stuck record. It's constant: stevestevestevefuckpleasepleasepleasenownownow

“Hush, lamb,” he replies before spitting on his palm and taking himself in hand. He rubs the head of his cock through your folds. You’re soaked and your hips buck, grinding into him. He breaches you easily, sinking to the hilt. 

You melt around him, your pussy clamping down and going tight as a knot. “Oh my god,” you whimper before you bury your face into his throat. “It’s so good…so good…Oh, Steve…” You cannot stop. You are a total fucking mess, and you’re in love with him. “I want you to make me yours. I want you to mark me. Cover me in your come…your blood…pleasepleasepleaseplease…”

He licks the cup of your mouth as he picks up his pace. He is unyielding with the force of his strokes. He grasps the nape of your neck, his other arm wrapped around your waist as he holds you to him like a precious stone - a diamond - a child - his doll. 

The waves rock against hips, matching the willful pattern he utilizes to own your body. “Do you love me?” he murmurs into your ear; he smooths your hair back. He pets your skin.

“I love you, Steve,” you return - more tired - more lazy and drunk on his sex. “Love you so much.”

You’re slurring He wants to test your boundaries and find the smoke that leads to your fire. He wants you like this all the time, and he wonders if he can do it. He wonders if he can massage you into loving him, period. No drugs. He thinks it’s possible. 

He hauls you closer until your tits are crushed right up against his chest. He slows his thrusts, cradles you, and holds you over the sea. “You were made to love me, sweetheart. Remember that.”

[justjams2003]

Hey, so I came up with another spicey Steve Abnesti x male reader request😉 it's not a prequal or sequal to the other one. It's a complete new one.

The reader is the same cute 'n tiny one.Also this time kinda innocent. The story is kind of like this- Steve gives both reader and Jeff N-40 to have sex and be really intimate. The reader being cute, Jeff doesn't protest to ackonowledge leading upto steve being really aroused hearing reader's moans and lustful whimpers. So, later he haves his way with the reader. Size difference, age difference, oral sex(steve recieving), body worship(steve recieving) and lots of hot steamy sex🔥

Hello, thank you for writing your request. Sorry it took so long, (Medical issues, again). Also sorry if it is a bit short, I don’t have much of an excuse for it. I kinda feel like writing the body worship in a separate one-shot but that will be much later. Anyways, I do hope you enjoy :)

Pairing: Steve Abnesti x male!reader

Warnings: Public sex (Readerx Jeff); size difference, degrading, praising, cock sucking, age difference, innocence reader (tell me if I miss any)

Summary: Steve corrupts an innocent reader.

Word count: 1,6k

Unedited

Steve wants to try something new. I-16 work just fine with Jeff, Heather and the other volunteers. Though that is all fine and dandy, but Steve wants to see just how far this drug can go. How much it can affect a person.

He concluded to go easy on Jeff. Start off slow with someone a little more feminine than the other prisoners he has. The only boy there smaller than Jeff. Make him feel better about it. Seeing you, so unexpecting.

"Hey, Jeff, how you feeling?" Steve asks, bending down to press the button of the speaker. Jeff smiles looking up, "All right and you?" Of course, Jeff doesn't really care. He's just saying what he has to to keep his privileges.

"Working hard," Steve answers, giving his usual deceiving smile. Even if the curly-haired man can't see him. Then the door slowly opens and your curls pop into his view. SteHe can't help but let a smile spread. There is just something about those doe eyes that makes him warm in many places.

"Y/N, hello-" it takes everything in him not to call you by something like 'my dear' or 'little one.' "-ready for the day?" The cutest gleaming smile graces those pearly whites of yours. You nod, "Always am," you're so cute to him. Always so positive.

Steve pauses for a moment. Just to take in your smile. It's truly like nothing else for him. Mark gives a little scoff and Steve snaps him a vicious gaze. "Alright, Y/N, how would you rate Jeff here?" He already doesn't like asking you these questions.

Though, the thought of hearing those sweet noises keeps him going. He watches you swift lightly. Looking at the boy actually in front of you. "He's a very nice guy, he's given me extra snacks before. So a ten," you think back.

Steve shakes his head, so naive, though his cock twitches just thinking of breaking that innocence. "No, my dear Y/N, how attractive do you think he is?" He smirks, watching as your brows furrow in the cutest little frown.

"Attractive?" You repeat the question, takes a moment, and then answer. "He isn't really my type, um, 7." You smile at him, trying to ease your words. Steve can't help but wonder, what is your type? "Alright and you, Jeff?"

Jeff has answered this before, though that is with people that fits his sexuality. Not that you’re not attractive. There is just something about your presence that makes him feel you’re warm. You’re kind and in no other better word to describe it, cute.

“I’d say the same, 7,” Although what you two mean in type is variously different. You meant you like bigger, stronger men, with blue eyes and dashing blond hair. He meant well, women.  Steve immediately disagrees with Jeff’s rating. He’d say you’re so much more than a 10.

There isn’t much he can do about that, however. “Alright, Y/N, acknowledge for I-16?" He asks, starting with you. Almost instantly you nod. “Acknowledge,” you trust Steve, he’s always kind to you. Even if you rarely talk outside of this white box you’re currently in.

Jeff snaps his head up to the mirror. Knowing Steve is right behind that icy pane. It's not like it would be all that bad. He can try it at least once? It wouldn't hurt? You are quite attractive to him, not exactly his type, being a man and whatnot.

“Jeff?” The before-mentioned boy gulps then gives a nod, “Yeah, acknowledge.” It’s oh so very hard for Steve to hide his grin. “Excellent,” Steve mutters to himself. Showing to Mark to up the drug. A whir is heard by the both of you.

It takes a moment, but the blonde can see you squirming. He’s watched you on game nights or just hanging about. You’re shy about it. Entirely uncertain and unknowing about a lot of things. If there would to be an innuendo or joke made you most likely don’t understand it. Or he’d see you blush wildly.

Quickly though, you and Jeff are unable to keep your hands off each other. Dear God, the noises you make are so delightful to him. His pants grow tight and he’s dearly regretting his choice of pants. It’s wild to him, how someone so innocent and make such sinful noises and faces.

It’s exactly as how he dreamed it to be. Even better and now he plans on corrupting you himself. The thought of that tight asshole around his hard cock right now. The need to do it grows just as much as him. He watches every moment as close as possible.

Though once this session between them is over, he quickly plans for his next moves.

It wasn’t hard to get you in his room. You were practically jumping at the opportunity to be close to him. This morning with Jeff made you tired, though afterwards you were more annoyed than anything else. Why did it have to be Jeff? He’s nice but he doesn’t make you feel that same fuzzy feeling as Steve does.

“My dear,” you glow at the attention, enjoying the feeling of his nicknames. Not only that but his hand cups your jaw. His thumb tracing your soft jaw. Most boys he saw have these angular strong jaws.But there is just something of these soft round cheeks of his.

He coos at your reactions, pursing his lips together? “Why don’t I put some music on?” Your spirits fall flat, but just for a moment. Hope still lingers in your core, and elsewhere. You watch his broad shoulders as he saunters away. Your ears suddenly ring with the soft tunes of a gentle 80′s tune you don’t know.

When he reaches you again, his attitude is different. He seems to have a different look in his eyes. Much more demanding and lustful. It does things to you. He gently takes you by the shoulders and shoves you onto the bed. It isn’t very hard.

You’re short and not exactly as strong as him. “You’re so small, so fragile, how am I suppose to not fuck your face?” He questions, as if it’s the most basic of questions to be. A fiery red blush splatters over your slightly pale cheeks. “I, uh,” you struggle to finish your sentence. What can you say?

Though he quickly takes a sigh, “Tell me, do you enjoy your time here?” He asks, manipulation is thick in his voice. And in his facial expression. You nod, more than happy to be here. “Of course, I mean, I love it here,” more than ready to show your commitment.

“Oh, but you’re so young, so naive. How can I believe it?” He shrugs, to anyone else it would be easy to tell how manic he’s being. Not to you though, you’re misguided by the attention. “I do, I love it, I do!” You’re eager as ever, never wanting to disappoint him.

He tisks then makes as though he is thinking. “Prove it.” He states, his eyes glaring down at you with calumny and power. His cock grows even harder at the furrow in his brows. “How?” You ask, leaning forward just to get closer to his scent.

He sighs, as if he’s annoyed with your credulity, though it is quite the opposite. He enjoys it. He takes a moment, then reaches down, pulling down his zipper and pants. His massive cock slaps on his stomach and stands proud in front of you.

There must be something wrong with you, because your mouth starts salivating. Steve reaches his big hands down, and curls it into your hair, gripping it. “Open,” he explains, mimic how you should do. You follow suit and as soon as your mouth is open he takes your mouth into action.

You can taste the salty yet very lightly sweet taste of pre-cum in your mouth, not that you know what that is. “Follow you instincts, baby boy,” he encourages you with a light smile. More like a shit-eating grin than anything else. Without realising your tongue begins to swirl around his fat dick.

His grin grows much wider than before. “So good,” he mutters, enjoy watching as you mewl around. Though the speed is much to slow for his liking. He grips onto your hair once more and then shoves down all the way. He can feel you gagging and see the tears form on your eyes.

It is something special to see. The sight of such a little creature taking such a big cock. “Amazing little boy,” his eyes can’t leave yours for a second. Soon enough though your natural instinct takes over. Your head begins bobbing and swirling in a new way.

Now, Steve is unable to control himself. His head throws back and his grip tightens on your hair. Curses fall from his mouth as he enjoys your warm wet mouth. This continues on and before he knows it, his balls grow tighter. “That’s good, swallow baby, like a good little boy.”

It’s such an odd yet welcomed feeling. The cum flooding your mouth in a sticky, salty and sweet flavour. Curses fall from his lips and his grip grows as tight as ever. And when he’s done he pulls from your mouth with a loud pop. Spit and cum leak down your chin.

“Aw, it’s alright baby, I know it’s your first time with someone as big as me,” he coos taking your jaw in his hand again. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re a quick learner.”

[cockslutpadalecki]

O-B-D-X

Summary: Obediex. Steve’s triumph. His key to complete control over the residents at Spiderhead— over you.

Pairing: Steve Abnesti x F!Reader.

Words: 1.6K.

Warnings: dub-con (ish), consensual drugging, light dom/sub themes, explicit sexual content, female masturbation, female orgasms, mentions of oral sex, chair riding?, 18+.

A/N: Haven’t written for Mr. Hemsworth in a while… and Steve Abnesti (or should I call him Abnasti?!) has so much potential. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to Stacey (PM666) for all your help on this and for allowing me to use your words. This story is as much mine as it is yours. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

The observation room looks huge from your new vantage point. But even now, from this side of the glass, you can’t seem to shake the oppressive sensation. It doesn’t matter what morally corrupt task you’re made to complete, the claustrophobia always manages to cling to you like a bad smell long after you leave. The feeling of the walls closing in follows you for hours after, even as Steve’s words of praise echo in your ear. 

You think of the last time you sat in the mustard yellow chair, the leather sticky and hot against your back as Steve spread your legs, tongue delving—

Steve places down the device that controls your MobiPak beside you, pulling you sharply from your daydream. 

“Drip on?” His voice is so deep, so rough like gravel, it makes your thighs quake.

You don’t miss a beat, responding to him with a firm, “Acknowledge.” 

You hear Steve chuckle behind you at the solitary word, and pride swells inside your chest, eyes transfixed on the way his thick fingers lightly dance across the screen of the handheld device, dialling up the B-6 that’s about to enter your bloodstream. 

B-6. Obediex. Steve’s triumph. His key to complete control over the residents at Spiderhead— over you.

There’s an ephemeral moment where you pause, your heart thudding in anticipation, and then the effect is almost immediate. A sense of calm washes over you as you wait patiently for his instruction. 

“Bend over and show me your cunt.” 

You do as he asks without a breadth of hesitation, flipping up the flimsy material of your skirt before settling your elbows against the workstation. The position forces your ass into the air, revealing your naked pussy— being accessible to him at all times is no longer optional but a requirement. The room is silent save for the light sound of wheels on laminate coming from Steve’s chair as he scoots up behind you. You can sense him getting close, closer— 

Sudden pressure begins to gather along the seam of your folds, using the tips of his fingers to breach your slick heat. He teases and pleases you, working you open until you’re dripping wetness down your thighs. When he curls his fingers upwards, reaching for the spot that makes you see the light, your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

“How does it feel?” Steve eventually asks with curiosity, allowing his fingers to retreat before he’s pushing them back inside you again. 

Your back arches in delight, telling him with a quivering voice, “I, um, feels good?”

He clicks his tongue. “Use your words.” 

The order piques your interest. You know exactly how it feels— how your stomach twists and knots with heat, but somehow your tongue can’t form around the words to express it. 

“It… so goo—”

“Drip on?” he cuts you off and the sharpness in his tone makes a lump form in your throat. 

“Ack-Acknow-le-ledge.” It rolls off your tongue in stages, unable to focus when Steve’s thumb brushes your clit and your thighs begin to shake.

His hand appears beside you and swipes quickly across the device’s screen. Your eyes briefly focus on B-15, the word Verbaluce below it slightly blurred as the fire between your legs intensifies. 

Verbaluce. A way to loosen your tongue. The perfect accessory to allow you the vocabulary to truly articulate how you feel about the man sitting behind you, fucking your cunt with his magnificent fingers. It gives you the tools to tell him what you want him to do to you without the usual rush of shy embarrassment that follows. 

Tears fog up your vision as Steve’s hand moves once again, spinning the dial up and up and up until words start to tumble out of your mouth like word vomit. 

The sentences start off expressive and eloquent— poetic even— until the bliss building in the pit of your core causes the words to morph and descend into nothing but garbled noises interspersed with the odd expletive, and pathetic begging as you plead with Steve not to stop. 

His fingers curl and push, pull and crook— perfectly mastered to draw as much pleasure from you as possible. It happens when you spend so much time being his favorite test subject. He learns every minuscule detail, so finely tuned to the melody your body sings when he touches it.

The skin across your knuckles stretches as your fingers tightly grip the edge of the workstation, close to finding your peak. You push back against Steve’s hand, desperately seeking out more friction but whining when he withdraws it. 

It always vexes you when he does that. You can feel the chagrin bubbling away in your chest, can taste the frustration you want to spit his way, but you know with the dosage of B-6 he’s given you, you remain subservient. 

“How does it feel?” he asks and his smug smile reflects back in the darkness of the computer monitor in front of you.

The verbaluce heavy in your veins won't allow you to bite your tongue. "I hate it when you do that," you whine.

"How does it feel?”

“Empty, cold. I need you. Please.” 

He ignores your protest, instead choosing to ask, “Remember the first time I fucked you?” 

“Yes,” you reply, letting out a deep moan as Steve’s fingers slip back inside you, the pressure of his knuckles heavy on your clit.

You remember it like it was an hour ago. Eyes flickering once again towards the chair sitting in the observation room, the inanimate object reminds you of all the ways Steve has used it as a tool to tear you apart— mentally and physically. 

“Then tell me.”

The instruction is clear, buzzing around your head as your cotton covered cunt rolls and slides over the yellow leather. 

“Slow down,” he demands, and you have no control over whether to follow his orders or not— the B-6 coursing through your veins easily removing all semblance of freewill. 

When he’s satisfied with your rhythm, he slots himself behind you, his hard chest pressed to your back and bends you forwards. He slowly starts to mimic your movements as he slides your skirt up over your ass. 

“Can I?” he asks, his authority still present despite the desperate need for permission. 

“Yes,” you choke. His hand curls around your waist, and smooths down between the apex of your thighs, plucking the edge of your panties to one side. Steve expertly finds your clit in seconds, rubbing the sensitive bead with the perfect amount of pressure. “Oh fuck,” you add with a whine.

He doesn’t need to tell you to refrain from coming until he tells you to— you just know that’s what he wants. 

Steve continues to stroke your clit— up, down, side to side— until he finds the right combination that has you pushing your bare pussy against his palm. You feel him fumble briefly behind you, your ass brushing his free hand when you grind down against the arm of the chair. Two more rolls of your hips and you feel it— his hot wet cock nudging the curves of your ass.

“Ack-nowledge,” you stutter out. 

He laughs. “What am I supposed to be giving you, pretty girl?” His voice rumbles deeply into the crevice of your neck. 

“Pl-please. Fuck me.” 

Steve growls into your skin, pressing his palm to your clit as he cups your cunt, and it’s enough to break your concentration. You come without warning, the wetness of your ecstasy splashing onto the leather below you.

He steals your apology as he unexpectedly enters you, hitting home in one hard thrust. “What a waste,” he tuts, but there is a hint of humor in his tone, “I could’ve had that all over my face.” 

“What else do you remember?” His question brings you back to the present, and it’s in the tone that you're never quite sure is part of the experiment or simply for his own benefit.

He twists his fingers, slipping in a third and you yelp, shamelessly grinding back on his hand. You can feel your release teasingly just out of reach, but the more Steve pumps his fingers in and out of you, the closer it gets and you ache to grab it with both hands.

“You made me lick the arm clean when I didn’t use my words,” you tell him breathlessly, the distinct taste of yourself mixed with leather suddenly heavy on your tongue. He scoffs behind you, like he’s amused by the memory. 

“And I’ll make you lick your mess off the floor if you don’t again,” Steve chastises lightly. “Now, drip on?” It’s just a formality that he asks— he knows you won’t deny him. He’s got you programmed perfectly to obey his every whim without protest.

“Oh fuck, ack-know-ledge,” you repeat once more. 

It’s Luvactin’s turn now. N-40. The drug that used to once mimic the emotions that you now feel steady in your veins, even after it’s long worn off. Now it just heightens everything to the point where you think you might shatter under the intense weight of it.

Steve gently taps your ass to encourage you to look at him and the rush of endorphins is almost instantaneous. 

You’ve never seen a man so beautiful in your entire life. Hot tears start to form and the overwhelming urge to tell him you love him sits on your lips. Your heart seizes beneath your rib cage, heavy with the weight of your infatuation. The unwavering notion that you’ll probably kill yourself if he ever leaves you pinches at your thoughts, amid steady pulses of pure fervour. 

“Tell me what you want,” he says calmly.

Your head is a blur, a thousand neurons firing as you try to comprehend his question when the words suddenly appear inside your head as if somebody shined a light on them. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you demand and his sapphire stare lights up, clearly thrilled he’s getting the response he wants. “Fuck me ‘til I can’t walk, and you have to carry me back to my room.”

***

Tagging some people who showed interest: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ @federalchickensoup​

4EVS: @amirra88​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @cheesyclaire​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @daughterofthenight117​ @dandywinchesterbras @deangirl93​ @doozywoozy​ @foxyjwls007​ @geekofmanyforms​ @heyyouwiththeassbutt​ @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @ilovefanfic86​ @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay​ @letsby​ @letsdisneythings​ @labella420​ @mogaruke​ @maliburenee​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @nik2writes​ @obsessivelycapricious​ @patrick-hockslutter​ @princessmisery666​ @phildunphyisadilf​ @roxyfan14-blog​ @sage-writing​ @sea040561​ @sweeterthanthis​ @slutformarvelmen​ @simpformarvelmenandwoman​ @smokeandnailz​ @stoneyggirl​ @stoneyggirl2​ @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91​ @thegirlnextdoorssister​ @unfortunate-brat​ @warriorqueen1991​ @xoxabs88xox​

[good4olivia]

love drug

steve abnesti x reader summary: steve finally puts his plan in motion warnings: 18+ please, drug-induced sex, possessiveness

let me know if you would want a part 2!!

**** by clicking keep reading you're acknowledging you understand the warnings***

 His breath hitched when he saw you walk into the testing room, you sat down on the chair closest to you and started twirling your hair. Steve just watched you for few moments, relishing in knowing you can’t see him. It took only a cough from Mark to break him out of his trance. 

“Good morning, Y/N. How are you today?” Steve asked over the intercom. He smiled a little bit as his voice made you jump. 

“I’m okay, how are you?” It was a simple reply that really anyone would say but to Steve, it meant a lot more. You were asking how he was and you said it like you genuinely cared. 

“Another day in paradise, can’t complain.” Steve replied to you, loving the way you smiled at his response. Little did he know, you were keeping your snide comments to yourself. 

“Will Jeff be coming in soon?” Mark asked Steve, reviewing the schedule that stated that you and Jeff were to be tested for N-40 today. 

“No. I told Jeff not to come in today. It’s just going to be Y/N. And we’re testing Vebulance on her.” Steve replied, sick at the idea of what would happen if you and Jeff were put on N-40 together. Though he still had a plan for you and N-40. 

“What? But we already have enough data from that one, I thought you said-“ 

“I said we’re not doing that trial today! Now let’s get started, she’s been waiting long enough.” Steve didn’t leave any more room for questions from Mark before he started turning the dial on Vebulance. He loved hearing you talk, asking you questions about your life before you were arrested, hearing your fears and your hopes. Mark didn’t miss the way Steves eyes darkened and his jaw clenched whenever you had mentioned past boyfriends. 

You were in the middle of a particular rant about one guy when Steve had enough, “Okay Y/N. That’s good for today. Thank you for coming in. “ Mark turned off the Verbulance for your Mobi-Pak and you walked out the door, mouth dry from all the talking. 

— 

Steve couldn’t sleep, his thoughts running wild of you. He kept going over the first day he saw you, your mugshot was paper clipped to your file, he had seen many women in mugshots and you were the most beautiful to him. He knew that despite what you were arrested for you, he was approving you for the program. That’s not to say he wasn’t pleased when he found out you were only arrested for a non-violent crime. 

He had made sure you were on the next group of subjects entered into the program, confusing Mark when he had pushed back people that had been on the waiting list for months. Seeing you in person only made his feelings grow more which he was bit obvious about to say the least. Giving you extra privileges, such as an iPod with no internet but a library of over 1k songs and he let you watch TV in the comfort of your own room. He loved to watch you from the cameras, you would cuddle up with the pillow and watch your favourite show. Steve couldn’t wait until you were cuddling him and not the pillow. 

Steve did what he always did when he couldn’t sleep; work on the drug that would put someone to sleep almost instantly and easy, with his second monitor set to the security camera in your room, where you were sleeping peacefully. His eyes kept drifting to you though, his work slowly getting forgotten. Your ass was poking out of the sheets, your shirt ridden up just enough that Steve could see some under boob. It was making him painfully hard. And impatient. He could only jerk himself off to the thought of you for so long until he exploded. 

— 

Waking up, Steve decided that enough was enough, today was the day he was going to make you his officially.

Mark was cautious of his excited mood, more than usual. “Did you reschedule the N-40 trial?” 

“Yes. Jeff and Heather are booked for that today.” Steve replied. He was curious to see how the drug would work, knowing he was going to be using it on you this evening. When he watched Jeff and Heather have sex, all he could think about was that he was going to have you that way in a matter of hours. 

“How long do you think before we test the residual effects of the drug?” Mark questioned, breaking Steve’s day dream. 

Shit. He hadn’t realised that the drug wouldn’t last forever on you. What should he do? Keep you on that drug forever - it was very intense, you would want to jump his bones 24/7, something he wouldn’t complain about it wasn’t very practical. Whatever, if he had to put it on you every night he would, if he had to adjust the formula based on residual effects, he would. He had waited long enough, tonight he was going to have you. 

— 

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?” Steve asked carefully as he walked into the kitchen. You were drinking a cup of tea, reading a book.

“Of course, Mr Abnosti.” You replied, smile on your face as you placed your bookmark in your book. 

“Please, Steve. Call me Steve. Why don’t you re fill your tea and come with me back to my room and we can talk there?” Steve asked you as he poured his own cup. 

You were taken a back by this, Steve was very friendly with everyone here but he still kept a wall of professionalism up. “Oh, um. We can’t talk here?” You asked. 

“Let’s be honest, we’re surrounded by nosy ears. I just think it would be easier in my room, come on.” Steve stood up and stalked out the room.

His room was like everyone else’s, to your surprise, well it was a bit bigger and he had more knick knacks but that’s to be expected. 

You were about to ask him what he wanted to talk about when you noticed the monitor set to your room. You had no idea there were cameras in there. When you turned around to face Steve you saw him turning the dial on his phone, though you couldn’t see drug it was. 

“Steve what is going on? I didn’t say acknowledge and why are you watching my r-r-room?” You started to feel a warmth in your lower belly and your mind started to feel a bit cloudy. 

“I just like to make sure that you’re okay darling. I care about you, a lot. Do you care about me?” He moved closer to you, putting his hand on your waist. 

“Of course I care about you Steve.” You were surprised how easy those words flowed out of your mouth. Everything inside you right now was telling you how right it was, being with him and that you wanted nothing more than him. 

Steve leaned in to kiss you, it felt like magic. Nothing could ever compare to this. “Fuck you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this ,beautiful.” He told you, as he kissed you more, leading you to the bed. 

“Steve fuck I want you so bad.” You moaned, as he kissed your neck. You ripped your shirt off after, his eyes were glued to your bare chest. 

“You shouldn’t be walking around without a bra on baby. I’m the only one who gets to see you this way.” Steve told you, the possessiveness in his tone making you even more wet. 

He took of his own shirt, you admired his body, you always figured he was ripped but it was something else to see him up close. He kissed down your chest and to your stomach, if you weren’t feeling on cloud 9 you would be embarrassed about how loud you were moaning. Steve loved it though, which you could tell as he led your hand down to palm his hard-on. 

“Shit baby. I need you now.” He let himself out his pants, the sight of him in his boxers was nice if only short lived before those were forgotten on the floor as well. “I should um, fuck I want to but I -“ 

“No no it’s okay, please just I want you inside me, Steve please.” You knew what he meant, and you didn’t care. All you could think about was him filling you up. 

“You’re so fucking hot. Going to fill you up so good, baby. You want that? Tell me how much you need my cock.” Steve moaned as he entered you. 

It felt so good, better than ever before not that you had gotten much sex since being in prison. It felt so good you couldn’t form a sentence, only responding to Steve by whining and moaning. 

The noises you made for him went straight to his dick but Steve wanted more, “Mmm words baby. You gotta tell me how much you love my fucking cock.” He thrusted in and out of you, hitting that spot every time. 

“You feel so good Steve fuck, so fucking good.” Was all you were able to make out, your vision blurry as your pleasure washed over you. 

“I know baby, you’re so tight. I’m not going to last, are you close?” He asked, panting. 

“Steve, steve.” Was all you were able to say, as you felt the hot pleasure in your lower belly. 

“Did I fuck my baby dumb? Hmm? All you know is my name right?” Steve felt like heaven right now, he knew he was never giving this up. 

“Yes! Oh god,  yes! Steve I’m gonna- fuck.” You were so close, you could almost feel it. 

“Come on baby, cum for me. Please.” Steve said into your ear, “Let go for me.” He attacked your neck with kisses, that was enough for you to finally let go, Steve’s own high coming the same time as yours. 

Steve fell to your side, catching his breath. “You’re amazing baby.” 

You didn’t reply, still catching your breath but as your breathing returned to normal, so did your thoughts. You started to feel really weird about being in Steve’s bed. Just as you were thinking of a way to leave, Steve pulled you in closer, rubbing his hand up and down your waist. 

“Steve?” You started, he just hummed in response, during his head in the crook of you neck, “I think I should go back to my room now…” 

Steve instantly tensed up. He hadn’t turned the dial of the N-40 down, maybe it starts to wear off after the subject has reached their high. “Baby, it’s late and we’re both tired. Just stay here.” His tone didn’t leave much room for argument and you after so long, you couldn’t deny that it felt good to be his arms, that despite everything it felt safe.