#the layouts are always a pain...

[dexaroth]

honestly my problem with making character pages is that i want all of them to have an image background with like. 50-70% of the image visible bc the images give off their vibe so much better than my writing would do (altough this is biased bc im very visually oriented and the more images illustrating the concepts instead of blocks of text the better to me)

so this is the initial idea, a sidebar taking 1/3 and the rest being divided into two other sections for readability and compartmentalization (sidebar image is a placeholder, daron's supposed to be in there)

and this is an edit of an unsplash image that i did for the bg and like. it fucks! i need this to be omnipresent! bc its pretty. but it barely accounts for 10% of the draft up there

but then i either have a bunch of empty space to show for it and have the consequence of the page becoming like 1.5x longer or i use the space well but barely any of the image is showing :<

[novapark]

Man why do I keep building weirdly shaped kitchens.

[daz4i]

rocket sirens are less frequent lately, enough that my anxiety abt them isn't as bad. so you know what that means????? that's right I'm back in my room 😎😎😎😎😎 i missed the gay people on my walls so much. and my bed even more

[titan-god-helios]

oh no oh fuck what happened to tumblr is my computer just fucking up or did the site actually change pleasetellmemycomputerfuckedupi'msostressedrightnowihatethis

[dirtylittlecubbs]

I just got blue balled so fucking hard. AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE A DICK!!!

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ gods and monsters ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x wife!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ you cherished your husband, your family, and the life you had created together. hwang in-ho was a man of contradictions, capable of immense love and devotion. he treated you with such care, as though you were the most precious thing in his world. his adoration was tangible in every gesture, every lingering glance. yet beneath that tenderness was a darkness you struggled to reconcile. this same man, who held your hand with precious affection, was also the masked overseer of the squid game, a series of merciless challenges where the desperate competed, often at the cost of their lives, for a staggering cash prize.

˚ ༘♡ you could never truly fathom it. the man who pressed sweet kisses to your forehead at night was the same monster who orchestrated a spectacle of death and suffering. he claimed no pleasure in it, but the mere fact of his involvement unsettled you. the gleaming black mask, the command he held over every horrific detail, it was a world so far removed from the comfort of your home, yet it belonged to him all the same.

˚ ༘♡ only once had he asked if you wished to attend, to see what he called “his other life.” the question had terrified you to your core, your lips parting in silent dismay. you hadn’t needed to answer. the way your expression shifted, the way fright and disapproval glared across your pallid face, was enough. he never brought it up again, never risked shattering the fragile balance he had created between his two identities.

˚ ༘♡ you were a mother to a healthy three-year-old son, who filled your days with laughter and energy, and you were carrying another child, though you had yet to tell your husband. the news remained a quiet secret, one you turned over in your mind during the solitude of the evening. it wasn’t fear of his reaction that kept you silent. hwang in-ho adored his family, there was no question of that, but the thought of bringing another life into the shadow of the games unsettled you.

˚ ༘♡ you tried to focus on being the woman you wanted to be, a loving mother, a supportive partner. in many ways, you succeeded. you tucked your son in every night with whispered stories and soft lullabies, kept your home warm and welcoming, and met your husband’s gaze with as much love as you could muster, even when doubts crept into the corners of your mind.

˚ ༘♡ when your worries became too much to bear, he would sense it, always. he would take your hands in his, his voice calm, his tone measured. “think of me as two men,” he would say, his words a plea for understanding. “there is hwang in-ho, your husband, your partner, the father of our children. and then there is the front man, a role i play, a mask i wear.”

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to believe him, to hold on to the idea that the man who kissed you tenderly each morning could be separate from the one who orchestrated so much pain. but no matter how you tried to comprehend it, there were nights when the thought of who he was beyond your shared walls kept you awake, your heart aching with questions you couldn’t bring yourself to ask.

˚ ༘♡ you tried with all your might to separate the two sides of the man you loved, the front man and your husband, hwang in-ho. but when he told you he wouldn’t be able to contact you during this year’s games, the delicate balance you had worked so hard to maintain crumbled. the weight of his words refused to settle, tearing at you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to simply let it go.

˚ ༘♡ “every year, you’ve managed to visit after the game for the day. what’s different this time?” you asked, your voice trembling with desperation.

˚ ༘♡ at first, he deflected, his tone dismissive as if your concerns were unwarranted. but as your worry grew, it became impossible for him to ignore. the strain in your expression, the way your voice cracked when you spoke, it was enough to wear him down. even your son had begun to notice, his small hands tugging at your sleeve, his innocent eyes filled with confusion at the tension that filled the air.

˚ ༘♡ with a frustrated sigh, in-ho finally relented. his hand enveloped yours, warm and steady against your trembling fingers. “i will be there this year,” he admitted, his voice hushed and measured. “as a player.”

˚ ༘♡ the words sent a chill through you, and your breath caught in your throat. “what? why?” you asked, your disbelief slicing through the tension.

˚ ༘♡ his gaze locked onto yours. “there is someone returning to the games this year,” he began, his tone careful. “a former player, a winner in fact. he’s likely to cause complications, and… i can’t deny the intrigue of watching him. this year will be different. i’ve decided to stay close by instead of observing from a distance.”

˚ ༘♡ fury and agony surged within you, and your hands shook as you lightly struck his chest, the beating driven by hysteria. “you idiot!” you yelled. “you can’t guarantee you’ll be safe! have you even thought about your family? what about our son?”

˚ ༘♡ he caught your wrist gently, his grip cautious, his face softening as he pulled you closer. “i will not be in danger,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “i promise you that.”

˚ ༘♡ still, his assurance wasn’t enough. it didn’t stop the knot in your stomach from tightening or the ache in your chest from growing far more intense. the words you spoke next tumbled out before you had a chance to think them through. “if that’s true, then you won’t have any problem with me coming along!”

˚ ༘♡ the declaration hung in the air, sharp and sudden. even you were startled by it, your heart pounding in your chest as the misery of your demand settled between you. fear and anger had driven you to say it, but now it was too late to take it back. you searched his face for a reaction, your pulse racing.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t speak such nonsense again," he said firmly, his tone cutting through the tension in the room. "you have our son to think about. i am going, and i’ll return in a week. this is final."

˚ ༘♡ “no!” you shot back, the tremor in your voice betraying your growing panic. “if you’re going, then i’m coming with you. you told me it’s safe.” your eyes darted toward your son, who had long fallen asleep, blissfully unaware of the battle unfolding. a wave of guilt swept over you, tightening your throat. “he can stay with the household staff for a week. do you think i could take care of him properly while i’m sick with worry about you?”

˚ ༘♡ his brow furrowed, the sharp lines of irritation creasing his weary face. “you’re being unreasonable,” he said, his voice hard, though it faltered slightly as he began pacing the room. each step was measured, purposeful, as though he were trying to walk away from the argument itself. “this is dangerous enough without you there complicating things.”

˚ ༘♡ “and you’re being infuriating,” you countered, your tone rising as desperation overtook your earlier composure. “do you think I’d forgive myself if something happened to you while i stayed here and did nothing? you’re asking too much of me.” your voice cracked, the weight of your despair spilling into the room.

˚ ༘♡ the argument carried on into the late hour, a nightmare of clashing scorn and unresolved fears. he tried to dismiss you, to shut you down with reason, but you refused to back down. your agony, raw and untamed, eventually drove you to the brink. “if you go without me, i’ll leave,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i’ll take our son, and i’ll leave.”

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was deafening. he froze, his gaze snapping to yours, searching your face for the truth. you hated the lie, the hollowness of your own threat, but it was all you had left. leaving him wasn’t something you could ever do, but the thought of him walking into danger alone was unbearable.

˚ ༘♡ he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the burden of his dilemma. “fine,” he said at last, his voice clipped and low. “if you’re coming, then there are conditions… rules that have to be carefully followed.”

˚ ༘♡ your relief was immediate but short-lived as his words settled over you like a heavy cloak. “what conditions?” you asked, your voice softer now, cautious.

˚ ༘♡ “we’ll need to use false identities," he explained, his tone deliberate, each word chosen with care. "to everyone involved, we’re strangers. no one can know who we are, not even that we’re connected."

˚ ༘♡ the practicality of his demand sent a shiver down your spine, even as you nodded in agreement. the idea of pretending he was nothing more than a stranger felt unnatural, wrong, but you couldn’t argue. “i understand,” you murmured, though the knot in your stomach tightened with every passing second.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as though considering whether you truly grasped what you were stepping into. when he finally looked away, you felt no sense of victory, only the forthcoming horror of what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ the games were set to begin in exactly one week, and each passing day left you feeling more unsettled. every time your husband pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered beneath the surface, making it difficult to fully surrender to his warmth. though you tried to find comfort in his presence, the thought of what lay ahead clouded every shared moment.

˚ ༘♡ you had entrusted your son to the most reliable and loyal members of the household staff, ensuring that he would be cared for in your absence. you also took great care to conceal any sign of your pregnancy. if in-ho discovered the truth, he would never allow you to join him, and staying behind was not an option you could accept.

˚ ༘♡ he had laid out the plan with meticulous precision. the two of you would arrive after the chaos of the first game, red light, green light. as he explained it, a large portion of the participants would undoubtedly be eliminated once they grasped the deadly reality of the games. the aftermath of that horror would provide cover for your entrance, allowing you to integrate without raising suspicion.

˚ ༘♡ your husband would take on the identity of player 001, an unassuming participant with no visible ties to you. your alias would be player 077, your stories carefully crafted to fit the narrative. his fabricated reason for joining the games was both haunting and ironic, he claimed he needed money for his pregnant wife. when he first told you this, a wave of panic washed over you, thinking he might have discovered your secret. but as you studied his expression, his calm demeanor revealed no hint of realization.

˚ ༘♡ for your feigned story, he decided you would play the role of a young woman drowning in debt, struggling to pay off the burdens left behind by your late father. the lie felt strangely fitting, yet it unsettled you all the same. every detail he crafted for your cover seemed so calculated, so detached, it was as though he had rehearsed this for far longer than he let on. this game of life and death was nothing more than a facade for him.

˚ ༘♡ you nodded along as he explained the plan, his voice unwavering. though the words were spoken with care, they failed to soothe the growing tension within you. each step of the plan felt cold, clinical, designed to strip away any sense of the life you shared outside these games. with every passing day, the distance between hwang in-ho, your husband, and the front man became more glaring, and you wondered if you could truly separate the two when it mattered most.

˚ ༘♡ you knelt by your son’s bedside, planting a soft kiss against his forehead. his small hand clung to your finger, and for a vanishing moment, you felt the crushing weight of guilt threaten to undo you. you whispered promises you weren’t sure you could keep, telling him you would be back soon, that everything would be fine. as his breathing slowed in sleep, you lingered a minute longer, memorizing the curve of his face and the delicate skin of his tiny hand before slipping away with your husband.

˚ ༘♡ the player uniforms were a tight, oppressive reminder of the role you had agreed to take on. the white and forest-green fabric felt rough against your skin, the stitched numbers, 001 on him, 077 on you, marking you both as part of this wicked charade. the air between you was dense with unspoken tension as you followed his lead into the heart of the games.

˚ ༘♡ the aftermath of the first game hit you like a physical blow. scarlet-red blood smeared the walls, the metallic stench thick enough to taste. lifeless bodies were being dragged away by masked figures, their uniforms pristine against the carnage. your stomach churned violently, and you had to bite down hard to keep from retching. your husband walked ahead, his pace measured, his face a mask of icy detachment.

˚ ༘♡ yet, even as he feigned indifference, you noticed the subtle tension p his clenched fists and the hard line of his jaw. no matter how disciplined and resolute he was, pretending you were a stranger clearly cost him some of his will power.

˚ ༘♡ you entered the massive dormitory, a cavernous space where the remaining players huddled in groups, their expressions etched with terror and disbelief. the room was alive with murmurs, frantic whispers of confusion and distress as they tried to process what had happened. the realization of the deadly nature of the games hung over the crowd, suffocating and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ abruptly, a piercing voice broke through the calamity, commanding and filled with urgency. all eyes turned to player 456, a man whose presence seemed to dominate the room. his words were bold, calling for a vote in accordance with the consent clause, a chance for the players to decide whether they would continue or abandon the games. the idea rippled through the crowd, igniting faint glimmers of hope in some and deepening the despair in others.

˚ ༘♡ your husband moved slightly, a subtle shift in his stance catching your attention. his gaze flicked toward you, so brief it was almost imperceptible. then, with deliberate movements, he traced a small circle on the back of his hand, an action so precise it disturbed you. he turned away before you could react, his focus now on the masked enforcers who were setting up the voting station.

˚ ༘♡ it took you a moment to understand the message. he wanted you to vote in favor of continuing the games. the realization landed suddenly. you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to steady yourself. the thought of condemning the remaining players to more death and suffering was unbearable, but you understood what his silent gesture meant. if the games ended now, everything he had planned, every risk he had taken, would amount to nothing.

˚ ༘♡ the apprehension caused your chest to tighten further as the masked figures prepared the voting station, their movements mechanical and precise. the voices of the players rose, some pleading for an end, others arguing to stay. you felt your pulse quicken, the enormity of what you were about to do pressing down on you as you prepared to cast a vote that would decide not only the fate of the players but the course of your husband’s dangerous mission.

a/n: the winner of the fanfiction vote, but i will definitely be writing for cho sang-woo as well! i hope you all enjoy reading! let me know if you have anymore requests! 🤍

[andy-15-07]

Need some hurt/comfort after episofde 2... How about reader has a nightmare of Joel dying violently and wakes up alone ? She thinks the nightmare was a memory, and cries instantly, walking in a daze in the street in her pj in the cold, only for him to be there, sharing coffee on Tommy's porch

I’ll Always Come Home

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 1320 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You wake with a start, drenched in sweat, your heart pounding like a drumbeat in an empty stadium. The blankets are tangled around you, cold air whispering against your skin. For a moment, you can’t place yourself: is that moan,was that Joel? You inhale sharply, and reality crashes over you. You’re alone.

The nightmare steals your breath. You saw him,Joel Miller,his life bleeding away in violent spasms, his fist slamming against the ground as his blood pooled beneath him like a morbid crime scene. You heard him scream your name, a ragged sound that snapped you awake, terror clawing at your chest.

In the dim glow of the bedroom lamp, you recognize the familiar layout of your home in Jackson. The cracked plaster of the walls. His guitar leaning against the rickety bookshelf. The framed photo of your wedding day, his smile radiant, his arms wrapped around you. You reach for the sheets, your fingers brushing the emptiness beside you.

Tears spring to your eyes. You clutch the blanket and press it to your face, tasting the cold cotton. A sob rattles your body, and you can’t stop it. It feels like a betrayal: you, always so strong for him; you, the one he calls home. But the pain in your chest is unbearable.

Without thinking, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed,pitter-patter, pitter-patter,and stand. You leave pillows rumpled in your wake as you pad toward the door, still in your sleep shirt and pajama bottoms. The house is silent, save for the soft hum of the generator and the distant rumble of trucks on the outskirts of Jackson.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you step into the cold, night air. Your breath clouds in front of you, ghostly puffs disappearing into the darkness. The snow crunches under your bare feet, ice scratching your soles. You don’t care. All you can think about is how real it felt,how his lifeblood stained your hands.

You stumble down the street, shoulders trembling, tears freezing on your cheeks. You don’t know where you’re going; only that staying inside would be worse. You need him. You need to see his face.

The wind bites through your pajamas. You wrap your arms around yourself, rocking gently, hummed lullabies of comfort you’ve sung for him so many times. "Stay with me, Joel. Please stay with me."

The lights of Tommy’s house appear ahead, two windows glowing amber against the midnight blue. He’s likely up late, playing cards or talking with friends. You halt at the front gate, hesitating. You’re not a child. You’re not delirious,just scared. Ridiculous.

But then you’re moving again, crossing the yard, hands shaking as you push open the door and climb the porch steps in one unsteady motion. You hear the hiss of a propane stove, the clink of mugs.

There he is. Joel. His grizzled profile lit by the stove’s glow. He lifts a chipped enamel mug to his lips, steam curling like question marks into the air. He looks up and stops mid-sip.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he breathes, eyes filling with alarm. “What’re you doing out here? At this hour?”

You blink, overwhelmed by relief that floods every nerve. He’s alive. He’s safe.

“I,I had a dream,” you manage, your voice a cracked whisper. You step forward. He stands and is suddenly there, arms outstretched, anchoring you. “You were gone.”

He wraps you in his arms. His jacket smells like wood smoke and the faint tang of coffee. You push your face into his chest, sobbing. “I thought it was real.”

Joel’s hand moves to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair. “Shh. It was just a dream, darlin’. I’m right here.”

His voice is a balm, low and sure. He leads you to the porch swing. The frigid night air nips at any exposed skin, but his body heat seeps through your pajamas, anchoring you in the moment.

He hands you a mug; hot coffee radiates through your chilled fingers. You sulk into the swing, letting the rhythm soothe you.

“You’re shaking,” he says, concern etched in the lines around his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Joel chuckles softly. “You never scare me.”

Heat blooms on your cheeks at his words. You meet his gaze, and in the lamplight, you see the way his eyes soften.

“I woke up and,you weren’t there. I thought…” Your voice catches. You look out into the yard, into the dark. “I thought you’d left me.”

He shakes his head. “Why would I ever do that? You’re stuck with me, remember?”

He nudges you playfully with his elbow. You manage a watery laugh, panic easing away. Forty-eight hours postpartum flashbacks of feral hunters, of losing Sam, of the last time half the world fell to ashes,it still haunts you. But here, in Jackson, you found safety. A husband. A home.

“Jackson’s cold,” you mutter, lifting the rim of the mug to your lips. The coffee is bitter, but you drink deeply.

“Told you you’d get used to it,” Joel teases, though his voice is tender.

“No amount of coffee will warm me up tonight.”

He leans closer. “Then get under my jacket.” He pulls yours off, tucking it around your shoulders.

You cling to him and he doesn’t let go when your lips brush his neck. In the quiet, other sounds reach you,the creak of the swing, a distant howl of coyotes, a truck’s engine low on the outskirts of town.

“Why don’t we head inside?” Joel suggests after a few minutes. “Caroline’ll kill me if she sees you freezing on my porch.”

You smile at the mention of your neighbor’s little girl, already asleep in her room. You stand as he rises, pulling you into his arms again.

“Come on,” he murmurs, one arm around you and the other balancing both mugs. “I’ll walk you home.”

Together, you trudge through the snow back to your place. His warmth sears into you, chasing away residual horror from the nightmare. When you reach the porch, Joel pauses and tilts your chin up.

“Listen to me,” he says, eyes fierce. “I am not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. Good or bad, I’m yours. You’re mine. Okay?”

You nod, tears glistening. “Okay.”

He kisses you then: gentle at first, tasting of coffee and cold air, but deepening as your arms tighten around his neck. You feel rid of the dream’s shadow.

Inside, he lights the lantern on your kitchen table. The yellow light fills the room with warmth. You lean against him as he sets down the mugs and takes yours.

“Coffee’s still hot,” he points out.

“I know,” you whisper. “But I’m not thirsty anymore.”

He gives you that lopsided grin you fell in love with.

“Come here.” He beckons you to sit on his lap. You obey, the curve of his spine a cradle. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in.

“Promise me,” you say after a moment, voice small. “Promise me you’ll always come back.”

He brushes your hair behind your ear. “I promise, every damn time.”

You close your eyes, pressing your cheek to his chest. He hums an old country tune,one you heard him sing once in the garden as tomatoes ripened on the vine. His voice is gravel, rough and comforting.

The nightmare is still there, buried beneath the blankets and the dark. But here, in Joel’s arms, you feel whole again. In a world that’s gone mad, you have this: a man who fights for you, who would die for you and, by God, always come back to you.

You drift toward sleep, wrapped in his warmth and the promise of morning light. Outside, snow continues to fall, blanketing Jackson in silence. But in your kitchen, all is bright and safe.

And you know, without a doubt, that Joel Miller will always come home.

[dollyfiles]

INTRODUCING.. SWEETHEART!READER ₊˚⊹♡

pure soul. doe-eyes. polka dots. red nails. dreamer. vintage. coffee and vanilla. mini skirts. lace. paired with single!dad!rafe.

SWEETHEART!READER who is a 25 year old waitress at rosie’s diner, a charming old-school spot with checkered floors, red vinyl booths, and a jukebox that still plays rock ‘n’ roll classics. she’s been working since she was barely a teenager, hustling to escape a rough home that taught her resilience but never hardened her heart. she earned the nickname sweetheart from the regulars—not just because she’s got a kind spirit and always a smile on her face, but because she has a way of making everyone feel seen, even on their worst days.

SWEETHEART!READER who is warm and generous, but still nobody’s fool. sweetheart got a vintage soul, soft curls in her honey smooth hair, a swing dress hugging her waist, and a swipe of cherry-red lipstick on her heart-shaped lips. she’s learned how to handle the flirty old-timers at the diner with ease, shutting down their bad pickup lines without losing her charm. she’s got a backbone of steel when it comes to standing up for herself and others, especially the new girls at the diner who might not have found their voice yet.

SWEETHEART!READER who has a deep love for music. when she’s alone in her tiny apartment, she’ll put on a record and dance barefoot in the kitchen, letting the music take her worries away. she also plays the guitar—and sings with a voice that could stop time. she is not a professional by any means, but she has a knack for whipping up the perfect homemade pie or a batch of warm cinnamon rolls. she also never leaves the house without her dainty gold heart-shaped locket necklace, which was the very last thing her granny gave her before passing away, leaving her to figure out how to handle everything on her own.

SWEETHEART!READER who has always been careful with her heart. she grew up seeing what happens when love turns into something heavy and painful, so she promised herself she’d never settle for anything less than the real thing. and then rafe and his little girl walked into her life, giving her security in a way she has never known. and once she falls, it’s deep. from the moment he saw her, it’s like something clicked into place. he wasn’t looking for love either, but there was something magical about her and despite their age difference, she softens the edges of his world in a way no one ever did before.

ᥫ᭡ how sweetheart!reader and single!dad!rafe met

ᥫ᭡ single!dad!rafe asking sweetheart!reader out

.ᐟ layout credit/inspo: @rafesangelita

tags: @gibson-g1rl @dearapril @rafecami @fawnhart @isasweetie @beausling @angellocket @rafesbowbunny @rafesangelita @chris444evr @drewsephrry @littlelamy @sturn777 @bradshawed @cherrygirlfriend @trusweethrt @inspiredangel @whinyangel @et6rnalsun @luckycrys @bluemerakis @figthoughts @rafeysbangs

[luvrrszn]

behind closed doors

BROTHER'S BSF!THEO NOTT x FEM READER (18+)

summary you're his best friend's little sister—off-limits, right?

warnings smut, theo's mean, fluff, angst i guess, idk

a/n guysssssssssss new week new obsession......soz send help

masterlist

being your older brother's best friend, theo was at your house all the time.

that meant he'd see you almost every day. the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen, floating around. so close yet so far, always out of reach.

he knew he'd never be able to have you, no, your brother would never allow that. so he did the only other thing he could think of—be mean to you.

so he tormented you every day. called you names, even waited on your bed for you to come home so he could insult you about something new. you suspected it was just his way of getting to see you every day.

he acts like you're the biggest pain in the ass, just his best friend's annoying little sister. but the second nobody's looking? his hands are on you.

—

sleeping with him is casual, no strings attached. theo sneaks out of your brother's room at night after he's fast asleep, making sure that he never ever finds out what's going on.

when your brother is finally out of town for the weekend, theo still comes over. the two of you are watching a movie on the tv in your room, lying on your bed. his arm is wrapped around your shoulder, your head leaning against his chest. his other hand traces up and down your inner thigh under the blanket.

it's one of those rare moments in the in-between.

in-between fucking and being at each others' throats.

theo's hand slips lower, toying with the waistband of your pink lace panties. he traces over your wet cunt, chuckling under his breath, "amore mio, you're dripping, just for me, huh?"

"shut u—" you're immediately silenced when theo plunges two long fingers into your pussy.

a smug smile spreads across his face, “you’re squeezing me so tight, you’re gonna break my fingers aren’t ya? if your brother knew how much you think about me, he’d probably hex you himself.”

“t-theo, stop talking about my brother and start moving your damn fingers.” you pants, writhing against the palm of his hand, aching for some friction against your clit.

“as you wish, amore mio.”

—

one night, you’re sneaking back in after a party. your hair is disheveled, makeup smudged, slightly tipsy and boots in your hand as you try to close the front door as quietly as possible.

theo is the last person you expect to see. you curse under your breath. why is he always in your damn house?

the open kitchen layout gives him the perfect view of you sneaking back in at 3am. he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, grey sweatpants hanging low, black tshirt hugging his biceps. he drinks from a glass of water, a dark look on his face.

you roll your eyes as you put your boots down on the floor, preparing yourself for what’s to come.

“a bit late, isn’t it, piccola?”

you roll your eyes and brush past him, opening the fridge to grab some orange juice. gulping down the juice, you reply, "it's really none of your business, nott."

wrong answer.

before you can react, he's in front of you, blocking your path. he's so much taller, broader than you. the amused glint in his eye is gone.

"see, that's where you're wrong," he murmurs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so you meet his gaze, "it is absolutely my business, because we wouldn't want you messing around with young, dumb, horny boys would we?"

his forearms rest on either side of your head, pinning you against the refrigerator.

"oh yeah? and what are you?" you scoff.

"oh, bella, you already know the answer to that."

and you do. he's stronger, older, perhaps even more mature (when it comes to anything other than you) than whatever company you're keeping.

"i swear, you'd better not tell my brother about this." you groan, ducking under his arms as you beeline for the sink.

"there's no such thing as a free lunch, piccola."

and that's how you end up on your knees in your bedroom, short skirt hiked up as you gag around his fucking massive cock. his hands are tangled in your hair, mercilessly forcing you to take in every inch of him. tears stream down your face, spit pooling at the corner of your mouth. you look like a mess, but at that moment as theo looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, he swears he's never seen a prettier girl than you.

you look up at theo and take in the sight before you. his head is thrown back, hair messy. his jaw is clenched, and he smirks at you. you run your hands over his chest and toned abs, clawing at his biceps.

he's perfect.

—

oh, and when he catches you at a party?

it's over.

he drags you out by your wrists, forcing you into his blacked-out mercedes. he's driving well over the speed limit, desperate to get off the road before he loses his shit.

he'd seen you dancing with some guy you knew from down the street, dress too short, too tight, too low-cut.

he has one hand on the steering wheel, another running through his hair as his jaw clenches.

"didn't take you for the easy type, but i guess i shouldn't be surprised. you're not special, you know. boys will say anything to get them what they want."

his words hit like a slap. your stomach twists, and for a second, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted and heart pounding.

you want to ask what the hell he's talking about, but you already know.

he saw you dancing with that guy. saw the way his hands slid down your waist, how he leaned in close and whispered things in your ear. how you let out that sweet laugh, one that always made theo want to say "fuck it" and just kiss you in front of everyone. he saw the way you let it happen.

and he hated it.

and now he's punishing you for it.

when you remain silent, he continues, "you looked fucking ridiculous in there, you know that?"

and you feel so silly. to think that that evening, you'd picked out your favourite dress, made sure your makeup looked good, just in hopes that theo would notice you at that party.

"you're being cruel, theo. stop it." you murmur, turning to stare out of the window. you don't even notice that you've started crying.

when you finally notice, you wipe it away quickly. you hope that theo didn't notice, but of course he did. at that moment, he pulls into the driveway of your house, turning off the engine.

theodore nott has seen a lot of things—but he has never seen you cry like this. and definitely not because of him.

and it makes something in his chest clench.

"oh, for fuck’s sake—" his voice drops, no longer sharp but still frustrated. he drags a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly, like he’s angry at himself now, too.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, at the way you’re biting your lip, blinking rapidly, trying so hard to hold it in.

then? he moves.

his hand reaches for your thigh, fingers curling around it, grounding. not forceful, but firm.

"hey." his voice is softer now, rough but not cruel.

"don't do that. don't fucking cry over me."

you try to shift away, but theo's grip tightens. not rough—just enough to make you stay.

"i didn't mean—fuck." he sighs again, shaking his head.

his thumb brushes against your knee, almost like a reflex, and for the first time ever, he looks uncertain.

"look at me."

you don't. you can't.

so he makes you.

his fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face towards him.

he isn't angry anymore. not at you. not really. his jaw is still clenched, his brows furrowed, but now? he looks almost desperate. like he wants to fix everything he's done, but he doesn't know how.

"i didn't mean it like that, bella."

you sniff, voice shaking slightly, "then how did you mean it?"

and that's when he just sighs. a weak, defeated sigh escapes the big bully of a man.

"i just—fuck, i don’t want to see you with other guys, alright?"

"why? we're not anything. you've made it clear, multiple times."

silence follows. his grip tightens.

then, he finally speaks. rough, low, honest.

"because i want you to be mine."

for a moment, you just stare at him.

his confession hangs in the air between the two of you. you're still hurt, still pissed. but something inside you shifts.

"say it again." your voice is quieter now, still laced with frustration but weaker.

theo's jaw clenches. he’s not used to being this vulnerable. but he doesn’t look away.

"I want you to be mine."

and then he moves. his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. he hesitates for just a second, like he’s giving you a chance to stop him.

but you don't.

so he kisses you.

it's not soft. not at first. it’s heated, desperate, full of all the tension that had been boiling between you. his grip is firm, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but you don’t—you kiss him back just as fiercely, hands tugging at his shirt, anchoring yourself to him.

it’s messy and overwhelming and everything you’ve both been pretending not to want.

when he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless.

"we’re so fucked," you whisper.

theo smirks, brushing his thumb across your swollen lips. “yeah. but you like it.”

and the worst part?

you do.

[noctiva]

Obsessed with your writing oh my god could you do alternative reader meeting Toby at a concert and they end up fucking in the bathroom

this spoke to me in ways I cannot describe. I had an a similar thought on my idea list so I just had to write this

this might’ve been nastier than you were hoping I’m sorry I got carried away LMAOAOAO

//

The Afterparty

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!]

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WC: 9.7k

Summary: You came to this concert for the same reason you always did - to listen to good music, and have a good time. Little did you know, the main event would be long after the show was over.

CW: 18+ content, explicit sexual content, unsafe sex, semi-public sex, exhibitionism lowkey, biting, dry humping, oral sex (female receiving), Toby’s a little shit, lowkey coercion but it’s not that deep, mentions of breeding, creampie, filthy shit, getting fucked in a grimy bathroom, rough handling, dirty talk, salirophilia, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, almost fully clothed sex, big dick toby bc duh

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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The bathroom you find yourself in is hot and stuffy.

There’s graffiti on the walls, grimy smudges on the mirror you’re gazing at yourself in, and the floors are suspiciously sticky. It’s… Gross, to say the least, but it’s the only place in the damn establishment that had a mirror - and you had just smudged your eyeliner.

It’s a Friday night. The venue you stand in is one that you’ve frequented multiple times now, having the layout practically memorized. Through the door, you can hear the rhythmic thump of drums and bass guitar stemming from the opening band that you knew was on stage right now. It sucked that you were missing it, but you didn’t spend two hours at home making sure your makeup was perfect only to fuck it up before the main act even came on.

Why did you care so much? You weren’t sure. Maybe you had the vain hope that you’d catch one of the band members’s eyes, and they’d invite you backstage after the show. Even better, maybe they’d invite you to their tour bus.

You didn’t think it was an insane fantasy. You looked nice. Sexy, even. Donned in all black with ripped fishnets hugging your plush thighs, the alluring glint of metal from the piercings in your lips and nose, and platforms tall enough to intimidate. A practical concert outfit? Definitely not. But a cute one? Bingo.

You breathe out a soft sigh before wetting your thumb with saliva and using it to wipe away some of the smudged eyeliner marking up your cheekbone. Your eyes were lined in heavy black, as were your lips, hair teased and styled with enough hairspray to suffocate a man.

You take a step back, smoothing out the black pleated skirt that hugged your hips - analyzing your reflection in the mirror. It’s alright, I suppose. You think to yourself, before doing a little turn for good measure, just to make sure nothing about you was array. Only once you were decently satisfied, did you finally step away.

Boots clicking against the bathroom flooring, the soles sticking to the tiles with each step. You grab hold of the door handle and turn it, before stepping back out into the hustle and bustle of the show.

Where you promptly, smack right into someone.

If you weren’t wearing platforms, you probably would’ve just bumped face first into their chest - but because you are a few inches taller than normal right now, you instead end up smacking your nose right off their chin. Hard.

The pain blossoms immediately, and you let out a sharp cry of pain. Your hand flies up to clutch at your (probably about to be bruised) nose, and you can already feel the instinctive tears stinging in the corners of your eyes.

“Fucking hell-“ You hiss out, stumbling back a few steps from the impact. So disoriented, you probably would’ve completely broken your ankle in these boots and fallen straight on your ass, but luckily - the living brick wall you just smacked into reached out to grab your arm and steady you.

“Ah, sh-shit.” You hear him mutter, and when your eyes flick up his face is contorted into a grimace. Expression equal parts shocked and embarrassed. Your vision is blurry, and your nose is throbbing, but you can still make out the sight of him. Fluffy brown hair frizzed up from the humidity in the building, an eccentric looking pair orange goggles nestled within the strands. Dark eyes glinting under the glow of the neon lights coming from the stage. “Are you g-good?”

“I’ve been better.” You mutter, letting out a little groan as you rub your busted nose. You meet his eyes, and frown. “Am I bleeding?”

The man hums softly before leaning forwards a bit to examine you better in the low lighting. Immediately, you’re greeted with the thick scent of cigarettes coming off of him - bordered by the smell of some woodsy cologne. He smelled… Nice. Compared to all of the sweat slick bodies you had come into contact with beforehand.

“N-Nope.” The man answers, then leaning back again and finally releasing your arm from his grip. You hadn’t even noticed he was still holding you up until then. “But y-you’re bruising already.”

His voice is low and soft, raspy and wracked with stutters. It’s… Endearing in a strange way. It almost suits him.

You finally get a good look at him once you blink away your tears, your vision clearing to reveal a view that you wouldn’t soon forget. He stands tall even with your platforms giving you a boost, messy brown curls falling over his dark eyes. Freckles dot his cheeks and wash over the bridge of his nose - which was pierced through quite a few times. A stud in each nostril, along with a septum sitting proudly in the middle.

That wasn’t all of it either. Your eyes catch on the glint of a dermal placed high on his cheekbone, then dropping lower to appreciate the sight of a spiked pair of snakebites adorning his bottom lip.

You almost caught off guard by how entirely your type this man was. It was almost uncanny. Like he had been dropped straight from the heavens just to make your mouth go dry.

After what was probably far too long of just standing there gawking at him, you find your voice again. Clearing your throat awkwardly and crossing your arms over your chest, you finally let the words he spoke last sink into your head properly.

“Great.” You huff. “You know, I came out here to fix my makeup and now I’m gonna go back looking worse than ever.”

“N-Nah.” The man chuckles, his lips stretching into an amused grin. You notice the bandaging on his cheek and don’t comment on it, but you do notice the way it shifts in tandem with the way his face moves. “It’s w-workin’ for ya’. With this whole th-thing you got goin’ on.” He raised a hand to gesture at you lazily, before his eyes are roaming you from head to toe. He either didn’t realize how incredibly obvious he was being, or he didn’t care.

Either way, you were glad the lights were low, because you could feel a heat start rising to your cheeks.

“Well, thanks then, I guess.” You snort, throwing in a little eye roll just for good measure. He was cute, but you had dignity, so you weren’t about to start falling to his feet just because he had the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. Or, because of how the faded black t-shirt he was wearing hugged his torso just right - short sleeves exposing lean, toned arms, littered with scars that only sparked your interest more.

Definitely not because his voice made goosebumps prick up on your arms, even partially drowned out by the drone of guitars in the background. “Listen, I already missed the opener and if I want an even half-decent spot I’ve got to get going now.” He hums softly, and his eyes are still roaming you. Across your face, sweeping down your neck, and stopping at your cleavage a little too unabashedly. God, did he have no shame? “I’ll see you around? Maybe?”

You start to take a few steps away, slowly wedging open an exit from this impromptu conversation. You didn’t really want to, would much rather ogle at this fine stranger for a few minutes more, but you didn’t buy a ticket to this show just to drool over boys that simultaneously looked like deep trouble but also an incredibly good time. You bought it to listen to music. So, that’s what you’ll do.

The man gives you a nod as his eyes finally flick up to somewhere more appropriate - your eyes. And he’s looking at you like he’s trying to stare into your fucking soul, so you’re immediately shrinking back even more. There was something about him. Something off. He was charismatic, but in a way that almost felt sinister. Like it wasn’t natural. Manufactured. Purposefully trying to pull you in.

(It was working).

“H-Hopefully.” He smiles down at you, reaching a hand up to adjust the goggles nestled within his messy hair. Such a strange accessory, even for here, but it worked for him somehow. Catered to the uncanny, yet captivating aura he was shrouded in. “I-I’m Toby, in case y-you wanna find me again.” That sweet smile widens into a sly grin, revealing sharp toothy canines that make your heart jump. “Which, I’m th-thinkin’ you might.”

Oh, and he’s cocky too. Great.

“Don’t count on it.” You snort, walking backwards away from him now - growing the distance though it felt like a chore. “Bashing my nose in isn’t exactly the best first impression.”

You turn on your heel, then you’re walking back out into the crowd.

“B-But it’s memorable, right?” You hear Toby call after you, and you’re glad he can’t see your face now, because the smile that stretches across your face is something you can’t fight. Like a parasite, he wriggled his way into your brain after only a few moments of contact. Finding it hard to steer your thoughts away from him even as you wedge your way through a sea of bodies smushed together.

It was the way he had looked at you. Appreciative, but with such a heavy gaze it made your skin crawl. It was that stupid grin of his, and how each piercing lodged in his skin suited him so well it was almost annoying. It was how he talked to you, so smooth you barely even noticed the stutters. Like he had done this a million times before.

Like he knew he had gotten you good.

Maybe you had just been far too obvious. You hadn’t exactly been subtle in the way your eyes raked over him, noting and cataloging every little thing that made him a delicious sight. But god, he didn’t need to be so arrogant about it.

If only that was as much of a turn off as you wanted it to be. But, if anything, the smugness just made your blood burn hotter.

Whatever, though. Whatever. That’s not why you’re here, and you’ll probably never see him again. The crowd you were shoving through was dense - people packed together like sardines as you attempt to wiggle your way as close to the stage as possible. You had gotten here late, so you definitely weren’t getting barricade, but you knew your way around a concert well enough to at least get a decent view.

It’s hot and stuffy. Hot, slick bodies rubbing against yours each time you wriggled past another person. Your choice of attire wasn’t making it easy either, and in your head you’re apologizing to any poor souls that might’ve gotten their toes wedged under your boot.

By the time that you’re too tired to keep pushing, you’ve found an alright spot. Claustrophobic, definitely, but you didn’t think there was a single area in this venue that wasn’t right now. You got a good view of the stage, and there wasn’t some obnoxiously tall guy standing in front of you and blocking your view - so you were happy. Happy enough that you can feel that familiar concert excitement thrumming through your veins, easily blocking out thoughts of the strange man you had encountered by the bathroom.

What did he say his name was? Tony? You supposed it didn’t matter. Especially not when the stage lights came bursting to life again as the headliner started walking on stage - instruments in hand.

This is what you came here for. Cute boys be damned.

And you lose yourself in it easily. Smiling as the vibrations from the speakers make your limbs feels gooey, swaying your hips and raising your arms up high. You sing (more so scream) along to the lyrics you knew by heart until your throat went raw. Your hair getting messier and messier with each enthusiastic nod of your head.

It was a situation you had seen time and time before, but it never got old. Never stopped making you feel alive.

Your excitement only crests as the set goes on, the band blessing you with each and every one of your favourite songs. You’re giddy, buzzing, absolutely high on life. So much so, that you don’t realize you’re straying a little too far out of your personal bubble until you step back and feel the crunch of someone’s toes under your heel.

And your head might be in the clouds, but not enough to not be aware of how much that must’ve fucking hurt.

So, you twist your body around, moving as much as you can though there’s a body on every side of you - hoping to offer up a sincere apology to whoever you’ve just flattened the foot of.

But the moment you’re turning around, what comes out is something a lot different.

“Are you following me?” Because it’s Toby. Toby standing right behind you, like he had tracked you down through the sea of people - finding you in the mix like plucking a needle out of a haystack. You suppose it’s not insane to say that he just ended up there because the crowd moved him in the exact way it had moved you, but come on. This was way too much of a coincidence.

“Huh?” Toby shouts back to you over the music, leaning down close and cupping his ear with his hand to try and hear you better. There’s not even a hint of pain on his face, despite the fact that you had definitely just stomped on his toes. Unless it wasn’t him? You theme a quick look around, and no one else looks fazed either. God, this was strange.

You let out a huff before twisting your body to lean into him, your cheek brushing his hand as you speak right into his ear.

“I said, are you following me?” You repeat, to which Toby lets out an amused snort of laughter.

“F-Following you?” He snickers. “You’re the o-one who keeps b-bumpin’ into me.” You can just barely hear him over the music, but the cheekiness in his tone is still evident. “T-Told ya’ that you’d c-come find me again.”

“Not on purpose.” You snap back, eyes narrowed despite the flutter you feel in your gut. He’s so effortlessly magnetic, pulling you closer with just the heat in his eyes. The grin on his face makes him look like he thinks he’s just playing a game, but the weight of his gaze says otherwise. He wants something from you, and you know it.

And maybe you’re only annoyed because of how easily your body is caving in to the desire to give him whatever he wanted.

You didn’t know this man. The only information you had about him was his name. You’ve never been one for quick and easy hookups, but somethings telling you to try it with him.

Somethings making you so sure he’d make it worth it.

“What’cha ss-so mad for?” Toby leans down low to speak right next to your ear - for convenience sake, because of how loud it was around you - but the feeling of his breath fanning against made you feel so hot. The scent of him was circling around your head like a halo, the softness of his curls tickling your cheek due to the close proximity. “Y-You just crushed m-my toes. P-Pretty sure we’re even now.”

If Toby had to be honest, he had followed you. Trailed the sight of you through the crowd until he found you right in front of him again - hips swaying to the beat, sweat beading up on your neck from exertion. Could you blame him? You were easily the most beautiful woman in this entire damn building. Such a sweet face, but the attire hugged your body gave you bite. Not to mention, that little attitude of yours.

He was hooked, completely and utterly hooked. And if things went his way, he’d hopefully have his craving satiated by the end of the night. Kiss the lipstick off of your lips. Rip those tempting fishnets more than they already were.

Feel you. Really feel you. Even closer than you were now. Wanted to make you his, even if it was just for the night.

(He’d bet that you’d let him.)

He just had to have you. His thoughts were saturated with idea of what it would be like. He was sure you could tell, the desire was practically emanating off of him.

He was also sure, that you wanted him just as badly. He had seen the way you looked at him, almost awestruck in the way your eyes drank him in. You were just playing hard to get. All you needed was a little push, and he wasn’t afraid to get bold. “W-What’re you doing a-after the show?”

The question sends a bolt of excitement down your spine. He was so blunt. Not an ounce of shyness or shame in his body. It was a fact that made goosebumps rise on your arms. You don’t think you’ve ever been faced with a force like Toby, so unapologetic, drawing you in closer and closer until you were falling right at his feet. You were trying to stay rational, stay focused, but you could barely even hear the music playing around you anymore. Like you were submerged underwater; every sound that wasn’t his voice sounded far away and foggy.

“Nothing.” You speak back to him, the forced proximity making you sweat. You had no choice but to be nearly pressed right up to him, able to feel his heat sinking into your bones. “Why?”

You hear him chuckle in your ear, a low rumble that makes your brain feel fuzzy. He leans in a little closer, just to nose at your jaw softly before pulling back.

But not before saying;

“Y-You know why.” He doesn’t elaborate further. He doesn’t need to, and you’re left hanging in the balance as he gazes down at you with a well pleased smile on his face.

And so, he leaves it up to you. The choice of whether or not to play right into the cards he’s dealt. At this point, with your head already flooded with images of just what he’s got planned for you, it’s an easy decision. You want him, bad. Had from the first second you laid eyes on him.

You knew for a fact, that if you passed up on this, you’d be kicking yourself for years to come.

So, you don’t say anything. Instead, turning back around with a look in your eyes that told the whole story. If it didn’t, then the way you were leaning back into him definitely did.

Back pressed against his chest, a hand trailing down his arm before it came to circle around his wrist - locking him in place. No space between you now, just sweat and heat, the curve of your ass pressing against him and making him let out a hiss through his teeth.

If Toby wasn’t focused on the show before, he definitely wasn’t now. Instead he presses his face into the crook of your neck from behind and breathes in deep. You smelled like vanilla. So sweet and smooth. And when his you guide his hand to your hip and let him give a little squeeze, he finds that you’re just as soft as he’d thought you’d be.

If he had it his way, he’d just fuck you right here and now. Flip up that way too short skirt of yours, and tug your panties to the side. It was so claustrophobic, and the whole crowd was focused on the act on stage, he doubted anyone would really notice. You wouldn’t even have to be that quiet. The music would drown you out.

So tempting. So tempting that his free hand has a mind of its own, already slipping under the hem of your skirt to feel all the plush flesh hidden from him.

“Toby-“ You lean your head back to rest on his shoulder and peer up at him, your heart thudding wildly in your chest. You could just feel him getting harder behind you, the outline of his clothed cock pressed right up against you. You could tell he was big, and immediately butterflies are erupting in your stomach because of it. Of course he would be, with an attitude like that. “Be patient.”

“Th-That’s not a virtue I’m w-well versed in.” He murmurs back to you. His nose drags against your neck before he finds your ear, catching the lobe between his teeth and giving a soft nip. “B-But don’t worry, I’ll be nice.” His breath fans against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I-I’ll fuck you in the b-bathroom, like a gentleman.”

You can’t help but let out an amused snort at his words, but the prospect does send a bolt of heat right between your thighs. Would you really go through with it? Let him have you in that grimy ass bathroom you were in not too long ago?

Beneath your skirt, he tugs at your fishnets, before releasing them so that they hit your skin with a snap. His grip on your waist tightens, then he’s pulling you back to subtly grind against him.

Yeah. You would.

You don’t think a concert has ever gone by faster for you. It’s a blur of loud music, and even louder breathing in your ear. Toby’s greedy hands wandering, getting more risky by the minute. Under your skirt, slipping between your thighs to graze against the material of your panties. Trailing upwards to tangle in your hair; cupping the back of your neck with a dizzying pressure.

By the time the last chord sounds out in the air, he’s got you dripping for it.

It’s how dirty it is. The risk. Wedged between hundreds of bodies that would notice the depravity going on if they looked away from the stage for just a second. Your thighs trembling, skin hot as he leaned in close to whisper dirty promises in your ear.

‘B-Bet this pussy tastes ss-so sweet.’

‘Gonna m-make you scream. Whole b-buildings g-gonna know who’s fucking you.’

‘I-If you thought your makeup was f-fucked up before…’

You don’t even waste time shouting for an encore. The moment the stage lights go out, you’re moving. With a hand still grasping his wrist you tug him through the crowd with a dizzying speed - weaving through all the people with more efficiency than you’ve ever managed before. You can hear him behind you, letting out amused little huffs of laughter and you can only imagine the shit eating grin on his face.

But you don’t care. You could not give less of a shit how desperate you looked right now, because that’s exactly what you were. Desperate, burning up, with an ache between your legs that could only be relieved by the man you were tugging along behind you.

Your panties were far past uncomfortable. The material soaked through and clinging to your folds, your pussy throbbing within the confines of them. Considering Toby had spent the last half hour riling you up to a maddening degree, you think that your urgency is completely warranted.

You reach the bathroom in record time, and then you’re shoving him through the door, completely ignoring the odd glances you get from some of the other patrons. Nothing else matters right now. You need his skin on yours. Properly.

“Ss-so eager.” Toby snickers as you press him up against the door once it’s shut behind the two of you, his hands immediately circling your waist and pulling you right to him. “I like th-that. It’s c-cute.” The lights in the bathroom are fluorescent, casting him in a neon green glow as he gazes down at you. He looks predatory. You’re more than happy to be prey.

“You’ve done enough talking.” You breathe out. Then, you’re shaking your arms around his neck and tugging him down towards you. Not wanting another word to be exchanged before you get your lips on his.

It’s a heated, messy, and desperate kiss. More so trying to consume one another rather than slot your lips together properly.

He’s all teeth and tongue. Nipping at your bottom lip and tugging it. Sinking his teeth in hard enough to make you gasp. Licking into your mouth with an undying fervour, his fingers clawing at your hips to try and pull you impossibly closer. You taste divine. Sweeter than sugar, just as addictive as he knew you’d be.

He knows your lipstick is probably smearing across his skin, he can taste it, but it’s the least of his worries. Especially now that you’ve started letting out the most beautiful noises, which he swallows up eagerly.

His cock had been straining against his jeans for a while now, but it’s more awake than ever as your hands snake into his hair. Tugging and scratching his scalp with those pretty painted nails of yours. His hands, wander down low. Finding a home splayed against your ass once more, this time grasping at the flesh with all the intensity he had been holding back before hand. Groping it almost harshly, kneading it in his palms as he groaned into your mouth.

“Need t-to be inside you.” He gasps against your lips, tugging you close so that you could feel just how worked up he was. Rock hard and throbbing against your stomach. The combination of his actions and words gets you even wetter. “G-God, I wanna fuckin’ r-ruin you.”

He barely gives you any time to respond, pushing himself off of the door the moment the last word leaves his lips. Then, he’s backing you up - lips on your neck the whole time he guides you into a bathroom stall. He kicks the door open with his foot and promptly nudges you inside.

And now you’re the one pinned. His hands slip under your thighs and haul you up into his arms before pressing you against the stall door. A motion that makes you let out a little squeak of surprise. His fingers dig into your skin, and then he’s back to attacking your neck again - nipping, biting, and licking every inch of skin he could get his mouth on. Rutting up against you all the while.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, you can really feel him now. The hardness of his clothed cock slotting between your thighs, dragging against your dampened core so deliciously. You try to stifle a moan by tugging at your bottom lip, but it comes spilling out anyway when his teeth sink into your shoulder. It’s just so much, so overwhelming that your body barely knows how to respond to it.

The bulge in his jeans bucking up against you so desperately, you’re half convinced he’s trying to fuck you through your clothes. The sting of his teeth scraping against your skin. His hands bearing an intensity that made your knees weak every time he touched you.

His breath against your skin, his husky groans in your ear.

It felt like he was suffocating you with his presence, and it was intoxicating.

“T-Toby-“ You gasp out right as the head of his cock presses against your clit, blooming a wave of heat that washed over your entire body. “C’mon. Give it to me.” Your hands are getting just as greedy, clawing at his shirt - feeling the shape of his muscles through the thin material. You can tell he’s built. No wonder he’s got you held up so effortlessly.

“What-“ Toby’s panting against your neck, his grip on you nearing a bruising degree. “Whatever h-happened to patience?” He murmurs, voice strained and husky. And it’s laughable that he’s even trying to play that card right now, with how he’s falling to pieces just from a little dry humping.

But, to be fair, so were you. You don’t think you’ve ever been more turned on in your life; cunt throbbing, thighs tingling, a hoard of butterflies fluttering around in your gut. You’d be surprised if you weren’t staining the front of his jeans with your slick right now.

He couldn’t feel it, due to the thickness of the material separating the two of you, but he could fucking smell it. The arousal emanating off of your pliant body, your pussy practically begging for him to sink into its wetness.

And he would, in due time.

“Don’t be a cunt.” You groan out of frustration, now moving your hips back against his to chase more of that delicious feeling. If you really had to, you could cum like this, you knew you could. The drag of his length against your throbbing core was teetering on the line between perfect, and not enough. But, it was just getting better by the minute.

The friction of his jeans against your panties, practically rubbing your cunt raw. No let up, just one buck of his hips after another, pressing against your desperate heat. He had you quivering already, thighs trembling as his nails dug into them.

Your snippy words though, give him pause. Much to your dismay, his movements halt, and then he’s pulling away from your neck to stare down at you with a look that makes you shrink backwards. He raises an eyebrow, eyes glinting with something dangerous, but just when you think you’re in trouble - he’s breaking into an amused grin.

“You’re luh-lucky I like ‘em f-feisty.” He chuckles lowly. His skin is flushed pink, hair all frizzed up and tangled from you frantically tugging at it. Even the lenses of his goggles had begun to fog up, giving visual proof of just how much heat has generated between the two of you. “I kn-knew you’d be fun.”

Then, he’s setting you back onto the ground - your knees nearly buckling once your feet come in contact with the floor once more. He keeps you steady with his hands on your hips though, but only for a few moments.

Because next, he’s spinning you around; pressing your front flush against the stall door. You gasp at the change in position, fingers searching for purchase but finding no such thing against the slippery smooth surface you’re sandwiched against.

If you weren’t literally melting in his hands right now, you might’ve complained about him smushing your face against an undoubtedly germ ridden surface. But, you don’t have a lot of time to think about it, because in the next coming moments you feel your skirt bring flipped up.

You knew it was coming, but the feeling of being exposed still made you squirm - your knees pressing together in embarrassment, as if that would shield you at all. Toby though, is nothing but appreciative, letting out a low growl as he rubs his palm against your ass cheek.

Then, unable to help himself, he gives it a light smack.

You let out a yelp of surprise that you quickly stifle, finger curling into fists against the door. It was a light hit, but the sting still persisted, just further emboldening the ache between your legs. “L-Look at that..” You hear him murmur from behind you, and you don’t have to crane your head back to know what he’s talking about.

The sight of the fat of your ass rippling on impact made his already aching cock throb. Absolutely mesermized by the sight of it, presented to him so beautifully in those soft fishnets. He does it one more time, landing a blow against the other cheek, before letting out a deep groan and sinking his fingers back into the soft flesh. “SS-So fuckin’ hot.” He mutters under his breath. “I’m g-gonna keep you like this, so you b-better get comfy.”

You’d try. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable position. Sliding against the grimy stall door, back arched to a degree that made your hips ache. Legs trembling from the strain of keeping balanced in your boots. But then, you feel his fingers hook into the gaps of your fishnets, and your attention is directed elsewhere.

In the otherwise quiet bathroom, the sound of him ripping your tights open is loud. It rings in your ears, making your eyes widen as he exposes you completely. Tearing open a hole in your fishnets for him to slot himself into. “Th-That’s better.” He murmurs softly. “Hope you d-didn’t like these too much.”

He’s lucky you didn’t. But even if you did, you probably still would’ve let him do what he just did. He was a feral ball of desire, acting purely on impulse and need - and it was mouthwatering. Humiliating too, but that was a thought that was buried deep in the back of your mind.

Right now, all that mattered was his touch. His rough, calloused hands groping your flesh like you were putty for him to mould.

Next, his fingers hook under the waistband of the pretty black panties just barely covering your cunt, and he tugs them down in one swift motion. Not all the way off, that would be too much of a hassle, just enough to expose you in all of your sopping wet glory. “So w-wet.”

And then, he’s sinking downwards. He takes a seat on the closed lid of the toilet behind you. In your boots, you’re the perfect height - your pussy practically directly in his face once he gets comfortable. Immediately, he feels drool pool in his mouth, wetting his bandage from the inside. Because fuck, what a glorious sight.

Glistening with slick, all puffy and swollen from him grinding the roughness of his jeans against you. He can see it throb. Your cunt pulsing to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

“Toby-“ You whine softly, brows pinching together in a mixture of both frustration and embarrassment. You can’t take the weight of his eyes on you so directly. It makes your stomach twist into a knot.

“I know, I-I know.” Toby murmurs from behind you, before reaching forwards and grabbing at your ass again. Pulling the cheeks apart, exposing your dripping cunt even more. Fuck, you looked tight. He couldn’t wait to sink his cock in. “I w-wanna taste first. You g-gonna let me?”

Well, of course. You felt as if you may just combust if you don’t get any form of stimulation.

“Y-Yes, please.” You’re whimpering out, breath fogging up the surface your face is pressed pressed against. Almost pathetically, you nudge your hips backwards, and Toby has to bite back a moan at the desperate display.

“Such a ss-slut.” He leans forwards, and you can feel his breath brush against you. “Just how I l-like ‘em.”

After that, he gives no further warning before diving straight in. Tongue flat against your cunt, lapping up every drop of slick you were leaking out for him. And he moans, a deep groan right against you that rumbles through your core. Because you just taste so fucking good. So good it makes it head spin. Even sweeter than the saliva he had swallowed down when his tongue slid against yours.

You were hands down, the most delicious thing he had laid his mouth on. He had a hunch you would be, but the reality of it was something else entirely. The taste of your pussy made his mind go blank, arousal sparking down his spine as his tongue swiped between your folds. Finding your clit easily, rubbing against it in a way that made you squirm.

He had you shaking already, thighs trembling as your body started slipping against the stall door - falling into an arch that Toby would’ve definitely raved over if his face wasn’t buried in your cunt. That was exactly where he wanted to be though. Lapping at your heat, slurping up all the decedent slick that just kept gushing out of you.

You were so sensitive. Practically sobbing against the stall door, unable to bite back the moans that Toby was pulling out of you. Your nails claw at the door, scratching at the already chipping paint as you try and search for a way to ground yourself. It’s fruitless though, because he wanted you to be a mess, and he was too damn good at fulfilling that goal. “SS-Such a good fuckin’ pussy.” He slurs against you, before slipping his tongue past the tightness of your entrance.

Your knees nearly buckle. The only thing really keeping you upright being Toby’s hands as he licked into you, sliding his tongue against your quivering walls. A mixture of his saliva and your wetness was dripping down his chin, but the filthiness was just adding to the appeal. You were practically melting for him. Soaking his face with your sweet, sweet slick as his tongue thrust into you.

He tugs you back, pressing his tongue in deeper, and you see stars. Toby was eating you out like it was his fucking job. Giving you absolute no break, his tongue flicking in deep enough to reach your gspot. Every so often, he’d relent, only just to suction his lips around your clit.

So, was it really a surprise that you were coming undone almost embarrassingly quickly?

“T-Toby-“ You choke out, brows pinching together as your pleasure crests. Your whole body has reached a fever pitch, sweat beading up on your brow. And your hips have a mind of their own, pathetically bucking back against him, practically shoving your pussy into his face with each toe-curling swipe of his tongue. “Don’t stop- fuck- don’t stop.”

He wasn’t planning on it, and so he listens. Savouring the sweetness of your cunt on his tastebuds until you’re crumbling apart, using his grip on your hips to keep you upright even when your legs go weak.

The taste of your release, is even sweeter. He laps it up eagerly, licking you clean as you tremble through your orgasm - mouth hung open in absolute ecstasy. “A-Alright.” He murmurs against you. “Th-Think you’re ready to take m-my cock now?”

Yes. No. Maybe? You didn’t fucking know. You were still so fucked out and sensitive from your release that even just the lightest brush against your pussy has your hips bucking. But, fuck. You thought back to the feeling of his clothed cock pressing against you, and you knew you wanted it. Needed it. He’d stretch you out just right, and you didn’t even need to see it to know that.

“Please, Toby.” You breathe out in a gasping breath, still trying to regain your composure as he slowly stands up behind you.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, barely cleaning himself up but making the effort anyway. Then, his hands go to the buckle of his belt.

“Oh, n-now you’ve got manners.” He snorts, the clink of his belt buckle coming undone making goosebumps rise on the back of your neck - sparking up a chill that goes down your spine. “J-Just had to treat this p-pretty pussy nice and you get so ss-sweet for me.”

His belt comes loose, and the button and zipper of his jeans come undone in quick succession. If he was impatient before, he was fucking starving for it now; unable to take the throbbing ache in his pants any longer. He tugs down his jeans and boxers just below his hips, enough to free his cock and let it slap against your ass. “B-Bet you’ll get even sweeter o-once I actually fuck you.” You can’t help the moan that slips from your lips when he nudges his hips forwards, grinding his length against your heat from behind.

And it feels so good, but you still have a tiny shred of rationality left.

“Y-You got a condom?” You manage to choke out, craning your neck to try and glance at him over your shoulder. Toby doesn’t let you, bringing a hand up to press against the side of your head - using it to smush your face back against the stall door.

“Nope.” He snickers, his other hand coming to grasp your hip roughly. “D-Didn’t come here planning t-to fuck some chick in the b-bathroom.” You feel the head of his cock notch on your entrance for a second, and your heart skips a beat. “B-But don’t worry. I’m c-clean.”

You were going to choose to believe him, for your sake. But, that was only half of the worry, really.

“If you cum in me, I’ll kill you.” You warn, but the words don’t come out as intimidating as you want them to. They leave your mouth strained and breathless, because the feeling of his bare cock slipping against your folds was reigniting the heat between your legs.

“Th-That’d be so fuckin’ worth it.” He huffs out a laugh, and if he didn’t have your face sandwiched between his palm and the door, you would’ve cut him a glare. “But I’ll puh-play nice. Wanted to cum a-all over this sweet ass anyway.”

That brings a small sense of relief, but you’re tensing up all over again when you feel the head of his cock prod at entrance. “S-Stay relaxed for me, a-alright?” He curls his body over yours to murmur in your ear, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hipbone. “G-Gonna make you feel s-so good.”

You feel his lips on your ear, giving soft wet kisses. Then they’re trailing down your neck. Once he reaches your shoulder, you feel him start to push in.

And you had been right. You hadn’t actually seen his cock (bummer!) but you were correct to guess that he was packing. The stretch immediately has your jaw going slack, knees wobbling as he slowly sinks in deeper and deeper. Bigger than anyone you’ve had before, that’s for sure, and even him loosening you up with his tongue first wasn’t helping much.

He’s got you clawing at the door, ripping old crusty paint from it as you scramble to find purchase somewhere. When you can’t, one of your hands flies backwards to curl around his wrist. “I know baby, I-I know.” Toby murmurs to you softly as he laves over your shoulder with his tongue in attempts to soothe you. He gently rocks his hips forwards, slowly sinking in more and more - a shudder going down his spine at the feeling of your tight heat wrapping around him like a vice.

And he was only halfway in. He wouldn’t tell you that though. “You c-can take it.” With each nudge of his hips he’s slipping in further, and it gets to a point where you have to grit your teeth - eyebrows pinching together in a mixture of pain and pleasure. You’re practically coated in sweat now, slipping against the surface Toby’s got you pinned against as you try to stay stable. But you knew that if he wasn’t holding you up, your legs probably would’ve given out by now.

He’s just got you stuffed so full you’d swear you could taste him. You could feel him in your fucking guts; carving open a path for himself with his thick cock, nibbling and sucking at your shoulder all the while.

When his hips finally meet yours, it’s euphoric for both parties. Toby’s head drops down, resting on your shoulder as he pants against your skin. Fuck, you were tight. Like your cunt was trying to strangle his dick.

With one hand digging into the soft flesh of your hips, and the other one curling into your hair, he has to take a moment to really focus on not shooting his load right there. He knew you’d probably rip his head off if he did, but Christ it was like your pussy was crying for it; gushing slick that was dripping around the base of his length, pulsing around him like it was trying to coax out his release. “You’re ss-so fuckin’ tight-“ He grits out, breathing out hot huffs of breath against your skin.

“It’s- ah!” He nudges forwards, somehow getting even deeper. “It’s been awhile.” You force out, your expression wrinkling as the pain starts to subside for a pleasure that makes your mouth water.

“Yeah?” Toby draws his hips back just a couple inches, testing the waters as he starts slowly rocking into your heat. And it’s good. Too fucking good. This might not end up just being a one time thing, he knows he’s going to be dreaming about this sweet cunt. “A-And you’re giving it t-to me?”

Slow, shallow rocks of his hips make your vision go hazy. His cock dragging against your walls deliciously, nudging up against your gspot with each press in. He was being gentle, getting you used to it, and yet you’re already struggling to breathe. You can hear your pulse in your ears, every single nerve in your body seemingly set alight each time his hips met yours. “I f-feel special.”

“Don’t-“ You choke out a moan against the door when he pulls out more, slipping his entire length back in this time in a movement that makes your breath leave your lungs. “D-Don’t get cocky.”

Toby lets out a soft huff of laughter. Still not picking up the pace, just rolling in deeper. Getting his whole cock buried in the gush of your leaking cunt on each press in.

It was an intoxicating sight. That soft, supple flesh, rippling each time his hips connected with yours. Fishnets ripped open to reveal your glorious cunt, which just kept swallowing him up to the base on every single stroke. Sucking him back in every time he pulled out. So tight it made him feel dizzy. “It’s a l-little hard not to be r-right now.”

And you’re about to try and make a snide comment in response, but your throat is quickly closing up.

Because you just heard the sound of the bathroom door opening.

You can hear the chatter of two girls that had definitely just come from the show, giggling to themselves as they gather around the mirror to look at the damage their makeup went through.

And you know that you’re hidden away in a stall, but it still wasn’t exactly discreet. Just once glance under the stall and you’d find two pairs of feet standing suspiciously close to one another - one of which, visibly trembling.

Your eyes blow wide immediately, a mixture of panic and being absolutely mortified.

Toby though, doesn’t seem as fazed.

The hand that had been pressing against your head slips down lower, covering your mouth with his palm. “B-Better keep quiet.” He murmurs low in your ear, quiet enough to be drowned out by the chatter of the girls just a door away. “Unless y-you want them to know h-how much of a whore you are:”

Then, he’s back to moving. Even slower and smoother than before, pressing into you at a pace so agonizingly languid that you almost find yourself pressing your hips back to get more. Sliding into you with enough cautiousness that his belt buckle doesn’t even jingle - which you appreciate, but it’s also agonizing.

You’re breathing raggedly through your nose, unable to even part your lips because of the pressure his palm is holding against your mouth. And he’s rutting into you, over and over, not a care in the world that the bathroom wasn’t nearly as private as it had once been.

If you thought you were humiliated before, this was taking the cake. Teeth gritted each time his length stretched you open, whole body tense as you try and hold back even the smallest noise. But, fate isn’t on your side, because you’re already feeling that familiar heat start to build again.

Getting hotter and hotter with each buck of his hips, your cunt getting tighter and tighter around him as you struggle to hold it back. “O-Oh, bad timing.” Toby chuckles softly in your ear, but makes no effort to make things easier for you.

Instead, he starts pulling you back so that he can sink in deeper. Nudging against your gspot with a pressure that was making you see stars. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the hand gripping your hip slips down your front - sliding between your thighs to find your clit.

Oh, he was trying to kill you.

It only takes a couple tight circles against the swollen nub before you’re crumbling. Practically convulsing beneath him, drool wetting the palm of his hand as you gasp raggedly through your nose. This time, your legs really do give out, but Toby keeps you held up effortlessly - still pounding away at you cunt like he owned it.

Your vision is swimming, ears ringing, your walls spasming around his cock as your head spins.

You’re so out of it, you barely hear it when the bathroom door opens again, and the chatter starts to fade away. “F-Fuckin’ finally.” You hear Toby groan, before he’s picking up the pace at long last.

Snapping his hips into yours, slamming his length into your quivering cunt with a ferocity he had long been holding back. The buckle of his belt jingles with each thrust in, but you can barely hear it. You’re too busy melting.

He was fucking you with an intensity you’ve never encountered before, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the bathroom. If anyone else walked in, you were sure they’d quickly be turning on their heel. Because the air was flooded with the filthiest noises possible; Toby’s husky grunts and groans, the smack of his hips connecting with yours, and all the breathy whimpers and moans that were spilling out of you once his hand slipped away from your mouth.

You were long past caring now though. Too drunk on his cock to be embarrassed about any of this. Especially when he’s gripping at your hips with both hands, fingernails biting into the flesh, tugging you back to meet each brutal thrust. “S-Such a good pussy.” He’s panting in your ear, voice strained and ragged. Still fucking up into you like he’d die if he ever stopped. “Y-You sure I can’t c-cum in you?” He’s mumbling against your ear next, nuzzling into your hair. “I-I’ll buy you th-the pill.”

Convincing argument. So much so that you almost just cave. Almost.

But, you’d hang onto that last shred of your dignity even if it killed you.

“N-No-“ You’re whining out, almost too pathetically to take seriously. You definitely don’t look like a convincing sight, with the way you’re drooling against the door with each snap of his hips. “Y-You can’t-“

“I c-can’t?” Toby chuckles. “I t-totally can.”

Such an asshole. If he wasn’t currently giving you the best lay of your life, you’d probably smack him.

“Toby-“ You warn, managing to crane your head back to finally look at him. He’s not looking at you though - well, not your face - his eyes are locked in on the sight of his cock disappearing into you. Breathing getting heavier and heavier every time he buried himself to the hilt.

And he looked damn gorgeous. All slick with sweat and flushed pink on his cheeks. His eyes half-lidded and hazy, the muscles in his arms flexing every time he tugged your hips back. When his gaze finally flits up to meet yours, you’re even more convinced.

Because he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists to him, pupils blown out with arousal. It had your already spiked hormones going crazy. And suddenly, the desire to have his cum flood your cunt is stronger than ever. To let him mark you from the inside out. Let him make you his.

It’s a horrible idea. You know it is. But Toby looks like a god amongst men as his hips snap into yours, lips parted and glistening with saliva. “O-Okay.” You find yourself choking out, knees wobbling as your body goes even more pliant in his hold. You were barely even standing anymore, more so just wedged between his body and the wall. “You can.”

Nail in the coffin. Just because the sight of him made your mouth go dry. Was that pretty privilege?

“Y-Yeah?” Toby eyes gain a feral sheen once he’s looking back up to you once more, a stupidly smug grin on his face. “Gonna let m-me b-breed this tight l-little cunt?” His hips somehow move even faster, practically punching the moans out of you now with each rough thrust. “I-I’ll get you fuckin’ dripping with it.”

It’s embarrassing how much those words turn you on more. Even more embarrassing that you’re sure he can feel it; how your pussy tightens up around him once his voice reaches your ears.

Leaning back forwards, his lips and teeth are everywhere. Adding to the marks already littering your shoulder, scraping up your neck, nipping at your jaw before he’s tugging at your earlobe with his canines. The sound of his panted breathing in your ear is just getting you hotter, all those gravelly moans he’s letting out going straight to your leaking cunt. “SS-So fuckin’ good- God-“

Then, his hand is slipping back to your already overly sensitive clit - rubbing quick, tight circles that rip a cry from your lungs. “G-Give me one m-more.” He huffs out. “O-One more, and I’ll fill you up.”

You don’t think you could deny him even if you tried. Your nerves were going on overdrive, so sensitive that the feeling of his fingers spring tears to your eyes. Not to mention, how he was still ruthlessly pounding against your gspot. You don’t think a single woman in the world would be able to hold back.

And so you don’t. And this one, nearly fucking knocks you out from the intensity. Your eyes roll back as your pleasure crests for the third time, toes curling within the confines on your boots as stars dance behind your eyelids. Your walls convulse around him, sucking him in so tight he couldn’t have pulled out even if he wanted to. “Hah, fuck-“ Toby pants in your ear, his grip on your hips bruising as his thrusts begin to stutter.

He fucks you through your release until you’re trembling like a leaf, then with one brutal thrust back into you - he’s coming undone right after.

You feel it as the warmth of his cum gushes into you, flooring your cunt with his hot sticky load. It gushes out around his cock as he fucks it into you with languid thrusts, his breathing hot and heavy against your ear - littered with strained groans that make your whole body tingle. “F-Fuck, that’s good-“ He huffs out.

The grips on your hips loosens, before his hands are roaming your body. Sliding up your torso, tracing your curves with his calloused palms as he lets out a well satisfied hum. You feel his release drip down your thighs, staining your tights and surely pooling on the ground below you.

Toby nuzzles into your hair, trying to steady his breathing as he taking in a deep inhale of your scent. Still so sweet, but tainted now by the musk of sweat and sex. All his doing. He can’t help but feel proud.

After he finally seems to find his bearings, he pulls out - to which the rest of his spend comes gushing out after, making your brows wrinkle together at the feeling. But then, he’s spinning you back around, finally getting a good look at your face for the first time since he pinned you down.

And you look so gorgeous. All fucked out and messy, makeup smeared and mascara running, lips red and swollen from how you had bitten them raw. Yeah. This isn’t just going to be a one time thing. So he says; “Th-This pussy’s mine now, r-right?”

His hands are back on your waist again as you raise an eyebrow at him, thumbs rubbing against your soft skin.

“Thought I told you not to get cocky.” You murmur back to him, voice hoarse and raspy. A quality that makes Toby’s lips twitch into a little smirk.

“And I-I thought I told you that it’s ha-hard not to.”He chuckles softly, before leaning down to nose at your jaw. “What d-do you say though? I-I’ll treat you e-even better next time.” He places a soft, wet kiss against your skin. “G-Got a twin sized bed at home w-with your n-name on it.”

“W-Wow, a twin.” You snort, though you do raise a hand to cup the back of his head as he nuzzles into you. “Fancy guy, huh?”

“W-What can I say?” He hums against you, and you can’t see it, but you can feel his lips curl into a grin against you. “I know h-how to impress a g-girl.” Then he’s lifting his head back up to gaze down at you. “So? I-Is that a yes, then?”

And though it was absolutely not what you had expected when you walked through the venue doors earlier, you find that offer being incredibly tempting. But then again, everything about him was.

Besides, he still owed you that morning after pill.

—————————————————————————☆

hi lol

I stg I always get carried away writing I tired to not this one as much of a beast and yet we’re STILL at nearly 10k words

I’m am bestowed with the curse of yapping too much

but as always thank you for reading!!

[blythesarchives]

I finally made a masterlist post for all my fics, sorry everyone who kept messaging me asking for one. I am so bad at making these and putting them together lol.

In Progress - To be updated later with better layout soon

Key:

🔥- Smut 🌶 - Suggestive 🧸- Comfort 🌷- Fluff 💔- Angst 🖊 - Drabble

Winter Soldier

Sugar Plums - The soldier has an attachment to you. 🌶🌷

Подарок - You give the soldier a present for Christmas. 🌷💔

Limbo - Not quite Bucky, not quite Soldat, but all yours. 🔥

Below are fics of WS from my side blog. Content warning provided for each fic.

Cold Metal - Soldat's arm gets cold. You are the solution. 💔🧸

Shower Suds - You give Soldat his first bath out of captivity. 💔🧸

Silver and Garnet - Soldat hurts himself a lot. 💔🧸

Condition - Soldat refuses to sit down, you notice he's in pain. 💔🧸

Gentle Hand - Soldat has a panic attack. 💔🧸

Stained - Soldat continues to have nightmares. 💔🧸

Apricot Toast - Soldat doesn't understand care can be without price. 💔🧸

Knots - You help the soldier with some self care. 💔🧸

Civil War - Bucky

Beefy Bucky Has a Pretty [Redacted] 🖊🔥

Fugitives - While you and Bucky flee from captivity in Berlin, Bucky shows his thanks to you for always being by his side. 🔥

Just As You Are - He tries his best for Valentine's Day. 🔥🌷

To Where and Back Again - Bucky gets triggered to Winter Soldier mode, and his focus is on you. 🔥

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier - Bucky

Alpine Snuggles 🖊

Cut Your Hair - You help Bucky cut his hair. 🧸

Filthy Fingers - You check on Bucky after the mission in Madripoor. 💔

Roasted Chestnuts - Bucky takes to sleeping in the living room, you comfort him with hot cocoa. 💔🧸

Wakanda - Bucky

Masterpiece - You show Bucky some love in Wakanda. 🔥🌷

Thunderbolts* - Bucky

Rinse Cycle - Bucky pulls his arm from the dishwasher and you love how warm it is. 🔥

40's - Bucky

Coming soon

Logan Howlett

Filthy Logan Thoughts Pt 1 🖊🔥

Filthy Logan Thoughts Pt 2 🖊🔥

Logan & Breeding 🖊🔥

Brat Tamer Logan 🖊🔥

Be Gentle - You feel down so Logan picks you back up. 🔥

Manhandle - Feral-ish Logan is obsessed with you. 🔥

Honey Badger - You use Logan’s mask to keep him close. 🔥

Star dividers by @/saradika-graphics | Headers made by me

[cherrygirlfriend]

pairing: reader x bsf!rafe

synopsis: reader gets depressed after sex, so rafe comforts her.

warnings: smut, angst and comfort, fluff MDNI! - wc: 700

author’s note: i wrote this last night when this site went down; it's a bit different and doesn't have much dialogue but i was feeling poetic. also, trying out yet another layout style ⟡ ݁₊ . originally posted 01/08/2025

bsf!rafe masterlist ♡

it always starts the same; the feeling in your stomach building up, the heat spreading through your veins, making your body feel like the sun is rising, slowly warming up every one of your limbs as your whimpers turn into quiet moans as you’re brought closer and closer to the edge, to bliss.

then, all of a sudden, rafe touches just the right spot at just the right pace, whispering just the perfect words into your ear before sucking your earlobe into his mouth as he continues thrusting into you, your nails digging into his back, and then the soft sunlight titillating across your body turns into a blazing fire.

the moment you come undone your back arches off the bed, into him like a moth to a flame, your sensitive, pebbled nipples pressing against his muscular chest as you let out raspy words that are supposed to be his name, but ultimately end up being incomprehensible mumbles, rafe letting out groans on top of you as you clenched around him, your tight walls basically calling for him to come.

you can feel the rush of dopamine released by your brain the moment your back hits the mattress, your entire body becoming tingly, and a small, pleased smile playing on your lips as you felt rafe pull out of you with a satisfied grunt before getting up and discarding the used condom into his trash can before coming back to bed with a satisfied grin on his lips, your head still slightly fuzzy from the pleasure he'd given you.

you stared up at the ceiling fan, watching as it spun around, feeling the cool air on your face, feeling it take care of the sheen of sweat that covered your skin, rafe pressing small kisses on your bare shoulder, causing shivers to run down your spine. you felt content.

but just like usual, you crashed.

you didn't know what caused it, but hot tears started stinging in your eyes once again, rafe pulling back to look down at you, his lips twitching into a slight frown as his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb moving to brush away a tear that was rolling down, disappearing into your hair.

"shhh, it's okay..." rafe mumbled against your skin, continuing to press more kisses on the soft skin on your shoulder. you knew it was irrational, that there was no reason for you to be crying, that there was no reason for there to be this hollow feeling in your chest, no reason for your head to be filled with doubts and melancholy; but your emotions didn't much care for logic, "i'm here."

rafe pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly against his warm body while his hand stroked your hair, pressing soft kisses on your hairline while tears continued escaping your eyes, your throat stinging with pain. "you're beautiful. you're alright." somehow, rafe had gotten used to you getting emotional after coming down from your orgasm, and he knew there was nothing he could do to get you out of that mindset, except just be there. and he always did that, he always grounded you. he was like your anchor. "you're amazing."

you held onto him as tightly as possible as he continued whispering sweet nothings into your ear, leaving gentle, loving kisses all over your face, wiping your tears away with just a touch of his lips.

and eventually, the hollowness inside of you slowly faded away and was replaced by him, and you looked up at rafe, into his ice-cold eyes that felt so warm whenever you gazed into them, and your lips finally curved up into a small smile, your heart steadying until your heartbeats were in sync.

"there's my girl." rafe says softly, quietly, as if he was being careful not to break the fragile serenity that had now taken over your features. and before he could pull your lips to meet his, you beat him to the punch, so full of him and his adoration, you felt like you'd die if you didn't return it right back to him.

and as your lips met, every thought, every tear, faded away.

[jasmineoolongtea]

― in between ⋆⭒˚.⋆

― the ways in which they act around you when you're in that in-between stage ༘ ⋆｡˚

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuji x gn!reader, yuuta x gn!reader, headcannons/drabbles, fluff a/n: heavily based on in between by gracie abrams. if she releases it in the secret of us deluxe edition, i might just explode with happiness. btw thank you sm for blowing up my last post, literally insane of you guys and a big kiss to all of you. also genuine question for you guys, do you prefer the layout i have for my headcanons, drabbles or longer fics? i'm trying to see which one you guys prefer

gojo satoru never lets his phone ring for more than a couple seconds when it comes to you. doesn't matter where, when or what it could be about, the second he hears your personalised ringtone or sees your name flash across the top of his screen, he's scrambling to try and answer it as fast he possibly can. he could be in the middle of fighting a curse, deep within the throws of battle with a laser focus on the target in front of him and it all goes out the window the moment you call his phone.

you'll never know about it though. for some reason, satoru keeps this fact to himself like it's the biggest secret in the world. he'll always pick up the phone with a carefree lilt to his voice, sometimes even choosing to tease you for calling him when you could have just texted instead. quietly inside, he thanks the universe for giving him the opportunity to hear your voice again.

"gojo," god, he loves the way you say his name, maybe one day he'll manage to get you to call him satoru. "are you sure you're at home right now?" there's a tinge of concern that permeates your voice and he swears his heart beats twice as fast just thinking about the fact that you might be worried about his well being.

"of course! why'd you ask? don't tell me this is your way of asking to come over right now?" you sigh at his antics and he laughs it off, it's like a routine you two do. he keeps jokingly throwing out these more than friendly offers to your constant dismissal but secretly, he hopes one day that he can stop pretending like they're just that.

there's a loud crash coming from his side of the call which only serves your suspicions as you quip back. "no, gojo. i'm asking because i'm hearing noises like you're beating someone up." he curses faintly under his breath at the curse who's off groaning in pain in the distance after being punted into a wall with a flick of his wrist.

you pause for a second as your voice softens "is this a good time to call because if not i can just-"

"no, no." he cuts you off, "i've got all the time in the world for you."

geto suguru hates it when you cry and hates it even more when you're away. he never thought it would be possible to hear a heart shatter in front of him but that's what he hears every time you shed a tear. you're the definition of angelic as crystalline tears stream down your face and his heart swells with warmth when you allow him to comfort you in his arms.

silently, he pledges to burn down whatever has brought you so much grief and pain as a newfound sense of anger courses through his veins. but before he can do anything, you turn to him with watery eyes and a quivering lip as you ask him to do the unthinkable.

"stay." you plead quietly.

"okay." he responds, a soft, comforting smile gracing his expression. he'll never say it out loud but he knows that it's a request, just like many others, he'll accept a thousand times over if it means he gets to stay close to you, even if it's nothing more than this.

if he thought it was painful to see you cry, then being away from you was possibly a fate worse than death. whenever he has to bear the misfortune of being separated from you, there's a part of him that you've taken away with you and is only reunited when you return to him. absence is said to make the heart grow fonder but he's pretty sure it's humanly impossible for his to do that as you're already the one it beats for. even across the distance of a phone call, it's still not enough for him to hear but not see you as it simply makes him crave your presence next even more.

he's rarely ever let anyone in like this before but the day you see him exhausted, dishevelled and broken and still choose to remain at his side, despite his protests, is the day he's sure that you're the only thing he'll ever want for the rest of his life. you claim it's under the guise of being friendly yet even satoru hasn't seen him like this. you might not know it but he does.

he doesn't say much, instead choosing to bask in this moment of mutual comfort and closeness as even at each other's worst, you both know that you'll still be okay.

nanami kento says that he's new at this when you toe that delicate line between the two of you. you're new to this too. he's scared and you're scared, however, the fear is not enough to stop this. when does the line of being just friends end and the line of calling each other lover start? or is there a secret in-between stage that the two of you are stuck in like right now, where the other waits with bated breath to see if someone takes the risk to make the first move?

you've been friends for as long as you can remember running into each other that one fateful day within the rectangular walls of jujutsu tech. however, there's always been a whisper of something else there as well. it's been something the two of you have danced around with lingering glances and silent, 'accidental' touches in public spaces. the two of you have seen each other through the growing pains of adolescence, nights of broken hearts and awkward first dates and now with an added layer of professionalism as recent coworkers.

when it was nanami who was the one who rescued you from those times when you were left cold and alone in a random restaurant somewhere, you know that you've had enough of waiting on somebody who doesn't care about you. as he places his hand on your shoulder, ushering you into his car with his jacket dropped across your figure with the utmost care, he knows that you deserve so much more than whatever this world can offer and he can only dream of being the one to give this to you.

between you and him, there's an invisible wall of all the labels you have each barricade the other behind in an attempt to hide under a sense of familiarity but now in this moment, you want nothing more than to tear it all down with your bare hands. he reaches out to you, threading his fingers through his and in one swift move, he's done the impossible and has crossed over the holy ground that lies beneath you.

"do you think this is a good idea?" you ask him, your voice barely above a whisper.

"positive." he responds, more resolute in his answer than in anything he has been in his life, and you swear sparks fly when you kiss.

fushiguro megumi loves your eyes and your smile and you love how he talks late at night when there's no one there. it's like a silent agreement between you two, one that you always honour. whenever one of you guys can't sleep, you will go to each other's dorm rooms and knock twice and you guys will stay up and talk until either the sun comes up or you both fall asleep.

it doesn't take a genius to say that megumi is a guarded person, with his walls so high you might even lose sight of him behind them, so it only makes it even more precious when you're able to see him like this in the dim light of the moonlight pouring in through the window. his skin is illuminated by the glow and the way he sounds when he's speaking with his soul bared open in its entirety makes you want to forever immortalise this moment in your memories. you think about all the people who have missed out on experiencing him like this with how his eyes sparkle with passion and how he breaks out into a grin at the slightest joke, leading you to mourn silently for their loss. however, you think of how vulnerable he lets himself become around you, knowing that you'll stay here with him no matter what, and the sweet nothings you hear him whisper to you when he thinks that you've fallen asleep and you realise this a secret you'll want to keep just between these walls.

on the rare occasion that megumi loses his battle to sleep first, he'll silently reach out for your hand and pull you closer to him. you're not sure if he's doing this consciously or unconsciously but you chose not to comment on the growing red glow of his ears as you sink into his touch.

usually, however, what happens is that you fall asleep first as you make your way onto the pillowy fortress that is either of your guys' beds. as you begin to drift off, he's always there watching over you like your very own moody guardian angel. this is the most he'll let himself indulge in your closeness, for now, as he takes comfort in the familiarity of this in-between stage.

itadori yuji tells you that you're beautiful, funny and smart like nothing he's ever seen. he swears on everything he loves in this world, a list that includes you but you don't need to know that yet. you brush off his compliments with practised ease as you try to fight the burning sensation that is spreading across your face. deep down, you can feel your heart fluttering at his compliments but then you think about how you shouldn't be feeling this way about someone who's your friend.

"itadori, you're exaggerating," you say, shoving his shoulder playfully. he pretends to feign hurt, rubbing the impacted area with a slight pout. adorable, you think to yourself before bringing yourself back into the present moment.

"no, it's true really! if you don't believe me, i'll just keep saying it over and over again." he asserts, ever so confident in his stance. it's all true to him, just like how the sky is blue and the grass is green. he'll be the first one to say how pretty, amazing and talented you are in a room full of your biggest supporters and he'll be the first one to say it again when there's no one else.

you roll your eyes half-heartedly at him, trying your best to act nonchalant despite wondering if he might ever feel more for you than your current state of friendship. "you don't say that to your friends. what about nobara, you don't say this to her, do you?"

"yeah, but she isn't you," he responds back. you don't answer him, choosing instead to point out an ice cream stand in the far distance and he lets you tug him along with you. it's okay, he knows that you're scared of whatever lies ahead for you two. he understands that you're worried that he might like you in that way, although he thinks that it's a bit stupid you're still so unsure about it when he wears his heart on his sleeve whenever it comes to you. whatever is it, he'll be happy to go along at your pace, just as long as it means he gets to be by your side like this.

okkotsu yuuta is so good to you and it makes you want it more than everything in between. is it greedy to say that you want more than whatever you two have right now? the longing stares, the lingering touches and the way your faces light up when you spot each other in a crowded room. sure, those were all fine for a bit but how long were you able to survive on just that when he was right there next to you as a constant reminder of the possibility of something more.

you never thought that you would be able to meet someone like him, someone who treats you as if you were the best thing to ever happen with so much care and love radiating from his very being. the way his hand brushes your cheeks when you get even the smallest cuts makes your heart feel like it's about to fall out of your chest with how he takes extra care to scan over your appearance for anything, pausing for a second on your lips. you think to yourself, he must be doing this on purpose, and you want to curse at him for playing with your heart but when he smiles at you with those half-moon eyes, you can feel all of that melting away and more.

the only person you can blame here for your current predicament is yourself really, you were the one who drew the line in the sand when the two of you first met. just friends, you said but in your defence, you had just learned about his history and how cold and empty his has been as well as how much you've been hurt in your own past, so you decided to do what was, at the time, what you thought was best for the both of you. only now, every day you spend with him makes him wish that you would one day wake up and finally take that jump.

yuuta also shares your sentiments, actually ever since he first saw you he knew that you were the one he wanted to live and breathe for, but he doesn't say anything for fear of scaring you off. he knows about your worries, your doubts and your fears and as much as he wants to tell you that you should throw caution into the wind and that he'll take that step for you, he also knows that he can't. so for now he'll do his best to quell your nerves with a gentle hand on the small of your back and a fleeting kiss on your cheek that you'll someday trust in yourself and him to fall headfirst into this new unknown territory, outside of this in between.

[saltcxrcle]

some blood and a feral grin ── . ✶ s. winchester

summary: you need to clean up after a hunt, sam can help with that

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, canon level violence, blood, fluff, smut: shower sex, oral fem! receiving, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, aftercare word count: 5.3K a/n: new fic layout!! i was inspired by @rubyvhs for the new layout hehe! also a huge shout out to my irl friend nicole for being the inspiration behind this fic LOL enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog! your feedback fuels me <3 sam winchester masterlist

MOONLIGHT FILTERED in from the stained windows high on the walls as the sounds of grunts and squelches echoed all around you. Your arms were poised above your head before they came down one last time—letting out a guttural scream deep from within you and then, there was nothing. 

Your ears were ringing from the abrupt silence, and your chest heaved heavily from exertion. The long dagger that was hidden in your boot was caked in blood as the body beneath you was mutilated beyond recognition. You slowly stood and picked up the machete that you had dropped earlier. Your body had come to an upright position from hovering over the headless vampire you killed moments ago. 

Your muscles were burning, and you could already feel a deep ache beginning to settle into your bones, but you ignored it. You took a deep breath and stretched, shaking out your arms as you tried not to wince at the pain in your sides. The coppery scent of blood and the musty air of the dilapidated warehouse filled your nose before exhaling with a small sigh. You trudged towards the front of the warehouse, maneuvering through some headless bodies that you had taken care of earlier. You could feel the sting of the cut on your forehead and the bruises forming on your ribs, but you continued your trek through the warehouse. 

It felt like forever, but once you made it through the front door of the building, a familiar black car pulled up in front of it. You couldn’t help the smirk on your face when the headlights turned off as you slowly approached the Impala. 

“I think you’re a little late to the party boys.” You teased as they looked at you with surprise filling their expressions. 

You saw how they looked you up and down, and you could only imagine what they were thinking as the Winchesters took in your appearance. 

Wayward strands of hair fell from your updo and into your face. Drying blood that soaked your clothes and smeared on your face. Your machete was held limply at your side as you waved at them with your bloodied dagger and shot them a crazed grin—the blood lust and adrenaline that had filled your veins had just barely receded as your body began to relax. 

Sam couldn’t help but stare at you in awe. He’d seen you covered in blood; it comes with the job, but the glint in your eyes was something that he had never seen before. He thought you were always beautiful, but seeing your hair askew and practically drenched in blood with the pale moonlight highlighting your features and making the wide smile that you had plastered on your face even brighter than usual—well, he felt something in him stir, something primal in him had awakened. Sam subtly adjusted himself, relieved that his lower half was covered by the open car door. He cleared his throat before averting his eyes to the warehouse you had just come out of. 

“You took care of the nest all by yourself?” Dean asked you, skepticism coloring his tone.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh and nod as you slowly approached the two brothers. You finally reached the taller brother as Dean rounded the car and stood next to him. 

Sam crossed his arms and looked down at you, an unfamiliar look in his eye. “You, of all people, should know that was reckless.” He lightly scolded you as his gaze strayed from your eyes to the cut that was near your hairline. Sam had to resist the urge to brush over the injury—wanting to take your chin in between his fingers and scan for any more open wounds you may or may not have. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to sit on my ass like some damsel in distress and wait for you guys to come and save me.” You shrugged. “Besides, it was a few vamps. Nothing that I couldn’t handle myself.” You shot Sam a wink and a slight grin. 

Sam pursed his lips, trying not to smirk when you sent him the smug smile his way.  He shook his head and sighed. “Has anyone told you that you’re difficult?” Sam asked with a cocked head. 

“Plenty of times, by you and your brother.” You said cheekily before taking a step back. “But, as much as I want to continue this lovely conversation, I need a shower and some food. I’ll meet you boys back at the motel.” You told them as you slowly walked backward in the direction of your car. 

Dean gave you a thumbs up and walked to the driver's side of the Impala as Sam just shook his head again, letting the smile that he was holding back emerge on his face as he saw you turn around and continue walking to your car (his eyes definitely didn’t follow the way your hips swayed and trailed downward to see good your ass looked in the jeans you were wearing). 

Sam finally ripped his gaze away from you when he heard a comically loud cough come from Dean. Sam’s head snapped towards the driver's side of the car to see Dean raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You going to stand there and stare all night or can we get back to the motel so you can finally spill your heart out to her?” Dean asked with a knowing smirk on his face as he wagged his eyebrows at his little brother. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get in the car,” Sam grumbled before opening his door. He didn't wait for a response from Dean, so he climbed into the Impala. 

Dean got in and started the car, the Impala erupting in a loud roar. Dean looked at Sam before driving. “You didn’t say no.” Dean had a shit-eating grin on his face and began to drive, pulling out of the gravel driveway of the warehouse and toward the direction of the motel where the three of you were staying. 

Sam glared at Dean but offered no retort—he wasn’t willing to dignify Dean’s taunting with a response (but he knew deep down that his brother was right, he didn’t want to hear the ‘I told you so’ comment from him because Dean would be annoying about it).  

Driving back to the motel was slower than you anticipated but you blamed it on the drying blood on your hands and jeans that restricted your movements (and it definitely wasn’t from the pangs of pain you felt coming from your ribcage). So it wasn’t a surprise to find the Winchester’s Impala parked in the lot of the motel. 

You pulled up next to their car, turned it off, and headed towards their room, which was coincidentally (not) next to the brothers. You quickly entered the room, not surprised by the sight of the Winchester brothers, having given them the spare key to your room two days before, sitting at the table near the kitchenette at the back of the room. 

It was comical how both Sam's and Dean’s heads snapped in the direction of the door, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the action. 

Dean got up from the chair, patting Sam’s shoulder in the process. “Great, she’s back! I’ll grab us some food.” Dean grabbed the jacket he shrugged off earlier and put it back on. 

“It'll be a while, I gotta make a beer run as well.” Dean said as he shot Sam a pointed look before shooting you a smile, brushing past you in the doorway and making his way to his beloved car. 

“But I have-” You were cut off by the slamming of a car door and the roar of the car. You looked back from the near-empty parking lot to look at Sam with a raised eyebrow, having noticed the look Dean shot him. 

“Is your brother okay?” You asked Sam as you moved further into the room, closing the door behind you. 

“I think he’s had one too many concussions to answer that objectively.” Sam kept his eyes trained on you as you moved through the room. 

You let out a laugh at Sam’s words. “Right, that was the wrong question to ask.” You peeled off your blood-soaked flannel, leaving you in a blood-stained tank top. You let down your hair before cracking your neck and letting out a small sigh of relief. 

You paid no mind to Sam, who was still sitting at the table, as you made your way to your duffle bag to grab some clean clothes before you went and showered the glaring red remnants of the hunt off of you. But as you rummaged through your bag for your pajamas, Sam had gotten up from his seat and silently made his way over to you. 

With your pajamas in hand, you turned around and jumped slightly when you saw Sam right behind you, blocking the path to the bathroom. 

“Sorry.” Sam looked a bit sheepish as he apologized. “You should probably clean that before you shower.” He gestured to the cut on your forehead. 

You cocked your head at him. “Wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose of a shower?” 

“It doesn’t hurt to clean it twice.” 

You huffed a small laugh through your nose. “I suppose.” You hummed out before maneuvering around Sam and making your way toward the bathroom. But before you make another step, you feel a warm hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you momentarily and making you look back at Sam. 

“Let me help.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I can do it myself Sam, I’m a big girl.” You joked. 

“I know.” Sam smiled. “But you took out the nest of vamps when we asked for your help, so this is the least I can do to repay the favor.” 

I know another way that you can repay that favor. 

You purse your lips, trying to shake that thought from being blurted out as you look at Sam. Earnesty shone in his hazel gaze. 

You sighed. “Fine, you can help even if it's a small cut.” 

Sam smiled at you again, and without letting go of your wrist, you led him into the bathroom. It was small, to begin with, but it barely fit you and Sam. It was clear that this room wasn’t designed with someone of Sam’s stature in mind (but then again most things weren’t made to fit 6’4 giant men). The door shut with a soft click as you placed your clothes on the closed toilet lid, and Sam grabbed the first aid kit you had stashed in the medicine cabinet. 

Sam grabbed a washcloth from the towel rack, dampened it with warm water from the sink, and gestured for you to stand in front of him. The two of you maneuvered around the bathroom so your back was facing the mirror and sink while Sam stood in front of you. 

“Can I…” He trailed off, his free hand hovering awkwardly in front of your face. 

You nodded, and he took your chin between his forefinger and thumb. You almost flinched at the feeling of the warm cloth brushing against the skin surrounding the wound. You were gripping the edge of the porcelain sink to resist any urge to touch Sam that may rise. 

You were looking at Sam as his eyes were trained on the cut, making sure he didn’t accidentally hurt you as he wiped away the dried blood, the white hand towel slowly being stained red. Sam was gentle with his movements, and it was soothing—your eyes fell shut on your own accord, leaning into Sam’s touch. 

With your eyes shut, Sam took the opportunity to really look at you. He was used to admiring you from afar, so this was his window to take in your beauty. The towel had strayed, no longer cleaning the blood from your forehead but now the rest of your face. There was blood splattered across your cheeks, nose, and lips. Sam wiped away the blood, and the towel lingered on your lips. 

You couldn’t help how your breath hitched slightly at the feeling of Sam’s touch on your lips. The towel fell from your face, and you opened your eyes to find Sam staring at you with an intensity that you’d never seen before. The air was charged around the two of you, and both of you started to lean towards one another. 

Sam’s gaze flicked from your eyes and lips rapidly, and his grip on your chin changed to span the length of your jaw—his thumb resting on your cheek. You let go of the sink to lightly grab his wrist and rest the other on his chest. The two of you were close enough to feel his breath fan over his lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” Sam whispered in the shared space between you. He felt like he was at the end of his rope when it came to giving in to his desires. 

Instead of responding, you brushed your lips over his, and before he pressed his lips against yours, you pulled back slightly with a teasing smile on your face.

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sight of yours, but he wasn’t having it with your teasing and dropped the towel he was still holding, gripped your waist, and pulled you into a passionate kiss.  

It felt like liquid-hot desire was injected into your veins when Sam pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was demanding and urgent like the world would end in the next five minutes, and all Sam wanted to do was devour you whole. 

You and Sam have always had this underlying tension since you met, but you have never acted on it because the cards never seemed to align for the two of you—until now. 

The edge of the sink dug into your lower back as Sam leaned into you. Your hands moved to wrap around his neck, pushing up on your toes to match the fervor that Sam was kissing you with. Sam’s hands moved down your body and stopped at your thighs. He lifted you up with ease and placed you on the porcelain surface. You let out a small yelp from the sudden change in position, and you felt Sam chuckle against your lips. 

Sam swiped his tongue at the seam of your lips, and you let him breach your mouth, tongues dancing with one another and letting the taste of him consume you. You felt his hands squeeze your thighs before dragging up your legs to the hem of your tank top, his hands slipping under the fabric and resting on your bare skin. 

You broke the kiss, pulling back as your lungs screamed for air, but Sam didn’t want to stop kissing you, so his lips trailed down your cheek to your jawline and led down toward your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. You let out a soft moan at the feeling. 

Sam couldn’t help but groan at the sound of your moan and the scent that overtook his senses. You smelt like musk and the coppery scent of blood, but he could smell the perfume that you usually wore. 

You managed to pull him away from your neck by grabbing some of the long hair at the nape of his neck. 

“As much as I want to continue this, I’m covered in blood and dying for a shower.” You said a little out of breath from the kiss/mini makeout session that the two of you shared. 

Sam’s slightly swollen lips formed into a pout, but he nodded in response. He went to move, but you grabbed the loops of his jeans before he could pull away from you completely. 

“But, you’re entirely welcome to join me.” You had a sultry smirk on your face as you looked up at him. 

“Are you sure?” Sam met your gaze, a concerned frown on his lips. 

“One hundred percent.”

Sam leaned in and softly kissed you, a contrast to the initial kiss from earlier. He kept the kiss sweet as his hands pulled up the tank top you were wearing, breaking the kiss as he pulled it over your head and leaving you in a bra and jeans. Sam let his hands trail along your curves as he admired you. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Sam breathed out as his hands rested on your hips. 

You could feel yourself getting shy under his intense stare but fought through the impulse to cover up. 

Sam tapped on your clothed hip and backed up to give you room to slide off so you could take off your jeans. You slid off of the sink counter, unbuttoned your jeans, and shimmied out of them as best as you could, but they were stiff from the blood that they soaked in. You had to use Sam’s shoulders as leverage in order to kick them off, leaving you in your bra and underwear. 

You quickly turned away from Sam to turn on the shower and wait for the shower to get warm. You turned back around to see Sam shedding the flannel and shirt he was wearing, leaving his upper half bare for you to stare at. 

It was like Michelangelo himself sculpted him—your eyes flicked to various areas of his torso and arms. You had always imagined what he hid under all of those layers, but it seemed like your imagination paled in comparison to the actual thing. 

Sam’s chuckle made your eyes snap up to meet his amused smile. “I think the water should be warm now.” 

You could feel your cheeks heat up, but instead of responding to his teasing, you reached behind you and unclipped your bra. You let it slide down your arms and fall to the floor before taking the hem of your underwear and stripping those off as well, leaving you naked in front of Sam. 

You sent him a smirk before pulling back the curtain and getting in the shower, letting the warm water hit your sore and blood-covered body. You let out a sigh of satisfaction, momentarily forgetting that Sam was in the room with you until you heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling and rustling of jeans before the curtain was drawn back, and Sam entered the shower. 

If the bathroom could barely fit the two of you, then the shower was way too small for Sam and you to be in. But you paid no mind to it as you stared at Sam, keeping your gaze from straying downward toward his naked legs. 

Sam shot you a soft smile before grabbing the shampoo and pouring some into his hand. He gestured for you to turn around, and he began to wash your hair. You leaned into his touch, letting out a satisfied hum at the feeling of his hands massaging your scalp. You almost let out a moan of protest when you felt his hands withdraw from your head, but he gestured for you to turn around and wash out the soap. 

Then he took the conditioner and combed it through your hair before repeating the same process. By the time he grabbed another washcloth through the curtain, you were almost dead on your feet from the head massages you received. Sam couldn’t help but smile at your almost blissed-out smile. He took some of your body wash, slathered it on the washcloth, and began to gently scrub down your body. 

Sam started with arms and back before moving down your legs, getting down to his knees to wash them. He tapped your hip to signal you to turn around to face him. Sam washed your torso diligently, lingering on your breast for a moment before moving the washcloth down your waist and hips to your thighs. You started to breathe a little heavier in anticipation—seeing Sam on his knees in front of you was making a heat pool in your core, and you could feel yourself getting wet.  

Sam nudged your feet, spreading them apart so he could fit in between them. He dropped the washcloth on the shower floor with a wet thwap, grabbing one of your legs and throwing it over your shoulder. You leaned back onto the cool shower tile as you felt him press gentle kisses on your inner thigh, trailing up toward your heated center. 

“You got such a pretty pussy baby.” Sam murmured into the soft skin of your thigh. “Wonder if it tastes as good as it looks.” 

Your head fell back and a soft moan left your lips as you felt him press a soft kiss to your clit. A hand wove through the damp strands of Sam’s hair as he began to lick and kiss at your cunt. 

Your moans and whines filled the steamed-filled bathroom as Sam ate you out. He sucked and licked at your clit before his tongue made its way inside of you, darting in and out—collecting your sweet essence and spurring Sam on to taste more of you. He let out small grunts and groans as you tugged at his hair, the vibrations providing you more pleasure to your sensitive cunt. 

“Fuck, you taste so good honey.” Sam pulled away for a moment, making you whine slightly, which made Sam nip at your thigh. “Don’t be greedy just yet baby, I’ll make you cum. I just want to admire you.” He said while looking at your cunt hungrily. 

Sam blew cool air on it, making you clench around nothing. He chuckled darkly before diving back into your cunt. 

A keening whine left your lips as he ate you out like a man starved. “F-fuck! Oh Sam!” 

You started to chant his name like a prayer as you felt yourself hurling closer to cumming. 

Being spurred on by your moans, Sam sucked your clit into his mouth and slowly inserted one of his thick fingers into you. Sam quickly added another finger when he felt little resistance when he put the first finger in. 

His fingers worked in tandem with his mouth, and you were quickly shoved over the edge of pleasure when he crooked his fingers just right and hit your g-spot. You clenched hard around his fingers, Sam letting out another groan in your cunt, adding to the pleasure that coursed through your body. Sam only slowed his ministrations, helping through your orgasm until you had calmed down. 

Sam left one last kiss on your sensitive clit before trailing up your body, the soap no longer on your skin, before pressing his lips against yours. You melted into the kiss, resting your hands on his chest before one of them trailed down to brush against his raging erection. 

Sam grunted against your lips when he felt you wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He pulled back from the kiss but rested his forehead against yours as you started to stroke him slowly. 

Then Sam pulled away suddenly and turned off the water in the shower. He quickly lifted you up in his arms, pulling another yelp from your lips. You had no choice but to wrap your legs around his trim waist as he made his way out of the bathroom and into the empty room, toward the nearest bed. 

He practically threw you on it before getting it on the bed himself, slotting himself in between your open legs and pulling you into a fiery kiss. Sam couldn’t get enough of the taste of you, his tongue dominating your mouth as his hand found your center again and began to tease your clit, rubbing soft circles on it. 

You moaned into his mouth before he pulled away and began to attack your neck, biting and sucking marks into it. One of his fingers started to trail up and down your slit and chuckled into your neck. 

“You’re still so wet. S’all for me honey?” Sam pulled back from your neck to hear your response. 

“Y-yeah, all for you, fuck!” You could barely string that response together—not when Sam had inserted his fingers back into you. 

Sam let out a dark chuckle before leaning down and sucking a nipple into his mouth, ripping another moan from you. 

“You’re doing so good for me honey. You feel so good around my fingers, sucking me right in.” Sam crooned, freeing your nipple from his mouth as he kept fingering you. He kept it at a slow pace, wanting to drag it out. 

“Please, go faster Sammy.” You all but whined out.

Sam said nothing but quickened the pace of his thrusts and started to thumb at your swollen clit. He leaned up and drew your lips into a kiss, but you could barely kiss him back, moans leaving your mouth with every thrust of his fingers. 

Sam could feel you clench around his fingers. “You gonna cum for me baby?” 

All he got was a loud moan in response, making him smile at how wrecked you were from just his fingers. 

“Good girl, come around my fingers and you’ll get my cock.” 

The praise from Sam made the coil that was wound up in you snap, and you came around Sam’s thick fingers. Sam whispered praises in your ear as you came down, having withdrawn his fingers and tracing the skin on your hips soothingly.

“There she is.” Sam said with a gentle smile once you calmed down and opened your eyes. 

“You ready?” Sam asked as he lined his tip to the entrance of your soaked cunt. 

You nodded. 

Sam clicked his tongue at you before slapping the tip of his cock on your oversensitive clit, making you jump at the feeling. 

“I need words, baby.” The low gravel of his lust-fuelled voice made your cunt pulse, and you could feel how wet you were. 

“Yes, I’m ready.” Your voice was slightly hoarse from all of the moaning and whining that Sam pulled out of you. 

“Thank you, baby.” Sam leaned down and kissed you. While he was kissing you, he slowly penetrated you. The stretch of his thick cock was teetering the line of pain, but it felt so good as he filled you up. 

Both of you let out moans when he filled you up to the hilt, and you clenched around him involuntarily. 

“Shit, honey, you can’t do that.” Sam told you in a strained voice. 

You noticed how his jaw was clenched and couldn’t help but tease him like he had been doing to you and clenched around him again. 

Sam stared down at you, a serious look on his face as you looked at him with a playful look in your eye. Then Sam pulled out until the tip was left inside of you before plunging back into you roughly, a sharp moan leaving your mouth at the sensation. 

Sam began his pace slow but hard, slamming into you with enough force to shove you up the bed. You had to wrap your legs around his waist and brace yourself against the headboard. Your moans and Sam’s groans filled the room as he fucked you. He shoved his face into your neck and started to suck at the skin, leaving his marks all over your neck and chest. 

You weren’t far from coming again, and Sam noticed, shoving a hand in between your legs and rubbing on your clit. 

Sweat coated your body as the heat in your core grew and grew. You could feel tears escaping your eyes from the amount of pleasure Sam was giving you. He finally pulled away from your neck and noticed your wet face. 

“Awe baby.” Sam cooed as he used his free hand to cup your cheek and wipe away some of the tears. “You gonna cum soon?” He asked with a slightly strained voice, Sam was so wound up, but he could hold off until you were close. 

You sputtered out a ‘yes,’ but you were overwhelmed with pleasure that you could barely speak outside of his name and ‘fuck’. 

“Come for me and I’ll fill you up, okay baby?” 

You clenched hard around him at the thought of him coming inside of you, and Sam noticed. 

“Fuck, you like that don’t you? You like me filling you up with my cum?” Sam rubbed at your clit even harder. 

“Yes!” You sobbed out; you were so close to coming. 

“Come around my cock honey,” Sam commanded, and his voice sent you over the edge. Stars exploded behind your eyes as you came around Sam. His thrusts faltered before shoving himself inside of you one last time, and you felt warmth fill your cunt. Sam all but collapsed on you, and you couldn’t be bothered to shove him off; the weight of him bordered on suffocation, but it was comforting to you. 

You wrapped your arms around Sam’s neck and started to card your hands through his hair. He relaxed further into you as the two of you calmed down. Sam eventually pulled out of you and got up from the bed. You threw an arm over your eyes as you tried to gain executive function in your legs, but they felt numb. 

You could hear Sam running the water from the sink. You jumped slightly as you felt a damp cloth on your tender cunt. You pried your arm away from your eyes and saw that Sam was cleaning you up, and your heart warmed at the action. You smiled softly at how focused he was. 

When he was done, Sam placed it on the nightstand, intending to take care of it later, and gestured for you to sit up. You did, albeit confused, because you didn’t know what he wanted. 

Then he lifted you up into his arms bridal style (again, you yelped) and carried you into the bathroom. 

“What is with you and carrying me?” You asked when he sat you down on the toilet so you could go to the bathroom. 

Sam smirked. “Would you have made it to the bathroom if I didn’t?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Shut up.” You grumbled before shooing him out of the room. 

Sam sauntered out of the bathroom, chuckling—though he left it open, it gave you an ample view of his perky butt. You realized that your clothes were still in there, so you got dressed after you were done peeing. Once you were done with the bathroom, you all but waddled out of it. 

Sam started to laugh at the sight of you; he was dressed in some comfy pants and a plain black shirt. You glared at him, but you couldn’t help but laugh with him. Once you guys calmed down, both of you settled into the other bed, and Sam took the time to check his phone and saw that he had some text messages from Dean. 

You had better make a move when I’m gone, or I’ll make it for you.  Sent an hour ago  FINALLY! I’ll be in our room with the food. ...jeez, you guys are loud Sent 15 minutes ago 

Sam rolled his eyes at his phone before turning to you. “Dean texted, he said he has our food in our room.” 

“Ooh, yes! I’m starving.” You got up from the bed excited and put on your shoes half-hazardly. 

Sam let out a small snicker at your eagerness, got out of bed, and put on his boots. As the two of you left the room, Sam swung an arm around your shoulders and made the short walk to the Winchester’s room, where the two of you were greeted by Dean’s shit-eating grin and dealt with his teasing for the rest of the night until Sam was fed up with him and dragged you back to your room to sleep the night away. 

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[elikajinnie]

I Let The World Burn For You - N.R |Part 2

P: Serial Killer!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions, Murder, Manipulation, Attempted Murder, Injury/Blood, Teasing, Angst, Obsessive Behaviour, Mind Games, Ni-ki is a nerd.

Synopsis: You’ve always loved crime shows, captivated by the mystery and mind games, but you never expected to live in one. When a killer develops an unsettling obsession with you, you’re thrust into a deadly game where you’re not just a target—you’re the centerpiece.

a/n: i see i made Ni-ki a GIANT red flag!! mhh but i love horror so whatever :) @totallynotj3zz you gave me too much power.

See request here | Read part 1 here

--

The door bursts open, and there he is, silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway, his figure towering, his shadow stretching across the floor like it’s ready to swallow you whole. But you’re ready this time. Your grip tightens on the wrench, and as he steps into the room, you swing.

The wrench cuts through the air with a force that surprises even you, but he’s fast—unnaturally fast. He sidesteps, the tool narrowly missing his masked face. The momentum of your swing sends you stumbling forward slightly, but you recover quickly, your grip on the wrench tightening as you raise it again, desperate and determined.

This time, you swing with even more force, aiming for his chest, but his hand snaps out with alarming speed, catching your wrist mid-swing. The impact jars your entire arm, pain shooting up from the sudden grip. His fingers digs into your skin as he pulls you closer, wrenching the weapon from your hand and tossing it to the floor with a metallic clatter.

You’re pulled into him, your chest nearly colliding with his as you struggle against his hold. His mask looms inches from your face, and you can hear his heavy breathing beneath it, eerily calm despite your thrashing. One hand keeps your wrist firmly pinned, while the other tilts your chin upward, forcing you to meet the blank, haunting stare of the mask.

“Well, aren’t you feisty,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. His grip tightens slightly as he leans closer, his head tilting as if to study you. “I like that. Makes this so much more fun.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a mix of fear and fury bubbling inside you. You feel trapped, but you refuse to let him win. His hand lingers on your chin, tilting your face slightly, as if he’s savoring the moment.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement. “Shame you don’t know when to quit.”

Before he can say anything more, your legs jerks up, slamming into his shin with all the force you can muster. The impact is solid, and his grip falters as he lets out a grunt of pain, momentarily stumbling. You take the opportunity and yank yourself free, adrenaline surging through you as you spin and bolt for the doorway.

He curses behind you, a sharp sound filled with irritation, but you don’t dare look back. Your bare feet skid against the wooden floor as you push yourself forward, your lungs burning with each ragged breath. You can hear him recovering, his footsteps heavy and fast as he begins to follow you again, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

You barrel down the hallway, your heart hammering in your chest, searching desperately for another way out. Doors blur past you, each one closed, each one a potential death trap if you’re cornered again. Your mind races as you try to remember the layout of the house. There has to be another way down, another way out—anything to put more distance between you and him.

The only thought in your head is survival.

Your heart pounds like a war drum in your chest as his heavy footsteps echo behind you. The house is a labyrinth of creaking floorboards and peeling wallpaper, and every turn feels like it leads you closer to him. But somehow, you manage to stay just out of his reach, darting through doorways and ducking under tables, fueled by sheer desperation and adrenaline.

You burst into a dusty living room, skidding on the wooden floor. Your eyes scan for an escape route, and you spot a heavy armchair near a window. Without hesitation, you shove it toward the door just as he rounds the corner. His masked face tilts, almost amused, as he watches you struggle to block the entrance.

“Smart move,” he taunts, his voice laced with a twisted sort of admiration. “But not smart enough.”

You dive for the window, frantically trying to lift the old, stuck frame, but his footsteps are closing in fast. He’s almost on you when, in a flash of inspiration, you grab a nearby lamp and hurl it in his direction. It smashes against the wall, shards flying, forcing him to pause and shield himself. You use the moment to slip past him, sprinting back into the hallway.

“Always so clever,” he calls after you, his voice carrying a strange mix of irritation and delight. “I love it.”

You find yourself in a small kitchen, the counters cluttered with decades of dust and grime. You grab a drawer handle, yanking it open to reveal a collection of rusted utensils. Your trembling fingers close around a knife, and you whirl around just in time as he bursts through the doorway.

He lunges at you, and you slash wildly. The blade grazes his arm, and he lets out a sharp hiss of pain. For a moment, you see him falter, but then he laughs—low and rich, like he’s genuinely enjoying this.

“Feisty as ever,” he says, clutching his arm, his stance relaxed despite the blood seeping through his sleeve. “You make this so much fun.”

You don’t waste time responding, instead darting past him again. His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist, and for a brief moment, you’re yanked back against him. His grip is ironclad, and you twist and thrash, trying to break free.

“Caught you,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost tender. “You know, it’s so sweet for me when I finally catch you.”

“Let go of me!” you scream, your free hand clawing at his arm, but he only chuckles, his mask tilting down as if he’s watching you with amusement.

“Why would I let you go? You’re the prize, sweetheart.”

Fueled by anger and fear, you stomp hard on his foot. He grunts, his grip loosening just enough for you to wrench yourself free. You sprint out of the kitchen, back into the endless maze of hallways. You hear his laughter behind you, echoing through the house like a sinister melody.

“You can run all you want,” he calls out, his tone teasing, almost playful.

You whip around a corner, slamming a door shut behind you and locking it. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, pressing your ear to the door. His footsteps grow louder, then stop right outside.

“You’re not bad at this,” he says through the door, his voice muffled but still unsettlingly calm. “But I’m better.”

The knob rattles, and you back away, searching the room for anything you can use to defend yourself. Your eyes land on a metal curtain rod, and you grab it just as the door bursts open. He steps inside, his shoulders squared, his head tilted like he’s enjoying the sight of you scrambling.

“Stay back!” you shout, holding the rod in front of you like a spear.

He pauses, then raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along.”

But the moment you lunge at him, he sidesteps effortlessly, grabbing the rod and yanking it out of your hands. You stumble, and before you can react, his arms are around you again, pinning you against his chest.

“Got you,” he whispers, his voice soft but dripping with satisfaction. His grip tightens as you thrash, his laugh rumbling against your back. “You’re such a fighter. That’s what makes you so perfect.”

“What the hell is your problem?” you shout, your voice cracking with frustration and fear.

He leans down, his masked face close to your ear. “You,” he says simply, his tone almost reverent. “You’re my problem. My reward.”

That word sends a chill down your spine, and your instincts kick in. You throw your head back, slamming it into his mask. He stumbles, momentarily dazed, and you break free once more, running with every ounce of strength you have left.

The chase continues, his footsteps never far behind, his laughter haunting every turn. But one thing is clear: he’s not just chasing you for sport.

You burst into another hallway, your lungs burning from the effort. Your legs feel heavy, but adrenaline keeps you moving. The sound of his footsteps behind you is relentless, echoing through the abandoned house like a predator stalking its prey. Every step sends a fresh wave of panic through your body.

Your eyes dart around, searching for an escape, a weapon, anything that could give you the upper hand. You spot a door slightly ajar to your left and dive into the room, quickly pressing your back against the wall. Your breaths come fast and shallow, your body trembling as you strain to hear his movements.

The footsteps stop.

The silence is deafening, wrapping around you like a vice. You clamp a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your breathing. A creak comes from the hallway, followed by his voice—low, teasing, and far too calm.

"You're so close," he singsongs. "I know it."

You grit your teeth, the urge to cry nearly overwhelming, but you swallow it down. This isn’t the time to panic. You inch toward the edge of the doorway, peeking out just enough to see his shadow moving across the opposite wall. He’s taking his time, dragging it out like he’s savoring the chase.

You step back into the room, your hands fumbling in the darkness for something—anything—that can help. Your fingers brush against a broken table leg lying on the ground. It’s splintered and rough, but it’s better than nothing. You grab it, holding it tightly, readying yourself for his inevitable arrival.

And then you hear it—a faint creak right behind you.

You spin around, swinging the table leg wildly, but it hits nothing but air. He’s standing there, just out of reach, his white mask tilted slightly as if he’s amused by your attempt to defend yourself.

“You’re getting predictable,” he says, his tone almost playful.

“Stay back!” you shout, your voice trembling but firm.

He takes a step closer, his boots crunching against the old wooden floor. “You’re not really in a position to give orders, are you?”

You swing again, but he moves too fast, ducking under your attack and closing the distance between you in an instant. His gloved hand grabs the makeshift weapon, yanking it from your grasp and tossing it aside like it’s nothing.

Before you can react, he’s on you, his hands gripping your wrists and slamming you against the wall. The force knocks the air out of your lungs, and you struggle against him, but his grip is like steel.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost affectionate. “That fire in your eyes. I love it.”

“Let me go!” you scream, kicking at him, but he easily avoids your strikes, his body pressed too close for you to gain any leverage.

He tilts his head, studying you like you’re some kind of puzzle he’s desperate to solve. “Why would I do that? We’re having so much fun.”

“You’re insane,” you spit, your voice shaking with anger and fear.

He chuckles softly, his gloved hand brushing a strand of hair out of your face. The gesture is oddly gentle, a stark contrast to the violence of the situation. “Maybe,” he says, his tone almost contemplative. “But you make it worth it.”

Summoning every ounce of strength you have left, you lift your knee sharply, aiming for his stomach. He grunts, his grip loosening just enough for you to shove him back and dart past him.

You don’t look back as you run, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. The house feels endless, the hallways stretching on forever, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

Behind you, his laughter rings out, cold and unhinged. “Run all you want!” he calls after you.

You burst into another room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind you. Your eyes dart around, searching for an exit, but all you see are boarded-up windows and a single, dusty wardrobe in the corner.

The door rattles violently, and you back away, your body trembling as the lock starts to give way.

You find an old crowbar leaning against the wall. Without hesitation, you grab it and rush to the boarded-up window. The wood is old and brittle, but the panic coursing through your veins gives you strength as you wedge the crowbar between the planks and pry them loose, one by one.

The door behind you shakes violently as he slams into it again and again, each hit sending splinters flying from the frame.

“Hurry, hurry,” you mutter under your breath, sweat dripping down your temple as the final plank falls free.

You look through the shattered glass and gasp. The drop is much higher than you anticipated—two stories at least. Your heart sinks, but the sight of thick, overgrown bushes below gives you a sliver of hope. You glance back just in time to see the door burst open, the lock snapping off entirely.

There he stands, his chest rising and falling as if the chase had been a thrill for him, the white mask gleaming in the dim light. The way he tilts his head, slowly and deliberately, makes your stomach turn.

"Going somewhere?" he teases, taking a step forward.

Without thinking, you climb onto the ledge, gripping the sides of the window for balance. The cool night air bites at your skin, and your heart races as you glance down at the bushes.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice sharp now, losing the playful edge.

You don’t wait for him to finish whatever twisted thing he was about to say. Instead, you suck in a deep breath and leap.

The air rushes past you, the world spinning for a split second before you crash into the bushes below. The impact knocks the wind out of you, branches scratching your arms and legs as you tumble through the foliage. For a moment, you lie there, stunned, your lungs burning as you try to catch your breath.

Above you, his figure appears in the window. He doesn’t follow immediately; instead, he leans out, watching you with a predatory stillness that makes your skin crawl.

"You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?" he calls, his voice echoing in the night air.

Ignoring him, you scramble to your feet, your muscles screaming in protest. The bushes have softened the fall, but you’re bruised and battered.

You take off running, your feet pounding against the uneven ground. The house looms behind you, its shadow stretching out like it’s trying to pull you back. The grocery bag left behind.

The house’s silhouette fades into the distance as you sprint down the overgrown path, branches snagging at your clothes and sharp stones biting into the soles of your shoes. The air is cold, sharp, but it does nothing to dull the heat of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

For a moment, the only sound is your ragged breathing and the thundering of your heart in your ears. The silence feels eerie—too quiet. Your instincts scream at you to keep going, but a flicker of doubt slows your pace.

That’s when you hear it.

The heavy thud of footsteps slamming against the ground, gaining on you.

You risk a glance over your shoulder, and your blood runs cold. He’s there, his long strides closing the gap between you. The mask hides his expression, but his posture, the way his shoulders hunch slightly forward in pursuit, tells you everything: he’s not letting you go.

“Run faster,” he taunts, his voice carrying through the still night air. It’s playful, like he’s enjoying the chase.

Fear electrifies your limbs, pushing you to move faster. The path ahead disappears into a thick forest, the tree line dark and menacing under the faint moonlight. You hesitate for just a second, but the sound of his footsteps—closer now—leaves you no choice.

You dart into the woods, branches whipping at your face and tearing at your jacket. The uneven forest floor threatens to trip you with every step, but you refuse to stop. The tall trees feel suffocating, their shadows long and jagged, closing in on you as if the forest itself is conspiring with him.

His footsteps follow, crunching leaves and snapping twigs. He’s still behind you, relentless. The sound is maddening, his pace steady, like he knows he’ll catch you eventually.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he calls out, his voice unnervingly calm now. “You can’t hide from me.”

You stumble over a root, barely catching yourself on a nearby tree. Gritting your teeth, you push forward, weaving through the trees, hoping the dense forest will slow him down.

Your lungs burn, your legs ache, but you can’t stop—not when you can still hear him.

Then, up ahead, you spot a small clearing. You race toward it, desperate for open space, for anything that might give you an advantage.

But as you burst into the clearing, you realize your mistake. It’s a dead end, surrounded by towering rock formations on three sides.

Panic grips you as you spin around, searching for another path. The forest is silent again, but it’s the kind of silence that makes your skin crawl. You know he’s there, watching.

And then he steps into the clearing, his figure tall and imposing against the dark backdrop of the trees. The mask tilts slightly, like he’s studying you, savoring the moment.

“You’re making this so much more exciting than I imagined,” he says, his voice low and smooth, almost like a purr. He takes a step closer, the blade glinting faintly in his hand.

You back away, your chest heaving, your mind racing for a way out. But the rocks block any escape, and the forest behind him feels like a trap.

“Don’t look so scared,” he says, taking another step forward. “You’ve been so clever tonight. It’s almost a shame it has to end.”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to think.

Your back presses against the cold rock, the jagged surface biting into your skin through your jacket. Your breaths come in sharp gasps, your chest heaving as you try to think. Anything. A way out. A distraction.

He steps closer, his boots crunching on the forest floor, deliberate and unhurried. He knows you have nowhere to go. He tilts his head, studying you like a predator savoring its prey.

“You know,” he says, voice dripping with mock affection, “you really are something else. I’ve chased plenty before, but none of them…” He pauses, gesturing toward you with the knife, “…none of them made my heart race quite like this.”

You feel your stomach churn, the sheer audacity of his words igniting a spark of anger amidst your fear. But there’s no time for a retort—he’s only a few steps away now.

His eyes—hidden behind the mask—feel like they’re boring into your soul. You glance around the clearing, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon. A stick, a rock, anything.

He notices your shifting gaze and chuckles. “What’s the plan now? Going to throw a pebble at me?”

Focus, you tell yourself, swallowing the lump of fear rising in your throat.

When he’s close enough, you act on impulse. You crouch low, grabbing a fist-sized rock near your feet. With all your strength, you hurl it at him.

He reacts quickly, dodging the rock with ease, his body twisting to the side. But it’s the distraction you needed. As he recovers, you dart to the side, aiming for the gap between him and the edge of the forest.

He’s fast—faster than you expect. You feel his hand graze your arm as you slip past him, but you manage to keep running, your feet pounding against the dirt as you plunge back into the dense trees.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable!” he shouts behind you, his voice tinged with amusement but also frustration.

You don’t stop. The forest is darker now, the moonlight barely penetrating the canopy above. Every branch that snaps under your feet feels like a signal to him, guiding him closer.

Your lungs burn, and your legs threaten to give out, but the primal need to survive keeps you moving. Then, in the distance, you spot it—lights. Faint, flickering, but unmistakable. A cabin? A campsite? You can’t be sure, but it’s hope.

You push yourself harder, your eyes locked on the distant glow. But the footsteps behind you grow louder, closer. He’s gaining on you.

And then—crash. You trip over a root, your body slamming into the ground with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. Pain radiates through your knees and palms as you scramble to get up, dirt caked on your hands.

Before you can move, his boot slams down on the ground beside you, the blade of his knife glinting as he crouches down.

“There you are,” he says softly, his voice dripping with mock relief, as if he’s found something precious. His hand reaches out, grabbing your wrist before you can crawl away.

“Let me go!” you scream, kicking and thrashing. One of your punches lands on his chest and he grunts in pain, momentarily loosening his grip.

You seize the chance, wriggling free and stumbling to your feet. Your eyes dart back to the lights in the distance, and you take off running again, ignoring the burning pain in your legs and the pounding in your chest.

“You’re just making me want you more!” he shouts after you, the words sending a fresh wave of terror coursing through your veins.

The lights grow brighter as you draw closer. You don’t know who or what you’ll find there, but it’s your only chance. Please, you think desperately, please let someone be there.

Behind you, his footsteps quicken, and you know he’s not far.

You don’t even hear him closing the distance behind you until it’s too late. A hand suddenly clamps over your mouth, muffling the scream that instinctively rises in your throat. His other arm snakes around your waist, locking you against his chest like iron.

Your heart pounds wildly as you thrash and kick, but he’s too strong, dragging you backward as if your struggling means nothing.

“Caught you,” he murmurs in a low, almost amused tone, his breath brushing against your ear.

The lights in the distance—your last shred of hope—fade further and further away as he drags you back toward the clearing. The forest seems darker now, the shadows deeper, closing in around you as if they’re working with him.

When he reaches the clearing, he wastes no time. He throws you down to the ground with a force that knocks the wind out of you. Your back hits the dirt, and before you can even think about scrambling away, he’s on top of you, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other pressing firmly against your shoulder to keep you in place.

“Stop squirming,” he growls, his tone no longer playful. It’s sharp, commanding, like he’s finally losing patience.

You try to buck him off, twisting your body and kicking your legs, but he doesn’t budge. His weight presses down on you, and the knife in his hand gleams in the faint moonlight.

“I really don’t want to hurt you,” he says, his voice softening into something unsettlingly tender. His free hand brushes a strand of hair out of your face, his gloved fingers lingering against your skin. “But you’re making it so difficult.”

You glare up at him, fire burning in your eyes despite the fear gripping your chest.

“God, I love that,” he says with a low chuckle. “That fight in you. You don’t even realize how much you stand out, do you? How much more alive you are compared to everyone else I’ve met.”

His words send a chill down your spine. You thrash again, but he only tightens his grip on your wrists, leaning in closer until his masked face is mere inches from yours.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, his tone almost mocking. “You should be thanking me. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be just another nobody. But now…” He trails off, tilting his head as if he’s admiring a work of art.

You turn your head to the side, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crying out in frustration or fear.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice low but firm. When you don’t comply, his grip on your wrists tightens painfully, making you wince.

You turn your head back to glare at him, hatred burning in your eyes.

“There she is,” he says softly, almost reverently. “That fire… Don’t ever lose that.”

The knife in his hand flashes as he moves it closer, and for a horrifying moment, you think he’s going to stab you. But instead, he presses the flat of the blade against your cheek, the cold metal sending a shiver through your body.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “And no matter how far you run or how hard you fight, I’ll always catch you.”

You grit your teeth, your mind racing for a way out. He’s too strong, too fast—but maybe, just maybe, you can use his arrogance against him.

“Go to hell,” you spit, your voice trembling but defiant.

His laughter fills the clearing, low and dark, as if your defiance only fuels his twisted amusement. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in closer, his mask nearly brushing your forehead. “Hell is wherever you aren’t.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, the weight of them suffocating. His voice is smooth, almost sweet, but the malice behind it is unmistakable. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, fighting the fear clawing its way through your chest.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he murmurs, tilting his head as if observing you from a new angle. “You can run, you can fight, but in the end, it’s always going to be me and you. No one else matters.”

Your breath catches as his gloved fingers trail down your cheek, the contact both gentle and deeply unsettling. You flinch away, but the weight of his body keeps you pinned to the ground.

“Still so stubborn,” he muses, almost fondly. “It’s adorable, really. Makes this so much more satisfying.”

You glare up at him, your jaw clenched tightly. You feel your pulse pounding in your ears as your mind races, searching for any way to escape. His grip isn’t as firm now—his arrogance has left an opening, and you have to act fast.

With a burst of adrenaline, you jerk your knee upward, slamming it into his stomach. The air leaves his lungs in a sharp gasp, and his grip on you falters just enough for you to slip free.

You don’t waste a second. Scrambling to your feet, you push past him and take off running, your heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else.

Behind you, his laughter rings out again, low and cruel, but you don’t dare look back.

“Run, sweetheart!” he calls after you, his voice laced with dark amusement. “Let’s see how far you get this time!”

You tear through the forest, the branches clawing at your arms and face. The air is cold and sharp in your lungs, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

The sound of his footsteps behind you sends a fresh wave of terror through your veins. He’s faster than you, more experienced in this game of cat and mouse. But you refuse to let him win.

As you weave through the trees, you spot a cluster of rocks up ahead—jagged and uneven, but large enough to provide some cover. Without hesitation, you dive behind them, crouching low and trying to steady your breathing.

The footsteps slow, then stop.

“Where are you, little mouse?” his voice calls out, taunting and playful. “I know you’re close.”

You press a hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing, your entire body trembling. He’s so close you can hear the crunch of leaves under his boots as he moves.

“You can hide all you want,” he says, his tone almost sing-song. “But you’ll come back to me eventually. You always do.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to steady your racing thoughts. There has to be a way out of this. There has to be.

The sound of his footsteps fades slightly as he moves further into the forest, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he circles back. You glance around, your eyes darting between the trees and the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the canopy.

Then you see it—a narrow path winding down the hill, almost invisible beneath the dense foliage. It’s risky, but it might be your only shot.

Summoning every ounce of courage, you take a deep breath and bolt from your hiding spot, darting toward the path as silently as you can.

But his laughter follows you again, closer this time, chilling and relentless.

“Oh, there you are!” he exclaims, and the sound of his footsteps erupts behind you once more.

Panic surges through you as you sprint down the path, the uneven ground threatening to trip you with every step.

You darted down the narrow path, your smaller frame weaving effortlessly through the low-hanging branches and dense underbrush. Every breath felt like fire in your lungs, but you had gained some distance. His heavier, taller frame wasn’t as agile as yours, giving you the upper hand in this chase—at least for now.

Your mind raced as you spotted a small clearing ahead. You knew you couldn’t keep running forever; he was relentless, and eventually, he’d catch up. But you had something he didn’t: creativity and a desperate will to survive.

Scanning the area quickly, you noticed a tangle of vines hanging from a low branch, some loose rocks scattered on the ground, and a sturdy fallen tree trunk. An idea sparked in your mind, and you didn’t hesitate.

Grabbing the vines, you tugged them free from the branch and looped them across the path at ankle height, tying them tightly between two trees. Next, you placed the rocks strategically along the trail, half-buried in the dirt to make them harder to spot. Finally, you pushed the fallen tree trunk to the edge of the path, balancing it precariously against a rock, so the slightest nudge would send it rolling.

You heard his footsteps approaching fast, his taunting voice cutting through the silence.

“Getting tired, sweetheart? You’re making this too easy!”

You ducked behind a thick tree trunk, your heart pounding in your chest. You clutched a thick branch in your hands, ready to fight if your trap didn’t work.

The sound of his boots hitting the ground grew louder until you saw his dark figure barreling toward the clearing. He didn’t slow down, too focused on chasing you to notice the subtle trap you’d set.

The moment his foot caught the vine, he stumbled forward, his balance thrown off. His boot slammed into one of the hidden rocks, sending him lurching sideways. Before he could recover, the fallen tree trunk tipped over and rolled directly toward him.

“Shit!” he snarled, barely dodging the trunk as it crashed into the ground.

The commotion gave you the distraction you needed. While he cursed and scrambled to his feet, you slipped away, keeping low and moving as quietly as possible.

You didn’t stop until you found yourself on the edge of the forest, the dim glow of the streetlights in the distance signaling safety. Gasping for breath, you spotted your abandoned grocery bag near the roadside. Without thinking, you grabbed it, clutching it tightly to your chest like a lifeline.

Reaching into your pocket, your fingers fumbled over the smooth surface of your phone. Relief surged through you as you unlocked it, your shaking hands dialing the police.

The line rang twice before a calm voice answered. “Emergency services, what’s your location?”

“I… I’m near the forest,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “There’s—there’s someone chasing me. He’s dangerous. Please, you have to send help!”

“Stay on the line,” the operator said firmly. “Officers are on their way. Can you describe the man?”

You glanced back at the dark forest, half-expecting to see that white mask emerge from the shadows. “He’s… tall. He’s wearing black, and he has a mask. Please, hurry!”

“Stay where you are, and keep yourself safe,” the operator instructed.

You nodded, even though they couldn’t see you, clutching the phone tightly as you kept your eyes fixed on the forest’s edge. Your body trembled with exhaustion and fear, but you refused to let your guard down.

In the distance, you heard the faint wail of sirens. Help was coming. You just had to hold on a little longer.

As the sound of the sirens grew louder, you felt a flicker of relief—hope that maybe, just maybe, this nightmare was coming to an end. You stood rooted to the spot, your breath shaky and uneven, staring at the dark line of trees, half-expecting him to step out at any second.

The grocery bag in your arms felt like dead weight now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of it. It was the only thing grounding you in reality amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, a rustle came from the forest’s edge. Your heart leapt into your throat, and your entire body stiffened. There he was.

He didn’t move closer—he just stood there, half-hidden by the shadows, watching you.

You stumbled back, gripping your phone tighter. “The police are coming!” you yelled, your voice cracking. “You’re done!”

He cocked his head, unmoved by your words, his hand slowly reaching up to adjust the mask as if to taunt you.

The sirens were deafening now, blue and red lights flashing in the distance. A police car screeched to a halt at the curb, two officers stepping out quickly, their hands hovering near their holsters.

“He’s there!” you shouted, pointing toward the forest.

But when you turned back, he was gone. The trees were still, the shadows undisturbed. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air.

One of the officers approached you cautiously, his flashlight scanning the area. “Miss, are you hurt?”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “He was right there. He… he was watching me.”

The second officer moved toward the forest’s edge, his flashlight sweeping across the trees. “We’ll check the area,” he said, motioning for his partner to follow.

They disappeared into the woods, leaving you standing by the police car. The operator on the phone was still speaking, but their words sounded distant, drowned out by the pounding of your heart.

A few minutes later, the officers returned, shaking their heads. “We didn’t see anyone,” one of them said. “But there are clear signs of movement in the brush. We’ll keep searching.”

“He’s out there,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “He’s the one who… who killed those kids. He tried to kill me!”

The officer nodded, his expression serious. “We believe you. We’ll make sure the area is secured. Do you have somewhere safe to stay tonight?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your phone. Ni-ki’s name flashed across the screen in a text notification. For a brief moment, you considered calling him, but then you shook your head. This wasn’t something you wanted to drag anyone else into—not him, not anyone.

“I’ll be fine,” you lied, your voice barely steady.

The officers exchanged a look but didn’t push further. “We’ll escort you home,” one of them said, opening the passenger door of the car for you.

You climbed in, clutching the grocery bag like a lifeline as the car pulled away. Through the window, you stared back at the forest, half-expecting to see that mask watching you from the shadows again.

But there was nothing.

Just the trees, silent and still.

--

You lay in bed, the blankets twisted around your body, but the warmth of them did nothing to calm the chill that had settled deep in your bones. Your phone sat on the nightstand, screen glowing softly in the dark, but you hadn’t looked at it in what felt like hours.

Every time you closed your eyes, the image of that mask—the twisted, mocking grin—seemed to float in your mind, just out of reach. You could almost hear his voice in your head, low and smooth, the way he’d whispered into your ear, the way he’d taunted you. “Hell is wherever you aren’t.”

The words had haunted you all evening.

You had tried to shake them off, to bury them beneath the numbing exhaustion that should have come with the adrenaline you’d been running on, but your body refused to cooperate. Even with the police’s reassurances, you couldn’t stop the feeling that something was still lurking just beyond the edge of your awareness.

What if he was still out there? What if he had been watching you tonight, too? The thought of it made your pulse race, your heart thumping too loud in the silence of your room.

You grabbed your phone, staring at it in your hands, weighing whether to text Ni-ki. He had sent you a message earlier, asking if you were okay, but you hadn’t responded. Part of you wanted to reach out, wanted to tell him everything, but another part—no, a bigger part—didn’t want to drag him into this any deeper. He didn’t deserve it.

You tossed the phone aside and stared up at the ceiling, the quiet of your apartment settling around you like a heavy blanket, thick and suffocating. The rain had started up again, tapping lightly against your window. You listened to the rhythmic pattering, your mind drifting in and out of awareness, trying to push away the lingering fear.

It wasn’t long before the sound of the doorbell echoed through the apartment.

Your heart leapt into your throat, your whole body freezing, every muscle stiffening at once. The sound of the doorbell, so sharp and unexpected, felt like an intrusion, a sign of something you couldn't escape.

You waited, breath held, listening for footsteps. But there was nothing. Not at first. Just the sound of rain falling and the eerie quiet of the house.

Then, a faint knock at the door. Three taps.

You didn't move. Didn't even breathe.

And that's when your phone buzzed, the text you had been avoiding lighting up the screen.

"Are you okay? Please let me know."

You knew it was Ni-ki. His concern was so evident in the words, the kind of concern that made your heart ache. You felt a wave of guilt rise in your chest.

But that knock, those taps on the door—they wouldn’t go away.

Your heart hammered in your chest as the knock echoed again. You sat frozen, unsure of what to do, your mind racing with possibilities. Was it him? The killer, the masked figure who had haunted your every step since that night? Or was it someone else—someone who could help you, someone who had heard your silent cries for help?

You reached for your phone, your fingers trembling as you unlocked it and quickly typed a response to Ni-ki.

I’m okay. Just… a little freaked out. I’ll be fine.

You hesitated before sending it, but the longer you sat there, the more you realized you couldn't keep the fear buried. You needed help, but you didn’t want to drag him into this. You didn’t want him to be in danger, especially when you didn’t know who or what was on the other side of that door.

But the knocking continued. Three slow, deliberate taps again. This time, it felt more urgent. Like whoever was out there knew you were in the apartment.

You moved cautiously to the window, peeking through the blinds to see if there was anyone outside. The rain had let up slightly, but it was still dark, the street barely visible in the dim light from the streetlamp. There was no sign of anyone.

Still, the knocking continued.

Your mind raced. Could you trust it?

You quietly moved to the door, pressing your ear against it, listening for any sounds from the other side. The knocking had stopped, and the silence stretched on for a few moments, stretching your nerves thinner with each passing second.

Then, without warning, the door handle jiggled. You stiffened, holding your breath as you backed away.

Whoever was out there was waiting.

You reached for the lock, your hands shaking, and with a quiet click, you turned it. Just as you were about to open the door, you heard a faint voice, soft but clear.

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat. The voice was familiar.

You opened the door, and there he was. Ni-ki. Standing in your doorway, looking concerned, his expression soft but full of worry. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of distress.

“You… you came?” You whispered, surprised and relieved all at once.

Ni-ki stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. “I got worried,” he said quietly, his voice low.

You nodded, a wave of relief washing over you. But before you could speak, Ni-ki’s eyes caught something on the table—your phone, with his message still displayed.

His expression faltered slightly, his eyes lingering on the text as if searching for the truth behind it.

“Are you really okay?” he asked softly, stepping closer to you. “I know you said you were fine, but… I’m not sure I believe that.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, but you managed a weak smile, trying to reassure him. “I’m okay now… I’m just… I’ve been a little scared, that’s all.”

Ni-ki didn’t say anything. He simply walked over to you, and without another word, he wrapped his arms around you.

Ni-ki gently guided you to the couch, his touch reassuring and steady as he helped you sit down. The weight of everything—of the fear, the tension, the uncertainty—finally began to crash down on you all at once. You buried your face in your hands, your shoulders trembling as the tears you’d been holding back for so long finally spilled over.

Ni-ki sat next to you, his presence calm and warm, like a shelter from the storm. He didn’t say anything at first, just let you cry, the sound of your sobs the only noise between the two of you. His hand found its way to your back, rubbing slow, comforting circles, as he whispered softly to you.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. “I’m here.”

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself lean into the comfort. The tears flowed freely, the weight of everything you’d been through crashing over you in waves, but there was no judgment, no rushing to make you feel better.

“I know it’s been so hard,” Ni-ki continued, his voice steady and warm. “But I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded, the sobs slowly beginning to subside as his words sank in.

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, the gesture simple but grounding. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I swear.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t want to burden you with all of this. I didn’t want you to have to deal with my… my fear.”

Ni-ki shook his head, his eyes softening. “Hey, don’t apologize. You’re not a burden. You’re my friend, and you mean more to me than anything. I don’t care what’s going on, I’m not leaving you to deal with it alone.”

His words wrapped around you like a lifeline, and you felt a warmth that cut through the cold fear still lingering in your chest.

"Thank you," you whispered, the words barely more than a breath. "I don’t know what I would’ve done without you."

Ni-ki gave you a soft, reassuring smile. "You don’t have to. I’ll always be here for you."

After he put on a movie, its soft glow illuminating the room, you felt yourself slowly relaxing next to Ni-ki. The weight of everything still lingered in the back of your mind, but his presence beside you—calm, steady, unwavering—made it easier to breathe, to forget, even if just for a little while. The tension in your body began to ease as the gentle hum of the movie filled the space, and before you even realized it, your eyelids grew heavy.

You shifted slightly, curling up against the couch, subconsciously inching closer to Ni-ki, the warmth of his body providing comfort. It wasn’t long before you drifted off, the quiet rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Ni-ki, noticing your soft exhale, glanced down at you, a small, amused smirk curling at the corners of his lips. You were so still, so vulnerable in your sleep. His gaze softened as he studied you, his fingers gently brushing the strands of hair that fell across your face, tucking them behind your ear.

His heart beat faster as he took in the sight of you, lying so trustingly beside him, completely unaware of the way his eyes roamed over you. His fingers lingered, caressing your skin. He admired the way your features softened in sleep, how relaxed you looked.

“I’d do anything to make sure you’re always by my side.” He whispered, his voice low, barely audible.

His smirk deepened, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek. “You’re far too precious to let anyone else have you.”

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered into your ear, “I’ll protect you, forever. You’re my treasure, and I won’t let anyone take you away. Not now, not ever.”

Ni-ki pulled you a little closer, adjusting your position so you were nestled more comfortably against him, and he rested his head against the back of the couch, keeping his gaze fixed on you. The way you slept so soundly in his arms sent a strange rush of satisfaction through him.

Ni-ki's fingers gently brushed over your hair, his touch tender as he continued to gaze at you. His mind raced with thoughts, each one swirling around the way you looked so peaceful, so trusting, in his arms. There was a sense of calm that settled over him too, a deep, almost primal satisfaction in knowing you were there—safe, protected, and unaware of the way his heart beat faster with each passing moment.

He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you, as his gaze moved from your peaceful face to the way you nestled against him. The warmth of your body, the slow rise and fall of your chest, all of it made him feel something deep within, something that told him, you’re mine. His fingers slid down your arm, brushing lightly against your skin as if to remind himself that you were right here, with him.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, his feelings for you had become so much more than just care or friendship. You had a hold on him—one that was impossible to ignore, impossible to break free from. He’d always been protective of you, sure, but now, as he looked at you sleeping so soundly, he realized how much deeper his attachment had grown.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Rest now," he whispered, barely audible, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the perfect moment. "I’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to worry about a thing."

The way you fit against him, how natural it felt to have you there, was enough to make his heart ache in the best way. You had no idea how much he needed you, how much he wanted to keep you close, but he would make sure you felt that care every single day.

He wasn’t going to let go of this moment—not yet, not ever. He would make sure you were safe and happy. You were his world now, and he would do anything to keep it that way.

--

As the days passed, you started to notice two things. The first was that Ni-ki seemed to be… everywhere. Whether it was during lunch, between classes, or after school, he was always by your side. It wasn’t just that he was constantly close to you; he somehow made sure that no matter what, your attention was on him. Even when you tried to talk to your friends, he'd find a way to insert himself into the conversation, either by cracking a joke or pulling you away with a light touch on your arm, directing your attention back to him. e was making sure he had some kind of excuse to keep you close—whether it was an excuse to study together, a reason to walk you to your next class, or just a casual invitation to hang out after school. He was clingy, yes, but it didn’t feel suffocating.

The second thing that began to weigh on you was the strange shift happening around the school. It wasn’t a loud change, but it was impossible to ignore. The usual bullies, the ones who would taunt others, pick on those weaker than them, and make life miserable for anyone they considered "lesser," some of them were gone entirely, never seen again. Others were found in a state that was… unsettling. And the ones who still lingered, seemed to have a new fear in their eyes. They were nervous, always looking over their shoulders, as if expecting someone to jump out at them at any moment. You heard hushed whispers in the hallways about how the only people who were being targeted were those who’d tormented others—bullies who had crossed a line and had paid the price for it.

It wasn’t just idle gossip anymore. There was a clear pattern forming—those who’d been mean, those who had taken pleasure in others' pain, were the ones disappearing or found dead. And no one wanted to be the next victim. It was almost like there was a sense of fear hanging in the air, suffocating the usual bravado that these students carried.

One afternoon, as you sat with Ni-ki in the cafeteria, you couldn't help but notice the change in the atmosphere. The usual suspects who would pick fights or belittle others were nowhere to be seen. A few students whispered nervously, glancing at the empty seats where the loudest voices used to sit. Ni-ki, ever the observant one, seemed to catch on to your unease and leaned closer, his voice low as he spoke, “It’s strange, isn’t it? How quiet it is now. Not many people causing trouble anymore.”

You glanced over at him, slightly startled by his words, but the look on his face was almost… satisfied. It was as if he knew more than he was letting on. "Yeah," you said quietly, lowering your voice, "I haven’t seen some of them around lately. It’s… like they’re just gone."

Ni-ki smirked slightly, a glint of something dark in his eyes, but he didn’t comment further. Instead, he reached for your hand, gently brushing his fingers against yours as if to reassure you, but also claiming you in his own quiet way. “People like them never last long. They always get what's coming to them.”

You looked at Ni-ki, about to say something, to defend the idea that not everyone deserved what was happening. But as you paused and really thought about it, the words didn’t come. What could you really say in defense of them? The bullies at school had picked on others without mercy, with no regard for the pain they caused. They had gone out of their way to hurt people, and more than once, you had seen how cruel and relentless they could be. They never showed any sympathy. So why should you feel sympathy for them now?

The thought sat uneasily in your chest, but you couldn’t find the words to oppose what Ni-ki had said. Instead, you turned your attention back to your lunch, pushing the food around on your plate without much appetite. You shrugged casually, as if the whole thing didn’t matter to you.

But in that moment, Ni-ki's grin grew wider, a silent triumph flickering in his eyes. He’d been watching you closely, sensing that shift in your mindset, and now, he had won this silent battle. You didn’t argue. You didn’t fight him on it.

For a moment, you felt his gaze linger on you, as if trying to decipher the change within you. His fingers tightened around your hand just a little, a subtle claim, as if to mark his success.

“Good,” he said softly, almost under his breath, as he leaned back in his chair, still watching you with a look of quiet satisfaction.

You were barely aware of how much Ni-ki had already influenced you—how much his presence and his words had started to shape your thoughts. You couldn’t deny that you felt a strange sense of security when you were around him, a feeling that only grew stronger with each passing day.

As the lunch bell rang and people started to get up, you stood with him, quietly gathering your things. Ni-ki followed you out of the cafeteria, his presence close behind you, and you didn’t voice it, you didn’t mind having him by your side. Not one bit.

The days blurred together, and without realizing it, Ni-ki’s influence over you deepened. It started small, with offhand comments he’d make during class or when you were walking home together, words that felt comforting at the time, like whispers of protection. “No one understand you like I do,” he’d say, casually brushing your hair out of your face or squeezing your hand.

At first, it was easy to dismiss. A small comment here and there, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t alone. But slowly, those comments became more frequent, more insistent. Ni-ki’s voice seemed to crawl into your mind during the quiet moments when you were alone, when the noise of the world faded away.

“You don’t need them,” he’d tell you, his voice soft but certain. “They only want something from you. They don’t care about you, not like I do.”

It was subtle at first—just little seeds of doubt about the people around you, people you had known for years. The classmates who had once made you feel safe now started to feel like strangers, like people who would only bring harm.

The bullies, those who had tormented you and others for so long, would occasionally come to you, apologies on their lips or fake smiles plastered on their faces. They’d try to beg for your forgiveness, as though everything could just be forgotten with a few words. You had tried to be kind, to forgive them in the past, but now? Now it felt wrong. Ni-ki’s words echoed in your mind every time one of them came near.

“You don’t owe them anything,” he’d whisper. “They don’t deserve your kindness. Don’t be fooled by their fake apologies.”

And so, you didn’t. You turned away, ignoring their desperate attempts to make amends, not feeling guilty or conflicted anymore. They didn’t deserve your forgiveness. They hadn’t earned it, not after everything they had put you through.

But it wasn’t just the bullies. Ni-ki’s words had woven themselves into your everyday life, shaping your thoughts and actions, slowly erasing the boundaries you once held so firm. He started influencing the way you saw people, the way you interacted with them. Slowly, everything became a reflection of what Ni-ki wanted, a twisted mirror of his desires.

And Ni-ki knew it. Every time you followed his guidance, every time you chose to act in a way that fed into his plans, there was a dark satisfaction in his eyes, a quiet pleasure in his smile.

It was as if he could feel the power he had over you, the way your thoughts bent to his will, the way your heart seemed to beat in time with his words.

“You see?” he’d murmur, that sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The world’s a lot easier when you’re with me, isn’t it?”

You didn’t have the words to fight back. You didn’t even want to anymore.

The more he was with you, the more his words echoed in your mind, the more you realized that the satisfaction he found in your compliance wasn’t just for him. It was for you, too. You wanted to make him proud, to feel his approval. It became your quiet obsession, that each small action you took to please him made you feel good.

The line between what was right and wrong began to blur, as Ni-ki’s influence crept deeper into every part of your life. You found yourself thinking less about what you had always known and more about what Ni-ki told you was true. His twisted view of the world started to become your reality.

And somewhere deep inside, you knew this wasn’t normal. But it felt too good to stop. It felt too easy, too natural to follow him, to listen to his words.

And with every step you took further into his world, Ni-ki’s smile grew just a little wider.

--

The late afternoon sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets as you walked home. The air had a faint chill, and your bag felt heavier than usual after the long day spent visiting your family. You adjusted it on your shoulder, absently scrolling through your phone as you neared your apartment.

Suddenly, someone walking toward you collided into your shoulder. The impact jolted your phone from your hands, and it clattered loudly onto the sidewalk. You gasped in surprise, looking up at the person who’d bumped into you.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man snapped, his tone laced with irritation. He didn’t even glance back as he shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets and kept walking, his head bowed against the wind.

Your mouth opened to retort, but you decided against it, your annoyance bubbling silently. With a sigh, you bent down to retrieve your phone, brushing off the faint scratches on its case. Muttering under your breath, you straightened up and continued on your way, your steps quicker now as the fading light seemed to make the streets feel emptier.

But you didn’t get far.

Just a few blocks from your building, you collided with someone again. This time, the impact was sudden and hard enough to make you stumble back a step. “Oh, I’m so sor—” The words barely escaped your lips before you felt something press firmly against your face.

A cloth.

You froze in shock as a strong hand gripped the back of your head, holding the cloth against your nose and mouth. You struggled immediately, panic coursing through your veins. You thrashed, clawing at the arm that held you, your muffled cries lost in the fabric. The sharp, sickly-sweet scent of chemicals invaded your senses, making your vision blur.

Your heart raced as you kicked out, trying to fight against the overwhelming dizziness that began to take hold. Your bag slipped off your shoulder and fell to the ground with a dull thud, but the grip on you didn’t loosen. The person—no, the attacker—held you firmly, their breath steady against your ear as your strength ebbed away.

The world around you dimmed, your arms growing heavy as your movements slowed. Your fingers lost their grip, falling limply to your sides as your knees buckled.

The last thing you felt was the strong arm catching your weight as your consciousness slipped away, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears fading into nothingness.

You woke with a pounding headache, the world spinning as your eyes fluttered open. The smell of damp earth and mildew hit your nose, making your stomach churn. Blinking, you tried to take in your surroundings. It was dimly lit, the flicker of a single bulb swaying from the ceiling casting eerie shadows on the cracked concrete walls.

A chill ran through you as you realized you were sitting on the cold ground, your arms pulled tightly behind you. Panic surged when you tried to move and felt the rough bite of rope against your wrists. You were tied up.

Your heart raced, and you looked around the room. It was then that you noticed them—two figures sitting directly across from you, also bound. One was gagged, their muffled attempts to speak barely audible, while the other sat in stunned silence, their wide eyes staring at the floor as if processing their own horror.

Recognition hit you like a punch to the gut.

The first person was someone you recognized from school, a notorious bully. You’d seen them torment others countless times, their cruel laugh echoing through hallways. They looked disheveled and terrified now, their bravado stripped away as they squirmed uselessly against their bonds.

The second person made your blood run cold. It was the man who had bumped into you on the street, the one who had insulted you without a second thought. His face was pale, his body trembling as he glanced around the room like a caged animal.

“What the hell...” you muttered under your breath, your voice shaky and raw.

Neither of them responded to you directly. The bully’s gag prevented them from saying anything coherent, and the man’s eyes darted nervously between you and the rest of the room.

You tried to calm your breathing, your mind racing for an explanation. Why were you here? Who had brought you here?

Before you could piece things together, a sound broke the tense silence: the creak of a door opening.

Your head snapped toward the far end of the basement, where a narrow staircase led up to a heavy wooden door. The hinges groaned as it slowly swung open, and for a brief moment, the only sound was the faint echo of dripping water from somewhere in the room.

Then, slow, deliberate footsteps descended the stairs.

Your breath hitched as the figure came into view—a familiar white mask catching the dim light, its hollow eyes fixed on the three of you. The killer’s tall, looming form filled the narrow staircase, and your heart plummeted into your stomach.

It was him.

He moved with a terrifying ease, his boots thudding against the worn wooden steps. The bully across from you froze, their muffled cries growing more frantic. The man from the street tried to scoot backward, but his bindings kept him in place.

The killer reached the bottom step, pausing to survey the room.

Then his eyes found you.

“Awake already,” he said, his voice low and smooth, laced with a mockery that made your skin crawl. He stepped closer, the soft scrape of his boots against the concrete amplifying your fear. “I was hoping for a little more suspense, but I guess this works too.”

You couldn’t speak, your throat tightening as he approached. Your heart pounded so loudly you thought it might burst.

The killer stopped just in front of you, towering over you like a shadow. He crouched down slowly and you flinched back instinctively, the ropes biting into your skin.

“Don’t be scared,” he said, almost soothingly. “I’d never hurt you. Not like them.”

He jerked his head toward the others, his tone darkening. “They’re the real problem, aren’t they?”

The bully whimpered, their body trembling violently. The man from the street muttered something incoherent, his face pale with terror.

The killer’s head snapped toward them. “Quiet,” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. Both of them fell silent instantly.

He turned his attention back to you, his tone softening again. “You don’t belong here with them,” he said, his gloved hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “But I couldn’t risk letting you get hurt, either.”

You recoiled from his touch.

The killer chuckled, low and dark before standing to his full height. “You’ll thank me someday.”

He turned his back on you, walking toward the bully, who was now shaking their head violently, muffled pleas escaping through the gag. The killer tilted his head, as if considering them.

“You,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “The things I’ve seen you do. The way you treat people. It’s pathetic.”

He pulled a knife from his belt, the blade gleaming under the flickering light. Your stomach lurched.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling. “Don’t—”

He turned his head slightly, addressing you without looking back. “Don’t what?” he asked, his tone mockingly sweet. “They deserve it, don’t they? After everything they’ve done? After everything they would’ve done to you if I hadn’t stepped in?”

Your mind raced, panic gripping you. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

You pulled against the ropes desperately, but they didn’t budge. Your heart pounded as you watched the killer raise the knife, his focus solely on the bully.

You couldn’t look away.

The killer crouched over the bully, his movements methodical, almost clinical, as he ran the blade down their arm, leaving a crimson trail. The muffled cries of pain filled the room, mixing with the sound of your own panicked breathing.

“Shh,” the killer whispered, his voice soft, mocking. “We wouldn’t want to disturb anyone, would we?”

The bully’s head shook frantically, tears streaking their face as they squirmed against the restraints. The knife moved again, this time slicing into their leg, and they screamed against the gag, their body convulsing in agony.

You felt frozen, your mind screaming at you to look away, to close your eyes, but you couldn’t. The horrifying scene played out in front of you, each sound, each movement burned into your memory.

The killer leaned in closer to the bully, his head tilting in that unnerving way. “This is what happens,” he murmured, his voice dripping with venom. “This is what you get for being cruel. For thinking you’re untouchable.”

Blood pooled beneath the chair, thick and dark, as the bully’s movements grew weaker. Their muffled screams turned into whimpers, their head lolling forward.

The killer stood up, the knife dripping in his hand. He turned to the other man—the one who had bumped into you earlier. The man’s eyes widened in terror, and he struggled against his bindings, managing to let out a strangled noise.

The killer took slow, deliberate steps toward him, his boots squelching in the blood-soaked floor. The man’s cries grew louder, more frantic, and you could see the pure panic in his eyes.

“Quiet,” the killer snapped, his voice sharp. “It’s your turn, but I promise to make it quick.”

You saw the man try to shout, his body thrashing violently, but the killer moved with chilling efficiency. He raised the knife and plunged it into the man’s chest with a sickening thud.

The man’s body jerked once, his muffled scream cutting off as blood bubbled at his lips. The killer twisted the blade before yanking it out, letting the body slump back into the chair, lifeless.

The room fell into a deafening silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing and the drip of blood hitting the concrete floor.

Then, slowly, the killer turned towards the bully.

He reached up, fingers hooking under the edge of his mask. You held your breath, your body stiffening as he began to lift it.

The white mask came off in one smooth motion, but from your position, you couldn’t see his face. His back was turned to you, shielding his identity.

What you could see was the reaction of the bully, who weakly lifted their head, their bloodied face twisting in horror. Their eyes widened, and a choked sound escaped their throat—half gasp, half sob.

The killer crouched in front of the bully, setting the mask down beside him. “You should’ve stayed in your place,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

The bully’s lips quivered, as if trying to form words, but no sound came out. They slumped further, their body trembling.

You didn’t dare move, your heart racing as you strained to make out his features, but the angle made it impossible.

The killer stood again, slipping the mask back on before turning his attention to you.

Your stomach churned as he began walking toward you, his footsteps unhurried, almost casual.

You pressed yourself against the chair, your mind racing for a way out, but there was nowhere to go. You were trapped.

His voice was calm, disturbingly so, as he crouched down in front of you, his bloodied knife resting casually in his hand. “People like them… they take and take, hurt and hurt, until someone stops them. I’m just doing what no one else will.” He said softly, almost as if speaking to a child.

You thrashed against the ropes binding you, the rough fibers biting into your skin. “You can’t just decide that!” you shouted, the words pouring out before you could think. “You’re not some kind of… of judge or executioner!”

The killer leaned forward, his presence overwhelming, his masked face inches from yours. You could feel the cold metal of the knife near your leg, the blood dripping from it staining the floor beneath you. “I don’t decide anything,” he murmured, his voice quiet but firm, laced with a sinister undertone. “They decided it themselves. Every cruel word, every time they tore someone down, every life they ruined… they sealed their own fate.”

You shook your head vehemently, your breathing ragged. “That doesn’t make it right!”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound reverberating in the hollow space of the basement. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “You still think the world is black and white, don’t you? That there’s some kind of fairness in it all?” He stood abruptly, towering over you, the knife twirling between his fingers. “The world isn’t fair. It’s a cruel, ugly place where people like them thrive because no one holds them accountable.”

Your voice cracked as you shot back, “And what makes you any different? You’re not saving anyone—you’re just a murderer!”

For a moment, the room fell deathly silent. The killer froze, his grip tightening on the knife. Then, he let out a dark, humorless laugh, his shoulders shaking. “A murderer?” he repeated, almost as if testing the word. “You’re wrong. Cause the difference is I know what I am.”

You stared at him, heart pounding, your body trembling as he slowly crouched back down, his masked face so close to yours.

“And here’s the thing, doll,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Deep down, you know I’m right. You’ve seen what people like them do. You’ve felt it.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words wormed their way into your mind. You hated how his tone softened, how it made him sound almost reasonable.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he continued, brushing a finger lightly against the ropes binding your wrist, his touch so delicate it sent chills down your spine. “You get it, even if you won’t admit it.”

Your breaths came out in short, shallow gasps as you watched him, your mind racing.

The killer stilled, his head tilting as he studied you, the sharp edge of his knife glinting in the dim light. “Where did the good version of you go?” he asked softly, almost disappointed. His voice carried a quiet intensity, laced with frustration. “The one who listened to me. Who followed my instructions without question.”

You blinked, confused and terrified, your lips trembling as you struggled to process his words. “What are you talking about?” you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of your fear.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head like a disappointed teacher scolding a wayward student. Slowly, he reached up to the edges of his mask, his fingers brushing over its smooth surface. “I guess it’s time we stopped playing this little game, huh?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, dread building with every passing second as he began to remove the mask. First, his chin came into view, sharp and familiar. Then his mouth—lips curved in a small, knowing smirk.

“No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your stomach twisting into knots.

The mask came off fully, and your breath hitched as the rest of his face was revealed. Those eyes, dark and piercing, stared back at you with a twisted mix of affection and amusement. It was a face you knew better than anyone else’s.

“...Ni-ki?” you stammered, tears spilling from your eyes as your mind struggled to reconcile what you were seeing.

He tilted his head, his smirk widening into something more sinister. “Surprise,” he said, his tone almost playful, as though this was all some sick joke.

Your body froze, every muscle locking in place as you stared at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “No… no, this can’t be real.”

“Oh, it’s very real,” Ni-ki replied, crouching down in front of you so you were at eye level. His gaze softened for a moment as he reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. It doesn’t suit you.”

You jerked your head away from his touch, your breathing ragged. “You—how could you—”

“How could I what?” he interrupted, his voice sharp now. “Do what needs to be done? Protect you from people like them?” He gestured toward the two lifeless bodies still slumped in the room.

“Protect me?” you choked out, incredulous. “You call this protection? You’re killing people, Ni-ki! This isn’t normal, this isn’t—”

“Shh,” he cut you off, pressing a finger to your lips. “Don’t ruin this moment with your panic. I know it’s a lot to take in, but think about it. Haven’t I always been there for you? Always protected you?”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, unable to speak as he leaned closer, his face just inches from yours.

“I did this for you,” he whispered, his tone eerily tender. “Every single one of them… they hurt you. Or they would’ve. And I couldn’t let that happen. I won’t let it happen.”

Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head, your voice cracking. “You’re not the Ni-ki I know. You can’t be.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Oh, but I am. I’m the real Ni-ki. The one who loves you enough to do what no one else will.” His hand reached out, cupping your face as his thumb traced your cheek. “You just don’t see it yet. But you will.”

You flinched under his touch, bile rising in your throat as you tried to twist away from him. “You’re crazy!”

“And you’re perfect,” he countered, his voice sweet, dripping with affection. “That’s why I can’t let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

Your breathing was shaky as you stared at Ni-ki, his face so familiar yet warped by the sinister edge in his expression. Tears blurred your vision, but you forced yourself to speak. “When… when did this start? Ni-ki, why—how did you—” You struggled to find the right words.

His head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a strange, unsettling mix of amusement and frustration. “When did it start?” he echoed, almost as if asking himself the same question. He leaned back slightly, still crouched in front of you, one knee on the ground, his arms resting on his bent leg.

There was a flicker in his dark eyes, a spark of something—anger, pain, sadness—all swirling together. He took a deep breath, his expression shifting to something almost depressing.

“You remember that week you got sick?” he asked softly, his voice calm but laced with something far darker.

You blinked, startled. “When I had the flu?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. You were out for almost a week. Barely even answered my texts. I was worried about you, of course, but… it wasn’t just that.” He paused, his jaw clenching as his tone grew colder.

“That was the week they started targeting me,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

You froze, the blood draining from your face as you realized what he was saying.

“They,” he continued bitterly, his gaze hardening. “The second you weren’t there, they saw me as an easy target. Your absence gave them permission to attack.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “I thought I could handle it. At first, I did. But then… it got worse. They didn’t stop.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done. His words poured out now, each one sharper than the last.

“They’d corner me. Taunt me. Spread rumors. Push me around in the hallways like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t even human. And the worst part?” His voice cracked slightly, his fists tightening at his sides. “You weren’t there. You didn’t even know. I told myself it wasn’t your fault—you were sick—but I was alone, and no one cared. No one stopped them.”

His voice rose with each word, anger and hurt dripping from every syllable. You could see his hands trembling slightly, his chest rising and falling as his breathing grew heavier.

“Ni-ki…” you started softly, guilt twisting in your stomach.

“I didn’t deserve it,” he snapped, cutting you off. His eyes burned with fury now, his voice trembling with emotion. “I never did anything to them. I was your friend, but that was enough for them. Just being close to you made me a target.”

Your mind reeled, piecing everything together. Memories of those days flooded back—how Ni-ki had seemed distant when you returned to school, quieter, more withdrawn. At the time, you’d thought he was just giving you space to recover, but now you understood.

Your lips parted in recognition, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut. “It was them,” you whispered. “Those same people. They’re the ones who—”

Ni-ki’s head snapped toward you, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes: validation. He nodded, his expression a mix of satisfaction and pain. “You understand now,” he said, his voice quiet but intense.

But you weren’t finished. “They’re the reason you… snapped,” you said, the word tasting bitter on your tongue.

His lips curled into a humorless smile as he tilted his head at you, studying your face like you were a puzzle he was finally solving. “Yeah,” he admitted. “They pushed me too far. And then… something inside me just… clicked.”

He leaned in closer, his voice soft but chilling. “I realized they didn’t deserve to get away with it. Not with what they did to me! They’re parasites, and the world is better off without them.”

You stared at him, trembling, your tears flowing freely now. “Ni-ki… this isn’t you. This isn’t—”

“It is me,” he said firmly, cutting you off again. His hand reached out to gently cradle your face, his touch surprisingly tender despite the blood still staining his fingers. “Oh, but this is the real me doll!”

“You can’t…” you choked out, your voice breaking. “You can’t just decide who deserves to live and who doesn’t. That’s not your choice to make!”

He smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek, smearing a tear. “Oh, but it is. Because no one else will. And I’ll keep doing it—again and again—even if that makes me seem crazy.”

You shook your head, sobbing quietly, but he only leaned closer, his forehead almost touching yours. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, his voice softening again. “I’m not the villain here. You’ll see that someday.”

You turned your head away, unable to meet his gaze, but his grip on your face tightened just enough to bring your attention back to him. “Someday,” he whispered, his lips brushing your forehead, “you’ll thank me.”

Ni-ki’s voice was calm yet insistent, each word weaving its way into your mind like a snake, coiling tightly around your thoughts. “They were the problem,” he repeated, his tone soft but unwavering. “Every single one of them. They hurt you, they hurt me, and they would’ve kept going. People like that don’t change.”

You shook your head weakly, tears blurring your vision. “No… no, you can’t just… You can’t decide—”

“I didn’t decide anything,” he interrupted, his voice sharpening just slightly. “They chose this. They chose to torment others, to stomp on anyone they thought was beneath them. You’ve seen it yourself. How many times have you been their target? How many times have they made you feel small?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came. Memories of those moments flashed through your mind—the taunts, the rumors, the laughter at your expense. You could still hear their voices, their mocking tones, still feel the sting of their words.

Ni-ki leaned in closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “They didn’t care about you. About anyone. They’re leeches, feeding off other people’s pain. And you want me to just… let them live? To give them the chance to hurt someone else?”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “People can change,” you whispered, though even you could hear the doubt in your voice.

“Can they?” he challenged, his lips quirking into a bitter smile. “Tell me, have you ever seen one of them apologize? Have they ever truly felt sorry for what they’ve done? Or do they just pretend to care when it benefits them?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He sighed, his hand brushing a strand of hair out of your face as if he were comforting you. “You’re too kind,” he murmured, almost wistfully. “That’s what I love about you. But kindness doesn’t work on people like them. They see it as weakness. They use it against you.”

His words slithered into your mind like a viper, sinking their fangs into your thoughts. They coiled around the doubt already lurking there, tightening their grip.

“They were the problem,” he repeated, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “You know I’m right. Deep down, you’ve always known it.”

You shook your head again, but it was weaker this time. The venom of his words was spreading, clouding your judgment. Memories of the bullies flashed through your mind again—how they’d laughed at you, taunted you, humiliated you. How no one had stopped them. How no one had cared.

“They didn’t deserve it,” you whispered, though the conviction in your voice was faltering.

“Didn’t they?” Ni-ki pressed, his gaze never leaving yours. “Think about it. Think about everything they’ve done. Everything they’ve said. Did they ever feel sorry? Did they ever stop to think about how their actions hurt others?”

You stayed silent, your breathing shaky.

“They didn’t care,” he said, his voice low but firm. “They never cared. And they never will. People like them… they only stop when someone makes them.”

His words kept slithering into your mind, twisting around your thoughts until they were all you could hear. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but… was he?

You felt your resolve cracking, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy stone. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t wrong. Maybe they really wouldn’t have stopped.

Your silence seemed to embolden him. He smiled, leaning closer, his forehead almost brushing yours. “See?” he whispered. “You’re starting to understand. I’m not the monster here. I’m the one who’s doing what no one else will.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but you didn’t speak. You didn’t deny him. You couldn’t.

Ni-ki smiled wider, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek, wiping away a tear. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with a twisted kind of pride. “You’ll see. One day, you’ll see that I did this for us. For you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to block out his words, but they were already there, buried deep in your mind.

You barely registered what was happening. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, the emotional toll of the past hours rendering you too drained to fight or even think straight. When Ni-ki untied your wrists and re-bound them in front of you instead, the shift barely registered in your foggy mind. You flinched slightly at his touch, but even that was weak.

Before you knew it, he was scooping you up, his arms cradling you securely as if you were something precious. Your legs, still bound, dangled uselessly. The motion made you groan softly in discomfort, but you didn’t resist. You couldn’t resist.

He carried you up the stairs, out of the dim, suffocating basement, and into a softly lit living room. The space was strangely simple, furnished with a small couch, a coffee table, and a few personal touches—a bookshelf in the corner, a stack of neatly folded blankets on a chair. It felt too… normal. Too domestic.

Ni-ki carefully lowered himself onto the couch, keeping you in his arms as if he were holding a fragile doll. He adjusted your position so you were leaning against him, your cheek resting against his chest. His fingers moved gently, brushing strands of hair out of your face, his touch light and tender.

“You’re so tired,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’ve been through so much. But it’s okay now. I’ve got you.”

Tears continued to stream down your cheeks, silent and unrelenting, as if your body didn’t know how else to process everything. You didn’t have the energy to speak, to scream, or even to flinch when his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tears.

“Shh,” he cooed, his lips curling into a soft smile, though his dark eyes gleamed with something far less gentle. “No more crying, sweetheart. They can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe now. Safe with me.”

You wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he was the danger you needed saving from, but the words wouldn’t come. Your chest felt tight, the weight of everything suffocating you.

Ni-ki’s other hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling lightly in your hair. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispered, his tone achingly sweet. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you. Just like I always have.”

The warmth of his embrace was suffocating in its own way, the tenderness of his touch a cruel mockery of the terror coursing through your veins. But as the minutes ticked by, your body, weakened and overwhelmed, began to betray you. Your muscles slackened, your breathing evened out, and though your mind screamed for you to resist, the exhaustion dragged you closer and closer to unconsciousness.

Ni-ki noticed the change immediately. He shifted slightly, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over the both of you, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment.

His eyes softened as he watched you, his gaze lingering on your face, as if he were memorizing every detail, every emotion flickering across your features. His fingers brushed lightly over your cheek, tracing the path of a tear you hadn't realized had fallen.

Then, slowly, he leaned down. You could feel his breath against your skin before his lips ever touched you, a soft, tentative brush against your temple. It was the faintest of touches, but the moment it happened, your heart skipped in your chest. His lips moved slowly across your skin, tender, careful, as if testing the waters.

You closed your eyes instinctively, your breath catching, not sure what to make of the emotions stirring within you. Your body reacted before your mind could process it—an unexpected warmth spreading from your chest outward, the quiet, gentle touch of his lips on your skin softening the frantic thoughts that had been chasing themselves through your mind.

Ni-ki’s kiss lingered on your forehead, then your cheeks, as though savoring each moment. He was taking his time, savoring the moment in a way that made everything feel too intimate, too personal.

As he kissed your jaw, you couldn't deny that your heart raced. It was a strange feeling, unfamiliar, and yet somehow soothing. His lips were tender, his touch softer than you expected. When he finally stopped, you opened your eyes, only to find him hovering over you, his lips just barely brushing yours.

He looked at you then, his dark eyes intense, searching. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but there was something else in his gaze—something that felt more possessive than loving.

"Can I?" he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper, as if seeking your permission.

You blinked, the weight of his question sinking in. You had no words, no deflection, only the silent pounding of your heart in your chest. You looked up at him, and the moment seemed to stretch on forever.

With a soft sigh, almost as if resigned to whatever this was between you, you nodded. “Yes.”

The moment you gave your consent, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. Ni-ki kissed you with a quiet hunger, the kind that felt as though he were marking his place in your world, making sure you wouldn’t forget him. And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around you and his lips claiming yours, it was hard to think of anything else.

Ni-ki, sensing your acceptance and the lack of resistance, initiated a deeper kiss, his lips pressing more firmly against yours, his tongue teasing and exploring.

You gasped softly, your breath catching in your throat as the intensity of his kiss took you by surprise. With your bound hands, you instinctively gripped onto his arms, your fingers tightening around his muscles.

The sensation of your touch seemed to drive him wilder, his kisses becoming more passionate and demanding, his lips moved from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of passionate marks. His teeth grazed your skin lightly, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

As Ni-ki pulled back just a fraction, you watched with a mixture of curiosity and tension. His hand reached down into the pocket of his jacket, and for a moment, you tensed—your body still wired with caution. But when he pulled out a knife, it wasn’t the sharp gleam of the blade that caught your attention. It was the way his gaze remained locked with yours, intense, but strangely calm.

He held the knife with practiced ease, his fingers brushing against the rope around your wrists. You held your breath as he made a precise cut, the rope falling away in seconds. The pressure on your wrists eased, but you didn’t move, not immediately. You kept your eyes on him, and he studied you back, as if waiting for a reaction, something that might hint at what you were thinking.

But instead of pulling away, instead of running, you found yourself unable to budge. His eyes were dark, unreadable, but they held you in place, as though you were stuck in an invisible web.

The silence between you stretched, and without thinking, without second-guessing, you slipped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He didn’t hesitate for a second. His lips found yours in an instant, and the kiss was urgent, almost hungry, as if he had been waiting for this moment. His hands moved and there was no mistaking the way he pulled you into him, as if he never wanted to let go.

When he finally pulled away, his lips still lingered over yours, his breath warm against your skin. You looked into his eyes, seeing the satisfaction there.

Ni-ki, with a hint of sadistic pleasure in his eyes, leaned in and kissed your lips, his movements calculated and precise. As he pecked your lips, his words flowed like honey, sweet yet dark.

"You know I only want what's best for you, don't you, doll?" he whispered, his voice laced with control. "I'm the only one who truly understands you. I can give you everything you desire, everything you've ever wanted."

Your lips, soft and pliable, parted slightly as if in agreement. You nodded, a slight movement that confirmed your acceptance of his words, your mind clouded by the intense passion he had instilled in you. The depth of your love for Ni-ki had clouded your judgment, making you susceptible to his every word.

"I can make you feel things you've never felt before," he continued, his voice low and compelling. "I can take you to places only I can show you. Trust me."

Your heart raced at Ni-ki's words, your mind a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation. "I trust you," you said, your voice filled with surrender.. "Take me wherever you wish."

Your logic, once a steadfast companion, had fled, leaving you vulnerable to the allure of his charm. His words, like a drug, had you addicted and longing for more.

Ni-ki, with a calculated smirk, leaned in close, his eyes piercing into yours. His voice, laced with a hint of dark seduction, whispered, "You know you belong to me, don't you? I've crafted you into the perfect companion, one who adores and loves me unconditionally."

You no longer questioned, no longer resisted, for you had become a willing participant in his world.

Ni-ki's hands roamed over your body, a gesture that was possessive. His touch, once gentle, had transformed into a commanding force, a reminder.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You nodded again, your mind a maze, created by Ni-ki. You had become his willing captive, a puppet. Your love, once pure and innocent, had morphed into something complex.

Ni-ki's kisses became more frequent, more insistent, as if he were claiming ownership over your very being.

"I love watching you surrender to me," he purred, his eyes dark with desire. "You're mine to command, and I will make sure you never question that."

You, under the spell of Ni-ki's kisses and his presence, felt a surge of something unknown.

"I want to be yours," you whispered, your voice soft and surrendered. "Command me, control me, and make me yours forever."

Ni-ki's kisses became more intense, his lips moving from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands, strong and assertive, roamed over your body, leaving no part untouched.

--

The next day at school, you walked through the halls with Niki at your side, the two of you almost in sync. Everyone around you seemed unaware of the shift, the change in the air. To the teachers, you were just another student; to your friends, you acted as though everything was perfectly normal. You laughed at their jokes, smiled when needed, and joined in conversations as though the world hadn’t turned upside down just a day ago.

But when the moments between you and Niki were private, things were different. You weren’t the same person you had been before; you were only his. Every glance he gave you, every touch, sent a spark through your body. And you, in turn, clung to his words, listening intently as he spoke, like they held the key to everything you needed to know.

The moments alone with him, in the quiet spaces between classes or in the halls when no one else was around, were when you felt the most alive. He’d find ways to hold you close, one hand on your back, the other gently cupping your chin to pull you in for a kiss that felt like it could last forever. Each kiss left you breathless, like it was all you needed in that moment.

You began to notice that Niki, too, seemed to only listen to you. The way he would react when you spoke, how he would follow your requests without hesitation, no matter how small or trivial. If you asked him to do something, he did it—immediately, without question. If you needed him to hold you, he would. If you wanted him close, he was always there, like he couldn’t bear to be any farther away from you.

--

Standing in the empty hallway, the buzz of the school day fading into the background, Ni-ki's strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you against him. His lips, soft yet demanding, met yours, and the kiss ignited a fire within you.

With each passing second, the kiss grew more intense, more passionate and you welcomed it with open arms, or rather, open lips.

As Ni-ki pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your lips, he smiled, a smile that held a mixture of satisfaction and mischief. "See how easy it is to let go?" he whispered, his voice low. "The way you surrender, the way you let me take control…"

You nodded, you didn't need to speak; your actions and your body language spoke for you.

His smile widened, and he leaned in once more, his lips finding yours with precision. The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing and exploring.

The wall behind you provided support as Ni-ki pressed his body closer, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you tighter against him.

As the kiss lingered, you could feel his breath against your neck, his hot words whispered against your skin. "I love having you like this," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "So ready to give in to me."

You nodded again, a silent affirmation of your agreement.

Ni-ki's smile, a triumphant smile, told you everything you needed to know - you were his, and he had you exactly where he wanted you.

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[messenger-of-babel]

Home is Where the Heart is

Summary: You could never tell what Jason was thinking, and this particular night he has a lot on his mind. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Notes: Mini vent- had a bad day and this week has been really tough so I’m changing up the layout of today as well so I could put out a fic that was a little easier on my mind (I always need to have more pep in my step when I write for my lanterns idk why haha. So sorry Kyle my baby I want to do you justice so you're on backburner). It was indeed written to Ed Sheeran on loop cause I needed to lock in fr. ❤️❤️

Enjoy Lovelies~! xx

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When Jason looked at you, you often wondered what he was thinking.

What was passing through his mind that made his irises gleam that brilliant shade of emerald or let the natural curve of his smile adored his face. However, every time that you asked he just blew his hair from his eyes gruffly, but let the smile stay. "That's a secret," he'd say before his hand would pull you to kiss side and he'd press a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was a little known fact that the Red Hood was in fact Jason Todd, but it was known to even less that Jason Todd was actually a romantic at heart. Sure, he had a mouth on him, and he was on the receiving end of your hand up the back of his head more often than he wasn't. But he was also the quiet kind of clingy, the kind that would never ask to hug you or initiate contact, but would stay up so he could have your back pressed against his chest the second you slipped into bed. He'd laugh when you brushed the hair out of his eyes, the scar on the corner of his mouth unable to stop his boyish grin. It was those moments in your kitchen that made you think that maybe, just maybe, your life was all normal.

You knew it wasn't.

When your fingers brush against his forehead you know that the white tuft in his hair was a painful reminder of his death, the scar on his lips you so lovingly kissed caused by the very man who had killed him. His hands were littered with small scars from blocking knives and protecting his head from glass instead of childhood memories of climbing trees. His back was a canvas of white slashes that intersected in a map-like pattern, a surface already so touched that the symmetrical red lines you left seemed less stunning in comparison. Legs sporting burn marks, bruises permanent along his ribs; that was the Jason that you knew. So even if some days you pretended that he was some ordinary civilian like yourself, you still loved Jason with all your heart.

On this particular night he had come home from patrol, sitting on the kitchen counter while you patched him up. You had been a pretty awful field doctor the first time you offered, but he braved through your prods and pokes with a wince. He didn't say anything about the way you wrapped the bandages too loosely or that you had forgotten some antiseptic and had given the wrong type of topical painkiller. Jason could see the worry on your face, so he leant forward and kissed your forehead tiredly, thanking you with a soft murmur.

You didn't need to know when he slunk off the bathroom to rewrap the bandages, or when he reapplied ointment in the right area. He picked glass out of his own skin when you missed some, letting the shards clatter down the sink. All that consumed him was the thought of how soft you were when you handled him, when you passed the bandage around his middle, or when you tried to clean the wound with as little antiseptic as possible to try and prevent the stinging. He normally hated having to doctor himself up, meaning that even the smallest of injuries tended to scar under his negligence. Yet with you he had been ashamed of the scars, hyper aware of how your eyes lingered on them. More so, how other people stared at them when you were out together. So, for months he spent nights in the bathroom redoing the handiwork you insisted so passionately on learning, just so that there wouldn't be a scar you could blame yourself for later.

You were absolutely perfect, so there was no reason that he couldn't be for you too.

You had become better though, and that was through the help of Alfred. Now you had patched him up efficiently and tightly, patting his hip affectionately when you pull the bandage tight. "Almost done," you smile up at him, fingers pulling the end of the bandage tight and reaching for a bandage clip. "Just got to secure it and you'll be good to go."

He smiles and drops a tired kiss to your skin as usual, pulling your fingers away when you’re done so he can raise them to his lips. "Thanks, darl." he grins, eyes tired but grin still lively as ever. He slides off the counter to wrap his hands around your waist, kissing your nose. You just huff and give him a side glance, arms circling his neck without hesitation.

"What's got you all worked up?" you ask with a light laugh when he’s overly affectionate with you, making Jason groan and drop his head into your hair.

"Just tired." he mumbles. "Bruce pissed me off again today, started lecturing me on the way home."

"Bruce pisses you off most days." you chide. "How did you ever escape the lecture?" you chuckle, moving with him as he begins to sway.

"I turned the commlink off and came up through Southside Gotham so he couldn't follow me." he grins.

There it was.

"There's always something with you, isn't there?" you shake your head, beginning to spin around with him softly in the candlelight. He laughs, and you imagine it’s the sound of a young boy finally getting to live life normally again.

"Always is, babe. you know me." he chuckles, and his eyes flutter over to the candles you have on the counter. It was always dark when he came home normally, and in his tired state he hadn't questioned it. After all, his family worked best in the dark.

"Power outage at the moment?" he asks.

"Power got cut off." you murmur back with a sigh. "We missed last payment. Only a few days, but you know how quick they jump on those these in Gotham. It's all paid up now, but it'll take a day or two to get back. Cold things from the freezer are in the washing machine with the ice blocks."

He hums, stroking a hand up and down your back. "You're well prepared. Sorry for making you deal with them, I'll handle it next time, I promise."

Jason hated using Bruce's money.

Not only was it something that sat bitter in his mouth ever since he had come back, but he didn’t need it. Dick had also rejected it and moved to Bludhaven, and even though he'd never admit it, Jason respected the way he managed to build a home for himself there. He wanted to do that too, and he could do it damn well by himself. He still took some money, but it was no more than a wage from Bruce. He considered protecting Gotham his job, and he wasn't stupid. He wasn’t going to let his pride get in the way of helping you both live. He hated to see you stress about finances, but you never asked him. You never asked him to reach out to Bruce for more or reach out to Bruce yourself.

The first time rent had gone up it had nearly priced the both of you out of the cozy apartment you lived in, and you had been in tears for days trying to find a second job to cover the expenses. Yet you didn’t come begging for Bruce's assistance, no. You looked at him with those teary eyes and asked him to help make a budget with you so you could figure a way out, and you did. You were the most resilient person he knew, the most resilient person he loved.

He held you closer as he spun you softly around the kitchen.

You were going to need to be resilient.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo and let his arms bask in the warmth of you. Your skin against his made the thrumming in his side ease and the headache blistering behind his eyes subside. As you relaxed against him, his head raced of all the ways that he could tell you. Tell the most perfect being that had ever walked into your life that he was leaving, and not only that, he was going to have to break your heart on the way out.

He cursed Bruce. He cursed Bruce for making enemies that had cunning greater than his own, for dragging him into the mess he had created. He had yelled and spat and screamed at the older man until his voice resonated off the cave walls, storming from the cave after tonight's fight. Bruce had asked the impossible of him, after they both got their asses handed to them in a surprise attack. They had taunted Bruce, not the Batman, and had enough evidence to bring Bruce's world and carefully hidden persona crumbling down around him. It just so happened that they had enough to bring Jason's down as well.

They knew about you.

Pictures of you had fluttered down towards him, filling him with an indescribable sense of fear. As hard as they fought, they had let the new visitor of Gotham's nightlife slip through their fingers and Bruce had asked him to break up with you not a second later. There was no empathy, there was no kindness or waiting for it to sink in for him.

But there never was.

In that moment Bruce was Batman, but Red Hood had been the scared Jason Todd.

How did he tell you that he wanted to break up when that was the furthest thing from the truth? That he would walk through hell barefoot and dunk himself in the Lazarus pit again if that mean that you were still there to warm his bed at night? How could he tell you that he didn't love you when his heart ached to tell you it every time he got the courage? He could play the tears, play the part of a sad breakup. That part was easy, considering how this was shaping to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. It was the rage that he couldn't muster, for once. Rage was something that he saved for the streets, a place already so crime ridden and scummy that his bitterness and anger were practically masked under the filth. It wasn't a place for your home, the little shelter the both of you had carved out of Gotham with your own two hands.

So, he spun you around the room, eyes watering with tears yet to shed as he thought about how to let you go. He knew you wanted to stay, and that made his heart ache in return. It was like losing a part of him that hadn't even been lost yet, a void already forming in his chest. He sniffled lightly and thankfully you didn’t hear or notice his arms squeezing tighter, as if to imprint the feeling of you against his body. He tried to tell himself it was only a temporary thing, that he could explain it all to you later when the threat was done. That thought often lost against the conjured image of your heartbroken eyes his mind created to torture him, and the persistent thought that you'd probably never want to see him again when he was about to break your heart so violently.

You don't notice something is wrong until the first tear hits your hair, silently giving way to more. You notice the slight shake in his arms and the tension still wound in his body. Normally the stiffness in his muscles flowed out of him like water when he stepped over the threshold of the house, but not tonight.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask softly, pressing into him to try and comfort him, your heart panging in confusion at his strange behaviour.

Jason would never tell you, but when he looked at you he wondered what the rest of your life together would look like, and if you'd ever considering changing your name to 'Todd'.