#the upper floor looked like a normal house just Round

[queerpyracy]

haunted and vexed all day by the fact that the beach house i dreamed about, which was cylindrical and the lower floor was made to look like a big bookshelf on the outside for some reason, doesn't exist

[freckle-face-ace]

Portgas D Ace X CisFem Reader **NSFW **

11

Your eyes fluttered open in the freezing room. Two warm bodies sandwiched you in. The smaller curled up against your abdomen spooned in by your upper thighs. The larger pressed to your back, arms twisted around your waist face buried in your nape. Despite their closeness, a shiver rolled up your spine. The house from what you could tell was dark, but that of a cloudy day rather than the middle of the night. How many hours had you slept? Your gaze trailed over the Christmas tree, its festive twinkle now mute. The power had gone out along with the fire.

Ace grumbled against your exposed skin arms stretching out and coiling back around you.

"So cold." He whined hooking his leg over your hip in an attempt to get even closer.

"The fire is out." You murmured resettling. 

"The furnace?" He questioned.

"Pilot light must've gone out."

It was silent for a few minutes before Ace shifted giving the stone fireplace a pointed look. Goosebumps flashed across your extremities as the blanket was jerked away and your main source of heat disappeared. Ace shivered approaching the stack of logs in the basket near the hearth. Poking last night's ashes away he set fresh logs down, this time pausing the place a starter log in the middle. He didn't plan on wasting time growing a fire like yesterday. 

You checked your phone that had been stashed under your pillow. It was almost 2 PM and finally Christmas Eve. Thatch had texted a few times checking each message a tad more stressed than the last. You replied quickly that all was well excusing your delayed response to sleep.

Natures calling urged you from your spot on the floor. Once you gained the nerve you stood turning to glance at the window that normally gave you a full view of the woods behind the house. Snow had piled almost halfway up and appeared to be still steadily falling.

After relieving yourself you stalked into your room to put another layer of clothes on. Meanwhile Ace had a fire started and was in the utility closet trying to light the pilot. He watched mesmerized as the tiny flame quickly devoured the matchstick all the way to his fingertips.

"Ah shit." He hissed stifling the light. 

"You aren't fireproof anymore." You commented rounding the corner with Kuma on your heels.

"I know." He huffed.

"Let me see." You softly took his right hand to inspect the reddened skin on his thumb and index finger, "Looks like you'll pull through." You pressed your lips to the barely injured digits.

"Thanks." He breathed watching you tug your boots on, "Where are you going?"

"Kuma has to go. Don't worry he's quick in this weather I won't even leave the porch." You opened the door letting a frigid breeze whip through the entry.

In the evening you cuddled up to Ace, your tablet propped up in your lap watching a movie you had saved. He distractedly let his right hand roam up and down your back. You hummed at the comforting warmth he provided sparing a quick glance at his freckled face. Glaring intensely at the small screen you cradled, he gnawed the inside of his bottom lip.

"Something the matter?" His eyes snapped up to yours at the sound of your voice.

He shook his head, "It's Christmas, right?"

"That eager for your gift?" you chuckled, "Keep in mind we agreed on making something."

He wasn't just excited for whatever you had made, he was incredibly nervous over what you would think of his gift to you.

"I'm sure I'll love what you've made. Even if I don't I'll pretend I did." he smiled earning a nudge of your elbow.

"It isn't quite midnight, but we can exchange gifts if you'd like."

Ace hopped up offering you his hand. Separating to your respective rooms you both gathered your gifts.

Entering the living room after you Ace placed a red, green and white striped knotted rope in front of Kuma and plopped down next to you again.

"Ok, it isn't much," You handed him the small silver wrapped box.

"Stop trying to downplay your effort." He traded his small gift for the medium sized red and gold wrapped box he'd had stashed in his room.

A tingling heat invaded your cheeks as he eagerly tore the paper and removed the box's lid. His short sharp intake of breath set your nerves on end as he pulled the small strand of beads out cupping them gently in his palm.

"It's just like them." He murmured fondly.

You released the breath you'd been holding thankful it wasn't a bad choice.

"I wanted to make a necklace," you reached over the help clasp the bracelet around his left wrist, "But I couldn't find beads here that would work."

"Seriously this is perfect." His smile reached his eyes.

"We'll go get your birthday gift once the roads are cleared," you chuckled, "so you have a phone while I'm on my trip."

He had forgotten about your summit meeting on the first of the year. The fact you insisted on driving to Boston bothered him even if it was just under two hours away. You did it every year, Ace wasn't going to change that.

"Go ahead and open yours." He nudged you.

You deftly tugged at the taped edges of the wrapping paper revealing a white box. Ace was practically vibrating with pride next to you. Gaze darting back to his smiling face and down again, you slipped the lid off. A brown leather-bound portfolio sat neatly nestled into green and gold striped tissue paper.

"A photo album?" You questioned tracing a finger over the stitching along the borders of the book.

"Look." He urged.

You swallowed gently gliding your finger between the cover and the first page, slowly flipping it open. Page after page of worn yellowing index cards sat before you. Each page had two cards perfectly encased in plastic laminate. Ingredients, measurements, and instructions elegantly decorated each. It had been such a long time since you'd seen your grandmother's handwriting, here it was laid out before you faultlessly preserved for all time.

The warmth of Ace's fingers caressed your cheeks pushing away tears you hadn't realized were there.

"I hope I didn't upset you," his tone was low and concerned, "I found the recipe box in the cabinet and thought you might want to keep them safe."

"No no, it's perfect." You breathed, "But didn't we agree to be cheap and make something?"

"I kind of made it. I arranged the cards and the lady at Staples helped laminate and bind the book." he smiled dropping his hands down to remove it, "There's a little stand under here so you can set it on the counter."

You reached up cupping his face and leaned in for a kiss. Lingering for a few seconds he finally registered and began to kiss back eagerly moving his hand into your hair just behind your left ear. You parted gazing at each other lustfully, noses touching, small pants mingling.

"I'll have to give you gifts more often." Ace chuckled wiggling his brows.

                                                                                          _______________

The beads of his bracelet rustled, softly clinking against one another as he combed his fingers through your hair between heated kisses. Your hands traversed his bare chest, exploring the dips and curves of his muscles and reverently caressing the scarred circle that tied him to you.

A low pleased rumble vibrated beneath your digits. Your hips pressed firmly together as you unhurriedly rocked into each other sending shudders of pleasure through both of you. He'd initially not been pleased with the sensory deprivation caused by the prophylactic, but now completely sheathed in your confined warmth it was no longer a thought.

This was not something he'd experienced. Sex was something for release a necessity he only took part in a few times. There was no true desire, no passion, no want to make it last as long as humanly possible.

His rubies trailed over the beautiful creature beneath him - you; neck arched back, swollen lips lightly parted releasing ragged pants. In a moment of rapture, he pulled back and thrust into you, a quick sharp movement eliciting a flustered call of his name.

Ace's resolve nearly crumbled wanting to hear more of that sound.

"Ace." You echoed melodically pushing him closer to the edge ultimately dragging you to your precipice with his quickened pace.

Crescent dimples littered your hips where his grip slipped and readjusted. Long slow thrusts became quick uneven pumps drawing out more lustful sounds. Ace relished in the pure bliss your voice propagated and lost himself in a fit of shudders with one final airy call of his name.

After a few moments of silence snuggled into the raven's embrace, you suddenly shifted to face him.

"What's wrong?" he yawned.

"What time is it?"

Ace shifted reaching back blindly with one arm to retrieve his new phone from the nightstand, "12:26."

"Shit." you frowned, "I wanted to tell you happy birthday at midnight."

Uncontrollable chuckles rumbled from the freckled male as he squeezed you between his arms.

"I think I got my happy birthday." He kissed your nose.

_____________________

"Please call me when you get there." Ace tugged your suitcase out to the car while you opened the passenger side door and folded the seat.

"I promise." You smiled taking the suitcase and cramming it into the back seat, "You won't even notice I'm gone."

"Oh, I definitely will." He chuckled reeling you into his chest.

"Three days and I'll be right back." You stood on your toes to kiss his lips.

After your prolonged goodbye in the driveway, you set off for Boston.

Ace sat on the bed you'd shared most of the day with Kuma curled into his side restlessly tossing his phone in his hands. One hour turned into two, turned into three turned into five with no word from you. He restrained himself to six calls, each going straight to your voicemail.

Raking an anxious hand over his scalp he sighed and put his phone to his ear.

"Thatch, I think something happened to F/N."

[eternallytxt]

RED LISTED || Chapter 1

Author: Eros

Warnings and themes: futuristic au, dystopian au, non-idol au, asshole!Johnny, female reader, blood, violence, cussing, some suggestive themes, angst, some fluff, featuring some other idols.

Words: 3500

Summary: In high-tech dystopian SoKo, the right to trial by court is obsolete. Instead, criminals are marked as Red-Listed in society. When your mother frames you for murder and you become Red-Listed, you're forced to live life on the streets and desperately evade law enforcement. In a turn of events, you meet Johnny, another framed criminal, and leader of a group of rebels fighting to get justice. Along with Johnny's seemingly cold and unempathetic exterior, he appears to hold secrets about your past. Will you be able to become closer to the temperamental leader, or will you be thrown back into the unforgiving city with no hope of clearing your name?

Playlist: Cyberpunk - ATEEZ, I Really Want to Stay at Your House - Rosa Walton, Villain - TRENDZ, GODS - NewJeans, Runaway (U&I) - Galantis, Odd Eye - Dreamcatcher, Ash - SEVENTEEN, Sayonara Wild Heart - Daniel Olsén

Author Note: Hi everyone. It's been years since I posted the teaser to Red Listed. I've decided that I want to try focusing on my creative writing more recently, so I've been going back through my old WIPs and working on them when I can.

I would also like to warn you that the updates will NOT BE SCHEDULED.

I hope you guys like Red Listed!

At this rate, you were going to be caught. You weren’t very athletic at all, and despite the adrenaline keeping your boots slapping the pavement, your lungs and muscles were screaming for mercy. It didn’t help that the wounds from the LAW officers’ light phasers were throbbing and making spots dance in your vision. You skidded around a corner, nearly colliding with a group of businessmen. The light bullets whizzing past your head were coming too close, and you instinctively duck your head as you barrel on through the mass of people.

It was times like this that you cursed your mother for what you had become. You had a normal life. You were a college student. The only things you had to worry about were catching the bullet trains and making sure your assignments were completed on time. When you walked into your house after class and saw that puddle of blood on the floor of your living room, none of that mattered anymore. Not when you screamed over your sister’s lifeless body. Not when your mom came in shortly after and accused you of taking a sibling squabble too far. None of it mattered when your mom pressed the emergency button and you took off running into the streets of Neo Chicago. All you had to worry about, now, was staying in the shadows and evading the LAW. 3 months later, It was working out fantastic.

The chase had led you to the west side of the city, and as you looked around, you noticed that upper-class civilians and familiar skyscrapers had dwindled. Scary-looking criminals in all black, half of them with the signature “RED-LISTED” lettering floating above their heads, peered at you from the sidewalks. They were probably pissed you brought the cops into their neighborhood. Just great, you thought. If you’re lucky enough to escape the officers hot on your trail, you’ll still need to worry about the criminals coming after you.

You rounded another corner, pumping your legs in hopes of giving you a headway from your pursuers so you could duck into an alley. And it worked. A look over your shoulder revealed only loiterers. You let out a short breathy ha! and faced forward. Your glee didn’t last for long.

Too quick to process, a hand grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you into a dark alley. Before you could let out a scream, a hand slapped over your mouth and an arm went around your waist, pulling your back into a hard body. 

“Shh. Be quiet or they’ll hear you.” a male voice whispered in your ear. You felt a click and something sharp pierce your neck. The alley was immediately swallowed by darkness, the red glow from your “RED-LISTED” sign disappearing. 

You couldn’t move. The tight hand over your mouth prevented that. All you could do was listen to the blood rushing through your ears and your thoughts racing. You were going to be killed, or even worse. You were sure of that. One of the criminals you saw earlier had you in a tight hold, and you were too weak to fight back. 

“Stop struggling,” the voice hissed in your ear again.

On one hand, you could stop struggling and let this unknown assailant drag you away and have his way with you. On the other, you could try to break free, only to run right into the LAW’s hands. After weighing your options, you stopped struggling and relaxed into the guy’s hold. You would let this guy keep you, but as soon as the officers were out of sight, you would break free and escape.

Multiple rapid footsteps echoed in from the street, paired with yelling and radio beeps. You watched in disbelief as the officers ran past the alley opening, their footsteps fading out. After a moment, a sigh of relief escaped your mouth, misting your assailant’s hand. You managed to escape again, but how long would that last you?

“Be quiet. I’m going to see if they’re gone.” The hands never left your body, and you were dragged to the mouth of the alley. The assailant peered his head around the corner and looked down the street. From the minimal lighting, you could only see his side profile for a brief minute. A murmur of, “Good. They’re gone,” escaped his lips, and the tight hold on you was released.

You didn’t even hesitate before attempting to book it down the alley. Savior be damned. You only were able to make it a few steps before two arms wrapped tightly around your middle, a cry of pain leaving your lips and he pressed into the wound on your hip.

“Will you shut the fuck up! I’m trying to help!” You struggled desperately, only stopping when his hold tightened. Tears pricked your eyes, and only the sound of the two of you panting could be heard bouncing off the brick walls.

“Don’t run off.” his warning made you shiver, and you were soon let go. You dropped, wincing when your knees collided with the hard concrete. “Jesus. You’re insane, you know that?” A small light surrounded you, and you slowly brought your head up, only for your eyes to finally meet with your crouched assailant. 

From what you could see, he was fairly attractive. He was young, probably not much older than you, with medium-length, chestnut-brown fringe laying over his eyes. Plump lips sat in an annoyed scowl on his tanned face, glowing from the small light. He held a small, electro-lighter in his gloved fist, his cold sharp eyes narrowed at your figure.

“I was trying to get you from the cops and this is how you thank me? Running off and beating the shit out of me?” His voice was no longer in a whisper, but now an aggravated shout. You panted in response, unable to escape the tightness in your lungs and the pain from your injuries, which had now tripled.

“How was…I supposed to know…trying to help me?” This man had the audacity to call you insane when only moments ago, he had grabbed you like one of his kidnapping victims. How the hell were you supposed to react? The unknown man sighed and stood up, taking you aback at how tall he was. 

“What did you expect me to do? Walk out and be like ‘Hey, come here! Let me rescue you!’? Be pissed at me all you want, but I saved your ass. If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve been a bloody imprint on the road.” You tried to push yourself up but only managed to irritate your wounds further, making you collapse on your side. The man quickly dropped down beside you, pulling your arms from your abdomen and spitting out a “Shit.” All you could do was whimper pathetically, squeezing your eyelids shut when black spots danced in your vision. “Your wounds are severe. We need to get you help or you aren’t going to make it.” you cried out again when you felt arms slide under you and jerk you upwards, cradling you into his chest. As he took off down the alley, your vision went in and out of focus. You were only vaguely aware of the man’s hushed whispers. “You’re going to be fine. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.” Your eyes shut despite his pleas, the echo of his footsteps and words fading with your consciousness.

You were only able to get bits and pieces of the world outside of your unconscious state as you faded in and out. At one point, you thought maybe you were in a hospital. A harsh light penetrated through your eyelids, and a lot of muffled voices surrounded you, though you couldn’t make out what they were saying. The pain had gotten so immense at some point that you couldn’t feel anything anymore. You were probably dying. You hoped that it would just be done and over with soon.

When you fully came to, you couldn’t open your eyes. Your entire body felt heavy like only your gravitational pull had been kicked up. You simply lay there, taking in your sensory-deprived state. The steady beeping of a heart monitor filled the room as your hearing returned to you. 

When you mustered the strength to peel open your eyelids, you expected to be greeted by some sort of hospital room. Instead of white walls and a holo-flower vase by your bedside, grey, cinderblock walls surrounded you. The room was relatively dark, too. Probably due to the lack of the window. Despite this, It kind of looked like a normal room in a small clinic. Were you in some sort of basement?  I guess that guy sold me for parts. 

There wasn’t a soul around. Nothing but an empty chair in the corner of the room. Sitting and listening for a moment revealed the only sounds being the quiet beeping of the monitor to your left and your own heartbeat. No muffled voices outside the door, no steady hum of a security system keeping you locked in the room. Maybe you could escape. You looked at the IV tubes sticking out from your left arm and began yanking them out. You winced at the sting and waited for a moment for any sort of alarm to go off. Nothing. 

You hopped off the bed. It was now you noticed you were no longer wearing the torn and bloody clothes you last remember wearing. Instead, you were dressed in a nude-colored monochrome set, a sort of high-neck sports bra-like top that had a zipper in the middle, and skin-tight shorts that ended mid-thigh. The lack of covering allowed you to see the bandages that wrapped around your midriff and upper arms. Your feet were bare, allowing the coolness of the concrete beneath you to seep in.

You only made it a couple of steps toward the door before a voice resounded behind you, making you jump.

“You still need rest.” You wheeled around, to find a woman standing in the middle of the room. She seemed around your age, perhaps younger, with a pretty, slender face. Her skin was like porcelain, adding to her doll-like appearance. Light brown eyes stared back at you.

What the hell? You were sure that no one was in the room besides you. The only door out was the one you had just tried to escape from, so where–

“Please come back to the bed. In the meantime, I will alert Yuta, the doctor, that you are awake,” the woman spoke again. It was now that you noticed a slightly electronic lilt to her voice. Ah, she was an AI Holo. A very…interesting one, you might add. Most of the ones you've had the rare pleasure of seeing certainly weren’t as pretty looking as her. They definitely didn’t wear fashionable clothes, either. 

You remembered what she had said about “alerting” someone named Yuta, and you slightly panicked. “No! No, no, don’t do that,” you stepped towards her waving your hands. “I just…uhm…” The AI pursed her lips and said “You must have your vitals checked. Please have a seat. I have already alerted Yuta.”

Shit. Why the hell did this have to be difficult? Also, what kind of black market organ thieves have a Holo AI? As far as you saw it, you currently have two options.

The first was to take off running out the door. However, that had a ton of risk. You had no clue what lay beyond that door. For all you knew, the entire crew of criminals could be out there, gathered around some bucket full of organs they stole off of other people (you have to admit, your overly active imagination was a tad dramatic). The Holo AI said it alerted someone, and that person was most definitely on their way. They could spot you and chase after you. You were certainly in no condition to be running like a crazy person through a crime den.

The other option was to simply agree to the AI’s wishes and play along. To your annoyance, this was the option you would have to go with. Besides, you already feel the pain beginning to come back. With a hesitant side-eye towards the AI, you slowly climbed back into the bed.

“Can I ask who you are? Or where I am?” She seemed to straighten at this, and you could almost see her programmed script running through her head.

“I am WINTER. I am an AI Holo developed to assist with any task instructed to me. Currently, you are in the clinic room of the base.”

“Base? What base?” Before Winter could answer you, the door was thrust open, and in stepped a man who looked the farthest thing from a doctor. The man was clad in an all-black ensemble of jeans and a short-sleeved button-up with the top two buttons undone, allowing a sneak peek of tattoos on his neck and chest. More ink covered his arms, and if you had to guess, his entire body. Dark brown hair was pulled back into a loose bun to reveal a face with strong features. 

“That’s enough, Winter. You can go back to Ricky now,” The man spoke with a smirk and a shooing gesture toward the AI. Winter’s short, silver bob shimmered in the light as she bowed toward who you assumed was Yuta. She then turned toward you. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” she said, and with that, dissipated. 

There was a moment of silence as you actively avoided looking at Yuta, though you could feel his eyes on you. You wondered what he was waiting for. You didn’t necessarily get evil, organ-stealer vibes from the guy, but you were obviously hesitant nonetheless. 

You heard a sigh and he approached you, pulling out a tablet and tapping away. “So…You tried to make a break for it, huh?” You frowned. That damn snitch of an AI.

Yuta chuckled a bit at your expression. “What? You thought she wouldn’t tell me? Don’t worry, we aren’t trying to hurt you.” He swiped up on his tablet and a hologram of information appeared in the air between you two, your personal information.

“F/N L/N. 23 years old, Junior at SMCU, no body modifications. Currently at large for the murder of her younger sister,” He looked at you with an eyebrow cocked. You glared heavily at the man. How the hell did he have all of this info? You were starting to wonder if you were instead in a government prison. How else would he have all of your info?

“So what? You work for the LAW or something? Are you gonna kill me,” you bit. You were really starting to get fed up with all of this. The running, the judgemental glares, being treated like a criminal. All you did wrong was not escape from your mother's clutches. If you’d just cut her off the second you went to school, none of this would be happening.

Yuta smirked, a look that made you feel like a mouse caught by the cat. “Not at all, sweetheart. We’re all just like you.” The projection disappeared with a beep, and Yuta pocketed the tablet, finally settling his arms in a crossed position.

“So how did a smart little SMCU student end up becoming a cold-blooded killer?” 

“I didn’t do shit.”

“Relax, it was a joke. Of course, you didn’t. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Yuta smiled with his teeth this time, a more gentle expression than what he had previously shown you. You were honestly a little taken aback. He had one of those smiles that, if you had seen under any other circumstance, would’ve made your heart skip a beat.

“Where exactly is here?” Yuta now strolled over to your left side and began to fiddle with the monitors. There were a few minutes of silence as he pressed a couple of buttons on the machine. He tsked when he saw the IV tubes dangling. You watched as he dug a packaged IV needle out of a drawer nearby.

“You’re in our little hideout. Hold still for a second.” You winced as he inserted the IV needle in the top of your hand, taping it off and gesturing for you to lay back down in the bed. 

“We’re a group of false and small-time criminals, all of us considered rejects by the so-called ‘perfect’ society. Ex-cops, mercenaries, hackers, wrongly accused, you name it.”

He shined a small light in both of your eyes, then gave a satisfied hum. The tablet was pulled out once more and he tapped away.

“You were unfairly Red-Listed, correct?” Yuta glanced up at you and you nodded. “Then you’re just like us.”

You blinked back at him and he laughed a little, his pretty teeth making a reappearance. “Johnny brought you in here because he wants you to join us.”

Johnny. That was the first you heard that name. You could probably assume that he was the one that you had met. The asshole that yanked you around and make the whole kidnapping experience so… kidnap-ey. But, he was admittedly the one that also brought you to a doctor. Regardless of whether that doctor was legitimate or not.

“Hold on. I never agreed to join…whatever you guys are doing–”

“We’re trying to take down SoKo,” Yuta said. You laughed. When he didn’t laugh back and instead just stared at you with a steady expression, you stopped. 

“Oh my god, you’re serious. Yeah, absolutely not. Do you think I’m insane?” 

Yuta leaned back a little, hands going in his back pockets and a small smile appearing on his face. “Why is it so crazy? I mean, when has SoKo ever been a good thing? Well, besides for the big wigs making the fat stacks.”

You waved your hand, forgetting there was a needle in it which tugged a little and made you flinch. “No, I’m not talking about that. Of course SoKo is awful. Power to you guys who wanna take over the government and whatnot. I’m talking about me. I’m a normal freaking person. Not some,” you wracked your brain, “mercenary or whatever else you said.”

“You’re Red-Listed, right?”

“Well, yeah, but–”

“Then you’re one of us.”

You paused, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. “...But why me?”

Yuta shrugged at this. “Johnny wanted you here. What Johnny says kinda just goes.”

You took some time to process his words. A little crime syndicate, basically. That’s who had “captured” you. Though, from the sounds, and, so far, looks of it, they weren’t as big of a threat as you had initially imagined. That, and you were technically also a criminal. 

Still, you weren’t planning on joining some little gang. You just figured you would be living the rest of your most-wanted-list life on the streets alone, scavenging for scraps of food, outrunning LAW officers, sleeping in boxes in alleys while the rain poured on you.

Wow. Sounds like a bright future for you. 

But then again, what the hell could you offer to some little gang? You were just a (former) normal college student! You’ve never dabbled in anything even remotely crime-related. Why did “Johnny”, whoever this guy was, want you in their little group?

Yuta could practically see the steam coming out of your ears as your brain worked in over-drive processing all the new information. He chuckled a little.

“Look, no one is forcing you to stay here. If you want, as soon as you’ve recovered, feel free to leave. I could always just…Look the other way.” He winked at me, then fiddled with the machine again. A teal liquid began to flow down the tube and into my hand. “I’m gonna give you some sleep juice. It’ll make the pain go away.”

“Honestly, though, Johnny’s gonna be pissed if we wasted our meds on you and you just dip. Again, no pressure.” Yuta smirked. You wanted to hit him, but damn, the medicine works quick. You could already feel your body getting heavy. 

“It kinda sounds like you aren’t giving me a choice,” you muttered back instead. “I didn’t say anything like that, Y/N,” Yuta replied to that. 

You really wanted to ask more questions. You wanted to ask more about their group, dig around, and try to figure out exactly why you were wanted. You definitely wanted to ask to talk to Jonas, who was most likely the leader. The medicine was beginning to make it hard to think, though.

“I need more information. I’m not gonna join some anti-government rebel group just because I'm homeless and being hunted down.” Your head felt like it was floating, and your eyelids were beginning to droop. “But…I guess I don’t have any other options…”

Yuta smiled at you. It was the last thing you saw as you finally let your eyes close.

“Welcome to Kwangya.”

masterlist || Chapter 2 >>

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[originemesis]

There's a storm on the horizon of hellscape just north of the Manor Ars Goetia, brewing with periodic as they were belligerent blasts of what one could only assume to be heavy winds raging just outside the garden gates if viewed from the creature comforts of a study's shelter against the unholy crusade that raged beyond its rococo rendition of fortified walls. Metal bars rattled with the impatience of a prisoner waiting to be let free of their enclosure- to storm the palace and pluck the haughty out of the hunkered down as if they were truly safe behind a blind eye turned. It wouldn't remain turned for long, of course unless of course every window along the stretch of the manor's upper floors shattering simultaneously was a normal affair for its inhabitants. In a sonic boom of brandished bass that made thunder itself sound like a newborn's mewl, the mansion rattles in its bones.

"When the world has screwed you ~ and crushed you in its fist..." A disembodied musing on high within the electrized billows of black clouds serves as a temporary point of reason without an otherwise unreasonable force of nature. One that wastes little time with the pleasantries of knocking to ask if the heathens within knew their Lord and Savior. No, there were other practical ways in flushing out a chicken coop, and it didn't involve playing petty politics- not this time. "When the way you're treated has got you good and PISSED." Another wave of foundationally dismantling energy wipes out the bottom layer of manor windows as if the source of its fury couldn't fathom the idea of leaving anyone currently within the house divided out of this little bonding experience...in dying together, of course!

"There's been one solution ~ since the world began." And wouldn't he know that better than anyone? He'd been there since the very beginning of fucking Earth, after all. "Don't just SIT AND TAKE IT-" A flap of wings the span of the last supper's table follow him out of the clouds on the tail end of a lightning strike that beelines for the manor, cutting off all light within in an instant.

Panic, little feathery fucks- panic and fly up to fry with the rest of this shithole of a universe.

A crass cackle culminates over the axe clasped within wicked talons and its with a sharp strum downwards does the energy behind the string's vibrations catch the booming of his core for a soul like a spark to a gas leak.

"STICK IT TO THE MANNNNNNN-" Boom.

At least that's what sound he imagines the manor's roof makes when he rips it off the top of the top floor like a rotting scab to fling aside and expose the Goetian lord in his study room- yeah 'studying'... how to take a heaven-sent DICKING.

"Well, well, well! Looks like you hooting whores fucked up your negotiations!" Floating back with several heavy flaps, he positions himself behind the subtle swirl of a newborn twister- its form little more than loose pieces of the manor gathered thus far and the faint stirring of sound waves the incessant pulse of his inner amp emits in time like a metronome of destruction...a ticking time bomb- the very fate that had sealed his own world in the end now championed by a call to cause a similar calamity once more. Only this time, it was the owls' turn to watch everything they knew shred apart piece by piece by the oncoming storm.

"So let's make this CORDIAL, shall we? Hoo, HOO- cloacafuckers! HOOOOOOO'S READY TO DIE?" Punctuating the sentiment with a forceful slam of strings, the angel sends several waves of sound force below to slow any attempts at climbing to his lofty position in the sky, a position he'd already began to spiral up cloud by cloud as he stirred the atmosphere blurry with restless rounds of gritty guitar riffs to feed the speed of sound within the tilt of the the heaven-aimed pillar and all its currently collected debris from the shattered bits of man-handled manor.

Adam - Son of the Red Earth - Phase 1.

[track in play 🎵🎶🎸]

🎸Group Limit - 4 character slots. [@avispatr , @mages-pandoras-box , @a-hell-of-a-time x2] 🎸Win Requirements - 20 landed hits (or neutralization in Phase 3). 🎸Battle Requirements - Unless heavily staggered by multiple hits per round, Adam has a constant field-wide music-based aoe that accompanies his guitar playing. A 4D will be rolled to determine a number 1-4. This is the amount of sound waves from the aoe that will disturb the party (either breaking concentration or potentially injuring). I will then roll a 20D for each number of waves per character involved provided against your AC to see if you're hit (participants will message me with the confirmation of being hit or not via dms/discord). A hit will stagger/interrupt concentration and you will be unable to attack on your turn if this happens. *This does not stop you from performing other actions such as healing, assisting allies, dodging other incoming attacks, or using items. Adam's AC in Phase 1 is different than in Phase 2 and 3. If reached, Phase 2 and Phase 3 AC will be adjusted. After your reply is posted, send me your 20D dice rolls via messages for each attempted attack, and I will compare and align it to Adam's current AC to determine hits in my reply sequence. 🎸Starting Roll for the AOE field-wide energy surge mentioned above is: 2. I will be sending the listed characters above my two D20 rolls for each of you to determine if you're hit/disrupted on this first 'intro' round or not on your reply based on your personal AC.

[soft-cookie-aka-aquadrop]

The long, vivid dream I had about Barnaby the ghost owl from Billie Bust-Up

Buckle up, folks, because this is a long one.

My family and I were in a haunted mansion. It had a rule that if we touch each other three times, or if a ghost touches one of us once, we die.

Of course, this wasn't true in the actual game- Barnaby was able to touch Billie just fine- but it does remind me of the final round of Trivia Murder Party, where if a ghost player passes the living player, the ghost player comes back to life while the player they moved ahead of becomes a ghost in place of them. None of the ghosts in my dream came back to life this way, however.

Both my family members and myself fell victim to this death touch multiple times, because they kept forgetting that they weren't supposed to touch me in the haunted house, and because some ghosts here and there did it to me just to be jerks.

The only reason the death touch seemed to work on me was because I was paying close attention to it. I didn't "die" right away from it, instead I'd take a moment to realize I'd been touched, then I'd go limp and play dead until someone prompted me to move again, after which I'd become a ghost somehow.

This happened more than once, but I don't remember how I kept coming back to life in order to die again.

As a ghost, I was mostly able to explore the mansion freely since I could go through walls, floors, and ceilings, except for the ceiling on the top floor, and the floor in the basement. I remember passing through at least four fancy-looking bedrooms, along with a ballroom, a dining hall, and an upper walkway near the ceiling of the top floor that reminded me of the top floor of my old house.

There were a lot of other ghosts in the mansion besides Barnaby and I. Some were cartoony while others were more humanoid. Some were on Barnaby's side and would touch me just to be mean, as stated before. Others were more benign and left me alone.

Some even seemed like they didn't want to be there, and I remember at least one who let me know after I tried to pass through the roof that he couldn't, either. Another advised me that to get out of the mansion, I'd have to go outside the normal way, through an open door.

Somewhere near the ceiling of the top floor I met a round, white, puffy ghost who was glowing like a lantern and floating very slowly. When I got close to it to tell it how cute it was, it backed away, like a fish in a fish tank would if you leaned your face in close to it. I felt bad and apologized for scaring the puffy ghost.

Alright, now we get to the good parts...

The iconic chase scene from the game happened, and I could hear the “Million Gruesome Ways to Die” song playing in the distance, and I caught a glimpse of Barnaby chasing Billie from “out of bounds”. Once I managed to catch up to them, I began following Billie while positioning myself between her and Barnaby like this...

But if you remember how in the Casper cartoon “There’s Good Boos Tonight”, the hunter’s bullets flew right through him, that was what happened to the projectiles that Barnaby launched at Billie. My attempt to stop them was fruitless. Among them were, for some reason, giant cubes of water that slid down the hall and through me (and I will admit they actually felt kind of refreshing), and either ice cubes or snowballs or something, which also went through me and felt chilly. (This probably happened because I was disappointed that Barnaby never mentioned any cold-related deaths in his song.)

Thankfully Billie did manage to get away despite my inability to help her, though Barnaby clearly wasn’t pleased with my interference, because after Billie escaped, Barnaby did a roll call of some ghosts from the upper floors (mostly humanoid ones resembling teenage bullies), and then singled me out as “the one blue ghost” from the lower floor that we were on, and told the other ghosts to get “the PG-13 manual” (apparently a guide for what can and can’t be done in a PG-13 movie?) and do everything that the manual said inside it, to me. Whatever the heck that meant. Notably, Barnaby never raised his voice or otherwise sounded angry while saying any of this, though it didn’t make him seem any less creepy.

What actually ended up happening was that the teenage bully ghosts surrounded me in a pillar formation, kind of like this...

(No, I don’t know why they’re taller than me even though they’re supposed to be teenagers. They just were for some reason.)

They then proceeded to poke me, pinch me, pull on me, etc. It sounds kind of stupid now that I look back on it, but at the time it was really annoying. I did manage to escape by floating all the way to the top of their pillar formation, though.

I don’t remember exactly when I got my body back, but I somehow came back to life multiple times throughout the dream, only to die again from being touched by a ghost or by my family members. The same happened to said family members, too, though their reactions were more of the “oops, well, this is inconvenient” type than the “oh no!” type.

At one point after coming back to life, I found my family in a bookstore-like room on the first floor, and decided to escape with them out the front door, where a grim reaper-looking ghost was waiting to stop us.

The problem was, my grandmother was walking too slowly and fell behind, so when I went back to grab her arm (that was one touch out of the three-touches-and-you’re-dead rule, but it was an emergency so I was willing to risk it), the grim reaper ghost touched everybody who was ahead of us, then came back for me.

I fell limp on the ground and lay there until I felt the grim reaper ghost drag me back inside the house, through the dining hall, and into an empty bedroom, one that looked like it had just been moved into, unlike the others I’d seen. I remember looking at myself in the mirror, either in this bedroom or one of the others, and seeing my wispy ghost tail.

I was floating upwards through the mansion’s floors in desperation, and heard Barnaby's voice call out to me from somewhere, asking me in a mocking tone if I was floating up "to meet Peter Pan", probably because he knew that I couldn't escape through the ceiling. And when I asked him why he was keeping me there in the mansion, what he replied was downright chilling.

"Because I accept you, Colleen."

Yes, he called me by my real name. He said that he wanted me there and that he wanted to be friends, and that I'd "had a good life, right?" And then I felt him tug on me from below, pulling me down into one of the fancy bedrooms, where his wings turned into hands (kind of like his feet) and began slowly reaching towards me as he glowed rainbow colors for some reason. (Rainbows not depicted here)

His voice sounded... different, less like his own and more like that of the Mysterious Stranger from The Adventures of Mark Twain (who talked in two voices, one low and one high, at the same time) as he said something like,

"Come play... come with me, into eternity..."

I backed up as far as I could, but that somehow made Barnaby's wings-turned-hands move faster to "catch up" with the distance I'd moved. When I floated up to the ceiling, they angled themselves upward to keep facing me. Since I couldn't get myself through the wall or ceiling, it seemed like there was no escaping from his grasp, but then in one hand he offered me a pair of "friendship tassels" he'd made for us. Yes, tassels, with pins of our faces on them that he'd made.

This gave me an idea. I pulled on one of them, then let it go, and its rope retracted so quickly that the tassel slapped Barnaby in the face, giving me a chance to float up through the ceiling and get away.

I continued to explore the mansion and look for other ways out while evading the terrifying ghost owl, but I couldn't seem to shake him. I think I came back to life again somehow after encountering my brother and his friend in a room on one of the higher floors, but Barnaby found me and death-touched me just because he could.

After that, I tried hiding inside a TV, where a videogame with two giant robots fighting each other was going on (Billie Bust-Up is already a video game, so... a game within a game?), but Barnaby followed me in there, too.

No matter which room of the mansion I flew to, there was no losing him, but I was determined to escape. Alive or dead. The last thing I remember before waking up was trying to squeeze my way upwards through a narrow opening between a bunch of pipes, like this...

I couldn't phase through any of the pipes, but I figured that since I was a ghost, it didn't matter if I got squished between them since I didn't have any insides to get crushed. And yet, it was still uncomfortable, slowly floating upwards through this gap that was getting narrower and narrower, wondering if I'd ever reach the top...

...and that was how the dream ended. I think the reason I had this dream was because I was having another existential crisis last night, so my subconscious mind had a lot of feelings it needed to work out because of that. It still bothers me how much better my subconscious mind is at coming up with cool stories than my conscious mind is, though.

[sosimsofmaddi]

Shifting Together

Reese's hand covered her face, her finger and thumb pressing into her temples. She was leaning against her kitchen island, staring at the lament counter-top, and trying not to snap at her ten-year-old.

Kelley Geroux sat on the hardwood floor in the living room, shoving his feet into shoes and complaining the whole time. He was late for school, having missed the bus by a good fifteen minutes. He'd refused to leave the house without a certain pair of sneakers, and Reese was trying not to lose it.

Her son didn't seem to understand urgency, or the fact that her patience was already running thin. She tried not to bother him with things like money problems and the moon phases, but sooner or later he'd catch onto the fact that Reese's temper grew impossibly short twice a month: rent due date and the full moon.

The full moon was more concerning, because not only was her stress level through the roof, but there was always a slim chance she might not be able to slow her rapid pulse.

"Get up, and let's go," Reese ordered, cutting off a fourth round of Kelley's tirade. "Now you'll have to walk in late in front of everyone." Normally she'd feel a little bad pushing that anxiety on her child, but today especially, he deserved it.

"I don't care," he argued, stomping to his feet. He flung his backpack from the floor and through the arch leading to their foyer. His crinkled pile of homework still cluttered the desk tucked into that little alcove. The floor creaked beneath him.

"You're going to wake your aunt," Reese commented dryly, bracing for another I don't care.

Kelley threw open the front door and stomped out to the small front porch. Reese sighed and slipped into a pair of crocs. She shuffled his homework into one haphazard pile and thrust it at him, dragging the door shut behind her.

Neither she or Kelley wore coats, but she wasn't sending him back into that house again. Instead, she headed for the truck. He followed, deliberately crushing leaves beneath his feet.

She walked her son into school twenty minutes later, ignoring the looks from the office staff. She was a mess, still in the oversized shirt and faded black sweatpants she'd worn to bed. Her hair was a disaster, her teeth unbrushed, and she didn't trust herself not to glare. She avoided eye contact as she signed Kelley in, then thrust him through the second doors when they buzzed open.

"Have a great day," she said blandly.

Kelley tromped off without a word.

"Ms. Geroux," the woman on the other side of the glass stopped her.

Reese shoved her hair back behind her ears.

"This is the second time this week that Kelley has been tardy," the woman said. "It's only Tuesday."

Reese pasted a placating smile on her face. "I know what time it is," she told the woman, crossing her bare arms over her chest. She tucked her fingers beneath her upper arms, regretting the decision not to grab a jacket. Hopefully they'd keep Kelley in for recess.

"We do have an attendance policy," the woman spoke again. "Tardies add up to missed attendance."

"He's fifteen minutes late," Reese replied, ignoring the fact that she'd rounded down another fifteen minutes.

The main doors opened and another frazzled family blew inside. Reese took the momentary distraction and slipped out behind them. The receptionist instantly warmed, greeting the parents and their daughter by name. Reese got the sense that everyone seemed to know each other, which made Reese and Kelley's standoffishness even more apparent.

Gunnar's Moonwood Mill history lesson gave context to the town. From the humans' perspective, it was fractured in two. Those who sent their kids to public school and made friends with their neighbors, and those who didn't. It was obvious that there were people around who kept to themselves, but no one knew the lycanthropes were more than just unfriendly, strange people.

Leaving her son's school, Reese thought about Gunnar's explanations a lot, mainly the thought of the lycanthrope kids all being raised and educated together. For as much as she hated the idea, she felt as though she might be ostracizing Kelley - making him an outsider with a secret at his current school and keeping him away from kids like him, who might understand themselves better.

The werewolf stepped out from the corner of the house when she got home. She glanced nervously at the house where Roxana was like getting her morning started.

Gunnar smiled at her, all knowing. He didn't take a farther step out, but he nodded for her to come closer. Reese obliged, taking quick steps across the yard. His smile turned in a full-blown grin when she reached him. He took a few steps back, leading her toward the woods.

She spared one more uncertain glance toward the house, then stepped between the trees with a werewolf. "What are we doing?" she questioned, almost at a whisper.

Gunnar was barefoot and shirtless. He must've snuck into her shed to get the jeans that he left there, because he at least partially dressed. He reached for the button of his jeans as she watched.

He did that a lot.

Reese turned around. "What are you doing?"

"Shifting," he answered unabashedly. "So are you."

She laughed. "No, I'm not."

He spoke as those he didn't stand naked behind her. "Why not?"

"Because it's broad daylight!" she argued. "And I only shift when I have to."

Gunnar's tone became more wary. "You only shift when the moon makes you?"

Reese didn't answer. He was so free with who he was, so uninhibited by the pull of daily life. Her life was ruled by the clock, by the money, by the survival. Gunnar was different. He came and went as he pleased. He shifted when he pleased. He walked through the woods as a wolf as though he was entirely safe between the trees.

Reese never felt safe her entire life.

Gunnar was so rooted.

"Run with me," Gunnar pushed. "Shift and run with me."

Reese shook her head. She could almost feel the step he took toward her. He was nowhere near close enough to touch, but she was aware of him. His voice dropped into something almost pleading, compelling. He spoke with compassion and almost pity.

"Please, Reese," he his voice cracked.

"It's not safe," she stressed, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

Gunnar caught the look, and how uncomfortable she was. He jumped back into his jeans and came around to face her. "It's safe enough. I know every inch of these woods. I can keep us away from both packs' land."

She looked up at him, those forest green eyes. "What about the logging company? They're surveying stretches of land not far from here."

His expression darkened for a moment, concealing the pain and concern. He hadn't talked to her about Fraser Timber Company, but if it was on her mind, it was definitely on his. Maybe even his entire pack's.

The company bought land just to cull it, planning to wipe out miles and miles of woods that housed the wolves for generations. Reese thought of the pack house where Gunnar was raised by his community. She imagined it tucked within a copse of trees, vulnerable to being discovered.

"Can your pack buy the land before they start bulldozing?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not enough of us. We've bought up all that we could. We have property--spread out in each of our names so that we don't catch too much attention. But the company must've bought at least a third of the forest."

"Why would the town let them do that?"

He pushed his hand through his hair with a sigh. "Exporting timber is good money," he muttered. "Moonwood is a small town, and poor since the first logging mill closed. People want jobs, even if it means cutting down their nature to do it."

"Does anyone even want that?" she muttered. "The population is so small and the cost of living is low. People drive to other towns for work."

Gunnar met her eye. "I don't know what the humans are thinking," he admitted. "But that company is moving in, and we don't know what will happen to the land."

Reese's heart dropped. "So what are the wolves going to do?" Life would become even more difficult for the wolves when that happened. Their lives would be condensed, their secret even harder to contain. They wouldn't have the freedom to shift and lose themselves in the woods.

Gunnar brushed her hair over her shoulder. "Enjoy it while we still can," he told her, unbuttoning his jeans and twisting away from her.

Reese didn't argue this time. She could feel how much this meant to him, how much it would mean to her if she had ties to this community, if she'd grown up in a pack like this. Moonwood was a safe haven for the werewolves. Gunnar told her there were other packs in Henford and Evergreen Harbor, but Moonwood was the foundation of pack-life. It was a different kind of life.

Gunnar turned his back without a word, and Reese folded her clothes and tucked them up near a tree, hoping that bugs wouldn't go near them. She watched as Gunnar shifted in a blink. He was beautiful. Snow white that transitioned into an ashy gray, like his hair.

He loped off into the woods. Reese closed her eyes. She rarely shifted if she wasn't compelled by the moon cycle. When she was young, she struggled to turn at will, so much so that she tried to believe it was impossible. She knew that wasn't true; her own father had shifted on accident. At eight years old, she watched him shift too close to her mother. She watched the woman bleed out while her father struggled to regain control.

He flailed in his wolf's body, keening an agonized noise. Reese wasn't sure if the wolf was still her father, so she threw herself on her mother when she crumpled to the floor.

The wolf lunged, tearing at Reese's clothes to drag her away, like a predator hoarding its prey. His claws cut her face from forehead to chin, and he released Reese, throwing her little body onto the floor.

Her younger sister, barely four, was crying before she even came into the room. She'd been sleeping in her parents' bed midday, and her little toddler body was sweaty and disheveled, her hair messy around her head like a little halo.

She screamed when she saw the wolf, not yet old enough to know what her father was. Their father had watched them closely their entire lives, scanned their little bodies for signs of lycanthropy. He discovered Reese's birthmark moments after she was born, and he always looked at her as though she was his biggest regret. He couldn't look at her and see beyond his own guilt.

Roxana, however, bore no mark of lycanthropy. Not until her father, the wolf, growling over their mother's dead body, threw her back with a heavy snap of his head. Roxana knocked into the door frame, then fell forward again, landing within inches of his claws. He lifted his paw and marred her.

Their mother died before their father regained control. Even through the blood, Reese hadn't been able to look away as he cradled their mother's body against his bare chest. He was racked with sobs, distraught. He didn't see either of his children. He didn't move except to squeeze their mother.

She'd married him knowingly. She married him knowing what he was. Knowing that his biggest fear was to pass his curse down to a child. But she'd begged him for a baby, and he loved her enough to give her one.

His skin was mottled with the blood that flowed from her neck and dribbled from her mouth. His black hair was coated, iridescent like the coat of his wolf.

Through his sobs, his pink, cursed eyes lifted to Reese. She tried to get over her mother's legs to get to Roxana. The child was wailing, but her father couldn't hear her. Reese froze when her father's head snapped to her.

She watched horror, beyond his guilt, play over his face. He saw his daughters for the first time, their faces cut and bleeding. Reese's clothing was sliced from her neck to her stomach, her skin peeled and clotting. Yet she moved, crawling over the horror of her parents to her baby sister.

Their father's voice was a croak. "Call 911, Reese. Take Roxana and go."

Reese was still too little to lift a solid four year old, but she did anyway. She dragged her sister out of the kitchen, listening to her scream, clenching her jaw when the child smacked her head back against Reese's wounds.

But Reese dropped her bodily in the living room on the other side of the couch, as though the bulky furniture could hide her from her father. She found the phone on the hook. She dialed 911.

She didn't say a word. Not when they answered. Not when they asked about Roxana sobbing in the background. Not when they heard a gun go off.

Reese didn't say a word when the police arrived and found the girls huddled together in the living room behind the couch. She didn't say a word when two black body bags were carried outside.

But she snarled when they came for her, pretending to be her father. They separated the girls, Reese snarling the whole time.

"Reese?"

The woman looked up, finding Gunnar in a shadow.

"I'm coming out," he warned her. He pulled his eyes from the three long scars that ran down her chest. He knew of the ones on her face, but seeing the rest told him so much more about her story, about the horror of her background.

He stepped into his jeans and grabbed her shirt. He looked away while she pulled it on. He asked again, and Reese couldn't find the words.

He wrapped his arms over her shoulders, tucking his head against hers. "I'm right here," he said, nuzzling at the scars on her face. They almost matched his own, his tokens of life in a wolf pack, but hers were cruel, while his were memories.

Reese held him, tucked her face into the crook of his neck. She breathed him in, smelling the soil and the rain, feeling the warmth and realizing that this was someone who knew her. Someone who could look at her and see all the things she couldn't say.

Reese shifted with Gunnar in the woods.

And it changed everything.

[listenbuckaroo]

Silent Alarm || Courtland Gentry (Sierra Six) x Reader

Warnings: gore, violence, blood, hospitals, affectionate names?

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Six has a hard time when his safety precautions still end up with someone hurt.

a/n: please be nice, this is quite literally the first thing i have publicly shared in 10 years. 

When Six installed the silent alarms in the bedrooms in your house you looked at him like he was utterly insane. Your dad’s house was so far out of reach and isolated you thought he had gotten lost when he was taking you there for the first time. But then again you also thought having a bodyguard for you and your cousin Claire was over the limit to begin with yet Six had been living with you for over a year now. 

His stoic demeanor made you uncomfortable at first, he didn’t say much to you or Claire for a few months. He made laps around the house and stood sentry outside your doors at night, and sooner than you thought Claire made him a lifelong friend. They discussed music and sweets, her choice being cakes and Six’s being any and all flavors of gum. 

Being the more reserved of the two, talking to Six wasn’t something that you did unless you needed something. Keeping the talking to a minimum was something that you did well for a few months, the quiet man that lived in your house with you eventually learned to get along with you. His subtle glances at you also didn’t go unnoticed by you or Claire, who often got tired early in the evening leaving you and Six alone in the common areas of the house. 

“I just had a really long day..” She would trail off giving you a hug and skipping down the hallway to her room. 

It took Six a long time to carry on a conversation with you. After Claire would leave the two of you alone he would often sit on the couch (far at the opposite end away from you) and watch all of the cheesy medical dramas that you watched after your cousin would go to bed at night. They made you laugh at the absurdity of them at times and one particular night you could have sworn Six also laughed at something that happened but you may never know. 

That quickly became a nightly ritual, Claire going to bed early and you and Six watching the most absurd shows you could find. Having his presence near you alway made you feel better and eventually it felt like a security blanket. A month after you started watching things together Six began to sit closer to you on the couch, and before long you were only one cushion away from each other most days. 

But none of that mattered now. As the red light of the silent alarm blinked silently in your face the sense of safety vanished letting panic and fear settle into their normal resting spots. You grabbed the metal baseball bat from under your bed and turned the light off, treading as silently as one can across the wooden floors.

The door to Claire's room was open, meaning she had woken up and got to the safe room before you, or something terrible had happened. Glancing both directions and listening for footsteps, you made your way to your cousin's room and shut the door behind you. Slipping inside you checked her hiding spots, under the bed and the closet. With no sign of her you made you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Raising your bat again you started making your way to the safe room. Sneaking towards the door you heard a shuffle and boots from the adjacent hallway. Gripping the bat the way Six showed you to you kept to the wall and tried to get the upper hand on whomever would round the corner. 

It did not go to plan.

The first intruder went down quickly with a swift smack on the head, however, you didn’t anticipate for his buddy to be so close behind. Once the first body had fallen, your only weapon was wrenched from your hands. The man stopped for a swift second to look at you before going after you with a knife. The yelp of surprise you released was totally unplanned but nevertheless gave you away to anyone else that may be in the house. 

Running through the halls you tried to get the man away from Claire, even if she was in the safe room your only thought was to keep her as safe as possible. Glancing back to see how close he was cost you precious moments when the body you slammed to around the corner of the kitchen was not Six. He towered over you and you let out the smallest whimper of panic. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made it difficult to register that the man chasing you had caught up and lunged at his prey.

“The one we’re looking for is smaller. She’s too tall.” The tree trunk you ran into muttered as he pushed you aside. 

A shaky hand lifted to try to cover your stomach, you didn’t know how your intestines weren’t on the floor right now, but a good chunk of your blood was. The man chasing you had managed to knick you, and by knick you mean slice open your chest from your chest to the side of your ribcage. 

The coppery taste you had never tasted before except when you fell off your bike as a kid slowly crept into your mouth. Grabbing your side you felt the bones of your ribcage through your shirt. The blood began pouring through your shirt as you tried to follow the men out of the kitchen. Two silenced gunshots erupted in front of you as the two bodies hit the floor.

“Six..” You called as you tried to make your way down the hallway. 

Stumbling and grabbing the wall you shuffled towards the safe room. The wound on your chest was gushing blood all over your shirt. You heard the familiar footsteps in front of you picking up pace as your knees started to give out. 

“Y/N? Jesus Christ what happened to you?” He said as he grabbed you before you hit the floor. 

“Six, oh god everything hurts so bad. Why is there so much blood?” You mumbled as you tried to grab onto him but the blood made it difficult to get a grip on anything that would be helpful. 

“Fucking shit.” He breathed out “Cmon, I can’t fix this.” He picked you up carrying you to the end of the hall where the safe room was hidden in the wall.

The door hissed open. Claire's scared shouts were followed by her panicked voice asking Six what to do. 

“Call your uncle and get in the car, we have to leave now.” He said your head lulling against his shoulder.

The fear and panic began to outweigh the pain, your heart was beating faster and you couldn’t take a breath. Gripping his arm you tried to tell Six something was wrong but you could only stare at him like a scared animal. He noticed you weren’t breathing and immediately started making his way towards the car. 

“Hey princess,” he whispered into your hair as he laid you down in the back seat “take a breath, you’re going to shock, there was an edge to his voice you hadn’t heard before and it made you worry.

Breathing started to feel like a job as soon as his words hit you. Six was all you could see so that's what you tried to focus on. No matter how much pressure he was placing on your stomach the corners of your eyes started turning black and fuzzy. 

“Y/N.. Hey no no no, come on honey…” Six said, but you couldn’t hear the rest.

Losing all that blood had made you light headed and weak, even with Six’s coaxing you couldn’t come back around and the darkness swallowed you. 

—

Claire’s POV - 

“I DON’T KNOW HE JUST TOLD ME TO CALL YOU!!” She yelled into the phone as she hung up and sprinted to the car. 

Six was laying over Y/N’s body in the back seat shaking her head and trying to cover the gaping wound on her chest.

“Six what happened??” Claire called as she got to the car.

“Look, do you see what I’m doing?” He questioned gesturing to Y/N chest where it looked like he was putting his full body weight on top of her, “You have to keep pressure on this while I drive okay?” 

When he turned around finally Claire was shocked. The tears in his eyes were a dead give away to the true panic he was experiencing right now. His job was to protect her and Y/N and he couldn’t do that tonight. Claire paused for a moment before nodding and quickly switching places with Six so Y/N didn’t lose more blood. 

The ride to the nearest hospital was quick with Six weaving in and out of traffic like it was a game. Claire struggled to keep her footing but successfully did her traumatizing job just like Six had asked. He didn’t even bother parking when they got to the hospital, he pulled the keys from the ignition and grabbed Y/N from the back seat and barged into the ER doors. 

“I need a doctor please, my wife needs help.” He yelled as he made his grand entrance. 

Claire followed close behind and nearly stumbled when Six referred to Y/N as his wife. Quizatically looking at him she made no mention as they continued straight to a room with a doctor waiting. She waited outside so that she didn't have to see anymore blood for the night and nearly fell asleep in the chairs waiting outside the room. 

Her uncle showed up 30 minutes later looking quite scared, another emotion she had seen from the other man in her life for the second time tonight. He wrapped her in a huge hug as she tried not to cry into his shoulder. He picked her up and took her into the room where the doctors and nurses had finished their work. 

Y/N looked peaceful, much different to the panicked look she had seen from her only a few hours prior. Six stood to the side and made his way towards the door to stand watch as Fitzroy and Claire stayed with Y/N. Claire saw the concern on Six’s face as he made his way past them but made no mention of it to Six or her uncle.

—

Your eyes fluttered open to the sunlight to your left. Realizing you were not in the comfort of your own bed she looked around quickly trying to understand where on earth she was. Sitting up should not have caused as much pain as it did, and then you remembered the previous night's events. 

Panicking to the idea that you could have died you looked around the room for a familiar face. Six’s eyes connected with yours from outside the room and widened. He burst through the door and was immediately at your side, once again trying to calm you down. 

“Heya honey, everything’s fine. Blow some air out, you're fine. There ya go..” He continued with his words of encouragement until your breathing returned to normal.

“How long have I been asleep?” you asked, clutching the blanket that had been draped over you.

“Oh not long, just a good 17 hours.” he chuckled, smiling at you through sleepy eyes.

“And how long has it been since you slept?” you said, squinting your eyes at him, knowing it would be way too long for a human, even a Sierra to go without sleeping. 

He let out a huff of air and went to stand up and leave. Grabbing his arm as he stood he looked at you confused, as if he wouldn’t know that the person he was assigned to protect would be nervous to see him walk away on little sleep. 

“You can sit in the chair here and keep me company?” you suggested as his eye glanced between the comfy chair and you.

“Just till you fall asleep.” he mumbled and plopped down.

“Thank you Six,” you said, grabbing his arm, “Really thank you for everything.”

He nodded before giving your hand a squeeze and muttering something about going back to sleep. Laying on your back you slid closer to the right side of the bed so Six would be closer if anything happened. Not that it would, you just needed his reassuring presence near you, keeping the worry at bay in your mind. 

When you woke again, the moon had decided to show its face and peek through the curtains that someone had closed that evening. Moving your head to the chair where Six had been previously you were a bit surprised to not see him standing guard after you dozed off. 

Something soft under your hand caught your attention before you could call for someone to ask where anyone you might know was at. Looking over, Six had fallen asleep, hard. His head now rested on your thigh and his body was still planted firmly in the chair you had asked him to sit in a few hours prior. 

Subconsciously while sleeping, your hand had made its way to his head and now rested on his soft hair. Grinning from ear to ear you had never felt more safe, even if someone had just sliced you open. Careful not to readjust yourself you shut your eyes again so as to not wake the sleepy body guard on your leg.

[introloves]

@virgoamajiki: hhnngggg no thoughts just boxer!bokuto fucking you senseless after seeing the other boxer he was supposed to fight that night flirting w/ u just to rile him up and throw him off his game.

— soft dom! bokuto + boxer! bokuto + mentions of harassment in the beginning + overstimulation / dumbification + size kink + comfort + praise + breath play + squirting + fluffy end + bokuto calls reader ‘puppy’ + f! reader

— word count; approx 2.6k

— part of my boxerverse! bokuto: one shot no. 1

he can’t blink back the images of you during the fight. the near deafening roars of his name all fadded into nothingness as he stalked towards his opponent- bokuto was dead set on putting him down.

the prick had really managed to get under his skin at the weigh in, picking you out- pointing directly at you and asking why you didn’t hop on over, he said you’d be better taken care of.

you’d sat there, wide eyed, clearly scared and taken back by his words. you only spared him a glance. instead turning with wide eyes at your boyfriend, now scared for the other man. frantic eyes shot up to look for his own- it was clear what you wanted, you looked scared and your face held a look that said;

“bo, please don’t.”

and usually, that look would disarm him completely- but not now- not now when he can see the way your eyes watered and lips trembled at the words.

he is sorry for not looking at you right away, sorry for not giving you the comfort you need-

but he’s not sorry for lunging over to the other side, barreling straight past staff that looked minuscule compared to his towering form. microphones clashing onto the floor with clear intent.

it’s complete chaos, bokutos manager grabbing him, holding him back down onto the seat, hissing in his ear that he’ll have a chance to go at him, “in the ring.”

you sit, dazed by the clamor and rapid snapping of cameras that bathe the two of you like a shower of pure light.

but he sits back down, hand clamped over your thigh, squeezing you, using your body as a stress ball. he can’t even look at his opponent, amber eyes focused on nothing more than your trembling knee- koutarou truly thinks he might kill him.

-

when he finally enters the ring, it doesn’t take long for the bastard to get dropped. its almost comical how short the match ends— usually bokuto would have put a little more show into it, letting him take a couple of hits before handling it, dragging it out to fluff his ego, showing everyone that he was the king, but not now.

as soon as his opponent is down, spread out on the white canvas- he steps once towards the body— pushed away by the referee in panic with the way he looms over him a little longer than necessary. the referee looking over at his teams side, shoving him back into his corner before calling the end of the match.

he lets his body get shoved into his corner, scoffing at the way the man lays there... pathetic.

bokuto doesnt even react to the roars of the crowd- walks past his team and into the locker rooms.

it feels like it takes forever to get back to you, normally you’d be at the ringside, but for this round he didn’t want you there and you not being able to do that, especially for a fight like this has you on edge. waiting for your koutarou to come home. the tension is almost suffocating when you finally hear the door slam closed.

you know hes not mad at you, thats not who the shake of the house is directed at. bokuto has always been a gentle giant with you— an overexcited, loving, and sweet giant.

he walks straight into the room, tugging off his shirt, shorts, leaving a trail of clothes as he makes a beeline right to you. there’s a deep want, need to have you, it feels like someone’s pressing down onto his chest- a tight ball of... anger and fear swirling around there.

it softens when he see’s you though, cuddled up on the bed, eyes lidded as you smile at him, welcoming him home. when he touches you, your body still warm from an almost sleep, he feels the sharp edges of anger melt away. there was no need for him to angry or scared at the words his opponent had thrown your way- he wasn’t the one about to fuck you to sleep... but the small tingle of fear and anger didn’t leave him completely.

“baby.” you murmur, hands outstretched to bring him into your space, the big body of his instantly melting down to your form, elbows perched on either side of your head- trapping you completely in.

“saw you drop him... first round.” voice heavy with lust and want, he was so strong and powerful and all yours. legs drop down onto the bed to let him in, ready for him, waiting for him.

“yeah, had to.” bokuto responds back, whispering it against your lips before he kisses you, licking into your mouth with heavy strokes of his tongue, all but tracing his name onto the front of your teeth.

“he scared you didnt he?” he growls, hissing at the way your heat wiggles to find his cock. bokuto shifts to hold the weight of his upper body on just one arm, slipping a hand down to tug your bottoms off.

“mhm.” you whimper back, gripping onto his shoulders, body jerking with every pull.

“did you see how i took care of him, pretty thing?” kou spits, pulse quickening at the wetness that meets his knuckle, trailing the back of his hand up your cunt before slipping a finger against your folds, splitting them open to briefly glance at your exposed pussy.

“fuck- course you did, thats why you’re so wet, huh?”

you cant really say anything, because he was right- seeing him knock that man out with one punch, straight to the jaw, sent heat flooding through your veins, proof of it formed in the shape of pure slick painting the outside of your cunt, between your thighs, pooling in your bottoms. its kinda silly, he knows what he does to you, knows you love watching him in his element, eyes hardened and face laxed in total concentration and an air of cockiness to him when he steps in the ring. he knows you love it, cause you’re always drooling into your panties when he comes to you after a match.

“real wet.” he marvels once more, sinking a finger all the way down to the knuckle and all you can do in response is open your legs wider, tilting yourself up to show him how ready and receptive you were for him.

“good girl.” his voice is tight and low- something like a growl with the way you move against his one finger. its enough to snap the string of self restraint he had, pure unbridled energy bouncing off him as he departs from you- just for a second, to kiss you harshly.

its a mix of tongue, spit, and teeth- strings of your passion still hanging from between the two as he leans back to look at your form, wiggling around in need of him.

its okay, he thinks, he’ll give you what you want.

and he does, doesn’t take long for him to grab the base of his thick and heavy cock, letting it slap against your cunt a couple times before squeezing the head of him inside- nice and snug. it makes him lightheaded, he cant think of anything but you- a fever crawls up his sculpted back, a need to just sink in and fuck you silly, but he wants something from you first.

“who do you belong to puppy?” he inquires gruffly, not moving an inch, watching the way you blink up at him through tears.

“w-what?” its sudden, your sweet and kind bo almost never talked like this in bed, it makes you salivate, a heat flushing down your back.

“c’mon- tell me who you belong to.” he hisses once more, splaying one of his big, strong, veiny hands across your chest, pushing down- locking you against the bed.

he still hasn’t moved, and the fluttering of your pussy down on the head of his dick makes him grunt- muscled stomach tensing with each one. he comes back to you- a little softer in the way his words sound, carrying that sweetness you know and love.

“please, tell me you’re mine.” he whispers, moving the hand that had you pinned down up towards your neck, rough callouses rubbing against the soft and sensitive skin there.

its a juxtaposition of kind, vulnerable words mixing in with the harsher movements of his strong hand curling against your airway, frantic in the need to hear it from you.

you know what he needs, and you’re more than happy to comply, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better. your hand moves up to wrap around his wrist, pulling him in close, eyes burning with hot tears forming there at the lack of blood- but you continue, till the next words are all but hissed, high and tight.

“yours, i’m all yours koutarou, my king.”

there isn’t anything he could have done to prepare for that, he stutters, chokes on the lust heavy in his chest, he feels like there’s molten want dripping down his veins- swirling into a tight ball at the pit of his stomach.

all he can do is rear back, hips lifting off you, popping the head of him out and you nearly whine, nearly ask him whats wrong before he slams down in one hard and desperate stroke, catching the skin of your cunt harshly, but its okay- there would have been no way you’d survive in a relationship with him if you didn’t like a little pain.

when his hips make contact with your cunt, puffy lips giving him cushion- he grinds down, smashing your clit down against his pubes.

eyes shut tight, a choked sob tumbling from your lips in response, head teetering back onto the bed.

“koutarou! fuck! fuck!” words high and staccato-ed are echoed out into the room, he feeds off the broken syllables of his name tumbling from your lips.

he looks at you while he squeezes his fingers against the thrum of your quickened pulse underneath his hand- watching your eyes roll back, the whites of them on clear display as lips part, a silent scream painted onto the moments of your face-

the bed groans, creaks with each crushing thrust he gives you, drilling you down into the bed.

“keep saying my name puppy, keep saying it.” he grunts looking at you with a feverish and concentrated gaze, affected in how well you stroke his ego, chest feeling incredibly full, the prickle of his orgasm starts, but there was /no/ way he’d come before his baby.

the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat sweeps down your arching body until his thumb finds your twitching clit- immediately pressing down on it with enough force that his thumb turns white. it rips a scream straight from the center of your chest and your body starts seizing up.

he huffs out a laugh when he sees the way your hips cant up off the bedding- it nearly pushes him back, but he stays unwavering, following the movement of your spasming body.

“koutarou!” his name leaves your mouth in the form of a wail while he batters your cunt, you don’t even know you’re moving the way you are- hands falling to rest pitifully against your head.

“ah- that’s my girl.” bokuto beams, seeing the splash of your cum arch all the way up to hit his tummy- abs glistening with every contraction as his hips drill into you- he gives in, taking the thumb that had been squeezing your clit down onto your body and sticking it into his mouth, watching you with lidded eyes as he licks the cum off his hand, all while keeping your neck pinned down and chasing the frantic movements of your hips.

there’s no immediate reaction from you when he picks up your legs- weak with the strain you’ve put them under, and folds them up to your chest.

the only thing you do is intake a lungful of air, dazed eyes looking up at him- not knowing how he got so close to your face.

it’s the first slap of his heavy balls against your ass that makes you come back from it all-

“p-please!!” you cry, eyes wide. the force of him still pistoning into you makes your body bounce off the shaking bed, and thanks to the squirting orgasm he fucked out of you with his thick cock- building a near searing sensitivity into the walls of your cunt and clit, you cum once more. it’s the final break into a headspace that has you twitch and flail your legs, wiggling against the hold of his arms.

“yeah- good girl.” bokuto grits out, a bead of sweat drips off his face onto your own, and thankfully- it’s what he needs to cum. his eyes are frantic as he watches you- swollen lips, face turned relaxed as you squeeze down around him, looking like the image of fucked stupid.

with the a final resounding smack of his hips into you, his cock jumps, swelling, growing snug inside you before he dumps an almost obscene amount of cum into you.

small twitches of your body lets him know you feel it, his head falls down to land against your chest, keeping you folded as he grits his teeth.

it takes rapid, hard blinks of his eyes to not let tears fall down onto his face. he’s shaky as he finally sits back up, making sure to bring your thighs down gently.

“kou-“ you choke out, looking for him-

he responds by finding your limp hands, still lying up by your head- slotting thick fingers and broad hands into your own.

“‘m right here.” koutarou nearly wheezes out, still reeling from an orgasm that he can still feel.

“that felt good.” your voice is airy and sweet- pitchy and laced with love.

for the second time that night- he laughs, shaking his head while he slips his softened cock out of you.

he picks you up, scooping your trembling form into swollen muscles- keeping you nice and tight against a hard torso.

“you make me feel good.” he whispers into your hair, not caring about the trail of hot cum that leaks out of your fucked out cunt, trails of it running down his leg while he places you on his chest, laying the both of you down.

holding you tight like this, sweat mingling together, residue of cum and tears painting eachothers bodies- he knows there was nothing he should have ever been worried about.

he didn’t have to worry about protecting or loosing you- bodies intertwined, locked into one another proved that you took care of him, gentle hands tracing your name onto the skin of his chest.

“i’m all yours koutarou.” you whisper, nearly falling into the heaviness of sleep.

he once again blinks back the need to cry- he could take all the punches in the world, not even blink, but he was so weak for you.

“yeah... i’m all yours too.” his voice is tender, shaky with emotion, arms squeezing around you tight.

he really was.

[gingerbreadmonsters]

ALL MINE: always read the label

or: the bonus round of ALL MINE, as originally printed in the end notes on ao3.

a little bit of miscellaneous debris from my brain that was a little bit too long to include in the main body of ALL MINE - thank you very much to @softredrobin who reminded me that i hadn’t added it to the tumblr version!

P.S. the “mates’ group chat” is a real thing, and it consists of angel, babe, sweetheart and sam. david thinks its all a conspiracy and doesn’t really believe it exists, milo likes how sweetheart tells him all of the gossip that they get from it, asher’s application to join is being denied for the fiftieth time, darlin’ thinks the whole thing is fucking hilarious and actively feeds its status as pack urban legend. 

nobody else is allowed to even know its name, especially not the mates of its members, and rumours swirl about the secrets that it holds…

P.P.S. the “prank with the door” is not quite the same as, but in reference to, this ask that i sent to the lovely @starlitangels - the gist of it is that sweetheart has a running joke that as they’re leaving a room, they’ll continue their conversation as they walk backwards or sideways towards the door, reach for the door handle as if they’re about to open it, and then just phase straight through the door without looking. it freaks milo out every single time because he thinks that they’re just going to walk face-first into the door, and he fucking hates it.

there are various iterations of this prank - one involves angel opening the door towards themselves from the other side, and then walking through just as sweetheart is about to phase through it, so that sweetheart phases through them instead (david nearly had a heart attack when he saw it the first time), and another has angel opening the door outwards (towards sweetheart) so that it really does look like they’re about to get hit by the door unexpectedly.

there’s one variation that they’ve yet to try, and it involves quite a complicated setup - sweetheart is sitting on the arm of the sofa, facing inwards to talk to sam, who’s sitting down. babe is standing behind sweetheart, next to the sofa, and angel is lying underneath it. the idea is that sweetheart overbalances and “falls” backwards, keeping their knees bent so their lower legs keep them attached to the sofa. babe moves to catch them, but sweetheart phases through their arms (oh no! they’re actually going to fall!) and uses the pivot point at their knees to essentially swing around the arm of the sofa like a trapeze, keeping their upper body intangible so they can phase through the sofa but making their hands solid so that angel can push them up and give them some extra momentum to propel them up through the cushion.

their lower legs and knees stay solid so that when they swing around, they effectively plant their feet on the floor by the side of the sofa and pull their upper body up through the seat cushion - the end result is that sweetheart is now standing, facing sam, just in front of babe and leaning forward onto the sofa arm that they were sitting on. sam’s job in all of this is to maintain a normal conversation with sweetheart throughout the whole thing, seeing as he’s the only one out of the four with a decent poker face.

they’ve been practising for a few weeks now, and it’s nearly perfect - they’re planning to reveal this new set piece at next month’s barbeque at milo and sweetheart’s house. babe has been practicing their surprised face, and sweetheart has already pre-emptively checked the health insurance paperwork in case milo actually does keel over.

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

[honey-lemonz]

From Wattpad..

Xmale Reader

3rd Pov

Warning includes sexual content

Includes: dumbification, master kink if you see it rough sex, degradation, barley a praise kink, female form Muzan, squirt, getting eaten out over stimulation

Muzan will still go by He/him

Requested by:maskstudioart

Thank you for the request!

Muzan didn't ever think he would dub down this far. He would every single day, change his form to his more feminine body and go flirt with a demon archer.

The demon knew it was Muzan the progenitor and knew if he did something wrong he would die but...

Muzan had an obsession.

He overly loved the feeling of climax in a female form, it was so different than a males.

You could say he was a virgin with this meaning he was inexperienced but God's did he fucking love to finger himself.

He just wished a certain archer would make him feel the climax himself.  Muzan couldn't lie, he was a strong demon, very useful as well, very strong too. Good enough to be a spot for the twelve kizuki. Not a lower moon of course most likely and upper rank.

But for some odd reason he didn't want him as a servant.

He wanted him as a lover. And he knew love needed to be two sided otherwise it wouldn't work.

So how do you make a lust full demon king make another demon who is a devoted archer and is devoted to his sport and possibly not interested in him or fears him?

Gifts and buy lots of them, bribing.

Muzan wore his most fancy kimono and tied his hair into his bun and made Daki put the pins in. He wore a signature floral style which is famous muromachi period which it the century the archer if from.

He put on a red lip and was out the infinity fortress and walked to the archery park filled with cherry blossoms and bamboo gates. No human knew of the hidden places.

Muzan glared at the other demons to open the gate and strolled on in, he felt like a school girl who had a crush on her upper class men. Except he is older and stronger.

The archer was practicing with their bow and was in total focus. He could sense Muzan and smiled vividly that his lord could see him.

"Hello, Muzan-sama. How are you tonight under this moon." His voice made the king's pussy clench on nothing. He bit his lip and walked closer. A pale and touched the grey-ish skin of the archer. Veins throbbing on muscle.

Muzan traced them and hummed, his voice not menacing but suggestive.

"I am well, my archer..My search for the blue spider lilly is going unsuccessful but I grant time will tell. Now, how is my dear, archer. Have any whores here?"

Muzan is a jealous and petty thing. He knew the archer can have whores here and there. Daki has spoken about it. She even said his physical domination is almost more tempting and frightful than Kokushibou. (sexy ass man koku)

The archer inhaled before letting the string of the bow go. "What of it my lord?" Normally Muzan would be angered of the question but he, he made it sound like a challenge.

"Well, I came here to see my beloved and most favorite archer...I didn't come to see if he is fucking another whore. I thought warriors like you were supposed to be poised."

The archer's fist clenched, snapping the bow in half. Muzan let out almost a moan at the sight of his strength.

"Yes my lord. I am poised, who ever told you of these lies must want to anger you. I haven't had a woman nor man at my side since the Sengoku."(making the archer older than Koku)

Muzan gazed at his split eyes, cat like with the gold color shining through. He wasn't lying, so either Daki was or whoever told Daki lied. Either way Muzan will deal with it later.

"So, my archer if to say you did have a whore what would she be? What would she looked like? Would she be rich? Poor?"

Muzan stepped behind him and pressed his womanly breast against his stern and muscular back. A thing kimono separated the skin to skin contact. The archer prepared his stance again. He inhaled and held the strong and tight bow. He pulled his back to his cheek.

"She, or he would have to learn how to speak of what they want." Muzan hummed and wrapped his hands around his waist from behind. Moving his hands up and down slowly, taunting him. His nails circling around his peck and the faint lines of his abdomen.

"What about her mouth? Should she speak like a whore or more of a queen? Or do you want to shut her up yourself..."

Muzan's hand dipped down to the hakama pants, the white fabric holding and slowly untying them. "Or do you want her to do all the work, my archer.."

His other hand curled around the arm that was holding the arrow. Holding onto his bicep. Leaning up to whisper into his ear.

"Tell me my archer..what kind of whore do you want me to be for you?"

(M/n) sighed and rested his arms and set the bow down. He sighed and let his head fall down to look at the ground. The sweat off his body made it shine slightly underneath the moon light. he looked so delicious, it made Muzan restless.

He wished he could see him during the sun or wake up beside him and just let him fuck the shit out of him or eat him out.

"Muzan-sama." The king in question hummed and smiled devilishly at his favored archer. "Yes (M/n)?" he answer as his long blue nail was tracing the outline of his cock.

"One thing."

He hummed again, he could read his mind and knew what he was going to say and it made him drip with slick.

"Whores that ask to many questions are just begging to be fucked." He dropped the bow and turned around the see Muzan. He smiled and blushed.

Muzan lifted his arms making him carry him. He didn't want to be in control he just wanted him to fuck him deep into the ground. His pussy was aching it.

Muzan was laying in his shoulder. If any demon saw him, they'd be killed.

They walked into the large estate, the house had been a gift from Muzan. He was so happy he decided to kill of the family here and give it to him.

He dropped Muzan on the engawa and stripped himself of his thin kimono but not the hakama pants. His chest that housed that baritone voice, a voice he wanted to her moan his name and name alone made the demon lord almost finger himself then.

"But since my king is here I believe it is best to pleasure him first than myself." He got onto his knees and stomach and rested on the wooden flooring. The white curtains only showed their shadows but neither cared.

He pushed the layers of cloth out of the way only to see no underwear or anything. A bare pink pussy dripping with cum.

"My lords pussy is dripping..did he plan for this? To be eaten out like a slut? How disgusting you pig." He breath fanned his clit. The anticipation was harsh but the impact was so enjoyus.

"Yes, I am your little slut, now please my archer eat me out like one." Muzan's head tilted back and spread his legs wider, his clit twitch waiting for the intense sensitivity to send it over and beyond.

"Yes, my master." His cool tongue circled his clit and spread his labia. Muzan moaned loudly and gripped the archers head. His attention to certain spots was so endearing and so careful.

"More, please! More my archer!"

His tongue dipped into his tight entrance and pushed deeper and deeper. His pointer and middle finger entrap his clit. His thumb circles it roughly. Muzan felt the blood from his teeth digging into his lips dip down onto the floral patterned kimono.

"Fu-fuck. More! Please my archer give me more!" He was arching his back and pushing his head deeper. (M/n) removed his tongue, Muzan missing the contact was about to yell at him to continue but his three fingers replaced the rage with more pleasure.

He moved his hand in and out at inhuman speed. He reached up to lick away the blood from his lords lips and bite them. His thumb moved harsher and harder. Wet and sloppy sounds filled the air.

All coming from the demon lord.

His hands gripped the arches forearm and dug into it, drawing blood with his nails. He was whining and moaning. The pressure built more and more. More lewd and rude comments were whispered into his ear.

"Who knew the demon king wanted to get fucked like a whore..so fucking wet for an archer. Was it your plan to have a good fuck? To act like a such a slut and pig. Your dripping all on my hand."

With the words Muzan's pussy gushed. He had never felt so disgusting but it felt so good to feel like a sloppy whore.

He panted and clenched on his hand.  But then Muzan felt another finger being added. (fisting) The pressure came back and made the demon lord fall back out of over stimulation. Begging and begging for more. His own hand playing with his clit and slapping it too.

His kimono was drenched by the second orgasm, he squirted father this time and more. The engawa was soaking with his delicious fluids. The blood on his lips were lapped away. (M/n) pulled his hand away and liked his digits clean of the others juices.

"So tasty my lord, you did such a good just squirting like a whore."He stood up and lifted his fucked out demon king to farther into the estate.

He rested Muzan on the futon. He stripped himself and then Muzan. His breast were round and plump, his nipples hard.

Kissing and biting them, also playing with his clit made him scream at over stimulation again.

"Pl-please, my archer..fuck me..fuck me until I cannot think.." He begged, his lipstick smudge covering his cheek, hair a mess and his bun not as perfect. The decorations were falling out. This obsession he had was growing and growing because of his dear archer.

"Yes my whore lord."

He untied the sash of the hakama and revealed his thick and long cock. Muzan felt like he was going to fucking squirt again.He pulled (M/n) down to kiss him and to force him and let their body's run against each other. His cock rubbing against his clit made him arch his back.

"Please, my archer just fuck me!"

The archer pushed no slammed himself into Muzan. Letting the demon lord get a taste of what he wanted.

But he pulled out and flipped the demon on his hands and knees. He pushed back in and growled as he clenched tightly around him. His chest pushing into Muzan's. Fucking like a wild animal.

His cock pushed pass his G-spot and made the demon lord cry out about how he is going to cum again. His mind as he fucked him wandered off. Just blank and white all he felt was his pussy gushing and squirting. His arousal dripping down his legs and (M/n)'s cock and balls.

He was drooling and crying, not even having proper speech. When the archer pulled out and showered his back and ass with cum, growling and grunting.

Muzan felt his whole body just become sore. He was the strongest demon but got fucked like the weakest.

"T-this i...is..w-whhy yo-your myy favorite..m-my archer..."

The archer chuckled and wiped the cum off Muzan and the liquids off himself. He waled away to grab a kimono for the demon king.

"You'll ma-make a great King.."

The demon king relished in the feeling of being pampered. He liked how much attention he was getting and how much care was put into it. He smiled as he was place into the warm pool of water and treated perfectly.

By the time the sun rose, the archer and him retired to their sleeping quarters and sleep in the large western style bed. Muzan cuddled close to (M/n). While he was a sleep, which proved he was a hard worker. Demons don't sleep unless anything they do is put with 100%.

Muzan pushed him nail into his temple and pumped his blood into him. The archer growled in pain but kept his eyes closed. Muzan's curse was still in affect but it would not be death just a sting.

"Yes, you would make a great King, my favorite archer.."

He fell a sleep too. His new demon king was going to be perfect, he knew it. 

That is why he was the favorite, he made his obsession grow day by day.

He was truly satisfied.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch. 

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.” 

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was. 

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them. 

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest. 

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods. 

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist. 

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free. 

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing. 

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack. 

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel. 

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously. 

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.” 

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky. 

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it. 

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again. 

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper. 

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back. 

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house. 

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?” 

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches. 

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t. 

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats. 

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it. 

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects. 

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over. 

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part 

[p4lparker]

Part of the Pack

The aggressive alpha threw you away as if you weighed nothing, like a broken toy or a floppy rag doll. You felt your body crash into the concrete wall. It crumpled in on itself- nothing felt broken, as far as you knew. Well nothing apart from your pride. Thinking back, you had hoped today would be normal day- or as normal as cold be for you anyhow.

         The day had started out normal, well as normal as it could when there was a new alpha in town hoping to take over the pack. Scott had warned you and so had the others, but you didn’t feel all that scared. You were just a human who ran with wolves- you weren’t supernatural and you definitely weren’t a threat to anyone or anything. Though the rest of the pack felt it necessary to keep tabs on you and Stiles constantly. They would take it in turns ‘hanging out’- which was basically babysitting you to make sure you didn’t put yourselves in danger somehow. Scott had come over and watched movies with Kira and yourself, you all were sat watching Kick Ass- when Scott perked up. Almost like a dog; he quickly sat up and brought Kira with him. You paused the movie- waiting to find out what had caused him to do so.

         “Derek’s here..” Scott said, standing up and walking to the door; you followed Kira after. You stood leaning on the wall as Scott opened the door and revealed a brooding Derek. His dark brow furrowed and his face scrunched in a frown- his green eyes glaring at the three of you intently.

         “I’ve been calling you for an hour and you didn’t pick up. It’s your turn to patrol the perimeter.. I’m supposed to stay with Y/N.” Derek grunted, he was still glaring- but it was mainly aimed at Scott and Kira, rather than you. You folded your arms and stayed leaning against the jam of the lounge room door. Watching as Scott and Kira collected their things and gave you a sheepish goodbye before dashing through the still open door and to Scott’s parked bike. Derek turned his almost angry gaze to you before nodding his head at the front door. You flustered for a moment before gesturing for him to enter, then closed and locked the door behind him at his instruction. Not that locking it would keep an alpha out or anything- but whatever, you did as the intimidating wolf told you and lead him through the house to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and a can of pop from the fridge, you offered one to him which he gratefully agreed to. Offering him a glass he nodded and allowed you to pour the carbonated refreshment. You both stood in silence as you took sips from the drinks. You shared an awkward smile with Derek, who just nodded at you- not smiling back or giving any emotion away. You gestured for Derek to follow you back to the lounge- sitting down and making yourself comfortable on the sofa once more. You watched as Derek perched himself on the couch- at the other end of it. You started the movie again and allowed yourself to get sucked into watching the movie- trying not to feel on edge, Derek’s tense body and stoic facial expression was making this situation feel all the more forced.

         The movie was almost over, throughout it you’d wriggled and squirmed around the sofa- all the while Derek sat still, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion. You’d tried to concentrate on the vigilantism on the screen, you found it difficult to focus; it wasn’t until Derek sat up even straighter, as if that was possible. He lifted his head and glared at the ceiling, your eyes following his. He tilted his head and sniffed the air. You watched half amused half confused as he stood and walked out of the lounge room and to the stairs of the building. All the while still sniffing at the air. Following behind him as he began to trek up the stairs, through the hall and sniffing at each door until he stopped in front of one. Yours. He sniffed deeply, before rearing back. When he finally turned to face you, you could tell something was bothering him.

"Have you left your window unlocked?" His voice gruff and demanding. You looked at him in surprise. Shaking your head quickly.

"No! Everywhere is locked up tight, like you and Scott and everyone else had ordered.." You muttered, glaring alternatively between your feet and Derek's leather clad back. All you heard in return was a grunt, before you bedroom door was roughly pushed open; the handle slamming against the pale walls and probably leaving a dent or a mark or something. Derek stalked around the room still sniffing, until he found himself standing under the sky light. The access to the roof, the wide opening window didn't work though- it wouldn't lock, so your dad nailed it shut. Derek jumped up from the floor and onto your bed, boots and all. As he stared intently at the big window above him. You watched, from your position by the door as his eyes flickered blue.

"The window is broken." Was all he uttered, the anger present in his voice.

"Yeah, it always has been.. My dad nailed it shut years ago. It wouldn't lock or anything.." You stated, shrugging your shoulders.

"No. The glass. It's broken. It's like its been lifted from the surround. And put back." Derek growled, eyes narrowing as he glared at you.

"Meaning what?" You asked, terror seeping into your words that you couldn't control. You were sure, Derek could hear how fast your heart was beating even without his wolf hearing. The tension in the room and your bodies built.

"Meaning, I don't know how long the alpha may have been coming in here. Meaning I don't think you're safe here.." Derek answered. His eyes narrowed still, but holding worry in their green depths. "C'mon." He grunted. Stalking towards you and gripping your upper arm. You struggled to keep up with his long strides, he walked out the room not even closing the door- dragging you with him as he practically ran down the stairs and out the front door. He came to a stop just short of the road, you not realising he'd stopped slammed into his back. Wincing as you nose bumped into the leather was wearing, you stumbled back and lifted your free hand to your nose checking for blood. Derek let go of your arm and glanced over his shoulder at you, dark brows drawn together. He moved towards your neighbours car, looking around him suspiciously. Raising his elbow and slamming it into the drivers side window, you shrieked. Dashing over to him quickly and gripping his arm through his jacket. Through the thick material did nothing to hide or disguise his tensed muscles. It took a moment for you to shake yourself to move your brain back to what the issue at hand was.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You demanded, trying to tug his arm away from the broken glass- he was slowly moving his elbow to knock the remaining pieces from the frame.

"I'm stealing your neighbours car. Get in." Derek replied, as if it was the most simple thing in the world. Once the frame was clear of any sharp shards, he put his hand through and pulled the lock up. You heard the click as the internal locking mechanism worked. Opening the door, Derek threw himself into the drivers seat and waited impatiently for you to copy him. Groaning to yourself, you dashed around the front of the car and got in. Staring at Derek as he was fiddling with some wiring under the steering wheel. In a moments notice, you were off. Driving down the road quickly, Derek not really paying all that much attention to the road; he wriggled around awkwardly for a moment before pulling his phone from his jeans pocket. He looked sparingly at the road before dialling someone's number. You watched the scenery pass, you were in the warehouse district. Full of concrete walls and steel roofs.

"The alpha's been in her room. She needs to leave..." Was all he managed to get out before he was slamming the brakes on. Both of your bodies being jarred forwards, your seat belts yanking you back into the cushioned seats.

Breathing heavily as you tried to gather your bearings, you stared straight ahead of you in terror. There in the middle of the road was a great hulking beast. It was black and huge, making Peter's alpha wolf form look like a kitten in comparison. Derek stared ahead also, sizing the creature up. Before either of you could comprehend what was happening, the beast was pounding towards the stopped vehicle. Derek thinking quickly tried to put the car in reverse, but the beast just came at a quicker speed. It charged towards you on all fours and once it was close enough- it stood on two feet, reaching its clawed hands out and ripping the hood of the car to shreds. The scraping of metal made you cringe, but what petrified you was the fact that the engine was destroyed, and there was no chance for you to escape. The creature sauntered round the car, it ripped off the door on you side and snagged you from the opening. You screamed. Derek flustered with his seat belt before he leapt from the destroyed vehicle. It didn't take  long for you to realise that he was in full wolf form, but you also resigned yourself to the fact that he wouldn't be able to save you. He stood no chance against the monstrosity holding you captive in its sharp claws- you struggled to breath.

Your throat being constricted dangerously as you were held captive. You watched through bleary and unfocused eyes as Derek launched himself from the car; his eyes shining a bright blue, claws protruding from his hands and fuzzy hair clumping on the sides of his face as his face contorted into that of his wolf form. He dashed towards where the Alpha had you clasped, he started throwing slashes here and there. Desperately trying to free you from the monster. Though, the alpha did little more than seat Derek away as if he were nothing more than a fly. Derek didn't give up though, he kept coming- attacking again every time he got thrown back. You could feel your breathing becoming more laboured as the claws tightened. You felt the darkness calling to you like an old friend. You hadn't noticed that the rest of the pack; Malia, Isaac, Scott, Kira and Alison all joining Derek in trying to rescue you. Your eyes had fallen shut, and you felt consciousness slipping away. It wasn't until you felt someone stroking hair from your face gently, did you wake up. Peeking your eyes open to see Alison kneeling next to you- she smiled down at you as consciousness came back to your aching body.

“She’s okay guys.. but she needs moving. Like yesterday.” Alison stated as she helped to pull you up into a sitting position- you winced slightly, pain radiating from your ribs causing you to freeze. You looked to Alison, who frowned and prodded gently at your ribs; she shook her head.

“And I think she has either some cracked or broken ribs from the awkward way she’s moving..” Alison muttered, pulling you even more gently into a sitting and then standing position- in a slow but sure manner, she kept her arm supporting you. The rest of the group nodded, moving around you. It was then you took notice of them; they were all battered and bruised, deep angry looking gashes on their faces and arms. Your eyes caught sight of Derek who was favouring one arm, it cradled to his chest- which was barely covered by the shirt he had been wearing. It was slashed to smithereens, blood and skin showing through the rags, Alison and Kira helped you stand- staying close until they were sure you were steady on your feet.

“The Alpha’s gone for now. He’s off to lick his wounds. But I have no doubt that he’ll be back and soon. Y/N needs to be somewhere safe and secure- I vote we take her to the old train car.” Isaac stated, mainly directing his words to Derek and Scott who both nodded.

“There’s at least two other scents that’ll mask yours and hers, you should be safe their until we can get rid of this guy… Even if we have to chase him from Beacon- he’s gone.” Scott stated, you didn’t miss the red circling his irises as he spoke. He looked determined, and you knew not to be afraid. Scott was an alpha. He was a true alpha. He was your alpha- even if you weren’t a wolf. And with that the others were off, you looked to Derek still cradling his arm and knew he wouldn’t be able to drive.  Looking around, you spotted the demolished car not too far from you- sighing as you had no way of getting to the train car. Derek grunted and nodded his head to the left, you followed him. Hoping he knew where he was going, as you had no idea. You followed as he walked through the maze of practically identical buildings- leading you left and right and left again. Hoping like hell you wouldn’t have to navigate your way out yourself, as you had no chance of remembering and would probably end up living in this concrete jungle like a hermit. Soon enough you were standing in front of the abandoned subway- staring wide eyed as Derek had successfully navigated you both there- you had no idea it was so close, but then you realised that, that was the reason Isaac had suggested it to begin with. If the Alpha’s scent was covering the area, he probably wouldn’t return to it and you’d be safe- or safer. You followed Derek into the abandoned area and shivered. It felt so lonely- you remembered Boyd and Erica, smiling faintly before it slipped off your face all together. Moving further into the abandoned area, you collapsed onto a tattered seat- your eyes roving over all of the graffiti and claw marks that marred the walls. Derek groaned as he too collapsed into a seat. Breathing deeply, through his nose and clenching his jaw. It was then you realised how badly he was injured. His dark features were even darker due to the bruising covering his face, the gashes and slashes in his chest and torso- still bleeding, looked angry and painful. And the awkward angle that he held his arm, showed you he was in bad shape. Pulling yourself up and off the seat- ignoring your screaming muscles, you searched slowly- or as quickly as your sluggish body would allow, for some medical supplies. Knowing that Derek’s old pack must have had something like that lying around.

Your eyes landed on a couple of old shirts that looked similar to the tattered remains on Derek’s shoulders- making your way over to them, grabbing them up and letting your eyes roam over the area- until they landed on a lock box of some sort. Moving towards it, you checked on Derek over your shoulder- he hadn’t moved, you opened it quickly and smiled lightly. There in the box sat a bottle and a half of Jack. Gripping them both and the shirts in your hands before moving back over to him. Kneeling in front of him, you let your eyes scan over his injured body once more. Derek’s eyes flicked open as he felt you pushing his knees apart- allowing you to slip between them and situate yourself more comfortably.

“I-I th-think we need to set your arm first and then deal with the..” You stated and gestured to your own chest, Derek said nothing- just nodding and delicately offering you the obviously broken arm. “You need to tell me how to do this.. I’ve watched Grey’s Anatomy plenty.. but I’ve never actually done it..” you spoke quickly the words tumbling from your lips almost of their own accord. He nodded, and grit his teeth as you gently took hold of the broken limb.

“It’s my shoulder.. it’s dislocated- you need to grab hold of my arm and pull as hard as you can. When you hear it click and me scream- you’ve set it back.. Go!” Derek commanded, your eyes were wide as you tried to remember his words. You steadied yourself and pulled as hard as you could like he said. You yanked at his arm- as he growled- pulling as hard as physically possible for you until you heard a loud and sickening click and a scream-like groan fly from his slowly healing lips as well as some more unsavoury curses- you tried to steady your breathing and not let the pain show on your face too much. You let go of his arm and fell back onto your butt, watching as he breathed deeply and a light sweat dotted his forehead. He nodded and gestured to the injuries marring his chest, you too nodded and gripped the bottle of Jack before handing it to him. He raised a brow and chuckled darkly- before shoving it back at you.

“You need it more, besides it won’t do any good for me to drink it. It won’t affect me.” Derek told you, you nodded before unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of the dark liquid- letting to sweet taste linger in your mouth before swallowing it- then taking another long gulp. Setting it down by Derek’s foot, you kneeled up and gently tried to move the shreds of material away from the affected areas- but having no luck. Derek sighed almost impatiently, before gripping the fabric in his hands and tugging- the material falling away from his glorious chest- injured, but still glorious chest. You held your breath as he shrugged his shoulders, making the material fall to rest around his hips- his torso now bare to your wide eyes. You took hold of the bottle and one of the shirts, lifting both to Derek’s chest. You took a deep breath as you tipped the bottle allowing the liquid to flow down and onto the injuries. He hissed in pain- you moved the shirt and pressed against the wound- he groaned but allowed you to continue the process until you were sure the slashes were cleaned out. You knew though- he wouldn’t heal for a good while, but the treatment you’d given would do for now. Derek nodded his thanks, you smiled shyly at him before gripping the bottle and bringing it to your lips again. Taking a deep swallow you sat back, not realising your eyes had locked with his. The deep green boring into you- you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or what, but a shiver ran down your entire body. Blinking and looking away, you let one hand slip to his thigh and pushed yourself up- still gripping the bottle, you looked over your shoulder when you felt his eyes still on you.

You turned away and took another swallow of the sweet liquid, the burn becoming a comfort now. You hadn’t heard him move until you felt him rest a hand on your shoulder. He span you around so quickly- it felt like the room was spinning around you. The bottle slipped from your lips as you stared wide eyed at him, he stepped you backwards until your back was pressed against the cool metal of the train car. Lifting one of his hands, he gently brushed his fingers against your neck- gasping softly- his fingers sweeping your hair out of the way. One of his hands stayed at your neck, gently poking over the area, whilst the other trailed down your arm and to your hand gripping the bottle- pulling it from your fingers and bringing to his lips taking a swallow himself. Before placing it near your lips offering it to you- you obliged gulping some down, he then moved it down slightly and tipped the contents onto you. Your eyes still staring into each other’s, though yours widened marginally as a stinging pain radiated from you neck.

“Looks like the Alpha got you…” Was all Derek whispered, his eyes not leaving yours as the liquid flowed over the affected are of your skin. You just stood frozen, back to the wall- alcohol dripping down your neck and chest soaking your t-shirt, teeth biting into your bottom lip as you tried to control the raging hormones in your body. All you could think of was that if he leaned just that bit closer- his inviting lips would meet your own. Your body moved of its own accord, pushing forwards slightly. Your lips pushing against his. It wasn’t a kiss, not really- it was just your lips meeting his. And he didn’t push you away- so you pressed against him harder, your wet chest meeting his. Your lips moving with his as the kiss gained momentum and passion. You weren’t sure who’s tongue slipped out first and deepened the kiss, but you were sure it was you who moaned- and you were definitely sure it was Derek who pushed away from you. He stumbled away from you, and you struggled not to giggle at the image. The big bad wolf stumbling away from little old you. A giggle must have slipped out though, because Derek glared at you. He stormed towards you- ceasing the giggles almost immediately. He stopped in front of you. His body flush against yours, glaring eyes boring into you. Before he pushed his lips against yours kissing you furiously. Soon it wasn’t just lips meeting, his teeth were scraping against your bottom lip, and clashing against your own teeth as you opened your mouth.

You moaned again. Not even caring. It felt too good, his toned chest pressed against your own- even through the saturated top, you could feel his body heat, his pecks pressing against you- his muscled abs pressing against your belly. Which felt like it was filling with liquid lava- that seeped solely into your core, giving you a pleasant ache between your legs. Derek pulled back, closing his eyes as he tilted his head and sniffed the air. His eyes narrowing as he stepped back, taking your hand and leading you after him. He stepped backwards until his knees contacted the leather of the seat, he fell back and tugged you with him. Pulling you until you were kneeling on the seat- knees each side of his hips, he pulled on your hand until your chest was hovering over him- leaving you to straddle him in the abandoned train car. He stretched his neck up to graze his lips over the fragile and broken skin of your throat- his stubble creating a delicious friction, before moving to your lips and pulling you into another passionate kiss that sent shivers straight to your core. Derek breathed deeply through his nose and growled- before pulling you down onto his lap. You fell and kissed him more comfortably as your neck wasn’t craning at an awkward angle.

Derek’s hands rested on your hips for a moment, before they ventured upwards- dragging the wet material of your shirt with them. He pulled the soggy shirt up and only separated from your lips to remove it from your body. Tossing it away and pressing his lips back to your own. You let your fingers wander over neck and shoulders feeling the tensing muscles. Derek picked up the discarded bottle of Jack beside him. Pulling from the kiss to take a swig of the booze- before pulling your lips back to his own, you felt the Jack slip into your own mouth before you swallowed it. Derek pulled back from you again and you moaned in disappointment. You were getting sick of him pulling away from you! You watched as his eyes roved over the expanse of your half naked body before him- his fingers lifting to caress over our rubs, causing you to suck in a breath. He frowned before pushing his lips against your own more ferociously than before; and soon enough you were lost in his lips and tongue again. The pain simply disappeared. And when you pulled away from him to watch the blackened veins recede into his skin, you knew he’ deliberately taken your pain. Raising a hand to stroke over his stubble covered cheek- you kissed him gently, before letting him control you once more.

He tipped the bottle over you neck again, you hissing at the sting it brought- until his lips followed the trail. Licking and sucking over any skin that was flavoured with the drink. His lips lingering around your breasts, kissing and suckling at the sensitive ignored area. His hands trailed over your stomach, caressing the skin and tracing down to your hips- where they played with the waistband of your jeans. Fingers moving to unfasten them and tug them over your butt and hips. You stood from his lap and stepped back, catching his eyes and pulling the denim down your legs slowly- his eyes only stared at your partially dressed form. The damp bra still hiding your breasts from him and the dark panties covering your core from his waiting eyes. He leaned forward and tugged on your hand- pulling you back to your spot on his lap. You kissed him solidly, letting your tongue trace over his lips before letting your lips explore. They kissed over his rough cheeks, and down his neck- gently nipping at the stubble covered skin, he groaned loudly- letting his hands grip your hips and pull you down onto his own.

Once you were situated in his lap and still devouring his neck- he moved your hips back and forth- creating a friction that was almost maddening.  It was driving you to distraction, and you almost lost focus on kissing as much of his skin as you could. You weren’t sure what it was- but you couldn’t get enough of him, and you needed more. You ground your hips against his and could feel that pooling sensation- though it was more noticeable now, that and there was a stirring within Derek’s pants that had you grinning into the open mouthed kisses you were leaving down his chest, careful to avoid the injuries that were still trying to heal. You let you fingers feel over those delicious abs, before dipping lower; rubbing over the bulge in his jeans, rubbing back and forth until you were desperate for more, moving your shaky fingers down to the button and zipper. Popping one and tugging the other. Derek got the message and lifted his hips obediently and shuffled out of his boxers. You moved your gaze to look at him, his size was impressive and made your mouth water and core clench. He lifted your chin with the forefinger of one hand, as his other made a home rubbing you through your panties. A pathetic moan- not even stifled, echoed through the silent room; his calloused fingertips were rubbing the dark lace onto your most sensitive area, and you were revelling in the feeling of it. The way it sent shocks through your body, the way it thrilled you and left you needing more and more. You were chasing that soul shattering feeling, and you were well on our way to catching it- especially if Derek kept his fingers moving at that pace and in that certain pattern.

You hadn’t realised, but moans and groans were spilling from your lips almost in a chant. You were praising Derek’s skilful fingers and he chuckled in response, letting his other hand unclasp your bra and let it fall to rest against your stomach- the straps caught on your elbows, as your hands desperately clutched at Derek’s waist for something to keep you grounded as you floated higher and higher into the pleasure he was offering you. His lips descended onto your exposed chest, teeth and lips nipping at the taut bud. All it took was one hard bite to your nipple and you were coming apart in his arms. Your breath halting, your shoulders tensing and your knees shaking. His fingers didn’t let up though- they guided you through the haze of pleasure and only left you when you were breathing out slowly into the crook of his neck. You let your forehead rest against his shoulder as your tried to calm yourself down, once you felt your breathing return to a semi-normal pace; you let your eyes trail to where his erection was straining and leaking happily- if it were possible, he looked like he was even more erect and ready for you than before. You watched as he let his hand slip from between your legs and you gasped at how wet it was, he just chuckled before slicking his hand down himself and moving your hips to just above him. They rested poised, ready- yearning to plunge downwards and onto him- but he held you steady, teasing you. Before deciding; enough was enough and letting your hips drop.

He raised his own the moment you met, and a sigh slipped from his manly mouth as he was welcomed into your warmth. He held you still for a moment; as if he knew you were still too sensitive and needed some time to adjust. And adjust you did, soon you were desperate to grind yourself against him. Or thrust yourself one him and chase that pleasure again. Sure you were being reedy, but it was almost a necessity! Derek held your hips steady- still buried within you, but not moving. He hissed a breath through his teeth- then let his grip on your hips loosen, you let yourself free. Grinding against him- the skin above where you were joined rubbing at the sensitive nub, you let out a guttural moan; which made even Derek blush by the looks of his pink cheeks. He gripped your hips tighter and guided them into a rhythm. You could feel him rubbing against you in all the right ways, reaching parts of you- you didn’t think was possible, merely a myth. But Derek Hale proved you wring and reached that elusive spot within you. Your rhythm continued, gaining speed and strength. Until you could feel yourself on the cusp of oblivion, and Derek gave a hard thrust within; giving you that final nudge. You cried out- probably an unrecognisable sound or even made up language you weren’t sure. You just knew the way you were feeling in that moment nothing mattered. You could feel the pulsing between your legs, though if it was you. Or Derek. Or you both combined, you weren’t sure and you sure as hell didn’t care- your body was shaking and covered in a light sweat. But nothing mattered apart from Derek still being buried deep within you as you both experienced euphoria. Once you were both calmed from your activities, you rest your head against his shoulder and lifted your hips lazily from his. The slightly uncomfortable feeling of being empty, brought you back to reality. And your senses- and it seemed like Derek’s had also returned. As his mood changed from sated to grumpy in no time. He was soon shoving you off his lap, and onto the seat beside him- and shoving a discarded shirt into your chest.

His glare forced you to tug the shirt over your head, and once it was situated; covering the necessities and Derek had tucked himself away. You noticed that Scott was stood sheepishly by the entrance- rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly and blushing a bright red. You buried your face in your hands embarrassed, because Scott could tell what had not long since transpired within the abandoned train car.

[wizkiddx]

supercluster

this is my entry for @hollandsrecs 'toms birthday fanfic fest' event - go check it out!!! I know its a early but im v bored so have it now. also im acc kinda really proud of this one, any feedback would be v appreciated 🤍

the prompt was: 'you and tom are best friends and you tell him that you love him on his birthday'

summary: its toms birthday but he has a few things to get off his chest and into the night sky, y/n joins in with a bit of a revelation too

best friends -> lovers

warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit angsty but promise ends all fluffy and a shit tonne of dialogue

wc: 3.5k ishhh

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Everything got a little too wild and stuffy in the living area, Haz and Harry screaming sweet caroline, whilst Greg (Tom’s stunt man) was pouring *another* round of shots. The sweatiness and clamminess of the room meant Y/n took a moment to escape, sliding out the double doors, and closing them softly behind her to ensure no one would notice her little escape. Something about the midnight air, the slightly dewy smell of the neighbouring fields, felt like it was refreshing Y/n from the inside out. When she turned around, back facing the fancy rented house, she was slightly shocked by Tom standing in the garden. It was his birthday party after all. In all honesty, Y/n felt a bit guilty she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in the thick of it with his brothers and castmates.

His silhouette was set against the clear night sky, the stars extra prominent this evening and the moon casting a soft glow off the left side of his face, exaggerating the natural contours of his jawline and cheekbones. Clearly, he was enraptured by the sky, staring up at it with a thoughtful look on his face.

And Y/n recognised that look instantly; she knew what he was doing.

In fact, he had taught her to do precisely the same thing. As kids, the Hollands, Y/n’s family and another two families from the local area all went camping together. It was an annual event, ‘the Kingston collective camping adventure’ as Dom had named it. Y/n couldn’t remember a year when they hadn’t gone actually - it was that much of a tradition.

One year, though, when she and Tom were about 9, her mothers’ due date coincided with the camping dates. So, sensibly, the decision had been made that Y/n and her brother would just be looked after by the Hollands - whilst her mum and dad were safely tucked up in bed at home, awaiting the arrival of her littlest brother.

Y/n, her brother Alex, and Tom were all sharing a tent, and it must’ve been at least midnight that Tom was awoken by shuffling and zipping up of the tent. He’d realised she was gone through sleepy eyes and, without a second thought, went to go find her. Sure enough, she wasn’t far away, not even 50 metres from the tent, crouched on the grass. Immediately Tom’s presence had been noticed, making Y/m quickly snivel and wipe her face.

“Are you upset?”

“Go away Tom.” The comment didn’t do a lot, though; instead, 9-year-old Tom had planted himself down next to her - his pyjamas getting wet on the moist grass floor.

“Are you missing Auntie Sarah and Uncle Mike?” In the same way that Y/n called Nikki and Dom auntie and uncle, the Holland boys mirrored the nicknames for her parents. Y/n replied with a long sigh before hiccuping, failing to control the stream of tears. Yes, he was right - this was her first night away from her parents- but she wasn't about to spill her heart out to the 'stupid boy' who had stolen one of her marshmallows that evening. Tom’s little brown eyes swelled, looking slightly terrified and out of his depth, whilst with all his 9 years of wisdom, trying to come up with an answer.

“Do you want to play football to forget about it?”

Unsurprisingly Y/n shook her head violently. Tom cursed inwardly at himself for saying the wrong thing, apparently football wasn't the answer to everything. The two children went back to silence until Tom had the metaphorical light bulb moment. “My mum told me something for when I got to sleepovers? Look!” He grabbed Y/n’s little hand, extending it upwards towards the night sky.

“No matter where you are, you’re all looking at the same stars too, right?”

Tom jumped a little before looking over his shoulder and recognising Y/n with the softest smile that grew across his face. Y/n slowly walked to his side, arms crossed over her chest to try and keep the cold at bay, joining Tom in staring up at the starry expanse.

“How do you always know?” Tom spoke in a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. It was true, she did always know - but his question was somewhat irrelevant. They'd spent most their childhood together, they were as easy to read as a children’s book to each other.

“Missing home?”

“Sort of, I got my own slice of home with the boys and-and you but… pads, mum dad yeh, feel like on your birthday your always supposed to see your family.”

Although Harry, Harrison, Sam and Y/n had managed to fly out to surprise Tom on his birthday- prior commitments meant his parents and youngest brother hadn’t been able to make it. They four arrived yesterday, greeted by a very shocked and pretty emotional Tom - who had clearly been missing the sense of home somewhat. He’d been away shooting a film, then straight away launching into press for the next spiderman movie. It had been a long while since he’d been in London - half a year in fact.

This time too, he’d been away without a single family member or friend - that was another truth he’d learnt about growing up. Your friends and family, they all get lives of their own. Tom used to be a trailblazer, the first to get a job, the one everyone was super proud of. They still were, of course, but didn’t dote on him in quite the same way - everyone had their own shit to deal with. It was yet another reason Tom wasn’t welcoming his birthday as much as he usually would.

“Your parents did always spoil you rotten.”

“They spoilt you worst and you’re not technically their kid.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even if it might slightly true - muttering a ‘touche’ at the brown-haired boy next to her. Their families had always been close; naturally the adults seemed to gravitate more to the kids that weren’t their own. The ones who you could ‘give back’ at the end of the day. It just so happened Nikki and Dom had always loved having Y/n around, maybe a bit more than anyone else.

“Have you had a good birthday then? You should be in there with Greg pouring that shitty vodka down your throat.” Y/n questioned, whilst shrugging back toward the house, the dull thump of Jacob's playlist just audible. Still, both stared upwards, standing close enough that their upper arms were both pressed up against each other. She expected a jovial answer, but even from his tone, it was evident there was something up. He sounded…weary?

“I’m bloody glad you all came...don’t get me wrong, I love Z and Jacob and everyone but….”

“Shitty week?”

“Shitty birthday week of promo and press.” Tom scathed, and Y/n nodded. Even if she couldn’t understand what was so bad about press, she knew that Tom hated it passionately. And in the same way, he loved all his castmates dearly, but they hadn’t known him his whole life. They didn’t understand why he did every little thing; their values lay just that bit apart. It just wasn’t the same as being surrounded with his family - you and Harrison adopted Hollands too.

“I just feel like I’ve spent all week trapped in a room answering the most stupid, irrelevant and inconsequential questions... Everything’s just so surface level and fake and, and I-“He cut himself off, for the first time meeting Y/n’s eyes. In all honesty, Tom got a bit caught up in the stars reflecting off her piercing y/e/c eyes before changing tack.

“Will you do me a favour?”

This wasn’t spoken with the normal Tom tone. It wasn’t joking or jovial; it wasn’t an ‘off the tongue’ thing. This was spoken with such seriousness and gravitas coming from his deep voice that Y/n replied equally truthfully.

“Always T, you know that.”

“Will you please ask me a personal and serious and deep question?”

She got where he was coming from too.

Clearly, even though the evening was supposed to be a light piss up in celebration, it had instead unearthed some darker thoughts that Tom had been harbouring away. Perhaps he never even realised he needed such seriousness, or perhaps with his castmates he hadn’t felt comfortable exposing himself like that. Either way, Y/n was going to respect him now. It was technically his birthday, too; the clocks had already struck 12 - it was now his day.

It wasn’t tricky to think of one; she’d often wondered the same question of him - never with the opportunity to ask. The question popped into her head again, almost as soon as Tom asked for one.

“Okay…. What’s your deepest regret that makes you feel guilty for feeling because in the grand scheme of things, it minor? Like such a 'first world problem'." What do you regret that’s just completely selfish?”

Tom immediately stiffened, his jaw tensing as he worked through his thoughts in his head. Scared she’d pushed it too far, Y/n averted her gaze back to the sky, chewing her bottom lip slightly. It took a moment, but then she saw Tom turn towards her, in the peripheries of her vision. With a tightly closed-lip smirk on his face he joked “If your gonna ask questions like that, we better sit down.”

And so they did, both sitting crossed legged on the ground, knees brushing against each other. Just on the grass lawn, almost mirroring themselves all those years ago as kids in that camping site. Y/n wondered if she should offer to play football instead - to cheer him up.

“Missing out. I miss out months at a time. Miss out on seeing mum and dad, miss out on the pub quizzes with the boys, miss out seeing you… I mean, I didn’t even know you had a new job until you mentioned it this morning. I miss out on time with nana Tess and all my grandparents, and that’s scary cos… well, every time I go, it could be the last time… I don’t know, I just… I get so much, get to travel, to see the world, but… sometimes it feels like I’m sacrificing the foundations. And without the foundations….”

“The walls come crumbling down.” Y/n finished off his sentence quietly, barely whispering the words - but from Tom’s nod of agreement, it seemed like she’d hit the nail on the head. There was silence for a beat till Y/n whispered to him.

“Well, happy birthday to you” Trying to bring the mood up a little, she bumped his shoulder, and Tom chuckled breathily.

“Seriously! This is helping me out. I-I just need to get everything out and start my 25th year fresh.”

“Hey, if that’s all you want, I’m getting a refund on my present- we can just get deep and interview each other.”

“I’m game, except I’m keeping the present too.”

“Just because it’s your birthday and I’m a bit tipsy, I’ll allow it.”

“Okay, well then, Y/n L/n”, He spoke formally, leaning in closer and making her giggle a little. “What’s your biggest regret?”

“Honestly?” Tom just repeated her in reply, but this time it was a statement.

"Honestly."

He really was going deep too. No holding back now. Y/n sucked on her cheek before replying. “Not travelling with you when we were 19… I was just so determined to get to uni and start grown-up life, but… well, grown-up life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I should’ve tried to stay a kid longer, messing about on your film sets and pretending it was work. I think I would’ve learnt more from seeing the world with you.”

“Well, I am very knowledgable.”

“Shut up, you drop out- who didn't know what a drag race was.” She wasn’t wrong, and whilst yes, he had dropped out to be a film star - he was still a dropout. (with exceptionally poor knowledge of RuPaul) He scowled, then leaning back on his hands, so he was half reclined on the grass as Y/n thought of her next question.

“Whats your biggest worry?”

“Easy.” He chuffed, making Y/n furrow her brows at him. Clearly, he’d already thought of this. “That I finally settle down with the love of my life, and then the fans or press or paps ruin it.”

It made sense; every time Tom had gone public with a relationship, it had ended in a minor car crash. Typically it was also the girl who got hurt; she was the ‘victim’ in everything. Though Y/n had seen first hand the effect it had had on Tom - he never made it out damage-free.

“You make it sound like you’ve already got this dream girl queued and waiting.”

“I wish”, Tom sighed, as Y/n took the opportunity to completely lie down on the grass, staring up at the dark abyss. She’d always loved the stars and had become a bit of a geek on them as they’d grown up too- and maybe it was all down to Tom on that camping trip. Following suit, Tom copied her, his head resting on his hands that were crossed behind his head, taking in the moment of pure peace as they lay on the grass.

“You see that bright one there?” Pointing up, Y/n shimmied closer to him so that he definitely saw the same thing as her. “It’s actually not one. Look closer.” Humming, Tom shifted a bit closer, so her shoulder slotted under the side of his body just the teeniest bit. It meant he could follow her direction and squinted up at the little patch of the sky.

“ 5…maybe 6? What is it?”

“The pliedes supercluster…. basically a big group of stars that all were born from the same place- the same stellar nursery.”

“But they’re moving now?” She hummed in confirmation to his question, briefly glancing at the way his eyes were fixed on the sky. For the first time he seemed genuinely interested in hearing her stories of the stars. It usually was an eye roll and ‘you’re so lame’.

“They’re called the sibling stars… like everything in life, as they get older they drift apart but…. but to us down here? They’ll always be associated together because they have a gravitational effect on each other. They’ll always have their thing tying them together. Like an invisible string.”

“Sounds like you’re being metaphorical.” Tom chuckled, expecting a taunt back but receiving nothing except a gentle agreement.

“Theres also actually 7. The last one people can only sometimes see… it’s a pulsing star, so comes and goes.”

“They do that?”

“Yeh, and no matter what… if you can see it or not, it’s always there. Always having an impact on its family.”

Biting his lower lip slightly, Tom repositioned his head slightly, Y/n’s words taking time to be fully absorbed. He was sure she was making parallels to him. Barely there, appearing and disappearing, but always a part of the family.

“You are being metaphorical.”

“Maybe.” She whispered shortly. “Metaphors depend on who’s listening and if they draw parallels to their own life. It’s subjective. You can’t tell anyone what is and isn’t metaphor…. it takes the beauty out of it.”

“Right, sure... But if you were…. me, harry, Sam, pads, you, Haz, Tuwaine? That the 7?” Y/n held back the little smile at his words. Tom wasn’t as ‘head in the clouds’ as she was- he was literal. Also, he was bloody stubborn when he wanted to be.

“I wasn’t being metaphorical T.” He knew she was lying. She knew that he knew. But it still helped him, made him feel a bit better. That he was always, in some way, having some effect... lives always intertwined with the people he cared about the most.

“Tell me another story about another star.”

Time for the rest of the night kind of got lost. The two young adults just lay on the grass, entirely in their own little world, using each others body heat to keep themselves warm through the early hours. Neither felt remotely tired, Y/n whispering her little stories of both the myths and science of the old stars, pointing out each planet. Meanwhile, Tom listened in awe, for once not taking the mick out of her incredibly geeky hobby. Instead, he found himself getting fascinated by all the little intricacies Y/n was so passionate about.

It was only when the stars began to fade, as orangey-red hue started to seep up from the horizon the either noticed the time. It was now the morning of the next day, the house long since had turned silent behind them - presumably, everyone finally passing out shit faced.

As the stars’ light was overtaken by the rising sun, Y/n ran out of stories; the two settled into silence - neither quite ready to go to bed yet.

“It’s still my turn,” Tom spoke into the sky before pivoting his head to look Y/n in the eye, seeing the confusion in her furrowed brows. “It’s my question to ask. My turn.”

“Aren’t you sick of my voice yet?” There was absolutely no reason that they were both whispering. It wasn’t like anyone was trying to listen or that they’d disturb anyone else my talking normally. But it was nicer that way. It felt calming... intimate even.

“One more. And then you get one more… and then we really should probably go to bed.” He didn’t want the night to end; he was immensely enjoying this weird grey time between being 25 and 26. But it was cold, Tom could tell Y/n had started to feel it a little more. To be fair, she was only in a floral day dress, not much in the way of warmth. With a hum of agreement, Y/n smiled lightly at him, urging his question.

“Whats the biggest secret you’ve kept from me?”

With a bit of a scoff, Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, trying to draw some strength she wasn’t sure she had. It wasn’t like she needed to wrack her brains to come up with it - she knew instantly. Almost painfully too.

“Uhm, honestly?” Now even more intrigued, Tom nodded, using his foot for nudge hers - encouraging her to speak. “Probably how much you mean to me.”

“Oh” He couldn’t help it; the sound just slipped out his mouth without checking with his brain first. That answer had just been so unexpected. He had honestly been thinking that it would be something about how ‘fame had changed him’. After hearing that, Y/n turned her head up the sky again, feeling like her cheeks were on fire with embarrassed heat. Tom knew he had fucked up.

“No, I… I didn’t mean- just just ask me too.” With a sigh, Y/n waved off his stumbled answer as he tried to cover himself.

“This is stup-“

“Ask me!” For the first time in 5 hours, Tom spoke at an normal volume - but it felt painfully loud, like a shout.

“What’s the biggest secret you kept from me?” Her tone was defeated, but nevertheless, he answered.

“How upset I was when you didn’t come when we were 19. I got why, but it was still annoying. Felt like you were picking uni friends over me-“ At this point on any other evening, Y/n would have interjected and argued. None of this situation was normal, though, so she chose to hear him out. “- I know it’s stupid, but…. I guess that’s how much you meant an-and still mean to me too.”

There was silence for a couple minutes, waiting whilst the sun started to peep over the horizon, the lone witness to an otherwise very private conversation. That was until Y/n barely spoke, more like mouthed 2 simple words.

“I lied.” The intensity of the way Tom stared at her made Y/n wish that the sun hadn’t been so bright, that they were back in the darkness that hid her face more. “Biggest lie I’ve told you … that I’m not in love with you.”

Y/n didn’t see because she couldn’t face looking at him, but Tom’s face erupted into the most prominent, toothiest smile. Whilst Tom was enjoying the moment of being absolutely ecstatic, Y/n was waiting for a response- feeling her world come crashing in. That she'd just destroyed one of the most important friendships in her life too.

But then he said the opposite of what she thought he would.

“I lied too.”

That had her attention, whipping her head toward him as Tom rolled onto his side on the lawn, balancing with his head resting on one hand. “I lied that I’ve not been completely under your spell since we were kids at that campsite, and you were homesick.”

Y/n’s heart was literally in her mouth, brain overwhelmed but one overriding thought oh so bloody clear.

She’d lost control of everything, arching up to mirror Tom. Using one hand, she reached out to cup Tom’s jaw, to which he instinctively leant toward - until their lips were mere centimetres apart, hot breath fanning over each other.

Y/n no control as she whispered those 3 words against his lips. No control at how immediately after he pressed his to hers; no control as Tom guided her to roll on top of him, knees either side of his torso as his strong arms wrapped around her back.

Once again, time was lost between the two, only pulling apart when their lungs burned for oxygen.

“For the record, I love you too.” Grinning from ear to ear, Tom used one hand to gently stroke his thumb across her cheek, switching his focus from her left to right eye - in wonder at how the early morning sun reflected from her y/e/c irises. He’d always thought she was beyond beautiful, but when she was this close to him, with the sun rising behind her in such a way - she looked damn ethereal.

“Happy birthday T.” Nodding in agreement, Tom chuckled before finding her lips once again, whispering against them.

“Yeh, happy damn birthday to me.”

~~~~let me know what you think ;) ~~~~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter

[albatris]

hello uwu. rental car update time

sorry for not tagging anyone in my last update, I am acting normal again now <3

anyway you know how I said yesterday I wouldn't give you That Excerpt? well. here's That Excerpt!

I have no fun news this week. except. I'm gonna buy a biiiiiiig fuckin pinboard to map out this trilogy in the most serial-killer-esque conspiracy board way possible. microsoft excel and I are no longer on speaking terms

this week's mood is this week's jam which is "villainous thing" by shayfer james and this week's jam is this week's mood which is the shrill, endless wail of my blood glucose meter's alarm as it reaches into my brainspace and haunts me in my dreams and slumbers

this week's excerpt! Feral Quinn Moment. immediately preceding a fun scene where Quinn and Zeke get to fuck shit up in the Ethel house a little bit. just a little bit for now. as a treat. mostly Zeke does the fucking shit up bc Quinn is. Quinn. too pretty <3 and also not FANTASTIC when it comes to holding their own in a physical fight

this is not AS actiony a scene as I wanted to post today (but at least it's not all dialogue!)...... I'll carry on writing this part of the story so hopefully you'll get some cool Zeke fight scenes real soon :3

tw for. a finger being bitten off. a bit of blood and grossness. one sentence of vomit. and a good handful of swears

Corinne laughed this time, rough, joyous, rattling. Like one of them, like one of them, like one of them.

Quinn's hand snapped round her wrist and their head snapped forward, lunging and wild and animal, their teeth sinking deep into whichever of her fingers they could find first. They brought their jaws grinding to a close with every ounce of power they had in them. Something cracked all at once, the splitting of skin and bone ringing through Quinn's head like a gunshot, and their upper teeth met their lower ones through the stretch of the rubber glove. Quinn ripped their head back, snapping free, the momentum of that final tear sending them crashing back onto the people behind them.

Corinne screamed. Not like one of them. Terrified, agonised, human, human, human. Weak. Vulnerable. Prey. Blood bubbled from the stump of a forefinger she had left and she jerked her arm back out of the cage. Zeke plummeted, dropping to the floor and doubling over herself, wheezing and choking, her fist slamming into the floor in alarm as she struggled to suck in breath.

"Motherfucker," Corinne raged, and clutched her bloodied, pouring hand to her chest. She was bustling around the room now in a panicked frenzy, bouncing from shelf to shelf and cupboard to cupboard, her body seemingly wanting to jerk in every direction at once as she struggled to figure out what to do next. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She whirled on Quinn. "You bitch. You fucking dogshit piece of—fuck, fuck, fuck."

The weight on Quinn's tongue was alien and warm and gushing, still adorned partly with thick rubber. Quinn's stomach flipped in revulsion, and they doubled over and released the severed finger from their mouth onto the floor, blood and spit following in a slow, meandering dribble. Vomit lurched up their throat, then changed its mind, then changed it back. They craned to the side and threw up, managing by some miracle in their compromised state to avoid doing so on their—their trophy.

"Gross," someone nearby mumbled under their breath, then let out a small oof as the presently-not-dead Zeke's elbow found their ribcage and acquainted itself with considerable force.

Corinne floundered about the room a few more moments, footsteps rapid and rabid and jittering. In the grasps of hysteria, in her leaping and her fluttering and hopping back and forth in wild-eyed indecision, she looked amusingly like she was almost dancing. Some kind of morbid, butchered quickstep. An irrepressible and frantic salsa. No longer merely the omnipotent director in this theatre of horrors, but thrust onto the stage itself to twirl and dance with the rest of them, with the face full of dread and shirt full of blood to match.

Corinne flooded out the door and into the body of the house.

"Encore, encore," Quinn mumbled bitterly after her, and dragged the back of their forearm over their mouth to drag away the worst of the mess. God, they felt gross, they felt gross, they felt so gross. That sensation still echoed in their jaw, itched in their teeth. The pressure, the crack, the pop. The squelch. The taste. A good vicious bite was enjoyable to watch, but rather less so to partake in.

"The fuck are you talking about?" Zeke croaked, finding her voice again at last.

"It was an honour to be here tonight," Quinn said, still woozy. "I'd take a bow if I thought I wouldn't just keel forward and faint."

@chaotic-queer-disaster @gnome-boi @polyacery @tracle0 @goosemixtapes @valence-positive @the-one-who-makes-negative-noise @ambiguousfiction @afoolandathief @thepotatowriter @mecharose @vellichor-virgo @flapuflapu @distortion-heart @multi-lefaiye @writeouswriter

[irrelevantwriter]

Embracing Misery

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, funny Rio (he got jokes), secret feelings (bc I love to torture my characters)

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: Part 3. Rio returns and you decide to take some initiative. 

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the love and support on these Rio fics! It truly means so much and I am so glad you’re enjoying them. I now bring you part three of a saga that was not at all planned, but has somehow happened anyway. I blame the Rio haze I’m still very much in and my zero chill tendencies. If you guys haven't read parts one and two, then I recommend doing so, for plot purposes. I have some more things planned for this duo so we’ll see what my muse brings. Until then, I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

It was early.

The house was blessedly quiet while your children stayed at their father’s house for the weekend. You soaked up the stillness of the early morning sun rays and crisp, cool air. They washed over you, as if cleansing what the previous night’s sleep hadn’t. You missed your kids like crazy while they were away, but the mornings alone were priceless. It was a time for you to prepare for the day. A luxury you hadn’t been afforded since before the kids were born. But now...now you got to take it all in. Enjoy the serenity.

Or so you thought.

You tied the sash of your robe as you opened the front door, preparing to grab the morning paper, but as soon as you turned the knob you knew what would be waiting on the other side. Something told you he was there. You didn’t need to look out onto the street to see the familiar sleekness of a dark tinted luxury car. You could feel him. Feel his eyes on you as you bent down to get the paper and turned, leaving the front door wide open.

Rio had been gone for nearly two months. You hadn’t seen or spoken to the man in that long. Not even a text message, though the thought had crossed your mind on more than one occasion. You had no idea where he’d been or what he’d been doing while he was away, but you’d had no choice but to conduct business as usual. Mick had been your contact, times and places for drop-offs exactly as Rio had set them up. It was as if he was still running things from wherever he was. As if he could somehow see you without actually seeing you.

During his time away you’d done nothing but think of when he’d return. You teetered on the edge of worry and longing as your thoughts raced between concern for your boss slash lover to outright arousal. You’d spent more than one night thinking about his hands on your body while yours tried desperately to replicate his touch. It would get the job done, but it was nothing compared to that gentle slide of hand or gravelly voice that sent literal shivers up your spine. Your body had missed him. And you had come to the realization that you did too.

You walked into your kitchen, hearing the click of the front door as he passed through the threshold. You went straight for the humming coffee pot, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.

“Coffee?” You asked over your shoulder, not at all surprised to hear the shakiness in your voice.

“Sure.”

Your entire body thrummed to life at that solitary sound. You hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet and already your thighs were clenching together. Your nipples hardened against the thin fabric of your tank top, your black robe barely concealing the reaction. You poured the coffee with unsteady hands, preparing yourself to face him once again.

When you turned around, you were greeted with a familiar smirk and a magnificent throat tattoo. A tattoo that you’d missed. He looked exactly the same. Same dark button-up. Same dark jeans. Same intense eyes. Same addictive swagger. It all came together to seduce you into a trance. A trance you’d fallen victim to in the past. It was a fog of uncertainty and lust. It was powerful. Merciless. And you couldn’t stop it from taking you hostage if you tried. So...you embraced it.

You slid the mug of coffee across the kitchen island towards him, a gesture that had you experiencing déjà vu. He accepted it and the sugar you offered. You watched as he dressed his beverage. Two spoonfuls of sugar. No milk or cream. He stirred it and then sipped, nodding in approval at the taste. The entire display was odd...domestic even.

His eyes trailed over your body before coming to rest on your face.

“Did you miss me, mama?” He asked cheekily, white teeth on display. They bit sensually into his bottom lip, the action making warmth seep deep into your bones.

You laughed. You’d missed the banter. Missed his blatant want for you. It was a cruel punishment to take away someone’s drug of choice. Rio just so happened to be yours. And you’d been experiencing withdrawals for the last two months. You desperately needed a hit. Needed something to take the edge off.

“Hardly.” You quipped, smiling so that he could see the lie clearly written on your face.

He only stared back. The action was still unnerving.

You turned to pour your own cup of coffee, feeling his gaze ghost across your back. You busied yourself with adding cream and sugar, the clang of the spoon against ceramic the only sound reverberating throughout the house. You took a few cursory sips, testing the temperature of the liquid. It was hot. Too hot. But you drank it anyway.

Turning around to face Rio once again, you were surprised to find the spot across the island empty. Your eyes darted around the immediate area, catching a glimpse of him lounging on your sofa. The same sofa he’d fucked you against. Along with the kitchen island.

You left your drink behind, bare feet walking with a purpose across the cold wood floors. You rounded the sofa and took him in. One leg was crossed over the other, his mug resting against his knee as he steadied it with one hand. His free arm extended along the back of the couch, taking up a fair amount of space on the piece of furniture.

He was a picture of comfort and ease. Looking as if he belonged there. You supposed in that moment, he did.

You observed him for a long time. Long enough for his face to grow serious as he stared up at you. A myriad of emotions swirled within you. All of them seemed to be conflicting. They pushed and pulled in various directions, telling you what you should do while others persuaded you to do what you wanted to do. In the end none of it mattered. You’d already sold your soul to the devil long before you got into bed with him. It was time to accept that.

You wordlessly reached for his drink, moving the mug onto the coffee table. He let you, uncrossing his legs and watching you with a sharp eye. You grasped for the knot that held your robe together and pulled the two ends apart, feeling the material start to give way. It fell open to reveal the tank top and shorts you wore underneath. It was a far cry from lingerie, but it sent the same message. You wore no bra, an obvious fact as his eyes hungrily took you in. Your shorts were cut high, practically underwear and exposing more leg than you would’ve normally felt comfortable with. The robe fell from your shoulders and into a heap at your feet.

You swallowed, feeling the butterflies in your stomach begin to take flight. You focused on him. You focused on the way he looked at you. And how he made you feel. You let that be your guide as you pulled your top up and over your head. The garment joined the robe on the floor as you moved on to your shorts, pulling them down and letting them slide along your thighs. You were left in your demure cotton panties. You were only slightly embarrassed by their modesty, but Rio showed no inclination that he was put off. In fact, his mouth twitched, his lower half shifting against the couch.

You looped your fingers into the waistband of the cotton and pushed them down, baring yourself completely. He’d never seen you naked. Your previous trysts had been rushed with clothes shifted aside and out of the way in frenzied yearning. It’d never been thought out before. And now, here you were standing naked in your own living room, seducing the man you were sure wanted to kill you about as much as he wanted to fuck you.

It was exhilarating.

“What’re you doing?” Rio rasped, gaze locked with yours. His voice was low and tinged with desire. He looked equal parts amused and perplexed, and the thought of him trying to be a gentleman in your current state of undress only made your need for him strengthen.

“Sshh...” You soothed, stepping between his spread legs and straddling his lap.

His hands immediately gripped around your waist, the touch of his bare flesh against yours sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You kissed him, hands sliding up his chest and resting on the buttons of his shirt. He reciprocated your eagerness, lips moving with yours. Your tongue reached out to taste him and he accepted, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass in approval. Your lower body writhed in his lap, feeling the firm muscle resting beyond his zipper.

You longed to feel his skin against yours. To feel the proof of life beat against your own chest. To feel close to him in a way you hadn’t thus far. Your fingers moved swiftly to grant you the sensation you craved. You unfastened each button, pulling his shirt apart and gliding your palms over the smooth muscle of his chest. His hips thrust up into yours restlessly as you explored his upper body. Your lips had yet to detach from each other, completely lost in reuniting. Your nails lightly grazed down his chest and abdomen, feeling him reciprocate the action by nibbling your lip.

His touch scorched your skin, roaming freely. He cupped your heaving breasts, mouth moving to your neck as he attacked your skin with kisses. You threw your head back in blessed relief and pleasure, finally feeling as if you could breathe again. You maneuvered your hands between your bodies, aiming for his belt buckle. You were impatient. Unable to wait for him to fill you. You’d waited long enough. The abundance of slickness that slid from your walls could attest to that.

“Mmmm...” He growled against your neck when you finally pulled him free, your palm easily smoothing over the hard length. His hips rutted into your touch, his own impatience showing.

You moaned when his lips attached to a nipple and sucked. He tortured you with sensations, bouncing between gentle and unyielding. His mouth was hot and wet against your flesh, encouraging your arousal to new heights. You craved more.

Again you took the initiative and lifted your hips, angling his length to fit against your weeping slit. He pulled away from your chest and took you in, watching as you slowly impaled yourself on his cock. Your lips parted as you engulfed him, your breathing accelerating with every inch he filled you. It’d been too long and your body was taut, clenching around him in such a way that let him know just how much you’d missed his touch.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you finally bottomed out, your thighs flush with his. His fingers gripped your hips, his body completely still and waiting for you to move. His brow was furrowed, his lips pouted as he took in measured breaths. He almost looked in pain as you sat unmoving atop him. The notion pleased you.

You moaned when he shifted, his cock nudging your womb. You couldn’t prolong the torture anymore and began to swirl your hips, your palms flat against his chest. It was a new dynamic for you both. Being able to control the moment with him was not something you were used to. His demanding nature was something you secretly loved, but having him at your mercy like this was so much better. You could see every pass of ecstasy on his face. Feel it in the way he twitched inside you. It was addicting.

His calloused hands massaged your breasts as you rode him, his dark eyes glazed over with lust but still holding you captive. He slid along your walls, stretching and filling you to capacity. You only got wetter at the feel of him, the slickness so overwhelming that he almost fell from your tight clutches. You used his shoulders for leverage as you moved, your pace increasing, desperate to come undone with him.

“Damn...yeah, just like that.” Rio exhaled, hands encouraging your hips to keep their speed.

He licked his lips as you bounced, flesh slapping as you fucked yourself. You watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he sucked his thumb into his mouth and then attached it to your clit, rubbing the swollen flesh in sensual circles. You arched your back and whimpered, feeling the tendrils of climax begin to latch on.

“I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, feeling your skin slicken with perspiration. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued his assault on your clit, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to keep the moans at bay.

“Do it, mama.” He throatily demanded, leaving no room for argument.

“C-cum...with me.” You pleaded between breaths. He nipped at the underside of your chin and you swore you could feel his smirk against your flesh.

He didn’t waste another second.

You held on as Rio’s hips met yours, his cock hitting your cervix with a brutality that had you seeing stars. Your muscles spasmed from the inside out, your limbs locking as you came. Your walls clamped around him in stuttering patterns, giving him no other option but to feel it all. You held him to you as you shook, feeling yourself dripping down your thighs and his length. He continued to fuck you through it, his control now waning. He buried his face into your chest and neck, holding you just as tightly as he repeatedly thrust up into you.

“Inside me...please.” You found yourself begging, exhausted from your own euphoria but still wanting to feel him release deep within you. It was a sensation you thrived on. It meant he was real. That he wasn’t a figure in the night or a lone man with a gun. He’d been inside you. Painted your walls in him. Claimed you. And you wanted to feel that for as long as you could.

“You want it?” He grunted against your neck, hands digging so hard into your ass that the area would surely be sore afterwards. It was welcomed after his prolonged absence. Just another clue that he’d been there.

“Please…” You whimpered, uncaring that you sounded so desperate.

He said nothing in return. Only thrust harder as he finally came. He held you still against him, ensuring not a drop of his cum left your joined bodies. You reveled in the warmth that suddenly filled you, spreading your thighs wider across his lap. His teeth dragged along your collarbone, eliciting a shiver from you.

It was quiet for a moment, your labored breathing slowly steadying with the beating of your heart. You were pressed against his bare chest, his hands now smoothing across your flesh rather than gripping it. The sensation nearly put you to sleep.

“So you missed me then?” Rio teased, his voice raspier than normal.

You sat up straight, looking down into his eyes that were glinting back at you with boyish arrogance. You cracked a smile and shook your head.

“I’m not answering that.”

“You didn’t have to, darling.” He whispered, face growing serious as he tenderly shifted the few strands of hair that stuck to your forehead.

Laughter bubbled in your throat suddenly, effectively cutting through the moment. His fingers drifted to your lips, tracing them as you broke into a smile.

“Somethin’ funny?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. His own lips quirked up at the sound of your tired giggles, your body shaking above him.

“We haven’t made it to a bed yet.” You said between laughs, pulling his hand from your mouth and resting it on your cheek instead. You held onto his forearm, the sinewy muscle feeling sturdy under your touch.

“There’s still time.” He retorted with a sly smile, his eyes taking in your face in a careful study. The intensity of it was almost enough to make you feel bashful.

You were lost in the moment, ready to let him take you again when a knock at the front door sounded. You scrambled up, hearing a key in the knob.

“Fucking Paul.” You cursed as you grabbed your discarded robe and hastily tied the sash. “Get dressed.” You ordered Rio, that smug smirk still planted firmly on his lips.

You moved past him and through the dining room to the front door, seeing your ex shuffle through the door with a baseball bag thrown over his shoulder. Your son’s bag. He must’ve forgotten something for his game today.

“You mind?” You snapped at him, throwing a quick glance behind you to ensure he couldn’t see Rio through the entryway.

“Well, I called but you didn’t answer. Figured you were still asleep.” Paul supplied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You couldn’t wait until I actually answered the door instead of using a key? A key I was sure I got back from you.”

He rolled his eyes, not making any move to return the item.

Bastard.

“What’re you doing here, Paul?”

“Anthony forgot his mitt. Needs it for the game today.”

You inwardly rolled your eyes, both at your ex and your son. They were mirror images of each other and that extended to their forgetfulness.

You walked to the entryway bench and lifted the pillow, knowing it would be stuck there because that’s where Anthony always left his gear after a game.

“Here.” You said shortly, thrusting the glove over to him. The sooner he got it, the sooner he’d be gone.

The universe was a cruel bitch though.

A shuffling from behind you pulled both yours and Paul’s attention. You tensed as Rio rounded the corner, clothes neatly tucked back into place. He eyed your ex for a long moment, making both you and Paul uncomfortable.

“I-uh...this-,” You stumbled over your words, at a loss for how to proceed. “He was just checking on some things around the house.” You lamely offered.

“What things?” Paul threw back with a raised brow, obviously not buying your answer.

“Just taking a look at her pipes.” Rio quipped, making you cough.

The air was awkward and tense as the two men sized each other up. You could see the suspicion in Paul’s eyes as he took in Rio’s very notable tattoo. Paul’s gaze flicked to yours, attempting to read your face. You opened your mouth to cut through the silence, but Rio beat you to it.

“I gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” He said, facing you and biting his lip. The action was purposeful. A signal of sorts.

You nodded and crossed your arms, watching with bated breath as he walked past Paul. He stared at the man as if he was a nuisance, giving him a quick once over before chuckling and exiting out the door. You released a sigh of relief once the door latched, your shoulders easing now that he’d left. A wave of disappointment followed. You were hoping to spend more time with him before he ultimately disappeared again. You were sure you’d see him at your next drop off now that he was back, but that was still days away. And you’d be damned if you reached out to the man for anything other than business-related topics.

You’d just have to wait.

“Friend of yours?” Paul interrupted your thoughts, face twisted in disapproval.

“He was here to check the pipes. They were making a weird noise. Wanted to make sure they didn’t freeze over.” You explained, your attitude back in full force.

“Sure.” He replied flatly, eyes belatedly taking in your state of undress. “You should put some decent clothes on when you have strange men in the house.”

The chastising tone of his voice made you see red. It was one of the reasons you’d divorced him. Along with the infidelity. And his tendency to be an egotistical piece of shit. Your reaction was a completely different reaction to Rio’s reprimands. Rio made you feel alive...desired. Paul’s goal was to always control and make you feel less than. He’d lost that fight throughout your marriage, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to do so long after it’d ended.

“You need to go.” You demanded between clenched teeth, opening the door for him and gesturing him out.

He took the hint and walked outside to the porch, shaking his head as he did.

“The kids wanted all of us to go out to dinner. Including Erica.” He said as he turned to face you, hand held to the door that you were ready to slam in his face.

You fought the urge to scoff at the mention of his fiancé and instead nodded, a pleasant smile on your lips and pure hate in your heart.

“Sure. Text me details. I’ve gotta go before this cum running down my leg stains the carpet.”

Paul’s face was priceless. And you had the pleasure of slamming the door in it. You smiled victoriously to yourself. The unexpected visit wasn’t so bad after all.

Your two worlds were getting harder to keep separated. That was apparent after the debacle that just took place. Rio was a significant presence in your life. And it was in more than just a working relationship way. That was obvious now. But were you really ready to let that happen? To let him in? The answer was still no. It would always be no. But sleeping with your boss had to have some benefits. And you were willing to find out exactly what those were. Misery and all.

[hansolmates]

me time (m)

summary; the first time virgin!mc meets her mans (but she doesn’t know it yet) pairing; jungkook x virgin!mc genre/warnings; fluff, college!au, boarding house!au, based on the virgin!oc discourse, female masturbation (thanks to the pretty bridgertons), a lil sad and longing at the end w/c; 1.3k a/n; y’all really brought manhater!mc and virgin!mc to life! this couldn’t be done without all of your fabulous input and support. obviously the virginverse is freeform at this point—think of this more as a prequel for these two. set in freshman year of college, when they’re just acquaintances. (do you guys think of cher from clueless when u think virgin!mc? very outgoing n’cute but also very innocent?) anyway, happy valentine’s day i hope you and your boo (whether digital or in-person) get your me/we time💖

Your wooden lap desk is toppled to the side. Good thing the space between the mattress and floor is small, your pink monstera-shaped rug softening the blow when your water bottle, pencils and laptop fall to the floor. In the back of your head you know everything is fine because the last episode of Bridgerton is still playing, an orchestral version of Ariana Grande’s Thank U, Next continuing on as if nothing’s astray. 

Yet you’re nothing but astray, forgotten about the episode and writhing against your too-small twin as you let yourself cum for the umpeeth time. 

You’ve lost track at this point (how couldn't you? Bridgerton is hot) but from the way your hair mats to your face like a second skin and your pussy feels spent and battered, it’s been awhile. This should be your new Valentine’s Day tradition, fucking yourself until you pass out on your vibrator. 

“Ah, ah fu—uck, yyyes!” 

The sheets are sopping. The grey cotton fabric does nothing to hide your juices that seep from your bare cunt to the mattress. Flinging your silicone toy to the side, you pull your hair up and out of your face. 

Water, you need water. Maybe a cup of green tea with a dollop of honey. Sugar always helps the immediate low after a good couple of rounds. 

However, you’ll never get used to the feeling of cleaning up yourself. The feeling that you’ve done something completely lewd all on your own, no one to assure you the things you’re doing are weird. It’s okay though. You love to be alone, it takes a lot for you to feel lonely. 

You slip on a pair of dolphin-cut shorts, too tiny that they are drowned beneath your emerald green slip dress. Quickly opening the door to your room, you’re met with absolute silence. White walls containing empty rooms and a living room without a soul. Just like you’re expecting in a college boardhouse on Valentine’s Day. 

What you’re not expecting however, is Jeon Jungkook staring at you the second you crack your door open. 

“If you’re screaming that loud, your partner must be doing a good job.” 

Jungkook lives on the other side of the boarding house, therefore you’ve never really interacted with him. Excluding the landlord there’s only five other tenants, a group large enough that you’ve never had to have one-on-one with him. 

You really didn’t think anyone would be in the house on Valentine’s, especially Jungkook. He’s an absolute cutie pie, even though you don’t know anything about him. The only thing you really know is that his sparkly brown eyes are to die for, they remind you of coffee milk tea, a craving you only indulge in at the end of finals season. 

To your surprise, Jungkook looks like he hasn’t gone out all weekend. Him, single? As if! Yet you can’t justify any reasoning behind him being home if did have a girlfriend or boyfriend. His dark hair is fluffy and freshly showered, and you can’t ignore the smell of linens from his soft sweats and long navy hoodie. 

Normally, you’d be quiet during Me Time. You’ve perfected the art, stuffing your mouth with your pillow or playing action movies to muffle out the sound. You thought you were in the clear. The thought of Jungkook overhearing you turns you on a little, makes the dampness between your panties even more evident, but you keep that self-indulgent secret to yourself. 

“Oh, well,” you curl your lips in a smirk, closing the door behind you so he doesn’t see that your room is actually very much devoid of life, “she’s very powerful.” 

She, meaning your favorite vibrator in your entire world. It has ten settings and a heating mechanism. More importantly, it’s rechargeable. You don’t know how you’d survive freshman year otherwise. 

“Okay, TMI,” despite the fact Jungkook’s blushing he’s chuckling, holding a hand out for you in the narrow hallway, “after you.” 

You quickly slip past him, walking into the shared kitchenette. Bare feet slapping against the hardwood, your eyes immediately gravitate toward the upper cabinet. Jungkook is following you, presumably to get his own late night snack. When you lift your arms to reach your mug, you feel a little bit of cool air brush against the uppers of your thighs. It’s a nightgown, a pretty satin slip  that falls over your curves and leaves much to the imagination. A couple more centimeters to get your mug and you’ll be definitely flashing Jungkook. 

“Um,” you practically hear the twisted face he’s making. 

“Sorry—I’m sorry!” you blurt, waving your fingers to catch the handle of your mug, “I’m really not trying to flash you—please don’t fill a harassment report! I just can’t reach my mug.” 

“No, that’s my mug.” 

“What, no! I’ve been drinking from this mug all year!” 

“You’ve been drinking from my mug?” Jungkook is affronted, walking past you to easily grab the mug you’ve been struggling to reach for the past minute. He flexes the bottom part of the mug in your face, where his initials are painted in black. “This is my mug, my parents put my handprint on it when I was a year old.”  

It’s then you notice on the lower shelf, there’s an identical mug. This mug has been buried all the way in the back, dust collecting on the rim. It also has a baby handprint on it, although upon closer inspection it’s smaller and in a more faded shade of black. That’s your mug. 

“Oh, Jungkook,” you feel your heart fall all the way to your ass, feeling guilty, “I’m so sorry. I’ve washed it and everything, if it makes you feel any better.” 

He frowns, holding the white porcelain between his hands. A litany of ideas run through your brain. Is he disgusted by using the same mug as you? Have you potentially ruined a prized family treasure? 

Thrusting the mug into your chest he says, “Make me a hot chocolate and we’re even.” 

You smile a little, eager to please. You quickly get to work, simmering the pan with warm milk and melting chopped chocolate. You rinse your mug with some hot water, letting it sit next to his awaiting mug. For a bit of flair you add a capful of vanilla extract, all while Jungkook watches you with mild awe. The smell of sweet late night confections fill the kitchen, a fitting theme for a Valentine’s night. 

“You’re not burning the milk,” Jungkook murmurs more to himself than you, watching as you pour the hot chocolate in cups without spilling a drop. 

Jungkook is known to burn things in the house. The only thing he doesn’t burn is ramen, and that’s purely due to survival skills. 

“What can I say, I’m an expert,” you wink, handing him his mug and you holding yours. 

With matching mugs, the two of you take your first sips of the melty beverage. You lean against the stove facing him, while he faces you against the marble island. Jungkook smiles and a bit of cocoa touches his petal pink lips. He says it’s perfect and you smile into your cup, absolutely swelling with pride. 

Jungkook’s probably working on his photos. He always says his editing bug is itchy at night. While in passing you’ve said you’d love to see his work, however that gesture of kindness never really amounted to anything. Maybe tonight’s the night. You like art, you’d love to be a little more educated with it. Just as you’re about to ask and strike up some conversation, Jungkook beats you to it. 

“Well, hope you and your partner have a good Valentine’s,” Jungkook holds his cup in salute, walking back into his room, “just keep it down.” 

Oh well. You sigh to yourself, letting Jungkook walk away without a fight or a retort. After all, it was you who implied you were sneaking in a bed partner tonight. Sinking your eyes into the brown liquid, you fall into a lull. The creamy liquid swirls in your grasp, making your muddied reflection ripple away. 

You love to be alone, but it takes someone like Jeon Jungkook to remind you that life gets a little lonely.