#was forced to stay home for the next two weeks it was so boring

[morgue-friends]

"A Maiden's Token" | Count Orlok x Female! Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con, count orlok is his own warning, blood kink, penis in vagina sex, sexual tension, creampie, oral (f receiving), death is mentioned, no aftercare, reader probably has stock-holm syndrome.

Fourteen days, that's how long you've been here. That's how long you've been left on your own every daybreak and then expected to entertain death itself every evening. As the sunset on the snowy horizon, you made your way back into the castle, dragging your tattered dress by what remained left of it through the snow. Upon entry, you were shocked to see that the fireplace was still lit. Occasionally, it would flicker out during sunset as if the castle consciously knew a force of darkness would be awakening.

With a sigh, you lifted your dress and dropped down by the fireplace suddenly out of breath. Maybe it was the consistent blood loss or the freezing temperatures of the European mountains that you were succumbing to. As far as you knew, he hadn't given you any reason to believe that you'd have an extended stay at the castle. At the end of the day, your chances of reaching the next morning relied solely on the temperament of a man. Your mother had taught you well enough about men to know that when they get bored, they tend to move on.

You felt the presence of tears threatening to depart from your eyes as you thought of your poor mother. She must be so worried and heartbroken. Ever since the two of you arrived in Europe after leaving America, her overprotectiveness of you has grown enormously. When you told her of a Count from a neighboring country requesting your services for painting a self-portrait of him within his own castle, she warned you against going and you decided to shelve away her concerns as mere fairytales. You gripped the silver locket necklace hanging around your neck for security and sighed. Your mother had gifted you this locket on your most recent birthday, and holding it helped you think of all your fondest memories with her.

Now, here you sit, sleep deprived and undernourished. He left you only bread, some grapes, wine, and a bucket of water. You were thankful for the water as you refused to be inebriated in your current situation. It was almost shocking to see he had the decency to have the water refilled each day, but you knew it was only because he'd hate to let his food source run dry.

Suddenly, you were startled when you heard the pouring of wine into a goblet behind you. You hadn't even heard him ascend up the stairs of the castle, and yet there he was in his full glory at the head of the dining table. Now, whether he did ascend the stairs and walk right past you or he simply just appeared at the table was something only god himself would know.

"You have been crying." The Count's thick accent hung heavy in the air, his voice sending a rippling wave of goosebumps over your skin. The tone of his voice was accusatory and not at all sympathetic. Even with English clearly not being his first language, you could hear his overwhelming disappointment. Over the two weeks he's kept you here his English had somewhat improved either by hearing you speak it whether you were asking to excuse yourself to find somewhere to use the bathroom in the empty bucket he gave you. Or from your begging and pleading for him to just let you go home.

Your cold hands desperately wiped the tears from your eyes, and you stood to your feet. He watched you approach the elegant dining table, and you took your seat as far as you could away from him. It was painfully obvious that this night would go just about the same as every other night. You two would intensely stare at eachother while you'd ate your bread for dinner, he'd make you get up and walk to the guest bedroom where he'd make you strip naked and feed from you and then you'd pass out from the pain and awake in the morning to the Count missing and nowhere to be found.

It wasn't even like he needed to feed from you. From your understanding, as he explained it, he'd go into the nearby village and 'have his fill' after he had siphoned a small amount from you. It made you feel like some kind of appetizer or twisted desert for him to be keeping you alive this long. Even with his figure shrouded in darkness, you could still tell by his posture that he was growing impatient with waiting for you to finish your 'dinner'. It was almost like the flickering flame of every candle avoided his very figure as if the fire itself was scared of this entity.

When you finally finished, you stood up from the table and waited till he rose from his seat before you allowed him to lead you to the guest room. You had gotten so used to his grotesque heavy breathing that when he suddenly stopped, the silence was deafening.

"You are crying again." At least when he said it this time, he sounded somewhat amused. It was like he knew that you've accepted your fate and that there wasn't anything you or god could do about it. The door to the guest room opened slowly without him having to touch the handle, and you stepped inside, fingers already loosening the ties of your corseted dress. "Forgive my tears, my Lord." You cringed at the title you gave him. Of course, an entity this dark would be so egotistical to have you address him as a Lordship. You had wondered if this kind of evil was something that would come from inside someone or from the beyond.

"Why would I need to forgive such fragility? You are a human girl. It is in your nature to be weak and fragile." A vein could have popped in your forehead, and you wouldn't have even known it. His words made you seethe and boil with anger, you had to bite your tongue so hard not to say anything that would get him to eviscerate you on the spot.

"Ah, there she is, my cochetă, my minx, be angry so that all your blood may flow freely." Your body winced at the nickname he gave you. He had called you it frequently rather than your real name. Even when you had unknowingly signed away yourself to him in a contract, he addressed you only by 'cochetă' which he explained was romanian for Minx since you weren't at all fluent with the language yet. You dropped your dress and undergarments off in a chair away from that bed so that you may spare it from any more trauma. After taking your seat on the bed, you draped the blood-stained blanket over your shoulders in an attempt at making you feel like you haven't soiled your modesty.

"I have seen all you have to offer. You will not hide from my eyes." With in an instant, you removed the blanket, not from your own will but because he compelled you to do so. Another tear fell down the side of your face, and this one he wiped away with the side of one of his long pointed nails. Your head fell back onto the mattress, and the Count leaned over you and dropped his face to below your exposed left breast. His breath against your skin felt like ice, and you shut your eyes in order to brace for the pain that never came.

Instead of the feeling of two fanged teeth penetrating your heart, you felt the knuckle of one of his fingers brush against your clit and your back arched. Your eyes widened, and you sat up to meet his stare. There he stood, completely unafflicted by your reaction. In fact, it was almost as if you were the one who did something wrong. Impulsively, a heat pooled in your lower abdomen, it's warmth radiating down your legs. You squeezed your eyes shut in hopes to catch your breath and calm yourself down. What he did to you was only causing a natural response from your body, and you had no control over such responses.

Nonetheless, you still felt the urge to mentally shame yourself for being a such sinful whore who's body responds like that to the touch of something - someone so heinous. It was almost as if the devil himself had cursed you with such blasphemy with the way your nipples hardened to a peak and your thighs squeezed together, trying to prevent you losing yourself to sin any further.

You didn't even open your eyes back up when you felt his cold hand grab a hold of one of your thighs, you were then pulled further down the mattress closer to the edge of the bed and to him. A hand that was so cold that it felt like it was devoid of any life and any warmth worked it way up your chest and grabbed one of your breasts. You bit your lip to hold back a gasp when the peak of your nipple was rubbed back and forth by his thumb. It wasn't until you felt the contact of his mouth around one of your nipples that your eyes shot wide open.

You looked down to see that he had your left breast peaked in his mouth while he suckled on your nipple. Your body betrayed you once again, and that heat you were feeling at your core seemed to grow much hotter. A swipe of his cold tongue against your nipple made you look down again, and you got a good look at the head of the man doing this to you. He had since discarded his hat in the dining room, and now you have a much closer look at the spirit you were dealing with. The back of his head was rotten and decayed even under the several thin tufts of brown hair on his head. It felt like you were looking at a corpse of a man that should have been locked far away in a coffin in the depths of hell.

You weren't even paying attention when a hand parted your thighs and brought attention back to your clit, he pulled back the hood and started rubbing slow deliberate circles around it, being mindful of his claws. He switched to your right breast, and at this point, there was no use controlling your gasps and whimpers anymore. He was so gentle with you. Maybe this was foreshadowing that tonight would be the night he'd finally get rid of you, and this was just him rubbing salt in the wounds and making the evening last as long as possible. He'd never touched your nether regions before, but when he fed from the blood of your heart, he'd often rub his hands around your waist as if he was mockingly consoling you the way a lover would.

The hairs of his thick mustache tickled your nipple and you weren't ready for when he dragged downward a long lick from your breast, to over your stomach and then finally stopping at the mound between your legs. You exhaled deeply when he resumed and dragged his blackened tongue down your slit, getting a taste of your wetness in his mouth. This wasn't something you should be enjoying, just the symphony of approving noises that left your lips made you feel appalled with yourself. It wasn't until you felt his lips lock around your clit that you became heavy lidded and utterly defeated.

You settled with the idea that he's being so cautious with you because he's going to make you reap what you sowed when it was time for him to experience his own pleasure. And regardless of how good he made you feel in this very moment, you still hated him. He tricked and imprisoned you in this hellish imitation of a castle. He left you alone and unattended during the day, allowing a pack of wolves to ensure you never take your leave. It was because of him that your mother was a several weeks journey away, worried sick about you, and you weren't even sure if you'd ever see her again.

You were on the verge of crying again until he rose to his feet, his figure demanding your full attention. His clawed hands fiddled with the buttons of his trousers, and your breath hitched. The hefty fur cape he wore would frequently would drape over his frame and seculde him in almost total darkness. You never knew what his daily wear looked like since he seemed content in hiding in the shadows of your vision only to reveal slightly more of himself to you when he fed from your body. What came to your vision when he glanced back at you was the erect bulbous head of his cock. It was engorged and jutted upward toward the ceiling as if it demanded your gaze on it.

He crept closer to you, staring intensely as if trying to gauge your state of mind, trying to see whether you were going to fight or flee. Instead, you just allowed your head to fall back onto the mattress. It was pointless to do either of those, and deep down in the darker realms of your subconscious, this behavior from him was welcomed. When the head of his thick member prodded at your entrance, your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes tightly.

Instead of thrusting inside, he thrusted his shaft upward, dragging it along your slit to coat himself in your wetness. When the shaft slid up against your clit you couldn't help but mewl out, still feeling that knot in your lower belly that was just waiting to be undone. When he finally seized the moment to thrust inside you, your eyes shot open, burning and stinging with tears. The Count let out what sounded like an inhuman hiss as his length seeped into your heat, inch by inch. The stretch was almost unbearable. It felt like you were being split right down the middle into two halves of yourself, and you weren't sure what half you pitied more. Your mouth opened to make a noise, but nothing came out. Such an intrusion of this nature left your throat speechless and strained. He pulled his hips back, and a clawed hand shot up to your face and held you in place upon his re-entry.

Those pointed nails of his were so sharp it felt like you had needles digging into your skin. Beads of red came into your vision dripping down your face from how much pressure those thick claws of his put into your flesh. When you tried to snatch your face away from his hand, he only pulled out and thrust into you more harshly. The squelching noise your cunt made around his length felt nothing short of sinful. To your disbelief, you learned he still had more of his shaft left to give you when he pushed himself further inward to the hilt. The thick head of his cock struck your cervix like hammer and a painful cramping sensation followed behind it. He hummed a noise of satisfaction as if he was he was impressed you were able to take all of him to the hilt.

Your breasts bounced on your chest when he roughly pulled out entirely only to shove himself back in. You gave a whine in response, and it was only then that he had seemingly guaged a fine line of pleasure and pain for you. Adjusting himself, he started up a pace of feverent rutting that made your legs tremble pitifully around his waist. The pressure of his hand on your face left when he leaned over to get a taste of the clotted blood that dotted across your forehead. His body was so much larger than your own that he had to contort himself over you to be able to taste the crimson he created and be able to continue his rutting.

The frequent movement of your body from the impact of his hips against yours was beginning to loosen that knot you felt in your belly. Your moans grew louder, and so did the beating of your heart against your rib cage. Inducing this creature to feed from you because your heart enticed him was the last thing you needed right now. The pace of his thrusts harshened, and so did the primal look he had in his eyes. Having him over you and staring at you like this, as if he were a lion and you were a weak gazelle soon to be eaten. For such an entity of darkness, he had such expressive eyes, sometimes they were so black you could see your reflection. Sometimes, they were so white and cloudy, you'd wonder where he had come from, heaven, hell, or neither.

"Please..." You weren't quite sure what you were begging for, but in your heart, it felt like it was for release. Release from the built-up pressure in your belly, release from the castle, or even release from life itself. Your hand reached up, and you cupped the flesh of his face. His skin was so cold, so rotten, and yet there was a feeling of life as if there was perhaps a soul present, but you knew better. There wasn't any life within him, as he was death itself. There was no soul within him, as he claimed the souls of others.

The closer his body, his cock, brought you to this peak of of pleasure that you pleaded for, the wider the smile grew on your face. A smile that didn't go unnoticed as his lips claimed the skin of your neck in what felt like possessive kisses. Perhaps this union of flesh solidified the extent of your stay at the castle through your own submission and your yield to the power he had over you. Those kisses trailed up to your own lips, and you tasted death from his mouth to yours. You tasted your own blood from him, and you tasted his hatred and his darkness, and yet you no longer had fear for it. With a painful clench of your walls, you came undone, your release washing over you in thick waves.

The spasming, clenching, and squeezing of your canal made the already deep and ragged breaths he took erratic, as did his rutting a few quick snaps of his hips and you felt a spurt of cold fluid inside you. The chill of it rose up your spine as it felt as if death itself had released into you. A deep animalistic growl vibrated off of the stone walls around you and bounced around in your skull. When he removed himself from you, you felt the remainder of his spent coat your inner thighs.

You looked away as you sat up on your own elbows, trying to balance yourself, and when you looked up, expecting to meet the eyes of a starving beast, you were met with an empty room. He had left you, spared you even. You couldn't imagine the type of carnage and havoc he'd wreak upon those villagers tonight. Reaching up to clutch your necklace for security and your hands found nothing but skin. He was gone and had taken your necklace with him. He took it as if you had bestowed upon him the honor of having a maiden's token.

[thesquidgame]

Predictable

Hwang In-ho x wife!reader

Part One Part Two

Summary: Your peaceful married life is disrupted by strange symptoms.

Warnings: ANGST, money issues, hospitals, disease outbreak (MERS), disease symptoms (not MERS), poor working conditions, bad coworker, (implied) understaffed hospitals, panic, health problems, medical condition, neurological symptoms, blood, graphic depictions of medical emergency, vomiting blood, stepping on glass, extended TWs: here

Word Count: 2k~

Your apartment was dingy and small. It was on the outskirts of Seoul, and your had to take three buses to get to work. But it was alright. Your house was clean, and In-ho came home every day before you and made dinner. Your schedule was a bit more unpredictable. As an ER nurse, you tried whatever you could to get home on time, but mostly, you ended up at work until midnight. 

It was a hectic job, but you were used to it. Unlike some of your colleagues, nothing extreme had happened to you in years, the first and only time being when you were accidentally stabbed with a needle. Still, it was stressful, but In-ho made all of that anxiety go away the second you saw him.

Whenever you came home, your husband would smile, kiss you, and present the delicious dinner he had made you. You would then sit at the dinner table and talk about your days, sometimes for hours, into the early hours of the morning. Then, you would wake up and do it all over again.

Your friends remarked on how boring you and In-ho’s lives were, that there was no real excitement, and that you were just going through the motions. You couldn’t disagree more. You loved going through the motions, and waking up every day knowing what you would do, and that your husband would be waiting for you at home. The predictable joy was your paradise. In-ho would wonder too, questioning if this was what you wanted. He couldn’t imagine how someone like you would want to be with a boring policeman with a 9-5 job. You couldn’t explain it, didn’t need to, you just loved spending time with your husband.

Your wedding was small and cheap, in the worship hall of a local church on a Saturday afternoon. Your family didn’t have the money for a flight to attend, and you couldn’t afford to bring them to you. So, your family was replaced by your friends, and Jun-ho walked you down the aisle.

The reception was in your house, and you and In-ho had stayed up late the night before making food. It was the best day of your life, and your friends and family stayed up late eating in the basement of the church at folding tables.

That night, you and an In-ho made love for the first time (always a gentleman), and as you slept on his chest he promised you that he would do anything for you. Even if he couldn’t give you much in terms of nice clothes, or a nice apartment, he would make you as happy as he possibly could.

In the fifth year of your marriage, both your and In-ho’s careers became enormously stressful. The MERS outbreak in South Korea made your hospital one of the central trauma centers for victims, and In-ho received a promotion, giving him more and more hours away from home.

One day, during a long shift, you almost passed out. The hospital was loud and frantic, and you fell over in the middle of the ER, the voices and lights around you becoming a blur. You only were able to regain focus when a doctor grabbed you by your shoulders and screamed in your face, “Get the fuck up and treat your goddamn patients!” He screeched, the force of it causing spit to fly into your face.

Dazed, you got up and continued treating patients, pushing your brief pass-out back into your mind as just a brief fluke.

Over the next week, you were less and less hungry when In-ho would make food. He would look at you concerned, “Honey, is there something wrong with the food? I thought this soup was your favorite.” 

You offered a weak smile in return, “I love it In-ho, I just don’t have an appetite today. Sorry.”

He smiled back, “All alright, just let me know if I can do anything.”

Work got more hectic for both of you, and moments of exhaustion grew in you more and more, but all could likely be attributed to the stress of the job.

The nausea started a month after the exhaustion. At least once during a shift, you would have to run to a bathroom to throw up. After one especially hard day, where, with still six hours left in you had already thrown up three times, you called In-ho crying.

“In-ho.” You said through sobs.

Nothing else passed your lips, but immediately your husband broke out into a flurry of questions, “Honey, what’s wrong? Is everything okay, did something happen?” You could hear the panic in his voice as clearly as you could see it if he was standing right in front of you.

You didn’t say anything for a minute, just continued crying as you heard In-ho try to interject several times, but each time he stopped himself, waiting for you to say something.

You were just about the explain the situation when you heard someone knock on the door of the bathroom, “Nurse Hwang, are you in there?”

“Yes, I’ll be out in a minute.” You said, your hand shaking as you held the phone.

“We need you out here now, you can’t waste time in the bathroom.” Your coworker said. She was nice, and a recent graduate of college. Her inexperience and fear were evident, and while whatever problem she was facing was likely her responsibility, she would be torn to shreds by your boss if she didn’t do everything right, and you had to help her.

“In-ho, let’s talk when we get home.” You said, forcing your sobs back into your throat.

“(Y/n), wait-” You didn’t let him finish, hanging up now was already hard enough but if you let him talk longer it would only get worse.

The chaos of your shift only got worse and worse, and it was nearly 4 AM by the time you got home. You felt like death itself had risen and slapped you across the face.

In-ho was sitting at the table, his leg bouncing so hard you could feel the vibrations through the floor. “(Y/n), what’s wrong are you okay?!” He said, panic radiating off his skin as he reached up and grabbed your hands, searching his gaze up and down you.

You had called him earlier tonight, hadn’t you? But for some reason, the why just wasn’t there, “I- I called you earlier today, right?”

His brow furrowed in confusion, “yes, you were crying. I’ve been terrified for hours. What happened?”

You looked away from him, “I- I don’t remember.”

“What do you mean, you don’t remember? Honey, what’s going on?” He grabbed your shoulders, out of concern, and you winced away from him.

“Ow, that hurt.” You muttered, rubbing your shoulders.

The fear only seemed to grow in his eyes, “I didn’t grab you that hard I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, it’s just been a long day.” You gave him a half-hearted smile, “can we just go to bed?

He frowned but nodded and gently wrapped you in a hug, “Of course, let’s sleep, and tomorrow we’ll see if you can remember.”

Nothing came to you in the morning, and when you took your shirt off to change into your scrubs, you noticed purple bruises on your shoulders from where In-ho had grabbed you the night before. 

“Honey, is everything all right in there, you’ve been changing for a while?” In-ho called in from the other room.

“Yeah- yeah, everything’s okay.” You put your shirt on, not telling In-ho so as to not upset him. You knew that he hadn’t grabbed you that hard, so you didn’t want to scare him with freak bruises.

In the next month, it became harder and harder to function. Your body constantly felt exhausted and weak and sore, and you almost never had an appetite. Sleep was rare to come by due to a constant itching feeling that would spread over your body.

The world felt blurry a lot of the time, you got more confused and forgetful at work and at home, and your bosses would tear into you more and more. It was difficult to bring anything up to In-ho, his schedule became so busy that you talked less and less, and you didn’t want to stress him out with problems that were likely just caused by a stressful job.

Whenever he would notice something, and ask you what was wrong, it felt like pieces of a puzzle that wouldn’t fit when you were answering. Your responses wouldn’t quite make sense, you would say something a little bit incorrect, or wouldn’t completely answer the question. Both you and In-ho were confused by it, but neither had the time nor energy to prod further.

Everything in your life was falling apart and getting worse and worse, but you felt too dazed most of the time. You couldn’t really think about everything happening, and it all just spiraled out of control.

In-ho awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of gagging. He stumbled out of bed, wondering if you had eaten something that upset your stomach.

“(Y/n)?” He asked as he walked to the bathroom, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw in front of you. You were crouched down on your hands and knees, a couple of feet in front of the toilet, throwing up. Throwing up near-black dark vomit.

“(Y/n)!” In-ho, in that moment, felt more terrified than he had ever before in his entire life. He ran over to you and crouched down on the ground next to you. Your entire body was shaking, and you kept throwing up. “(Y/n), what’s wrong? What’s happening? What’s going on?” He didn’t know what to do. No amount of disaster or emergency training he had received had prepared him for this moment.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. He grabbed you in his arms, and you shook against his chest as he ran out of the apartment. He didn’t put on shoes, or a jacket. A broken bottle his neighbor dropped in the hallway cut his feet as he ran to the elevator, but he didn’t feel it. You were still throwing up on his chest and his fear for you was all he could focus on.

The car ride felt like it lasted hours. You were in the passenger seat, never stopping throwing up. His feet were cut up, and his white shirt was covered in blood.

He parked right in front of the ER you worked in, not pulling into a parking space. He carried you in his arms to the front desk, and all of the staff stared in shock for a brief moment at the sight of their coworker being carried by her husband, covered in blood. Within a quarter of a second that felt like an hour, they all rushed into action.

Someone took you out of his arms and placed you on a gurney, wheeling you into a trauma bay, while blood from In-ho’s feet followed you in a trail. Your eyes opened and shut, and you focused on your husband yelling your name, “(Y/n), (Y/n)!” As his face and voice faded in and out.

Part two will be out soon!

[pha55ed]

War is Over || F1/F2

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, max, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: the 2024 is finally over, which means they get to come home and finally relax with you

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

Skiing sounded terrifying for you. The risk of injury, the freezing cold, not being to control your movements, all of it seemed so scary. But Carlos peer-pressured you into it, which you couldn't be more grateful for. Although he's already experienced, almost at a pro's level, he still waited for you and taught you everything he knew.

There was no embarrassment in it either. He was so gentle and understanding when teaching you, always holding your hand, tucking your hair back into your cap, and cleaning your visor. It was hours filled with giggling at your mistakes and Carlo's poorly worded explanations.

But in the end, you managed to get the hang of it slightly, only doing small ramps and gliding around. He's never been prouder. He starts filming you like a facebook mom and he WILL 100% post it on his story.

Charles Leclerc | 16

Being so busy with driving makes him unable to do what he really loves, which is piano. So once it's Christmas time, he has get back his skills. But even though piano is usually played solo, he always tries to add you into it.

Either by letting you sit right next to him and sing the lyrics. Or letting you play the right-hand notes while he does the left-hand notes. He's very passionate about his music, always going into long rants about the musical choices he made and his biggest inspirations.

You can't help but just admire his nerdy-ness. It's so fun to hear the calming piano and his long rants, which helps you sleep. Which he doesn't even get mad at, instead he just drapes a blanket over you and continues playing.

Lando Norris | 04

Winter isn't something Lando wants to experience often. Of course, he loves to go snowboarding or watching the snow fall, but his comfort comes from the sun. So when the season ends, he's instantly telling you to pack your bags and prepare for an Australian "winter".

Which is perfect, since that's Oscar's hometown. So now you're stuck in Australia with your dumb ahh boyfriend and Lily's not-as-dumb-boyfriend. But you don't mind, it's great to get a bunch of double date time, discuss the grid drama, and more. Lily is basically your sister, you're almost more excited to see her than you are to see Lando.

But of course, he'll go back home to London with you so you can meet his family and have the true winter experience. He'll play in the snow, make an unbelievably disproportionate snowman, and possibly,,, just maybe,,, make a drawing in the snow with pee...

Oscar Piastri | 81

Christmas time means it's time for him to be his real self: a professional bed-rotter. Going out is so tiring for him, and he's sick of it. So prepare for weeks on end of just staying indoors, cuddling, ordering take out, and debating over movies.

Even though you're staying indoors mostly, it's never boring with him. Mainly because he has awful movie opinions. For example, he watched "Home Alone" with you, only to root for the kidnappers to take Kevin... Or when he was rooting for Voldemort to kill Harry just to thicken the plot.

Truly awful ideas, but you love debating them and hearing his logic behind it. Despite being drama free on the grid, he can't help but love the drama on screen. So, once you're done with every Christmas movie: it's time for Love is Blind, Love Island, and more shitty TV shows with even more shitty opinions.

Max Verstappen | 01

Racing was fun for Max, of course it is. But so is just staying home and being able to be a normal person. He really enjoys having time to himself just to think and enjoy the peace and quiet before he's forced to be back into a world filled with cameras, mics, and more.

So you two just do domestic tasks. Like grocery shopping, picking Christmas gifts, cooking together, and more. It's simple, but he loves it to death. There's been so many times throughout the season where he just wanted to call in sick so he could do something chill with you.

The only con is that he's an awful cook... And awful for grocery shopping... And he's not up to date with the kids,,, and picks the most awful gifts...

But thank god you're there to help! You'll be there to laugh at his stupid mistakes and help him do better, which he loves.

Oliver Bearman | 87

Family is one of the most important things to Ollie. He's who he is because of his family, so be prepared to be with his family almost every single week. Although it was scary at first, his family greeted you with open arms.

His sister loves you and gets to be girly with you. You go shopping with her and talk about the gossip at her school. His brother and you both team up to bully Ollie and prank him. His mom is so sweet and always treats you like her own daughter, giving you the best dinners and gifts. And his dad is so caring towards you, being more protective of you than Ollie.

It makes Ollie start to feel like HE'S the in-law instead of you. But he never complains, instead he's so grateful to have you. He couldn't ask for anyone better.

Paul Aron | 17 <3

You know those dumbass shirts at Walmart that say "Eat, Game, Sleep, Repeat"? That's the exact moto Paul lives by, but except it's training instead of gaming. Which means he's never had the chance to be able to fully relax. Even during summer vacation, he would sneak away to go to the gym or even fucking sneak a hand-grip onto the plane. This man is ADDICTED.

So you help him calm down, which is very needed. You take him to do all the fun stuff that he should be doing. But you know he's very concerned for losing his abs and muscles, so you make sure to make it a physical activity.

This means going to ice rinks, walking for miles in winter-themed towns, and even trying most aggressive ice sports. Things like skiing, snowboarding, and even hockey. Although you're not good at all of them, Paul is there to help.

Despite him just starting these sports too, he's already a pro at it. So now it's a time filled with giggles and laughs as you try all of these new activities together.

Pepe Marti | 21

It's well known by everyone that Pepe is one of the very few drivers in university. So this winter break is used by him to not only study, but also catch up with friends. You and him get to experience and cozy winter, filled with cuddling, procrastinating on homework, and hanging out with friends.

You hangout with not only his university but of course, the trio. Christian and Sebastian are so fun to hang around with and they're super sweet to you. It's as if they're your brothers who annoy the shit out of and Pepe.

100% Chris is the oldest sibling, Pepe is a middle child, and Sebs is the annoying youngest. You guys all mess around by playing stupid games, screaming karaoke, riding carts in Target, and more. Just a true college experience with the nicest people ever.

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

[flkwh0re]

Caught

Pairings: Stepsis! Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of age gap (Legal), Getting caught??, Oral (W Receiving), Strap-on usage (R Receiving), Bondage (Nat being tied), Overstimulation (R Receiving), whatever it would be called bc Nat was forced to watch while being tied up 😭

Word count: 1.4k

Authors Note: All tho I haven’t reached 900 followers yet I wanna go on and put this out, enjoy!! 😭

The days of summer break were coming to an end, it was close to time for you to return back to your college dorm after spending the last few weeks with your family. You came home unexpectedly one day to surprise your mom and step father. To your surprise your step sister, Wanda, had the exact idea.

Wanda and you never got along, probably considering you never had much time to connect before she was off to college later followed by you. Wanda wasn't much older than you, but the age gap was enough to cause conflict when she came around while you still stayed with your parents.

During the few years you were both in high school, her friend Natasha and her would torment you during that time. You always figured it was normal rivalry, but Wanda held a much deeper secret. Even after high school Natasha stayed super close with Wanda, the two would always be together. Including those visits Wanda made.

Natasha always had a softer side for you. She often pitied you during Wanda's torments, asking the girl to be gentler on you which Wanda would combat with a teasing manner.

"Hey." Called out by Nat's soft tone as she crept into your room. "Oh hey Nat, why aren't you with Wanda?" She leaned against the back of your door once she closed it, "She's asleep, and I'm bored."

You sat upright, patting the space next to you inviting the older woman to come sit with you on your bed. After a comfortable silence Nat spoke out, "How's college been treating you? I missed you last summer, isn't this your second year?" You nod, "Yea, and it's been fine. Nothing interesting but you know."

Nat and you spend a good while talking with each other, really enjoying each other's company then her mannerisms change. "You've really grown a lot, since you've graduated you know. Two years isn't much but, you're really pretty." Nat's words cause a blush to creep on your cheeks, you hope the soft light of your lamp doesn't amplify it.

"It's rude to ignore compliments sweetheart." She says with a smug little smile, letting out a giggle which you return. She scoots closer to you and before you know it her lips are on yours.

The two of you share a heated moment, your lips passionately latching onto one another. Natasha's hands roam along your body, groping at your curves and pulling your body closer to hers. What you hadn't noticed was during your intimate moment with Nat, Wanda had snuck in.

"Ahem." She said loud enough to finally catch your attention. "What is going on here?" She said in a condescending tone. Natasha tried to quickly shut down what Wanda had just witnessed but she paid no mind to her friend's pleas.

"Y/n, wanna tell me why my best friend is here swapping spit with you?" You were confused about her tone, you'd assumed she'd sound more mad if she was. She almost sounded like she enjoyed it.

"We were just caught up in the moment, it's late, we're tired and we were having a conversation and we just.. kissed." Wanda chuckled, as if she was enjoying this. You and Natasha had been sharing worried looks during this whole very weird interaction.

"Oh you two are so pretty when you lie!" Wanda strutted over to the bed, the short skimpy shorts she wore made you feel hot. "Oh what will I do with you two." She paused. "I know, Nat come here." Natasha stood and made her way to Wanda. To your shared surprise she let her to the chair that sat in the corner of your room, and tied the woman's hands together.

"Wanda, what are you doing?" The older woman asked. "You'll see, be patient." Wanda made her way back to where you sat, "Now I want you to be my good girl and do exactly as I say, got it?" Your head shook in an eager nod of approval. "So desperate."

Her lips pressed against yours, her tongue slipped past your lips quickly and danced along with yours. Wanda's pretty moans filled your ears, along with Natasha's whines as she desperately wanted to be with the two of you.

"I want you to eat me out, if you make me cum to my satisfaction I'll reward you. Mkay?" You nod, "That won't do, I need your words baby." Wanda reprimanded. "Y-yes ma'am." Wanda chuckled, "I like that, now get on your knees."

You instantly dropped to your knees, Wanda made a show of her stripping out of her arousal soaked shorts which she tossed onto Natasha's lap. You made no waste of time by diving straight into pleasing Wanda.

Her hands tugged on your hair, and pushed your face closer to her core. Your tongue worked like magic on her clit like your life depended on it, like it was what you were made to do. "Fuck baby! You're being such a good girl, making me feel so good.. oh god!"

Natasha continued to squirm in her seat, itching to be able to touch you. "Please Wanda, untie my hands." Though for poor Natasha, Wanda was only able to focus on the assault your tongue was causing on her. Loud moans and praises slip past her lips, pushing you into a state where you only want to be there to please her.

"Fuck pretty girl, I'm gonna cum! Can you make me cum? Please be a good girl and make me cum." Before you knew it Wanda was cuming, her hand tightly gripping your hair tugging slightly.

"Did I do good?" You asked hesitantly, "So good baby, get on the bed." You did as she said and watched her rummage around your room, until she came across the strap you had stored away. You were unsure of how she knew where you had that stored, but you didn't question her fearing you may end up in Natasha's place.

"I want you to ride me, ride me till I have to take control." She demanded. Your already soaked pussy from your session with Nat didn't require any effort from Wanda, so she quickly got your settling down on her strap.

Your hands propped themselves on her chest, trying your best to hold yourself up. "Go on, move your hips baby." With her request you began to bounce on the woman's strap, taking a moment to adjust. Soon enough you had a steady pace, as so did the subtle movements of Wanda's hips.

Her hands ran across your body, groping at your tits. "Fuck you're so perfect, I can't believe I've waited this long." She groaned out, eyes scanning all up and down your body.

"P-please I can't keep myself up anymore." You whined as you struggled to keep your arms from going limp. "Keep going pretty girl, you're doing so good." Wanda praised, but she knew she'd have to take over soon. Your hip movement became sloppy, even Nat grew worried.

Wanda eventually took over and flipped you to your stomach, propping up your knees for easier access. She slipped her strap back into you, thrusting the silicone toy into you at a brutal pace. Your whines filled the air, the only noise you were even able to get out.

"Fuck baby, you look so pretty like this. All fucked out over me, so ruined because of me." Wanda teased, as her hand came firmly down on your ass also eliciting a whine from you.

Natasha's empathetic side came out for you in the moment, watching as Wanda used your body. "Wanda be gentle!" Which Wanda dismissed, as her pace quickened. "Fuck you're so hot, you can't even think about anything but me. Did I fuck Nat out of your mind, hm?" Wanda said clearly to get a reaction out of Nat.

"Wans.. 'm gon- cum." Your barely eligible words made the older girl laugh, "Beg pretty girl, beg me to cum." More whines came from you before you mustered up the ability to make out a coherent sentence. "Wands, please! L-let me cum, 'm gonna cum I can't hold it pl-please."

"Go on, cum pretty girl." With her demand you did, and you came hard. “Good girl, you did so good.” Wanda placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, slowly removing the strap from you as to not hurt you. She scooped you up and readjusted your body under the covers, then placed a soft kiss on your tired face.

“Wanda please undo me.” Natasha finally said, breaking the silence. Wanda laughed, “Who said I was done with you?”

MASTERLIST

[sojumica]

Killer neighbor toji. | toji fushiguro x f! reader

warnings: 17+, smoking, killing obviously, angst?, fluff.

Busted down apartment building from the late 90’s to early 2000’s is where you reside now for some months since you moved here.

The showers were sometimes cold, especially during the winter, so you'd boil water on the stove and take hot baths to feel some warmth, but cold showers felt nice during the scorching heat of the summer months.

You just recently got a neighbor you genuinely terrified when you were taking the trash out one morning.

He was super tall, buff, green eyes and dark black hair. Almost bluish by how dark it was. He was super quiet but rude when you two would speak.

You assumed he did some sort of assassintion job, you figured this out when you two were the only ones in the laundry mat down stairs and he was pouring bloody clothes in the washer.

He looked at you after he did that to see your reaction, all you could do was shrug “we all have to eat” you say walking off.

You didn’t care, In this day in age you had to do what you had to do to get by. Even if that meant murdering for a living he was the one who was going to be damned, not you.

After that you saw him a bit more everyday, maybe he was paranoid and afraid you were going to snitch or maybe you were his next victim.

You found life quite meanlessing in a sense where you just lived to live and get it over with, you were happy with the little things. It’s all you needed.

He seemed like he always wanted more and never could stay still. You’d see him some days and sometimes not even for the next few weeks.

One day at the laundry room once again you spot him. “You know I'm the one who mops up the dried blood you leave on the floor outside our doors.” you commented as you placed your white clothes in the dryer.

“oh.” is all he said not even glancing at you, you didn’t care yet again. It was just nice to have a short conversation with someone.

Working from home kept you sorta isolated so you’d take what you could get, it really didn’t matter from who may it be from the old ladies who walk early in the morning or your killer neighbor.

A week later, as you were on your way to take out the trash you saw a note on your door. “gone for the next two weeks- Toji” it read.

“Ah, so that’s his name.” you spoke out loud before pocketing the note, you thought it was weird he was letting you know when he’d be gone, maybe he was scared he was going to die and wanted to let someone know.

Two boring weeks had passed but it reminded you of how life was like before toji had come along, life was quiet, simple, meaningless, and now it was the same but more eventful with seeing him.

He had become your muse, you drew him occasionally or wrote about him in your diary, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint if it was a crush or not but you hated thinking too deeply into things so you rather not dwell on it.

He finally came back. This time knocking at your door he shoved something in your hands.

“A new mop?” you questioned him holding said mop in your hands.

“Yeah i know how much blood stains stuff so you can use this one for your house and the old one for my trail of blood.” he spoke with a straight face

“K. Thanks i guess” you looking at him as you place the mop to the side

“bye.” he said walking into his apartment.

The thing about you and toji was you both didn’t care to be outspoken or force anything. To you both it was just things neighbors did for each other.

The next week you left dinner at his door, not on purpose simply just because you had extra that you didn’t want to eat.

Your note read “bring back my tupperware- yn”

The next day you saw your tupperware by your plant outside your door, cleaned surprisingly. You still cleaned it again though because ew.

Three days later you saw a note on your door “going on another “trip” need anything from osaka?” it read.

“cigarettes.” you wrote back.

Surely enough a week later cigarettes on your doorstep with another note “my personal favorite.” it said

You found yourself later that night smoking them outside on your balcony with a book that you found at a second hand store earlier that week.

“I smelt the cigarettes last night, did you like em?” he turned to you as he was waiting for his clothes to finish up.

“Yeah they're good, thanks.” you nod as you fold your jeans.

Later that night you found yourself making extras again, instead of just packing it and sending it to him you wrote a note on his door “dinner in 10 come or starve” you placed on his door with a soft knock.

5 minutes later he arrived, he looked freshly showered smelling of tea leaves. Dinner was quiet, you didn’t mind he didn’t either.

“You want me to do the dishes?” he asked looking at you once again with no expressions

“Sure, I have some cookies I made a couple days ago. Do you want some?” you looked up at him from the fridge.

“Do you have milk?” he questioned as he started on dishes.

“Only oat milk.” you replied after staring back down into your fridge.

“I’ll bring my milk after this, what normal person doesn’t have REGULAR milk.” he said, staring at you as if you were crazy.

“well i ran out when i was making THE FUCKING COOKIES TOJI.” you emphasized just like him.

“That's the first time I've ever heard you say my name, you know.” he looked at you with a laugh coming from his stomach.

“Oh yeah huh, do you remember mine?”you stared at him with your hands on your hips with a quirked brow

“yn.” he spoke firmly and so naturally.

The cookies were shared on your balcony with a cigarette, talking about all of toji’s missions the rest of the night till the late AM’s.

Maybe life wasn’t so boring after all you thought as you and him sat there in silence overlooking the city on the more shitter part of town. It was ugly and rundown but it was home, it got a little bit better now that he was here.

idk this could have a part two or a longer part but not rn.

[strawberry-cowmilk]

silly things I think the brothers have done

not proof read, also I did all of the things on these lists so it's kinda like the brothers as things I have done hehe ( I couldn't come up with some stuff for some of them so forgive me for some brothers having shorter or more boring lists)

alternative title: the brothers as real things I have done (I swear I'm not that insane)

-----

lucifer

use whatever the devildom version of red bull is as an 'emergency tool' to quickly stop being tired only when he really needs to (don't do this)

accidentally sent a formal important email to somebody completely unrelated because it was 3am and he wasn't sharp (poor person had no idea what he was talking about) (this still haunts me)

one time when he was at a farm a peacock kept following him and kept opening its feathers to him no matter how many times he walked away

mammon

always buys something one of his brothers or mc will like in a store when he sees it for them

bought expensive perfume and quit his job two seconds afterwards

made the mistake of online shopping while being drunk and then cried over a mini bag and bought it because it would be cute for his future child

accidentally almost burnt down a school chemistry lab because he put a plastic tube over the fire (the teacher warned him not to do that) (everything was fine the tube was just a little on fire it only had like salt water in it)

leviathan

met his favorite artist and accidentally dropped his bags right before the picture in front of said artist (the artist tried to help him but he said nono its okay while fixing the mess) (he dropped the bag 1 second after asking if it was okay to put it down) (this still haunts me I'm so sorry to the artist for having to see me fight a bag)

messed up karaoke one time when he was home alone and destroyed his voice for the next week

attended a vocaloid concert

satan

accidentally made somebody believe he has a child because he calls a cat his baby or his son and forgot to specify he's talking about a cat

saw a cat meow and paw at somebody he didn't know's front door and he felt bad for it so he rang the doorbell and asked the guy who lives there 'is this your cat?' but the cat already went inside (luckily it was his cat or else that would have been super awkward)

cut his own hair once out of protest because somebody kept forcing him to cut it (they never forced him to do anything with his hair again so it worked) (I was like 11 years old when I did this)

asmodeus

wore platform heels while hiking because he refused to wear hiking shoes (those were the only shoes he brought to the vacation too) (there was no room to bring more because he already overpacked)

when somebody was being rude for no reason over his fashion choices he accidentally said 'not my problem you're allergic to slaying' out loud (I said this to my mom I almost died)

packed a full suitcase and a big tote bag for a one night hotel stay (the suitcase had an extra bag in it too)

sent his profs emails telling them he's sick so he can go to his beauty salons (this happened more than once)

beelzebub

traveled to a different city to buy a lot of a specific type of food and then came back

sometimes has to function as an alarm clock for one of his brothers (belphie) because its impossible to wake him up

stays home with his brothers when they're sick so they don't have to be alone

tried to make an oven pizza in the microwave with his brothers because the oven was not working (don't try this) (it turned out literally wet by the way)

belphegor

planned a way to skip certain class times every day without getting in trouble to sleep more

woke up from a nap extremely disoriented and asked someone what his name is

I'm so sorry I tried to come up with more things for him but I can't its been a week of thinking

[adoregojo]

he doesn't realise how lonely he is.

the birds nagging on the early morning was freaking annoying and made him wanted to block the window ten times more. he hated how his breakfast tasted, he added to much salt and now he keeps grimacing at every bite. the usual black stray cat on his doorstep keeps greeting him every morning, and all he could find to reply to it meowing was a frown. sunny days were nothing but a pain, the bright light hitting his face as if it was forcing him to like it. how vexing.

the difference shape of flowers peeking out from the next door store brings him nothing of a sense of joy, if anything he wanted to stay away from it due to it attracting the bugs. his coworkers never talk to him, not like he wants to talk to him. he never looked them in the eyes anyway.

he can clearly hear them, their whispers -that were too loud for him to hear- about him being likely an old grumpy grandpa in disguise, they even made bets on if he would smile one day. it didn't hurt him, he couldn't gave a good fuck for it, he just wanted this day to end so he could go home and never have to see anyone.

he doesn't take his shoes off when he's in the apartment, it was too much of a hassle and he doesn't get any visitors anyway. there's barely any food in his fridge, mostly leftovers. he just eats to survive another day. watching pointless tv shows that never truly entertained him, in fact he found them boring but as long as they kept him busy he didn't care.

winter was too cold, summer was too hot, autumn was stressful, and spring gets him a sick problems all the time.

he truly doesn't know where to enjoy anything in life.

well, until he met you.

all of a sudden, the birds melody doesn't sound so bad, so he opens the window for some fresh air. he stared to put afford in making breakfast, not his usual too slaty eggs it is now a fluffy pancakes with your guidance as you embraced him from behind. they weren't perfect, but the pleased noises you make after every bite made him proud. of course he doesn't forget to feed your cat, the same black cat that he claimed it was nothing but a bad luck.

he didn't realise of how much of a neighbours he had till he started coping how you greeted them, it was nice when they started sending you guys food. especially when you liked them and sometimes they'll send his favourite.

sunny days were welcomed now. especially when the bright light would hit on your skin causing a reflection that's making you a walking glowing star. maybe he liked the sun a bit now.

he made progress on talking back to him coworkers, instead of the silent treatment he actually looked at them knowledge them. he actually started looking at them when they speak to him because you told him it was rude not to. soon he was invited to lunch with them where he would show off his bento box you made for him, he was glad the whispers disappeared. he didn't get how much it bothered him till now.

the owner of the flower shop who was an old lady was now a common person he had to see every week, she remarked he was her most loyal client. he received a tones of advice and recommended flowers as well pinching his cheek as a farewell message. needless to say he always tried coming home -he stopped calling it an apartment- to you without an empty hand, having your favourite pair of flowers was a must now. as well taking off his shoes and putting it directly next to yours, this was it right place.

rethinking it now, winter may be still cold but at least he got the scarf you got for him warped up to his neck, if he buried his nose in the soft fur he could smell your cologne -a reason why it was his favourite one- summer was perfect for you two picnic dates, and every time he could kneel down and thank the sun for making you so blazing and sparkly.

autumn was where you would count the crunchy golden leaves, you sometimes warped yourself around it as if it was snow. it was his favourite memory since it made his heart beating fast. and in the end you were his spring, where his love would bloom for you again and again.

restaurants weren't a waste of money and time now. he has a prefers show and it was the one that made you laugh until the tears formed in your eyes, he honestly doesn't find them as funny but it makes you smile so he didn't care.

life stopped being meaningless afterwards, and he could finally say that he enjoyed living as long as it was beside you.

nagi, rin, sae, toji, choso, ushijima, kenma, diluc. kei, sakusa. you favs!

[ilovebubblegum]

You Fell First But He Fell Harder (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, sweet joel, domestic joel, rom-com

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Summary: Grocery shopping with Joel and Sarah went wrong as you came across his ex-wife.

Words count: 1k

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 4 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm beyond happy that many of you liked it so I hope you enjoy the next parts. Stay tuned and love you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

You and Joel’s playing house was getting real. From three dinners a week to five dinners a week to seven dinners a week. Every night you spent with Joel and Sarah. You even ran errands for him and Sarah like buying diapers, baby stuff and groceries. But today, he offered to go grocery shopping with you. 

“Got the list?” Joel asked as he put Sarah to sit on the shopping cart.

“Let’s get the baby stuff first. We need baby food, diapers..” You read the list written on the piece of paper in your hand.

“Okay.” Joel pushed the shopping cart beside you.

“This one?” Joel grabbed a baby diaper from the cabinet.

“Yep, that one.” You nodded and Joel put it in the shopping cart. 

*Sarah babbled*

“You’re bored, huh?” You caressed her head.

“Apples or bananas?” You showed two different baby food to Sarah. 

“Bananas.” Joel answered while he was looking at some stuff at the cabinet.

“I’m not asking you. I’m asking Sarah.” You scoffed.

“Oh..She gets to choose her food?” Joel looked at you and raised his eyebrows.

“Freedom of speech.” You smirked.

“You’re funny.” Joel scoffed and shook his head.

Sarah babbled and her hand moved to the banana flavored baby food. 

“Bananas it is.” You put the baby food inside the shopping cart.

“I think she has your taste.” You bumped Joel’s arm.

“That’s my girl.” Joel kissed his baby daughter’s head.

“Okay, let’s get some veggies! Choo Choo!” You pushed the shopping cart a bit fast and Sarah giggled.

Joel followed you from behind and laughed at your actions. For a moment, he wished you were the one whom he married and had a baby with. He was blessed to have you and see you making his baby happy. He smiled and imagined it. Until he saw Sarah’s mom, he put a frown on his face and sighed. You looked at him as he stopped.

“What is it?” You put your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s her.” 

You looked in front of you and saw someone approaching the three of you. It was a woman and a man. The woman looked familiar.

“Hi, Joel.” The woman waved her hand awkwardly.

“Hi.” Joel answered coldly.

“Hi, babygirl.” She walked to get closer to Sarah.

Joel dragged back the shopping cart protectively so she couldn’t go closer. 

“Joel, I’m sorry.” She apologized.

“I see you’re happy now.” He looked at the man beside her.

She sighed. You just stayed quiet. This wasn’t your business to meddle in.

“I guess you’re happy too.” She looked at you. 

“Did you get the papers I sent you?” The woman asked Joel. 

Joel scoffed. You saw him clenched his fist holding the shopping cart. So you put your hand on top of his and stroked his hand with your thumb while your other hand rested on his shoulder. 

“Let’s go, honey.” You stroked his shoulder.

“I guess I’ll see you in court.” Joel said goodbye to Sarah’s mom.

“See you in court, Joel.” They parted ways.

Then, the three of you went home. Joel was quiet the whole way home and you didn’t ask him a thing. You understood they were talking about divorce papers. And you knew it made him angry. 

“Thank you for today.” He thanked you while parking his car in the driveway.

“Anytime. We had a pact, remember?” You smiled.

“I guess it works? We’re even now.” He forced a smile and frowned again.

Joel moved the groceries from the car to his house and you carried Sarah inside. Before you walked out the door to go home, you remembered Sarah hadn’t pooped yet. It had been 45 minutes since her last feed and you remembered this baby massage thing you read.

“I forgot something.” You stopped half way.

“What?” Joel closed the door.

“Sarah hasn’t pooped.” You walked back to her room.

“That’s a problem?” Joel asked.

“Yeah. I learned about this baby massage to help them fart. Can I try?” You asked Joel for permission.

“Of course. You’re the master.” He let you.

You laid Sarah on the bed and let her get a comfortable position. Before you started, you took a deep breath in and out. You started with a slow and gentle massage of her tummy, you could feel it was full of gas. You massaged her little tummy again up and down with a gentle press.

*baby farted*

“Oh! Good girl!” You praised her as you giggled.

Joel's eyes widened. He was amazed at you. He wondered how you knew about this trick. You were not even her mom but you did a lot of research. Joel adored you. 

After a few rubs on the tummy, you pumped her legs back and forth and she let out a cute fart again and again. The last one was loud but really cute. 

*baby farted*

“That was a good one, baby.” You laughed.

Joel tried not to laugh but he couldn’t hold it. He finally burst into laughter as he heard his baby farted a big one. He laughed so hard holding his stomach. His jaw probably hurt from laughing too hard.

“You laughed.” You were relieved looking at Joel finally getting his happy face back.

“I’m proud of you, sweet girl. You just made your daddy laugh.” You snuggled your face to her tummy and shook your head.

“I’ve been thinking of ways to get your smile back. Mission accomplished.” You crossed your arms to your chest and put on a proud face.

"You-" Joel wanted to say something but he stopped.

“Thank you.” Joel smiled and looked at you. 

His heart beat faster and he felt butterflies when he heard you said that. You didn’t only care about his daughter but you also cared about him. He suddenly saw sparkles around you and he blinked again to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. You were always beautiful in his eyes. But tonight, you were even more beautiful. He realized he just fell in love with the woman in front of him. His neighbor. You. Yes, Joel Miller was falling in love with you.

To be continued...

Taglist:

@lovelyygirl8 @skysmiller @moonlightdivine @crocodiile @angie2274 @pulchritudinousrogers @peqchsoup @msecho19 @happinessinthebeing @nyotamalfoy @nakedmoondiaries @dzaga890 @pa1g3-t0mm0 @prettysbliss @wanniiieeee @one-sweet-gubler @x-ap0llo-x @feministfanboi @ordinarylokix @afterglowsb-tch13 @param8re @tomorrowseverything @hummusxx @iranispunk @mrsyixingunicorn10 @likeanimagepassingby2 @mediocrewallflow3r @pedr0swh0r3 @mxtokko @dorck26 @cascactus28 @cheyxfu @stupidthoughtsinwriting @undermoonlightwalk @bigmoodyjoody @humanbug @sarahhxx03 @krisviciousx @quixscentsposts @dgct2 @dgraysonss @heybabyshae @fluffyspaceprincess @toottmblr

[creepswrites]

MASK OF HATE (CH 2) | Michael x Reader

so when i was writing this, my editor Insisted i use a grilled cheese gif for this chapter. you'll see why... i hope you enjoy though LMAO

MICHAEL MYERS x FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago."

WARNING: graphic depiction of deaths, animal violence

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"Has anyone ever shown you kindness?" Your voice had Michael opening his eyes, blinking as he looked up at you slowly, your hands tangled in his wet, sudsy hair. He was sprawled out on the porcelain bathtub while you washed his hair, the room dim and sleepy and smelling of lavender soap. He had no qualms letting his legs and arms rest upon the rim to have extra room. You’d since become accustomed to him, no longer flushing at his nakedness, so washing the blood off his skin didn’t bother you.

You’d since bought black washcloths and a black towel for Michael so your father wouldn’t get suspicious about any bloodstains. Lounge clothes - some sweatpants and a t-shirt finally in his actual size - sat folded on the counter beside the sink, his navy blue jumpsuit in a pile on the cool, linoleum floor.

For the past few weeks, you two established a routine of sorts. Michael would get hurt or hungry and come visit you. Sometimes he'd watch you sleep but he'd usually be gone by morning. With your dad's presence in the house very touch and go, it was hard for Michael to stay for any extended period of time. Sometimes he watched you from a distance whenever you'd go in the garden but that was the extent of it.

You knew it wasn't normal for him to care about another person so you did your best to make it easy for him. No more lunging at armed police officers for you, you'd lamented to him in a joking manner. You hadn't been able to see his face but you got the impression he'd glared at you.

You'd also taken to touching him more, getting him to reassociate touch with compassion. It wasn't easy to undo years of trauma but you did little things here and there. Brushing his hands with your own, touching his arm when you wanted attention, small things. He was building a tolerance to it, you could tell. Washing his hair now was the most you'd touched him beyond patching him up after run-ins with the police.

But progress was progress.

Today, he hadn't come home bloody but he had come to you for something. He'd shown up at the backdoor, made a beeline for the bathroom, and you'd gotten the message. Bathing him had also become pretty regular, though you still recalled the first few times where it'd ended with him shaking from how overwhelmed he was by your touch.

Now, though, his gaze bore into you, staring up at you like a big lazy cat. Like a lion too content to strike. Your hands had stilled, still poised to scrub at his scalp. He needed a haircut, you noted to yourself.

"Besides me," you clarified as you resumed scrubbing in slow circles. "You don't… You're-" You huffed, trying to find the words. "I feel like people didn't care for you like you needed them to. If that makes sense." 

Were you anyone else, you don't doubt he'd kill you for saying that. Instead, he just glared at you, pretty hazel eyes narrowed to slits. In anger or confusion, you couldn't tell.

That was yet another development. He'd been taking his mask off of his own accord now, even when he didn't have a reason to. The first time he'd done it had been because his hair was too long and sat uncomfortable in the mask, tickling against his ears and neck. You offered to cut it and, while it took some reassurance and thought on his part, you'd come home one day to him sitting on your bed. Scissors in one hand and mask in the other, clutching it like a child would to a security blanket. He hadn't been shaking or looking up at you with fearful eyes but his jaw had been clenched hard as he white knuckled the accursed mask. A wordless question you'd answered with nimble fingers and gentle tugging on his curls.

Having something so sharp close to his vulnerable neck hadn't been his idea of a good time regardless if it was his idea or not. He'd gotten up half a dozen times during the haircut to stand in the corner to come down from what was probably overstimulation. You were patient with him though.

You'd gotten better at reading him. He'd gotten better at leaving you clues.

In the present, he sat up and slid his legs back into the water. Wet hair slipped from between your fingers as he turned to properly stare at you. Michael was interesting to you still. You could tell he was curious about you too. He stared at you often, like when you watered your plants, washed his clothes, or made food in the kitchen. You felt his eyes on you constantly no matter what.

"What?" You asked with a small sigh, staring back at him with the same intensity.

Michael gave you a slow blink, similar to the ones Mayhem gave you as a show of trust. "Don't gimme that," you teased, smirking at him and motioning for him to sit back down. "I just- I always feel bad thinking about it, in retrospect. I mean, you grew up in an asylum alone. Didn't it-"

He interrupted you by sliding a wet hand around your throat, holding you still as though to physically stop your ramblings. Not squeezing, just holding. You got the message there: let it go. He lay back down and you resumed washing his hair, unbothered by that exchange.

Things like that were normal with him. It had freaked you out at first when he'd wrapped his hand harshly around your throat and pinned you in a doorway. But you'd slowly begun to understand him. He didn't have a way to communicate that wasn't through violence or knives.

Or hospital rooms under scrutiny, you reminded yourself with a grimace. You masked it behind a soft tune you hummed, resuming washing his hair.

Once he was cleaned and dressed, jumpsuit in the wash, you ventured back downstairs to make dinner and feed Mayhem. Michael trailed after you, hair dripping dark spots along his shoulders where it was still damp. He didn't like the hair dryer very much and only tolerated you using it to get his hair comfortably damp. No more.

“You’re probably due for another haircut by the way,” you said as you opened the fridge. Mayhem was immediately rubbing up on Michael’s leg, meowing insistently.

He looked down at her, standing comfortably in the doorway to the kitchen. You glanced over your shoulder to look at him and felt struck with the knowledge that, if it weren't for his injured eye breaking the illusion, it almost felt like you just had a boyfriend over. Your face warmed up at the thought and you snapped your head back around to stare into the white, chilled expanse of the fridge. "Umm… anything specific you want tonight?"

When you looked back over at him, you jumped in surprise when he was barely a few inches from you. Jesus, you thought to yourself. You didn't think you'd ever get used to how quiet he moved sometimes.

Michael tilted his head as he stared at the fridge with you. "I need to go shopping soon, huh?"

He didn't say anything but you could almost hear his nod.

You liked how expressive he'd gotten as the two of you began to trust each other. Little things like that made the whole thing feel domestic somehow. 

"Well, hope you like grilled cheese." You snagged the almost-empty package of sliced cheese and dangled it tantalizingly. "I'll go shopping tomorrow, promise. If you want anything in particular, let me know." You said as you grabbed the bread from the cabinet. Before he could say - or, technically, not say - you spun on your heel. "Besides pumpkin pie."

He nodded once and you smirked.

Domestic, your brain said again in an almost mocking tone. You swallowed and tried to focus on the sandwiches and not the way Michael stared at you. You began buttering the bread as the pan warmed up and tried to not envision life being like this forever: painfully domestic and sweet with Haddonfield's best known serial killer in soft lounge clothes you'd bought him, curled up on the couch eating an early lunch together after you'd washed his hair.

The sound of the front door rattling open was out of place and terrifying. Never in your life had you felt as though the ground would swallow you as your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. You spun to face Michael and quickly assessed your options.

There were two doorways that led out of the kitchen - one that faced the living room and another that led into the hallway to the stairs. There was a dividing wall between the two doorways. Meaning if you could get Michael into the hallway, he'd be out of sight for at least the briefest few seconds it took your dad to walk towards you.

"Upstairs, now!" You whisper-yelled, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him towards the hallway. "Stay quiet, he'll go away soon."

Hopefully, you thought to yourself. Hopefully he will.

"You're home early." You called to him as you took your spot at the stove again, spreading butter on bread and placing them in the pan.

Your dad sounded exhausted, shrugging off his outer coat and tossing it atop the back of the couch before slumping in his chair. "I decided to come home early. It's been an exhausting week. But Myers seems to be taking a break from killing these past few days."

You couldn't help but frown. Not killing? Sure you'd noticed less blood on his clothes but surely he'd stopped altogether. So close to Halloween too…

"Cool, I was, uh, making lunch." You called out over the pan sizzling. "You want some?"

The telltale creaks of the wooden floor had your hair standing up on end. It wasn't like normal sneaking around when you had a boyfriend, this was Michael Myers you were hiding. Right under his nose. Even if your dad didn't immediately go for his gun when he saw him, you were still a liar. And an accomplice to his crimes.

"Grilled cheese, huh?" He smiled for the first time since he'd taken on the case. "Want some help? I can-" The sound of his phone ringing cut him off, making him grimace. "I'll take this outside," he sighed as he went back out the door. You sighed with relief and looked towards the doorway to the stairs.

Michael stood there, mask on, gripping a knife tight in his hand. You had no idea where he'd gotten it, since your knives were accounted for.

You tried to seem reassuring. "He's probably going to get called back into work, it's okay." Even though you'd gotten used to it, you still swallowed when you saw the glint of the knife in the dim lighting of the doorway. "He, um, he said you haven't been killing lately?" 

Michael was eerily still. Just staring at you.

"Is everything…okay?" It felt a bit weird asking when he was going to kill someone again. Like it was just a casual hobby of his. "Just let me know, alright?"

He just stared at you. His walls were back up, you could tell, so you tried to not take it personally.

When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago." His gun was out, alarming you. "Have you… have you seen anything?"

"No." You swallowed around your lie, quickly turning the stove off, lunch forgotten. "No, it's been quiet. I was out in my garden, mostly."

He didn't seem convinced though. "She said he was circling around the house before coming inside."

At that, he froze. He held a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. You wanted to roll your eyes at how comical this was but you also couldn't afford to break character. Scared young child of the police detective, home alone with a killer in this house. 

"Where's your cat?" He whispered, glancing up at the ceiling as though expecting to hear footsteps.

Glancing around, you tried to play up your alarm. "I don't know!" You whisper-yelled. "Do you think he's-?"

"Dead, then." Your dad's bluntness made you flinch. "Myers usually kills the pets first. Keeps 'em from sounding an alarm." He didn't even try to look sympathetic as he crept towards the stairs. You followed after him as he crept silently from room to room, pushing the door open slightly before scanning the room with his gun out. It made you anxious and you kept periodically glancing towards your bedroom, dreading the impending inspection. First the hall closet, then his bedroom, then the bathrooms, and finally: your bedroom.

You felt sweat drip down your temple as he pushed open the door. Everything felt tense, suffocating you as you chewed anxiously on the nail of your thumb.

He swung open the closet door and fired at the first sign of movement.

Mayhem yowled, a sharp, piercing sound, then darted past your legs as he took off down the hall. "MAYHEM!" You shrieked in horror, watching blood trail behind him faster than you could catch him. You ignored your dad's stammered apologies and took off after your cat.

The blood trail went down the stairs and out through the back door, which had been left cracked open to let Mayhem come and go as he pleased. Now he was gone. Your heart sank as you ran outside, crying for Mayhem to come back. In the tall, mud-riddled forest it was hard to see any kind of blood trail or spot your all black cat. Minutes ticked by with no response and you fell to your knees, wrapping your arms around yourself as you bawled.

He was your little kitty. And now he was gone.

"Sweetheart, I- I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was there." Your dad tried to explain as he watched you from the doorway. "It- It'll come back, I'm sure."

"You SHOT him!" You rounded on him almost instantly, storming up to meet him and relishing in the way he backed up in fear of your anger. "You SHOT him and now he might DIE out there!" While you didn't consider yourself an angry nor violent person, it felt vindicating to shove him and watch him stumble back. "You don't even CARE!"

"No, I don't!" He shouted, trying to scare you back. "It's just a cat! What if Myers had been there, huh?"

You felt hysteric. "I don't care about that! Fuck, dad, I care about my CAT!"

Suddenly, he'd grabbed you by the shoulders and slammed you into the nearby wall, his voice hissing like a viper when he spoke. "I don't give a shit about your fucking cat. I am stressed enough as it is and I am focused on finding Michael fucking Myers, not your shitty little cat. Let. It. Go."

The sign of movement in the shadows behind him made you smile.

Michael grabbed your dad by the back of his shirt and yanked him back harshly, letting him fall to the kitchen floor. He stood there, knife tight in his fist as he stood over the whimpering man who scrambled for his gun. 

You watched with an empty expression as Michael kicked the gun aside, skittering on the tiled floor and out of reach. "Grab it!" He hissed at you. Michael tilted his head down at him but he tried to not be intimidated. "Grab my gun, just-"

Reality began to settle in as shock wore off. Your ears were still ringing from the gunshots and you could smell the charred butter coming off the stove. "Michael." Your mouth moved but you didn't feel like your words were yours. "I'm okay."

A heavy boot thudded against your dad's chest and you watched him scramble to try and understand. The dark pits of the mask's eye holes bore into you, almost searching for permission.

"You've been hiding him." Your dad gasped in horror. "You've been hiding the man I've been hunting. Right. Under. My fucking nose!" He roared, struggling to get out from under Michael, only ending up grabbed like a scruffed kitten in his attempts to lunge at you. "How long!? How long has he been hiding here?!"

You didn't feel like answering. So you didn't.

He didn't like that though. "What have you two been doing? What, do you nurse him back to health under my fucking roof every night? Is that why you've been buying first aid shit?"

None of this felt real to you in any substantial way. It felt like a movie almost, a sick indie film about a serial killer you'd grown attached to finally snapping and slaughtering your family because you'd finally given him the chance to get close. You watched Michael press the tip of his knife to your dad's sternum and could almost see the anger and hatred rolling off the masked man in waves.

After all, you'd given him a hard line of not hurting Mayhem. And your dad just broke that rule.

You backed up against the fridge and slid to the floor, watching with a distant expression as Michael wrestled the man to the floor. "Yeah." You said quietly, more to yourself than to him. "I clean him. Bandage him. He protects me." A wet laugh left your throat at the absurdity of it all. "We're partners."

No point in hiding it anymore.

"M-maybe I should call Loomis, s-see if I can get you two joint rooms in the fucking asylum-!" The man below Michael yelled out, his words muffling as Michael jabbed the knife into him. Wet squelching sounds that became almost monotonous as hot red sprays erupted from the holes in his neck. Puddles of red seeped beneath the man's body and Michael seemed to relish in the thrill.

"You killed my cat," you mumbled bitterly to the corpse of the man you once called dad.

And you watched as the body ran cold with Michael's anger. He stood up, towering over you as he tracked bloody footprints as he approached you. "Hi." You said absently, giving him a small smile. "You'll have to kill our neighbor. No witnesses."

He tilted his head curiously and you just let your head fall between your knees. You didn't want to talk about this anymore than you had to. "Just- Just get rid of the body, okay? I'll clean up."

Had you looked up, you would have seen his nod.

The stench of bleach burned your nose and made your eyes water as you scrubbed at the now blood-free kitchen floor. You'd opened the windows to air out the smell but it still felt like it was suffocating. But there was no evidence anymore, thank god.

You didn't ask Michael what he'd done with the bodies. You'd kept your head down when he'd lifted it up and carried it with him out the back door and you were content not knowing. It would only serve to upset you.

Clutching the rim of the sink, you let out a long, pained sigh. Things were going to change now. Your father and Mayhem's blood was all gone, the knives would be disinfected, and Michael's jumpsuit would go through the wash again. No evidence any of this had even happened.

Logically, you knew this should upset you. It did, only in the sense that the wet plunging sounds of the knife echoed in your mind. But you couldn't feel anything beyond anger that he'd shot Mayhem. That he didn't care about you, only his work. It infuriated you to think about how little your life would change with him gone. The house was bought and paid for, you knew everything he owned would be left to you, and life would continue on.

He didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. You repeated this mantra over and over to yourself as you heard the back door open.

Michael stood there, his hands and suit stained with blood. Flecks of dark red stained the white mask in harsh streaks that made you want to hurl. "How, um, how did it go?" You tried giving him a smile but fell short. He approached you and you did your best to hide your flinch when he took your wrist. Red stained your skin and you heard the sickening stabbing again. "Sorry," you mumbled, "I should have done something to- to try to make him leave, or-"

Michael cut you off with a harsh tug on your arm. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes behind the mask, your own wide in confusion. He just stared you down, only gripping you tighter when you tried to pull away.

His silent question felt loud in the little kitchen, even if he said nothing. "I'm… I'll be okay." But you weren't sure if you were telling that to him or yourself. "It was inevitable. I- I just didn't think it would be so soon. But, um, I knew I was… I knew I was going to be sticking with you. Partners, right?"

You didn't wait for any type of response, gesturing to his jumpsuit. "Lets, um, get you into clean clothes, yeah?"

Michael didn't budge.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he lifted his hand towards your face, dragging a bloody finger down your cheek and marveled at the way it stained your skin. A red to match his own,

And as quickly as he came, he left. His footfalls were heavy as he went up to the bathroom and left you floundering in the kitchen. You broke from your trance only when you heard the shower running. Swallowing, you followed his trail upstairs to collect his bloody clothes. You could only hope the blood was fresh enough to come out easy.

When you passed by Mayhem's food dish, you winced at the memory of your cat's blood streaked across the house. You filled his bowls and set them outside, hoping the prospect of dinner would entice him home. 

It was the best you could do, really…

The cops came two days later. When no one on the force had seen or heard from him in a few days, they'd come by to check. It wasn't hard to play up your distress. The five stages of grief had hit you harder than expected. On the first day, you'd just yelled at Michael, slamming your fists into his chest as he watched you curiously. You'd wondered to yourself after sobbing over breakfast how he'd felt after his sister died. You'd only ever heard stories but you wanted to ask him.

"We found him off a backroad down the way with an older woman in the car," the officer interviewing you asked. "Do you have any idea what that was about?"

You swallowed and shook your head. "He, um, he mentioned he got a call from Gladys. That, uh, Myers was outside her house so- so he told me he was going to take her to a hotel and then go back to work." Your voice trembled as you spoke. "H-he'd been working so much, I-" 

The officer gave you a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry, kid." 

Michael was easily named the killer so you weren't even considered a suspect. What they didn't know was that he was taking this opportunity while the police were busy to kill again, letting out his frustrations that had been building up. 

He hadn't left you alone since your dad had died. Always hovering in doorways or your wrist if you were close enough. You knew Michael well enough at this point to know he didn't necessarily feel bad for what he did. But he was certainly capable of fearing your reaction. You could easily turn him in now, all wound up emotions like a ticking time bomb.

But you didn't. You were partners. A pact now sealed in your father's blood

Once the police left, you wanted to get out of the house. It all felt too suffocating. You just needed a moment without Michael's eyes on you, if such a thing existed. So you'd gotten dressed into proper clothes and went into town. You knew the whole town would be looking at you so you tried to keep yourself presentable while still looking a wreck.

Which wasn't hard, after everything that happened.

News reports of your dad's false crime scene would be all over the news in a day. All over the televisions, newspapers, and your dad's police buddies would be sharing stories in bars over drinks. You felt sick at the knowledge that he'd had a life outside you and your little bubble of fake domesticity with a serial killer.

It all felt like a huge reality check that left you stumbling like a drunk on the curbside.

You snapped back to your body as you stared emptily at some crummy greeting cards in the little general store. You'd been walking the aisles with no clear goal in mind and many of the other patrons simply let you pass with pitiful smiles that made your skin crawl. "I should've looked at the fridge…" You mumbled to no one.

"Hey." A soft voice interrupted your train of thought and you gave a glance over your shoulder. Laurie Strode, dressed in all black like she was attending a funeral. Maybe she was - a funeral for the town. You knew the paranoia of Michael stalking her never really went away and you felt a little bad for her. A part of you wished you could reassure her.

“Oh, um, hi.” You stuttered inelegantly. “What- um-“

“I’m sorry,” she gave you a sorrowful look. You were getting pretty sick of those. “I heard about your dad… Michael is ruthless.”

You swallowed around a lump building in your throat. “Y-yeah. I hope, um, you’re doing okay too.” You tried to give her a reassuring smile but you weren’t sure if it came out like a grimace.

Laurie just laughed, no joy behind her tight smile. “I’ll survive. Always do.”

You said your polite goodbyes and you left her, now even more uneasy. It was jarring to be reminded that life existed outside your little house in the forest, that Michael's actions had consequences that spread far beyond just you.

It made you wonder if Michael’s intentions were what you thought they were. He’d never leave Haddonfield. Not willingly. He’d continue killing with or without you in his life.

And that knowledge made you feel sick.

Your dad's funeral was mostly uneventful. A few of his work friends came to console you but you denied their company when you went to the cemetery. Your dad had told you many times when you were young that, when he died, he wanted to be poured into water used to help grow flowers on your late mothers grave. It had struck you as odd then but now you understood.

Guilt still ate at you. He'd probably haunt you if he didn't get to be reunited with your mom in some way, so you'd bought some daisies - her favorite, according to him - and brought them with his ashes and a bottle of water. Haddonfield's graveyard was nothing spectacular, just rows and rows of headstones. Some newer with fresh flowers and photos, some older and covered in moss and dirt. The forgotten ones always made your heart clench.

You pointedly kept your head down when you passed Judith Myers' grave. Her parents had a joint headstone beside her, a spot they'd reserved for themselves a year after she'd died. According to stories, they'd believed Michael deserved nothing but cremation. No tombstone, no funeral, just death in silence.

The fate of the Myers family had been a horrible story. Even after their son was shipped off to Smith's Grove, the family still received harsh criticisms for what they'd done. While Michael's actions were certainly the focus, some people still believed the parents had some sway in it or had influenced his behavior. He'd only been a little boy, after all. A possibly mentally ill, neglected child whose parents had, allegedly, favored Judith to the point Michael acted out.

A car crash killed them, according to the news. You weren't sure. The timings had been too close and their funerals had been closed caskets. But you'd been too young to really care about that sort of thing. Now, though, you were curious. It felt like you'd get answers somehow if you knew. Regardless, Michael was left without guardianship and became a ward of the state, locked away in a hospital for fifteen years. At first, the town didn't know what to think of him. The poor, unstable boy who now had no one waiting for him if he ever got out. Many villainized him, of course, but some wanted to see him make a full recovery. They saw a traumatized child who needed help.

It was only after Michael broke out of Smith’s Grove and killed again that public opinion on him changed.

You pushed those thoughts away and focused on kneeling before your mothers grave. Your fingers were still damp from the wet earth you'd pulled out as you'd dug a little hole for the flowers all on autopilot. The little flowers looked nice, spots of white and yellow against mucky browns and greens. This wasn't that different from gardening, you thought to yourself as you added the water into the jar of your father's ashes. Not that different at all.

It felt a bit weird. But it was his wish. After everything you'd done, the least you could do was honor that. Besides, you didn’t really think you could cope with having the jar of his ashes in the house you’d let him die in. So you poured the water over the flowers, dirt under your nails as you showered them graciously.

You'd never made a habit of talking to your mom's grave. Your dad did it a few times and you'd seen people doing it before but there was just no appeal to you. Talking to air felt weird and you weren't exactly going to start now. You'd never known your mom, she didn't need to hear your stories.

She’d died when you were young so it wasn't like you knew her. The concept of a mother meant more to you than who she specifically did. When you were growing up, sometimes you'd feel a longing absence that she wasn't there but the woman buried beneath your feet still meant nothing to you. A stranger whose photos lined the walls of your dad's bedroom - photos you would probably store in the attic. Like you'd never really known them. A part of your dad died with your mom anyways so the symbolism felt right.

He’d always go on and on about how much you looked like her, how similar you two were, that sort of crap. Now, staring at her headstone, you wondered what she’d think of you.

The feeling of eyes on you has become commonplace for you now. An is-ness rather than a concern. So you didn't even bother lifting your head. Just slumped forward, cross-legged, and picking at the dirt under your nails, flicking it at the daisies. "Do you ever miss them?" You asked aloud. You knew Michael was close enough to hear, especially since you were alone. "Your parents, I mean. I doubt you miss your sister too much. I mean, I heard what you did with her headstone when you killed those high schoolers." The bitterness in your tone was not missed but it didn't feel right to put words in his mouth.

"I'm still trying to decide how I feel." You sighed, poking at soft petals. "I never knew my mother so I can't miss her. She wasn't part of my life, only her ghost was. But I don't know how I feel about my dad dying. It always felt like I was competing with her for his affection. He loved her so much and could barely spare me a passing glance…" You swallowed and your throat clicked. "Sometimes I wonder if he'd have been happier if I had died and she'd lived.

If Michael Myers had to be the one to hear your confessions, at least you knew he wouldn't tell anyone.

You wiped your eyes and sniffled. "It's weird. I haven't decided if I hate him for that yet. If I hate him at all, even." When you looked up, Michael was staring down at you, face hidden behind the mask. You almost envied his ability to simply hide his feelings away. You'd never been able to avoid wearing your heart on your sleeve. "Do you ever think about if your parents wished it had been you instead of Judith?"

The silence felt suffocating and you broke into a helpless sob. The kind of crying that you did when no one was around and it felt like nothing was ever going to be okay again. Michael sat down beside you in the dirt, silent companionship through your tears.

He didn't say anything. But he didn't have to.

[astrasng]

thinking about..

bf!sumin who points out outfits in different shop-windows as you two walk beside each other, hand in hand, laughing and giggling about his crazy outfit ideas as he goes on and on.

bf!sumin whose first is always you. he wakes up and you're the first thing on his mind, he sends you his SUSUTD pics first, he buys you food first as he's done with work and can finally go home to you.

bf!sumin who makes you different kind of clothes, drawing little details about you and your relationship, so whenever you wear them, he's the only thing on your mind. :)

bf!sumin who would call you on a random day just so he can hear your voice and paint it down however he imagines it. because he knows you so well,he paints down your mood of the day, practically drowning in feelings as he tries to make it accurately.

bf!sumin who takes secret photos of you with his camera. you swear everytime you're in his room, there's a new photo printed out of you in a frame, sometimes a picture of the two of you holding hands or walking down a beach.

bf!sumin who lets you put temporary hello kitty tattoos on him. you're bored and see his back not blocked by his shirt? you stick bunch of different pink tattoos on his skin, him groaning when you force him to stay put as you work the paper on his back. sometimes even decorating his arms with the leftover tattoos.

bf!sumin who loves going to museums with you, showing you his perspective of things and art. walking around while semi-audibly explaining to you why he adores some works in the gallery.

NSFW

bf!sumin is the type who buys you any kind of lingerie you want. he even suprises you with them, sometimes buying all kinds of toys just to go with something:)

bf!sumin is an ass man. the man can't take his eyes off of your backside whenever you ride him in reversed, enjoying that he has access to gather your hair in one of his hands as the other grips your cheek harsly.

bf!sumin is the type who lures you into spreading your legs infront of a mirror in your room after being a brat, making you touch yourself as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. darling, you think you deserve all of me after this behavior? think again~ kissing your skin oh so lovely as he enjoys the sound of your cries.

as i mentioned, bf!sumin is the type whose first is always you. he waits, even restrains himself from the pleasure just so he can make sure you're the one who's cumming first. feeling you tigthen around his cock as he moans into your shoulder out of relief, letting himself cum on the spot right then and there.

bf!sumin is the type who eventually fucks you infront of that mirror, putting one of your legs on the dresser next to you so he can dive into you deeper. in the mirror you can see his hands sliding around your shoulders and neck, softly griping on you so he can rut back into you again and again.

bf!sumin who make outs with you in a dressing room next to the dance studio, quieting your whines and cries with his hand and mouth when he lowers himself on his knees and dives into your sopping cunt, making you immediately arch your back and beg for more.

bf!sumin at the end of the day, is the type whose favorite is when you're both lazyly making sweet love to one to another after a long week of not seeing each other.

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

[scremogirl]

★♑︎☆彡𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎✪𝐍!☆♏︎★

Haikyuu boys when they have a crush on you (Ushijima, Kyotani, Iwazumi, Aone, Bokuto)

Bokuto

There was probably a handful of ways Bokuto could have first noticed you. A; been friends before he even realized his feelings. B; been one of the managers on the volleyball team. Or, C; being a classmate mate of his, a deskmate maybe.

Regardless of how he meets you, he knows you're the one for him. Always greets you with his signature smile and a giant hug.

He always asks you to come to his games and practices; regardless if you are the manager or not. He wants to make you feel included, sharing the thing he loves the most with you. Or just wants to show off and see your face when he lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow.

Would show up at your house randomly when you didn't come to school. You didn't answer his texts or calls so he figured something must be wrong. Your parents love him so much that they just let him in.

“Hey, hey, hey! I was wondering why you weren't at school today. Your mom told me you were sick so I brought over some soup and snacks to make you feel better!” you sit up from your bed in absolute bewilderment. You look and feel like shit and here he is telling you how bored he was today without you.

“Oh!” he suddenly gasps, perking up. He walks over to his backpack and pulls out a folder. It's the Trig notes from today, his handwriting is big and sloppy, but it’s the thought that counts.

He hands it to you with his chest puffed out in pride, Man…he really does look like an owl. Cute.

When he's made bad plays and gets into one of his moods, Akashi will call you over. Complaining about how he won’t talk to anyone and just sits under the bleachers hunched over. Feeling a hand on his shoulder he turns around. When he sees you he instantly becomes better, asking *begging* you to stay. That you're his good luck charm and is surely to make all his spikes if you are here to cheer him on.

Will also *beg* ask you to wear his number to games. Will look into the crowd, locking eyes with you followed by a big thumbs up.

Aone

It was a busy day this evening; seeing as it was a couple weeks before Christmas. Meaning, that the trains were packed and full of people. You missed the bus you would usually take on your way home. It was getting dark out and you wouldn’t dare wait for the next bus to show.

You dashed your way to the nearby train station panting and out of breath. You made it just in time to catch one too. Hoping on you see that every place was full. Except for one.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity you scooted your way through the crowd and sat down. It was silent besides the usual businessmen making calls and children playing games on their parents' phones. After a while, you felt eyes on you. Craning your neck up to an almost uncomfortable degree you lock eyes with someone. He was wearing your school uniform. Oh, you know him! He was the middle blocker for your school's volleyball team.

You shot him a sweet smile and a tiny wave. His eyes widened and a blush crept on his pale face. It looked as if he was about to wave back but just then the bell signaling your stop rang. Ever since then, he couldn't keep his eyes off you.

Would leave candies and heartfelt notes on your desk and in your locker

Would try to catch a glimpse of you on his way to the train station, sitting at your bus stop.

Futakuchi notices all of his friend’s strange behavior and forces him to come to talk to you. And that's how you two became friends.

Didn't talk much but was always such a great listener, remembering the smallest things about you. Such as the classes you were struggling in; offering to tutor you and give notes. Keeping rubber bands on his writs just in case (sorry if you have short hair/ are bald 😅). Would even skip practice to walk you to the bus, always wanting to make sure you're safe.

I LOVE HIM SM; people need to write for him more 🙄

Iwaizumi

Very straight forward with his affections towards you.

It’ll take him a while to come to terms with the way he feels about you but when he does he’s not trying to hide it.

The rest of his friends would tease him about it but he’ll just brush it off because there’s no reason for him to be embarrassed about the way he feels.

Like Aone, he will walk you home everyday no matter how late it is or what he has to do. Will buy you all the snacks you want from the vending machine. Will make sure you're doing your best physically and mentally. Would force you to drink water and eat a balanced meal when he notices any signs of fatigue or famine.

Will convince you to go on morning runs with him before school. This one you're not so sure about but after all he does for you, you thought you could thug it out.

“Come on (Y/n), you can do this just a little ways to go,” he says, jogging backwards to try and stay at the same pace as you. At this point you're huffing and puffing for air bent over. He lays you on your back before going ahead of you. He looks back at you with a smirk and this mischievous glint in his eyes before speaking.

“If you finish this run maybe I’ll treat you to more than just breakfast,” throwing a cheeky wink behind his shoulder before jogging off again. You’ve never ran that fast in your life. Maybe if you're a little slick wit it, you can convince him to carry you back home.

Kyotani

A little rough around the edges to say the least.

Surprisingly, unlike his upper upperclassmen, he actually realizes his feelings pretty quickly. Noting the *not so* subtle changes in his behavior when he’s around you compared to everyone else.

He’s never been intune with his emotions, so it’ll take a while for him to make a move.

In my opinion I don’t think he’s the “mean to you because he likes you” type; he’ll most likely just avoid you if he doesn’t know you like that or just keep his feelings to himself if you’re already his friend.

Another anonymous secret admirer. Would leave food, water bottles, keychains, stuffed toys, and things he knows you like laying around for you to find.

Will try and discretely spend time with you. Wouldn’t outright say he wants to and will get all blushy and confrontational if you tease him about it.

“Hey,” you here a deep voice call out to you, already knowing who it is, you turn around with a big smile.

“Hey, Kenny! what’s up?” He makes eye contact with you for what seems like a split second before turning away with pink dusting his cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I-uh… there’s… there’s this new movie coming out next Saturday. You said you hadn’t been to the theaters in a while… so, I bought tickets,” he explains, pulling out two tickets from his back pocket, still not looking at you.He shoves one in your direction before talking again.

You just stare at him with wide eyes and slightly parted mouth. He turns around after not getting an answer but as he opens his mouth to say something you fly into his arms.

“Thank you, Ken, really,”

“Ye-yea, don’t mention it”

Would treat you to ramen after you’ve done really well on a test. You have a go to spot, a little mom and pop shop. He’s been going there ever since he was little, so it means a lot to him and is a big sign of his love for you bringing you there. The owners always ask when you two would get together.

You’d just laugh it off while he blushes and stutters about how you guys are just friends. Though the owners can see the disappointment in his eyes at his own words.

Loves having late night convos with you, either at a park or on the phone. Just like how intimate it feels.

Seriously cares about you and tries to tone down his “mad dog” persona. Is aware of how abrasive he can be and doesn’t wanna scare you off. All in all, he embraces the state of vulnerability he can be in with you.

Ushijima

I absolutely hate when people paint him out to be some sort of blunt, unemotional, proper guy.

He’s not dumb. He knows the signs when someone has a crush. Sure he can be a little blunt in the way he expresses his emotions but that’s just because he feels there’s no reason to lie about how he feels. He’s not a robot.

Wouldn’t just come up to you and say he had a crush on you. He knows that’ll throw you a little off guard; he wants to make sure you like him too.

Not much of a talker, but knows how to make conversation. Would purposely start one because he knows you’ll end up getting off topic and start ranting. He loves the sound of your voice and the passion in your face when you talk.

Another one who invites you to games and practices. Would try to convince *demand* you to become the manager of his team.

“But, I don’t know anything about it besides the things you’ve told me,” you try to explain yourself with uncertainty.

“That doesn’t matter. Coach and I will give you a run down of everything if you need it. I wouldn’t mind explaining it to you,” he seems so confident in the fact that you’ll say yes. Tilting his head up a little higher, broad shoulders shifting back slightly, standing tall.

“Are you sure? I just don’t wanna be a burden to you or the rest of the team if I can’t get up to speed-,”

“You could never be,” he cuts you off

“Everyone wants you there… I want you there. So please, consider it”.

GUESS WHOS THE NEW MANGER!🤪

A little worried that a relationship would cut into his time with volleyball. His indifference would cause him to be distant for a while, which leads to you thinking he led you on. The more you think about it though, you know Ushijima isn’t the type to do that so he either lost feelings, or something’s wrong. You know it’s the latter but you can’t help overthinking it.

Would come up to you with a rose one day before you left school. Looks you in your eyes before apologizing about how he’s been acting. All he wants is you to reassure him that his career path won’t get in the way of you two.

Hope y’all enjoyed; let me know if you wanna part two but with different characters or in a different fandom (make sure to look at my ML). Bye guys!

-Love, Sos❤️

[hxltic]

Hello! I have a request!

Could you do something where Kenma isn't really giving the female reader any attention because he's busy streaming so the reader sneaks under his desk where the viewer's can't see her and she pleasures him until he eventually cums down her throat?

:) I un-ironically love writing bjs

The shared house was silent anytime after 5 o’clock. Kuroo had just left— his afternoon business management classes calling him in, and Bokuto’s practice overcrowded his schedule to the point where he went twice a day with some gym sessions in between. That leaves you alone with Kenma in your 4 bedroom home off campus that was supposedly his father’s apology gift.

The bills are mainly kept satisfied with Kenma’s profit as his streaming allows you all to live as you do. Of course, there was a sense of independency by your own jobs regardless. There has probably been twice where everyone was in the living room at once, but it’s like there’s a tacit agreement each of you have your own goals.

You can’t be mad at the man for being busy when his job supports his friends and himself.

Kenma has been your friend, now boyfriend, for the longest out of all of them, next in line being Kuroo. Kenma took computer engineering and coding related classes, despite having already perfected building PC’s just out of pure experience. The work is hard. You’ve seen it.

You’ve witnessed him stress first hand about a single error in a strenuous, long line of codes—and you ask him why he doesn’t stop doing it if it bothers him to the extent it does. His determination has grown for activities he enjoys over the years; 12 year old him would have quit.

Kenma’s way to deal with stress is isolation. The entire day he’s been crammed in his room, and with being the only other person in the house majority of the time, you bring it upon yourself to feed him. He gets focused and forgets to eat.

The reminder has you clicking your Ipad off from whatever distraction show you had playing. It was so boring most of the days, Netflix couldn’t even fulfill you. You toss the covers off yourself, then bounce downstairs into the kitchen.

It was so quiet that your feet patting against the floor filled the air. To cure the ennui you felt, you’d take the time to have fun with this culinary experience.

By the time there was fluffy white flour messily coating the kitchen and dishes stacked like game cards in the sink, your dish was plated for two. Maybe you’d keep him some company?

Careful not to fall up the stairs, you prod at his door in attempt to knock with one hand. Somehow you turn the knob successfully.

The fan cuts through the air, every click of Kenma’s pen accompanied with a glance to the paper beside him. He won’t even look up at the waitress bearing goods.

“Hi Ken,” you grab his attention but his slim eyes only dart up at the smell of cuisine. “Have you eaten?”

You know the answer. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail, so when he shakes his head the usual strands that follow aren’t there. You place the plate on his desk, next to the two cans of some energy drink and a diet Dr. Pepper.

“Thank you,” he speaks softly. There was a hint of edge to the sound, like he hadn’t used his voice all day.

“Mhmm.”

You turn on your heels to his bed, then sit criss cross as it squeaks and dips. “Do you mind if I just stay in here? It gets lonely in the house.”

To be honest, you forget he’s there sometimes.

“I’m kinda busy,” he replies. He loves you, and your presence, but he just knows he won’t be able to focus. “I’ll be done soon.”

The pout you flaunt deepens, “You’ve been stuck in here for almost a week now! Come out; I miss you Ken.”

He refrains himself from turning to look at you because he knows when he weighs his options, you’ll always come out on top. The chances of you getting picked multiply with your pout.

“Soon, I just need to finish this.”

“Please?”

He doesn’t even have a valid response for that, so he forces the spoon into his mouth. You’re actually a great cook, but since you all eat so much takeout, nobody’s at the dinner table at the same time to enjoy it.

You huff and negotiate to just sit in silence, as long as you’re in his presence. As long as you know he’s there.

This only lasts about fifteen minutes before you’re whining for him again. You completely understand the heavy load of schoolwork, and that it has to get done, but he genuinely has been at it for so long it cannot be healthy.

“I’m done,” he announces coincidentally, his soft fingers coming up to brush a tendril of hair back as he gathers his things on the desk into a neat pile.

Your head perks up like a puppy at attention. He arises from his chair after closing the laptop, pulling his rubber band from the hair connected at his nape as he steps towards you laying on his bed. You giggle in expectancy when he smiles gingerly at you, reaches his arms forward around your feet to plant his hands on the duvet, then crawls up your body. The hair tie wraps around his wrist to join all the other colorful bracelets and bands.

He makes you swoon by just giving you attention.

His hands grew into proportion as he aged, so now they were relatively large. Large enough to connect at your hips as he kisses his way up.

Stomach, chest, then an abundance on your chin and around your face, just for his thumb and index finger to hold your cheeks in position for his softer, slower kiss right on your lips.

You wrap your arms around him like he’d just disintegrate any second. You can feel his body slump, leaving you with most of his weight to carry and his head withdrawing from the kiss to between your breasts. With one hand massaging the round muscle, Kenma was in his element.

Black with barely-there blonde crowds your vision. His soft skin felt warm as you two lay intertwined in the still house, and if you were to fall asleep it would greatly help that Kenma never keeps the big light on. He moans in satisfactory below you.

You lift your hand to rest over his face, the bigger part of your thumb gliding gently over his cheek.

“I love you,” he mutters.

“I love you too Ken.”

After a while of Kenma following your heartbeat and breathing, you would’ve guessed he was asleep. He clarifies he isn’t when he groans lowly.

“I have to get up.”

The words rest tensely in the air, and maybe if you pretend you didn’t hear him, he’ll lay there and forget about it.

He attempts to raise himself from you, politely grabbing your hand and locking your fingers when he comes to a hover above. His pink lips come to the corner of yours as you blink open your eyes.

Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to be with you, here, resting—but he hasn’t streamed in a solid week because of school. You were completely his priority though, so he would make sure to give you equal attention as his stream.

He finds the little willpower to come off you and the bed. He was genuinely hoping you’d stay there and sleep peacefully, that way he’ll come back to join you and it will feel like he never left.

He flips a blanket over your body before he strolls to his setup usually beaming with bright lights. He takes a seat, making sure to turn the brightness down of everything, refraining from playing music, and ultimately deciding not to turn on any light not connected to his PC anyway.

As much as you hate that he’s not cuddled up next to you right now, you love the fact that he’s a steamer overall because he looks so damn hot doing it. Especially the way his muscles on his forearm flex as he quickly types or plays. His hair that’s usually up is down, because he isn’t wearing his mic.

Or like the way every now and then he’ll pop a piece of gum in his mouth and manspread in his gaming chair to shoot a quick message or check his feed. Or like the way he’s so attent, making call-outs, or whenever he gets angry his brows furrow the slightest bit and his face displays whatever he’s actually thinking. You find it hilarious when his eyes roll.

At some point, he hears you come up behind him into view, and his head relaxes into your two hands sliding up his neck to his jaw. You crouch into the screen and the chat immediately multiples. It’s too quick to read them all. Knowing his viewers, Kenma takes the responsibility of closing it with the click of a button, so fast that it seems he never even did it.

“Cracked, 130,” he calls.

You stood there for a moment to watch him play. He and his team beat the level, game, you don’t know, but he releases his focus from the screen and mindlessly cracks his knuckles.

A donation comes in that’s read aloud. Kenma tenses, but you’re excited to hear it.

“jump1nnit donates $70. ‘girl to girl, is it big?’”

Kenma’s head drops back in your hands, eyes closing in annoyance.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. Where were his mods?

All you were thinking about was how much Kenma was actually earning. 70 dollars in a single donation? How many of these does he get a day? How much more do people pay that’s over 70 when you aren’t here?

You shake these questions away. You knew he was famous. This was not new information; his fans see you sometimes in the background, and they adore you. It’s why your instagram has so many followers and people saying outrageous things in your comments. Ken begs you not to check them.

You find it amusing honestly. God knows what he’s being sent despite his DM’s or what they’re saying in his chats. You know there’s girls all over the world after him, but he doesn’t entertain them, so you don’t either. You trust him completely.

Brought back to reality, you look down at Kenma.

He starts, “Are you-“

To rile up the scene, you nod at the monitor with a mischievous smirk on your face. You bend and kiss his forehead.

“Can I sit right here?” You ask quickly, already pulling up his desk stool because he has no reason to say no. He takes your momentary absence to mute the computer.

“Yeah. yeah, Definitely.”

The blonde’s tone is a little off, but you chalk it up to what just happened. He was just surprised you’d actually respond. He ignores them so he doesn’t get demonetized.

So you sit next to him on your phone playing games, or watching him, or laying on his shoulder. It made it a little difficult for him to play with the last one, but he doesn’t mind. He places a kiss to your forehead, matching earlier actions, and the way you two looked at each other after will definitely reel in some fan edits.

You return to gaming on your phone until you drop it. It tumbles down and under the PC, into the jungle of wires below.

At least with everything included in the setup, that’s what you expect to see, but they’re all neatly accounted for. The seat moves back against the carpet to accommodate for your body, the space you’ve created to retrieve the device. The problem is, you and Kenma occupy this space. You won’t fit.

Kenma heard your phone drop, so he had an idea why you’re down there. He even chuckled a little. Once you pick up the phone, you use his thigh as leverage to turn yourself around, causing him to flinch, and immediately an idea pops into your head.

You could stay down here.

You press the heart of your palm into him once more, the same reaction procreating ideas like a lightbulb.

His voice from above makes another callout.

The lightness of your fingertips glide across his thigh and up to his waist, slipping past the barrier of the thin shirt he’s wearing. Kenma is not ticklish, but his abdomen turns concave to your touch.

By now he has concluded what is happening, or going to happen, and just the thought has him hardening in front of you. Of course it’s something he’s thought about. He hasn’t asked because it feels unnatural—like you would only do it because he suggested it.

His poker face remains stone cold, but the rest gives him away. With every touch you only got closer. You trail your whole hand up the shirt, running this one along the dips of his pale skin, while the other goes back and forth along his thigh. Inwards, then back out. Your phone was long forgotten.

You run the length of your fingers over his center sneakily before meeting both hands in the middle and fiddling with his waistband. He shivers, but continues to play.

He hadn’t been purposely edging himself, and he definitely knows that you would help him whenever he asked, but with all the schoolwork piled on top of him, it never crossed his mind. It was now though, and sensitivity was at its highest.

“No, why would you do that; that’s stupid,” Kenma replies to what you assume is a donation. The technological voice isn’t there anymore for you to hear.

The tips of your nails dive past every ounce of clothing settled at his hips.

He shifts in his seat, whether to allow you to pull the band down just enough or to calm his nerves, you don’t know, but the opportunity was right in front of your face. Literally.

You don’t even do anything but hold his length before you start the up and down motions. It’s enough to turn him on more, having him grow in your hand. You can’t imagine the faces he’s making while his viewers’ minds were already polluted.

“Keep going, push,” he exclaims. Voice still soft, but with some sense of urgency.

He was not speaking to you, but you listen anyway, and do as he says. Maybe you could play a game: see how long it takes before he realizes you’re taking orders.

With this, you stroke him a little faster, then run your fleshy thumb over his tip. It began dripping, a single bud threatening to fall. After swiping it away, you disperse what little you could, then wrap your plush lips around his head.

He wasn’t expecting it right after your slow pace.

“Ugh, fuck- third party.”

The groan he emitted was covered quickly by a call, as if that’s what “frustrated” him.

You pop off as quickly as you came, spread your saliva, and now slide your enclosed hand down his cock steadily. Silky smooth, it took no energy to glide along him. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his thigh through the cotton.

“Down, he’s under and one shot.”

You jerk him off as his breathing barely picks up, occasionally coming down to wet him some more, but you see a significant difference when your hand consistently twists just the tip. You’d swirl your tongue around the reddening, most sensitive part of him before dropping even farther to take his balls in your mouth.

You tug and pull harmlessly.

“Hmm...”

Despite what was going on, the streamer was clever with how he hid it.

He asks, “Hey, what do y’all want to hear?”

The viewers were astonished they were being asked; Kenma has previously told them he likes his music and would play whatever he felt like hearing. He did a stream for song recommendations and half of it was him hating on their music and the other half was his viewers attempting to find songs he would like.

Regardless, he unmuted the sound on his computer and turned on the playlist, only slightly louder than usual.

You took this opportunity to actually wrap your lips around his cock, not having to worry about the sounds. You start on the slower side but it didn’t take long to get comfortable. Whatever you couldn’t fit, you jerked off.

His abdomen showcased whatever his face wouldn’t, stuttering every now and then with his hips correcting their position. You brought the wet hand to his balls once more, and attempted to fit all of him down your throat. There was a deep sigh above you.

You closed your eyes and went again, trying to go deeper. You didn’t gag, but your throat made sounds that was enough implication of what was going on. That’s okay though. Some random band one of his mods recommended was playing.

Once more, you tried to go deeper, actually sputtering this time, but once you got past the uncomfortableness of it all, you could go the same depth over and over. You did, breathing through your nose. He could hear your throat, but chat couldn’t. If they could, they would be saying something.

“Oh shit, oh shit, he’s on me,” he huffs, “I’m gonna twist around to cover.”

You remove yourself, partially to breathe, and take two hands to twist on top of each other in opposite directions. His belly button caves in with some more muscles, pure evidence of his pleasure.

This was the second he knew what you were doing. What game you were playing.

If you wanted to play, he could too.

“Where is she?” he reads chat calmly. “I think she’s downstairs eating.”

Was it calm enough—you’re not sure, because he was fidgeting excessively in the leaning chair.

The double entendre has you giggling silently. With a deep breath, you’re back down on him again. It’s not long until you sputter.

“Do you want me to tell her to come back up?” You hear him spit out quickly.

You do as he says, but not without the price of your fingers doubling speed at his head.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her. Hold on.”

With quickness, he mutes and turns his camera off.

He was sweating and physically overwhelmed. Pushing back on his heels, his chair rolls from under the table with you following, finally in his sight. He could already imagine how you looked.

Red lips. Glowing face. Glossy eyes, smiling and happy. You were ethereal. Your hands are working him, but now with his cock down your throat too? Oh my god.

He held a soft touch at your cheek and caressed your face with his thumb. Picking up speed, you smile.

The other hand of his would do the same, brushing a loose stand of hair behind your ear. Faster.

“Just like that,” he breathes.

“Mhmm?” you deepthroat him.

His head drops back involuntarily. His mouth does the same. The heavy breaths that he was holding from the stream let loose.

One last look at your flushed features and-

He groans heavily, adam’s apple bobbing and cock tightening. Skin usually pale but red with desire, he stills.

You close your eyes. It was so fulfilling with your throat stretched and his hands on either side of your plush face.

Warmth seeps past your tongue and down the cavern. It causes you to choke but Kenma definitely doesn’t mind. His sounds flow into your ears, plus some faint praise as he soon begins to release from his high.

You couldn’t taste anything as you slowly raise yourself from him, leaving his cock glistening with saliva and pink, but the taste just barely started to form once it caught your tongue on the way down. You swallow anyway—it wasn’t bad.

You use the back of your hand to wipe your eyes and breathe freely. You lay your cheek on the driest part of his pants, even though you’ll have to get up. You just aren’t ready to see the red wilts on your knees.

“You are amazing,” Kenma catches his breath. He looks back down with his eyes glossed over and tired, but he still runs his finger over your wet lip. You softly kiss it.

. .

“Are you getting back on?” You climb into his fluffy bed, throwing the covers back.

Kenma shakes his head and follows after you in a fresh new set. He grabs the covers and returns them over you both, pushing his hair back and holding you close.

©️ hxltic

[asahicore]

cold brew - sjh

part 3 of the coffee mini-series // prompts 22 and 61 of the 100 kisses list (surprising your lover from behind, smacking a kiss on their cheek + smiling in-between kisses)

pairing. boyfriend!junghwan x fem!reader

synopsis. On a hot summer day, you and your boyfriend make a bet as to whether more iced americanos or more cold brews will sell, and Junghwan already knows what he wants if he wins.

genre. summer au, coffee shop au, just fluff and kisses

word count. 1.3k

a/n. the way i wrote in the previous part that i wouldn't take three months again to post the next part of this mini-series and then ended up taking a year and two months... you guys love me <3 as always thank u to @zreamy for her impeccable beta-reading services, hope u all enjoy and pls lmk ur thoughts!!!!!

summer.

The thing about working at a café in a student city during the summer is that it can get excruciatingly slow. 

Many locals and tourists still come to get their caffeine fix, but long gone are the students who spend hours taking advantage of the free wifi and free pot coffee refills. There’s less orders to prepare, less tables to tend to, so outside of rush hours, if you haven’t brought anything to entertain yourself with, you’ll be bored half to death. Fortunately, your manager Yeonjun isn’t the “there’s always something to do” type, so he’s more than happy to let you read a book or mindlessly play Solitaire on your phone if everything else is in order.

Today is the hottest day of summer so far. Fortunately, it’s your day off. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, isn’t so lucky.

If it were any of your other colleagues, you would’ve happily stayed home, fan on highest setting, napping in front of a rerun of The Office. But Junghwan isn’t just any colleague, and so you force yourself off of your couch and head to your workplace.

The café is unsurprisingly empty when you get there - so empty, in fact, that even your boyfriend is not behind the counter, although he’s the only one working this shift. You sneak to the back in hopes of finding him there, and indeed, he’s in the storeroom, restocking shelves. Always the responsible worker - he could easily be slacking off, but he’s decided to be productive and do something everyone else, Yeonjun included, has been putting off for the past week.

You take a few seconds to admire him like this with his back to you, the muscles of his broad shoulders shifting under his black t-shirt, his long strands of hair tickling his nape; you can feel their softness in your hands just by looking at them. The sight of him almost makes you release a dreamy sigh, but an idea pops up in your head.

You stealthily make your way to him, and, making sure he’s not holding anything fragile, wrap your arms around his middle and smack a firm kiss on his cheek. He’s startled but immediately relaxes when he sees it’s just you. With a relieved smile on his face, he places his hands on your waist and bends down to trap your lips in a delicate kiss. 

“You don’t know how happy I am to see you right now.”

“You mean filling jars with Peruvian beans isn’t an enthralling activity?”

Junghwan sighs and looks at the coffee jars like they’re responsible for all the sorrow in the world. “I thought if I did this, Yeonjun might give me a bonus, and then I could take you out on a nice date.”

Your heart skips a beat. Your boyfriend is the sweetest, stupidest boy you know. “Junghwan, that’s…”

“Super romantic? Thoughtful? Makes me an amazing boyfriend?”

“I love you, but-”

“That’s great news, because I love you, too.”

You give him a look. “But,” you continue, “as well-intentioned as Yeonjun is, he’ll look at the shelves and assume an elf came during the night. If you want a bonus, just steal 100 bucks from the counter. He probably won’t notice.”

He gazes down at you like you’ve just declared your utmost affection for him and not told him to steal from your employer. “You’re so smart, you know that?” 

You giggle and plant another kiss on his lips. “Course I do. Now get back to work, or I'll report you for improper behavior.”

“But it’s so boring,” he whines. “Look, there’s so little to do, I started counting how many iced americanos and how many cold brews were being sold just to see which one was more popular.”

You frown. “Hwan, we sell way more iced americanos,” you say as if it’s obvious.

“I don’t know, my research is saying they’re toe-to-toe.”

A smile appears on your lips as you step away from him. “Alright, let’s make a bet then.”

“A bet?” Junghwan echoes, his lips mirroring yours.

“Mh-hm. I say more iced americanos will sell, you say cold brews will, whoever loses has to grant the other a wish.”

His grin widens. “Deal.”

“Deal.” As you shake hands on it, he pulls you in and presses his lips to your forehead.

“I’ll get back to work then,” he whispers against your hair.

There’s only two hours until the café closes, and it’s empty enough for you to sit at a table and sip on an iced americano - which Junghwan hadn’t agreed to count in the tally - and read until his shift ended. You squint your eyes at him every time a customer comes in and orders a cold brew, but you’re kind enough to let him sit with you whenever he has nothing to do.

You help him with some of the closing duties, like counting tips and restocking everything for the morning shifters, although you leave him to do the mopping and wiping of surfaces.

You’re sitting on the counter, dangling your legs as you wait for him to announce the results. He takes his sweet time, cleaning the coffee machine like he’s never seen the thing before, pretending to muse about who will win when he already knows the outcome. “I hope I can trust you enough not to have rigged this contest,” you say, and he shrugs playfully.

When he’s all done, he fishes the sheet of paper on which he’s counted the orders out of his pocket and ceremoniously clears his throat. “And here are the results…” he says, drumming his fingers on the counter as you shimmy your shoulders to the rhythm. “twenty-eight iced americanos, and thirty-three cold brews.” You gasp, but before you’ve even had the time to complain, he adds, “Which means you have to grant me a wish.”

You sigh, defeated. “Fine. What do you want?”

From the smile growing on his lips, you know he’s up to no good. “I want a kiss.”

You glare at him lightheartedly, but you can’t stop yourself from smiling at his words. “That’s something you can get anytime.”

Inching closer towards you until he’s standing between your knees, palms splayed on the counter on each side of you, he says, “Yeah, but it’s the only thing I want right now.”

All your pretend defenses crumble the moment his lips touch yours. In these past few months, it’s become a familiar feeling, but you can never get enough of it. Especially now that you know each other better, your lips move against each other’s expertly, every tilt of your head and change in pace always in perfect sync. It’s one of those moments where you feel like you understand each other completely, like there’s no one better suited to kiss you or him than each other. This knowledge makes you giddy, makes you wrap your arms tighter around him as you smile into the kiss.

He detaches his lips from you just long enough to say, “What are you smiling about?”

“You.”

You try to fall back into the kiss, but both of you are smiling too wide, and you can’t stop giggling between each press of your lips against each other’s, not even bothering to stop when you knock your teeth. Even when you’re laughing more than you’re actually kissing, you don’t pull away, both lingering in this bubble where only the two of you exist.

Later, as you walk back to your place hand-in-hand, he asks you what your wish would’ve been if you had won. “I would’ve forbidden you from making me watch one of the Shrek movies for a month,” you reply, making him laugh.

“Well, it’s a good thing I won,” he says, bringing you closer to him by the shoulder and planting a kiss at the top of your head. “Because I really wanted to watch Shrek tonight.”

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[shocked-collar]

tips for writing Lawrence? I really admire your writing.

IUKJ,MSEDNGBLKJGLESJLSDERG FIRSTLY THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU I'M LITERALLY SO STRUCK??? MY WRITING???? ADMIRABLE???? I FEEL LIKE MY TEETH ARE GONNA FALL OUT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

*fixes suit and tie* anyway

reminder that i am not gato and these are all my interpretations. the best part about fandom communities is that each mind thinks so alike yet independently, and the way you write a character won't be exactly the way another person does and that's your own personal magic touch.

Just like Ren, Lawrence has certain rules I like to stay attached to. The problem with HIM though is he's such a wild card it's hard to know when these rules apply.

Rule one is to remember Lawrence is isolated. He's used to being on his own and doing things on his own so he doesn't expect or even reach out for help. The idea of another human being kind or helpful for no reason is foreign, if not unrealistic to him.

Rule two is to remember that Lawrence has a very, very specific routine he lives by every week, rarely with interruptions. He's a homebody. He likes things his way and can't have them any other way. It's irritating and gives him a very strange sense of urgency when they're not. This is dangerous because that urgency can very quickly become aggression, as can a lot of things.

Rule three is to remember Lawrence is human. He's pretentious as fuck and speaks so poetically of death, wants to die so very badly, has done incredibly terrible things to people in the name of art, mentally separates himself from the public, believes he's better off locked up somewhere, yet reacts as any other person does to very many things. He says he wants to die, yet cries when his life is threatened or he's scared. He's certain he hates people and people hate him, yet yearns for the company of others who understand him and partakes in communities, even if just online. He says he's better off inside, yet left his house to meet a friend 2 weeks into talking online. He's a 'terrible person,' yet only takes MC home because he didn't want to leave them out there all alone. He's more human than he realizes.

Rule four is to remember he's proficient in gaslighting. Lawrence doesn't think the way other people do! Everything and anything can have meaning, and it's usually what he wants to see. He can make up anything on the fly if it protects him from guilt, fault, sorrow, anxiety, whatever it is he needs to be shielded from. He's quite the brat, so challenging him on any of his interpretations makes him irrationally bothered and he may not even speak to you anymore afterwards. He also uses this mental-protection to keep his world view in order, like in the situation in BTD2 when Ren leaves and he takes it out on you. It was REN who insisted you hangout a while, it was REN who left on a whim- but to Lawrence, you being there at all was the problem and it's all your fault.

Rule five is to keep the image of creepy in mind! Lawrence embodies the type of person you wouldn't want to be caught alone in an elevator with. He just radiates 'bad person' vibes, and his smell and quietness of his voice doesn't help.

And finally, rule six is to remember that Lawrence is a wild card. How he behaves depends on pretty much every single individual circumstance in whatever situation he's in. If he's uncomfortable he could be irritable, if the room has more than 2 other people in it he could be feeling intimidated, if he's meeting with a friend online he could be hesitant and scared, if something scary happens big or small it could launch him into a panic, anxiety, or aggressive attack, if someone's talking and their mouth sounds too wet it could make him hurt himself, if he's bored but nothing seems entertaining enough it could force him to dissociate, he could like this taste or feeling one day and absolutely hate it the next, his opinions on specific people change like the static on TV...

I like to think of Lawrence like an alligator, as they're opportunistic feeders and usually don't attack without provocation. Problem is with Law, you don't really know how you provoked him half the time. He's such an interesting, confusing character that I'm not even sure how to write it down in a way that makes sense. It all really depends on how YOU want to write him.

AGAIN, I'm not sure I helped??? this one is. a lot worse than rens imo. BUT I DID MY BEST AND AGAIN THANK U SM FOR LIKING MY WRITING HEEHEEHEHUEHENRKJDFGNDFLKJGGF

[samfkiszka]

Paper Bag: Chapter Three

Vampire!Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Hunger Hurts, and I want him so bad, oh, it kills...

★・・・・・・★

Forced to move back to your father's hometown the summer before your first year at college, you had resided yourself to the fact that the next few months were going to suck.

But that was before you were reacquainted with Danny next door. And before you got a brand new job at a dusty old bookstore run by an eccentric old woman. And before Jake walked into said bookstore, poised to turn your entire world upside down.

Warnings (for this chapter): SMUT!! 18+ ONLY! Oral (female receiving), fingering, Jake being a slut, you know how it is. Cursing. Cheesy writing. Allusions to him biting you (it doesn’t actually happen though). Seriously NSFW, MINORS DNI.

Word count: 5,782

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Masterlist

taglist form if you're interested <3

★・・・・・・★

Several days had passed with no word from Jake or Danny. Danny had stayed true to his word. He wasn’t going to protect you anymore. He stopped walking you to and from work everyday, and despite your anger towards him you missed your nightly chats. You also missed the safety you had felt walking beside him as the sun began to set. Besides that, work grew boring without Jake’s usual visit. How you had managed to fuck everything up in one night was truly beyond you. In less than twenty-four hours you had pushed away the only two people that even remotely cared about you in town. It didn’t matter what Jake was now; it was clear to you that he too had no interest in seeing you anymore. 

You turned even more irritable as days without word from Jake, or Danny, went by. Even Mrs. Palmer noticed their absences from the bookstore. Most likely because she noticed your sour mood. And much like your mood, the weather grew increasingly worse as the days passed. You spent more than one night wringing out damp clothes after making it back home and combing through tangled, soaked hair. 

You fell into a routine. Wake up. Go to work alone. Work a boring shift. Walk home in the rain, alone. Wake up. Go to work alone. Work a boring shift. Walk home, soaked by a torrential downpour, alone. No Danny. No Jake. And it continued like this for much longer than you wanted it to. 

Even your father noticed Danny’s absence, although he seemed moderately pleased that he wouldn’t have to deal with the overly cheery intruder. He didn’t mention Jake, but you were sure he was simply glad to not have to discuss boys any longer. 

Two weeks went by before he finally came back into the store. It took you by surprise– he didn’t quite look like himself. His eyes sported deep purple blooms underneath them, he cheeks seemed more sunken than usual, and his skin was nearly an entire shade paler— if that was possible. Despite all this, he still looked entirely too beautiful for your liking. The anger you had been harboring over his disappearance faded momentarily. Much like your inability to be afraid of him, it seemed to be just as difficult to be angry at him. And it was nice to see him again. It was as if he had never left, as if that night had happened only yesterday. 

But you had to keep up a front. There was no way you’d let him get away with this now. 

You kept your attention on the book you had been reading to pass the time, trying your hardest to ignore the feeling of his eyes bearing down onto you. His boots clicked against the linoleum floors as he slowly made his way to the front desk.

“I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be. It’s unfair of me to disappear without warning like that. Please forgive me.” 

You glance up at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. He looked truly sorry, and the begging tone in his voice only pushed you closer to forgiving him. It’s not like you could stay mad at him for very long. 

“Say something. Please,” he begged. 

“Can you at least tell me where you went?” 

He glanced down, wincing. That was enough of an answer for you. Above anything, you were tired of people refusing to give you answers.

“But, I know you know. At least a little bit of the truth. Will… will you let me explain? Please?” He rushed out. 

You nod, wondering if somehow your bullshit theories from before were true. As the week had passed you had realized how absolutely laughable Jake being a vampire was. A rash moment of very idiotic thinking. That’s what you chalked it up to. A bout of temporary insanity that Danny fed into out of jealousy. What he had to be jealous of, you had no clue. But Jake’s words from the last time you had seen him seemed to ring true. 

Jake stood in the corner, eyes towards the floor as you quickly closed up and bid Mrs. Palmer a swift goodbye. 

He followed behind you quietly as you locked up the store and turned to face him, hands on your hips in an attempt to seem more stern than you really were. 

“Speak.” 

“Where do you want me to start?” He looked utterly defeated as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“What are you?” You asked, as if it was that simple.  

“You know what I am.” 

You scoff, “No. You’re not getting away with this dancing around the subject stuff. Tell me everything.” 

“I’m-” he hesitated, staring at the pavement as he fought the urge to be vague, “I’m a vampire.” 

“Do you- do you eat… people?” You cringe as you ask, feeling even stupider with each passing moment. 

“No. My brother’s and I… only animals,” he clarified. 

“How old are you?” 

“Twenty.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Sixty-eight. I’m really not that old-” 

“How?” 

He glanced around nervously at the darkening sky, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards his car– you hadn’t noticed that you were standing right next to where he had parked on the side of the street. 

“Let’s talk about this in here.” 

You nod, sliding into the warm leather seats with a huff. He started driving the opposite direction from your house, but as long as you were getting much needed answers you didn’t mind where he took you. 

“I was… a promising musician,” he chuckled as he began, “I know it sounds stupid, but I was young. I wanted to do something, to be someone. All I was interested in was music. My parents, they wanted me to go off to school. I had dreams, and they had their own, but once they realized how serious I was they supported me. I played in shitty, sketchy dive bars… with my brothers actually. We wanted to be as big as The Beatles, bigger even. Sam played the bass, Josh sang, and I played the guitar. We rotated a few drummers, but never really found our fit. It felt right, being on stage. I mean, I was scared shitless. Half the time I played with my back facing the crowd because I was so terrified,” He chuckled, a wistful looking glazeing over his features.

“I fell in with a bad crowd, I guess. I didn’t notice how different they were from other bands I had met. I didn’t pay attention to the fact that every instinct in my body screamed at me to get away from them. One night, Josh and I got into a huge fight. He found out I was planning on going to Nashville without them. It was selfish, stupid of me to even think about leaving. I was… I wanted to make it. Like, really make it. And this band I had met, they told me this was where I needed to go. So, Josh stormed off, taking Sammy with him. I decided to get wasted. To drown my sorrows, I guess. Ended up in a dark alley behind the bar, nearly bleeding out. Josh told  my family I had gone to Nashville. They had no idea. Who would? 

“I woke up alone. The other band, the one who had changed me, they were gone. I had no idea what I was. All I knew is it felt like there was a monster inside of me. I knew I couldn’t go home, not like that. So, I watched from a distance. I watched my mother and father mourn me, under the assumption that I ran away. I watch my brothers go on without me, harboring some resentment towards me for leaving. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted nothing more than to go to them, to tell them I never would have actually left them. I loved them– I still do. 

“Josh and I were twins. We were… close. He was my best friend. I suppose he still is. Despite being perpetually older than me, he’ll always be my twin. I couldn’t live without him. I wasn’t really living, per se, but it would never be a life without him. I was lonely and bored. It was a moment of weakness, and I’ll regret it forever. But, I turned him. I couldn’t bear the thought of outliving him. I never knew life without him. He never blamed me. He’s always been too forgiving for his own good. 

“And Sam, my baby brother. I never wanted to turn him. Josh and I wanted to protect him. To allow him to live his life as a human, the life he always planned. Despite losing both of us, he seemed to be happy. Lonely, but happy. He thought Josh ran away to find me. He would have eventually, at least. But Sam… he wasn’t miserable like I had been without Josh. I believed he was capable of making it on his own. But… our parents died just a year after I turned Josh, leaving Sam completely alone. We couldn’t watch him live like that, live thinking we had just left him to suffer alone. Not when we could do something. He stopped playing music. He never ended up studying science the way he planned. It seemed like he was giving up. We gave him a second chance at life. I turned to him too. Josh couldn’t do it.” 

“We knew immediately how hard it was going to be to keep Sam in control. Newborn Vampires are tricky. It’s hard– denying your primal instincts. It was easier with Josh. And when I woke up… well, I hated myself so badly I refused to give in to any sort of pleasure. In addition to this, I now had the added burden of reading everyone else's thoughts.” 

“What?” 

“Oh,” he chuckled again, tearing his eyes from the road to glance at you quickly, “yeah. That part. That’s the part they don’t tell you. Sometimes when people are changed their abilities from when they were human become… amplified. I’ve always been very good at reading people, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he explained. 

It all began to make sense. How he was able to answer questions you hadn't asked, how he was always one step ahead of you, how he knew things about you that you had never told him before. You shuddered at the thought of him reading every thought you’ve ever had about him… especially the more sinful ones. The smirk that blessed his perfect lips was not lost on you. 

All you could do was laugh. Hysterically. Hard enough that you had to grip the dashboard to stabilize yourself. Tears pushed past your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You didn’t miss the occasional look of worry Jake passed you while you attempted to calm down. 

“What about your brothers?” You asked in between gasps of air. “Do- do they have powers like you?” 

“They can’t read minds, although I’m sure Josh wishes he could. Sam is very good at controlling emotions. He always had a very good sense of feeling what other people felt. And Josh… Well, Josh can see the future to an extent. On top of the other stuff. When he came to it was a lot easier to control him– he was assaulted by visions of the future. He knew he would have the willpower to avoid killing anyone.” 

“Okay,” you huff, “Read minds. Control emotions. See the future. Other stuff.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m drawn to you in a way I’ve never been drawn to any other human. Or any vampire for that matter.” He slides the car into park. You had been so attuned to his storytelling that you hadn’t noticed him circle around the entire town, finally making it back to your house. “I have developed a sense of self control throughout the years. I don’t find the idea of killing other people appealing, no matter what Danny or anyone else believes. Sure, it’d be safer for you to run from me. You deserve someone who will grow and change with you. Someone who’s heart races at the sight of you. But… I told you before. I can’t stay away from you. If you told me to leave, if you wanted me to go away right now, I would.” 

You remain silent, searching your brain for the right words to say.

“Are you scared?” He asked, worry lacing his voice.

“I’m not scared of you. I never have been. I really like you Jake. I know physically you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, but even when I thought you were human I felt… well I’m sure you know how I felt.” 

“I actually… Well, I really don’t have the best grasp of your thoughts. I can read them, but they’re muddled. I have to focus. It’s like you can actually push me out. No one else has been able to do that. Sometimes I catch you off guard, and I get really clear glimpses. Other times, I just catch the feeling.” 

Your racing heart steadied at this admission. So, he hadn’t really heard the worst of it. 

“Do you at least feel enlightened now?” He asked. 

“I guess. My entire world view has been turned upside down, but sure, enlightened.” 

“Any more questions?” 

“Why didn’t you kiss me the other night?” 

Whatever he had expected you to ask, it wasn’t that. He stammered for a moment, stumbling over his words. 

“I wanted to, God, I’ve never wanted someone more than I want you. But, I’m… scared,” his voice cracked and he felt so utterly human in that moment, “I’ve never been so close to anyone, not like this. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You lean across the center console, inching your face closer to his. 

“You do realize how stupid you are? I may be able to resist hurting you from a distance, but when you’re this close-” 

“Just kiss me Jake. I trust you. Please.” Now it was your turn to sound desperate. 

His hand gently cupped your cheek, the cool marble feeling comforting the burning blush that painted your face. 

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to touch you like this. From the moment I met you, all I could think about was this.” 

“Then do it.” 

He slowly pulled you close to him, his lips brushing yours slightly. 

“Our first kiss isn’t going to be in my car,” He whispered, just low enough so that you could barely hear him. He pulled back, a shit eating grin spread across his face. 

You groan, opening your own door and stomping out of the car, ignoring his taunting calls until he quickly caught up to you. He pulled you into his body, his arms enveloping you smoothly. 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t kiss you tonight.” 

Rain was starting to drizzle down, as it had every night before. It picked up just as soon as it started, falling down heavily around the two of you. A drop rolled down his perfect nose, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted him to kiss you, to hold you like this forever, to- 

His lips crashed against yours, his wet hair sticking to your face. You grasped at his soaked shirt, ignoring the disgusting, wet, squelching noise it made. The whimper that sounded from him was much more interesting anyway. His body pressed against yours, your clothes sticking together as you moved against him. Your mouth parted slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. Warmth spread across your chest, your heart pounding fervently against his still one. The woodsy scent of whatever cologne he always wore made you dizzy. All of him made you dizzy. You could tell from the sheer desperation in the way he kissed you that he wanted this– no, he needed this– more than you did. Your head was swimming as he pulled back, allowing you to gulp down quick, sharp breaths. 

“Holy fuck,” was all you could manage to get out as his golden eyes bore into yours. 

“I want to see you again. I’m not going to leave you like that anymore. I can’t,” somehow you were able to make out his lilting whisper against the downpour. 

You may have hated the rain before, but fuck were you thankful for it now. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

You nod, unable to speak. You hoped the ear splitting grin that breaking your face was enough for him. He leads you to your door, pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead before leaving, his car peeling out towards the flooding streets. 

Your fingers brushed over your lips, the ghost of your kiss still lingering as you watched him leave. You ignore the painful feeling of being watched, pretending like you don’t see Danny’s curtains pull closed in a flash out of the corner of your eye. The rain didn’t matter. Danny didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered right now. His scent, his taste, the feel of his body crashing against yours— that’s what mattered. That’s all you could think about as you all but float into your room. You welcome the warm shower, the dry clothes you had laid out even before leaving the house that morning, the comfort of your bed. It felt right. It felt more than right, it felt perfect. 

There wasn’t even a drop of worry about the next day. 

You didn’t dream last night— at least you can’t remember what you dreamed of when you woke up. All you could recall was the beautiful sense of calm you felt. It may have been the first good night of sleep you had since moving to town. For once the anxiety about Danny, the worries about Jake, they were gone. Nothing seemed to matter as much anymore. Nothing but your intense need to see Jake again, the pulling urge to feel his lips against yours once more. 

Your father was out of the house once more for a work related emergency, at least that’s what the note he stuck on the fridge said. His absence was welcome. You didn’t need him questioning you about Jake anymore, at least not right now. Not until you had wrapped your own head around it. Besides, you had enough to deal with today. 

It was too much to spend another day agonizing over what clothes Jake was going to see you in; you felt that if he had already seen the deepest parts of your mind then it really didn’t matter if he saw you in a much loved t-shirt. You weren’t even sure when he would arrive. All he had given you last night was the quick promise that he’d be here. Oddly enough, the strange pulling feeling you had whenever he was around grew increasingly stronger when a sharp knock at your door tore you away from the breakfast you had been shoveling down. 

You struggled with the door once again, cursing it as you swung it open to reveal the man who had been consuming your every waking moment since he stepped into your life. He looked significantly better than last night, the dark circles under his eye fading to a paler pink. His lips quirked up in a coy smile as he took you in, swinging an arm around you and pulling you in for a swooping hug. 

“Sorry, I know I didn’t tell you a time. I just missed you,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck. This didn’t seem like the same man that had been so keen on staying away from you. 

“It was only a little while,” you laugh. 

“Maybe for you. I don’t sleep.” 

He pulls back, grinning as he watches you walk back through the doorway.

“Do you need to be invited in or is that another myth?” 

“A myth. I just like staring at you.” 

You feel heat rush towards your cheeks as you turn around quickly to avoid his gaze. He followed suit, easily shutting the door you so often fought with. 

“So what’s on the docket today?” He asked, leaning against your fridge as you hurried to clean up breakfast. 

“I was going to ask you the same.” 

“I was hoping I could question you the same way you questioned me yesterday,” he propositioned.

“Ask me what?”  You were utterly taken about. What could you have to tell him that was nearly as interesting as what he told you the night before?  On top of the new knowledge that he could read your mind– no matter how muddled– what could he possibly want to know? 

“It’s hard not being able to get a clear read. There are plenty of things I need to know. Your deepest, darkest secrets for instance. Like… What’s your favorite color?” 

You mumble out the same color you had always considered your favorite– although now you were sure your favorite color was the same rich amber as his eyes. 

“Favorite movie?” 

“The Princess Bride.” 

He grinned widely, settling into one of the worn seats adjacent yours, “Of course. I knew you had good taste. Favorite food?” 

“I’m not sure. It changes from day to day.” 

“Hm,” he tilted his head while he thought, “what’s the best birthday present you’ve ever gotten?” 

This one stumped you. You had never really been one to celebrate yourself, birthday or not. 

“You’ve never had a birthday party?” Jake seemed genuinely astonished as he poked and prodded through your thoughts. 

“I guess not. I don’t really like the attention. My dad would just give me money and tell me to buy whatever I wanted. Not all of us have nearly seventy attempts to get it right.” You shrug. 

This seemed to really bother him. More than it should, at least that’s what you thought. 

“When is your birthday?” 

You gave him the date, scowling as you said it. “Seriously, how many questions do you have?” 

“Only a couple more. Favorite book?” 

You prattled off a list of favorites, not being able to pick only one. His features softened as he took you in, commenting once again that you had good taste. 

“What about music? What are you into?” 

You had been waiting for this one, so you straightened up expectantly as soon as he asked. “Classic rock. Old stuff. Well… not old to you. Hendrix, John Lee Hooker, Zeppelin. The Beatles. Queen,” you listed, taking a breath as you continued, “Janis Joplin, Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd-” 

“Okay,” he cut you off, “I guess you have great music taste too.” 

“I try. Shoot me your next question rockstar, I’m ready.” You stared him down, a daring smile on your face. 

“I only have one more.” He leaned closer, the woodsy scent that accompanied him invading your senses. He was so suffocating you couldn’t even respond. You knew he noticed your racing heart, the quickening of your breath. What more could he have to ask?

 “Can I kiss you again?” 

It was his turn to catch you by surprise. Still, you nod curtly, biting your lip nervously as he got even closer. His fingers traced your jawline softly before his hand reached up to cup the back of your head, gently coaxing you forward. His lips met yours in a much softer manner than they had the night before, slowly working in time with the beat of your heart. Your hands slowly snaked their way into his hair, tangling up his otherwise perfect brown locks. You tugged involuntarily, feeling entirely lost in the movements of his lips. It was like you forgot how to breathe, forgot everything around you except for him. His lips were just as cold as the rest of his body, just as cold as the night before, and yet you didn’t mind. He pulled you impossibly closer, so much so that you were nearly sitting on top of him, squished together in the shoddy wooden chair. It felt like hours passed like this, and the increasing discomfort of your current position meant nothing as his hands explored your body, dropping lower and lower. A familiar fire sparked in your belly, the same feeling you felt when you watched his fingers flick through pages of old books. 

He pulled back, and you whined at the sudden loss of contact. 

“Not close enough,” he groaned. 

“Upstairs?” you manage to pant out. 

He pulls you into him, moving up the creaky stairs at speeds you never thought you'd be able to move. The door to your room swung open with a crack, and you didn’t even have time to worry about the splintered wood before he threw you on the bed. You stared up at him through heavily lidded eyes, taking him in his entirety. 

“Need you, so fucking bad,” he mumbled as he was on top of you again, pressing wet kisses into the side of your neck, “You have no idea how long I’ve thought of this.” 

Words didn’t matter. All you could do was focus on getting a full breath in. In his presence, when he was like this, everything felt ten times more difficult than normal.

“I could bite you, right now. No one would even know. You’ve made it impossibly easy for me,” he continued teasingly, staring at the exposed side of your neck. 

Your heart skipped a beat, maybe even several. But not out of fear– no, you found yourself wanting him to. To give in, to bite you, to do it. Some disgusting, depraved part of you wanted to satisfy him in ways you would never be able to. 

“God, you’re filthy. I don’t need to read your thoughts to know what you're thinking about.” 

You didn’t need words. He had enough for the both of you. 

“Take this off,” he commanded, tugging at the bottom of your shirt. You obliged, but you weren’t going to expose yourself even more without some form of recompensation. 

“You too.” It felt childish, the way you begged him. Nevertheless, he gave you what you wanted, discarding his shirt quickly. You reached down to fumble with his belt buckle, but he swatted your hand away with a tsk. 

“Not today, angel.” 

You sulked at his refusal, but he barely gave you a second to dwell on it. He leaned in once more, pressing a chaste kiss on your swollen lips with a grin. 

“Don’t pout. This is for you,” he chastised, pushing you down gently until you were laying on your propped up pillows. His hand ran along the edge of your shorts, pulling at them slightly. “May I?” He whispered, and all you could do was nod. He frowned at your refusal to speak before starting again, “Need to hear you say it.” 

“Please-” you were surprised to hear your voice sounding cracked and dry, but you kept going, “Touch me, Jake. Anything. Need you so bad.” 

At any other moment you would have been ashamed at how pathetically desperate you sounded. But Jake looked at you with so much adoration that you could not find yourself to care. 

“Of course, angel. How can I say no to you?” 

The coolness of his skin sent shivers up your spine as he pulled your shorts down at an agonizingly slow pace. You wanted to rush him, to plead him to go faster, but the look in his eyes told you to bite your tongue. 

“All this for me?” He smirked when he saw that you had completely soaked through your underwear. He seemed genuinely shocked for a moment. How could a man who had access to your mind, no matter how muddled, doubt your feelings for him? 

“Only for you. You drive me insane, Jake,” you whispered, suddenly embarrassed at being this physically exposed to him. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but you still blushed at his words. 

His hand ghosted over your clothed clit, the temperature difference making you feel dizzy. He continued his tantalizing pace, barely touching you where you needed him most as he leaned down to pepper your face and neck with kisses. 

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped in between his movements. 

“You-” was all that you could manage. But it was no longer enough for him. You could tell from the gentle frown that ghosted over his features that he wanted more from you. “Your mouth, your hands, anything,” you pleaded. 

He worked his way down your body, pressing open mouth kisses over your chest. You sucked in a breath of shock when he suddenly brought his mouth to your exposed nipple. This was such a stark difference from the man who was wary of even kissing you the night before. Your hands flew to his hair again, tugging so roughly that he whimpered into your skin. You knew you couldn’t cause him pain, but the sensation must be nice enough without it. 

He continued his assault on your skin down your stomach, and you admired the soft pink blooms he left in his wake. They were sure to turn purple later, but you didn’t care. They were proof that this was real, that he was real. 

He reached the band of your underwear, staring at you for quick confirmation before tearing them off of you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed out, staring at you so intensely that you wanted to shy away. But you couldn’t– he was holding your legs so tightly that you were sure there would be fingerprint shaped bruises painting your thighs later. You know he didn’t mean to be so rough. He already looked at you like you were made of glass. He was so lost in his own lust that he forgot just how breakable you were. 

He pressed more kisses into your thigh, losing his early composure and tormenting pace in his excitement. Your hips lifted up slightly to meet his face, begging for any sort of friction as he got just close enough to give you what you wanted so badly. 

Please. Please. Anything. Please. Jake, please. You chanted like a prayer in your mind, hoping that he got the drift. 

Without warning he pressed a kiss to your clit, and all you could do was gasp his name. His eyes never left yours, staring up at you lovingly as he began to lap at you like a man starved. He seemed to melt against the heat of your cunt, becoming more frenzied as you whimpered nothing but his name. 

He was all encompassing. He was all you could think about. 

“Jesus, fuck, that feels so good.” You tugged at his hair as he continued, pressing his face even deeper against you.

He whined at your praise, and the vibration nearly overwhelmed you. 

“Holy fuck, Jake,” you coaxed him on, squeezing your thighs around his head so tightly you worried for his safety for a moment– before remembering you had nothing to worry about. 

One of his hands relinquished its grip on your thigh as he slid two fingers down to your entrance. You felt dizzy at the thought of him inside of you, and suddenly it was all you wanted. As if your thoughts were clearer than ever, he slowly pushed his way in without an ounce of begging from you. He started slowly, the added pressure from his tongue on your clit making you feel intoxicated. It wasn’t long before you were seeing nothing but stars. You squeezed your eyes shut, no longer able to keep them open, despite how badly you wished to keep looking at Jake. 

The fire in your stomach had spread all over your body at this point. You could tell you were close. Jake must have been able to as well– of course he could. He once again knew what you needed without you having to ask. He sped his movements up, maintaining his rhythmic pace. The wet noises he was making, paired with your near constant string of praise, were almost musical together. It was almost too overwhelming. His movements were nearly animalistic as he acted like you were the last meal he would ever eat. 

Time seemed to slow as you reached your peak, screaming his name so loudly you were sure everyone in a ten mile radius heard you. You felt like you had left your body– it took a second for your vision to come back, and for the ringing in your ears to fade. 

He pulled back after a moment, panting. You could tell that he enjoyed putting on a show– you knew he had no need to breathe. His face was covered in a mixture of… well you and his own spit. He brought his fingers to his mouth, making yet another show of cleaning them off. His eyes were dark as he pulled them out with a lewd pop, grinning almost drunkenly at the way you stared at him.

You lay there gulping in sweet air, Jake-scented air, like you would never breathe again. He flopped down unceremoniously next to you, crossing his hands over his chest triumphantly. 

“How-“

“You know, I did know how to… have fun before I was turned.” 

“I thought… I thought you were scared of getting too close.” you huffed, struggling to breathe right. 

“A lot can change in a night.” 

Whatever that meant. 

“At least I get to taste you this way,” he joked, earning a slap on the chest from you. Again, not that you couldn’t hurt him. 

You felt like you were never going to fall back into your body. He made you feel disgustingly stupid, intoxicated by nothing but him. Unfortunately, much like always, he didn’t give you time to adjust before he popped up with a frown. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Complication. I have to go. I’ll see you later. Maybe you can meet my brothers,” he promised, pressing his lips to your forehead before rushing to open your window. 

“How are you going to get home?” You asked, vaguely remembering his lack of a car from earlier. 

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about that,” he mumbled, nodding towards the door. You didn’t wonder what he meant for long when the front door opened with a groan, tearing you away from him. You glanced back for a moment, and he was gone. The only sign that he had ever even been here was the ache that spread through your entire body. 

No matter how much he gave you, he always left you wanting more. 

★・・・・・・★

tags: @spark-my-nature @edgingthedarkness @emojakekiszka @slut4lando @ascendingtothestarsasone @writingcold @notsostrangerthing (some of the tags didn’t work. if you want to be added, please feel free to inbox me if the form isn’t working)

[r0ttenhearts]

Friends?

Scaramouche x Best friend! Reader

angst, no comfort, insults

a bright, summer afternoon. the blazing heat outside of the cooled windows as the cicadas hummed in the unforgiving warm air. but there you were, sitting on scaramouches bed next to him, tapping away at your handheld game as you talked to him. you two had been friends since the start of the previous school year. your sweet smiles and kind gestures moved him, or you hoped they did, as he spoke with you the most in class until it turned to after school study sessions, and eventually just hanging out at each others homes when school was over.

as cruel as scaramouche could be, you found yourself falling for him. the rare smiles he’d give you, or his kind words that were few and far between. it meant more to you than you expected. you figured you were cracking through his tough shell, as he didn’t seem to mind spending time together over the break. or so you thought.

“haypasia is back in town. i thought i’d go see her so i don’t think you can come over for awhile.”

oh right. haypasia. the very bane of your existence. it seemed like every time she was around, scara would leave you to be forgotten. a second thought. sure she knew scara for longer, but did she really know him like you did? no, of course she didn’t, because she was never around. but you were. scaramouche would complain to you about her obsessive antics, how annoying she was and how bothersome she could be, only for him to defend her if you got upset with him about spending too much time together.

“oh.. when will you go see her?” you ask quietly, your voice cracking as you feel that oh so familiar lump in your throat. scaramouche glances at you from above his screen, scoffing and a look of disbelief on his face. “seriously y/n? you’re still so upset about her? what’s your deal?”

you shake your head as you put down your game. your hair covering your face as you don’t face him. you can’t. if you do you’ll break, and you know it. “i just.. i wish you wouldn’t go away for days at a time when she’s around.. you’re my best friend you know? and it hurts to realize that you pick someone over me, someone that doesn’t even stay.” you confess, your hands starting to shake as you can feel his eyes bore into your shaking form.

you can hear him scoff beside you as he sits up, “best friends? we’re friends. actually, we’re hardly even friends because i barely even like you.

you dont shut the fuck up you never do.

you make up lies in your head cause you think i like you but you delusional-ly believe i wouldn’t ever talk to other people and god forbid it be a girl.

oh and you're gonna switch it around saying the reverse about how id care when we all know damn well you could get beat in an alleyway and the most you'd get out of me is a "sorry to hear that.”

he gives you the meanest glare as you stand up from his bed as he shoves you against his bedroom door. fat tears roll down your cheeks as he grips your chin, forcing you to look into his dulled, purple eyes.

“no, tell me im wrong. tell me i dont know what im talking about. god youre so fucking stupid.”

he spits as he lets go of your chin, opening the door as you stumble out. he slams his door shut as you stand there in tears. you loved him? you loved him after he told you how he doesn’t care for you? how pathetic could you be. how could you care so deeply for someone that wouldn’t ever look at you, not even in a friendly way?

with his words ringing through your head, you gather your belongings as you leave his home. your game left forgotten on his bed, wishing to never return or face him again.

————————-

a/n: based on a very real argument with my best friend. a little self indulgent but this was a comfort post. thanks for reading!

part II: