#who cares if you have to police your body the whole day? for a few hours you can be a fairy princess 🧚‍♀��

[spiderfreedom]

Reading Susan Brownmiller’s “Femininity” was just nonstop me going “yes! You’re so right!” Like breaking through gaslighting and remembering your real feelings and observations and perceptions.

The pro femininity club (read: pro decorative fashion and pro pink) has spent so long talking about how oppressed femininity is that I lost faith in my own history. Maybe I was the bad person for not wanting to wear dresses, somehow. Maybe the girls who bullied me were right.

And then this book comes and BAM just reminded me of all the ways femininity makes you small, restricted, out of touch. Like a breath of fresh air.

Aesthetics communicate things and saying “I like this aesthetic but I don’t agree with the values it projects” only goes so far. The aesthetics of femininity is about vulnerability, being a decorative object, and sexuality. Why is it pushed on women specifically? Why do so many women accept the limitations on their bodies in favor of whimsical clothes? Brownmiller addresses these topics with care and as someone who also hears the siren song to just fall in line and be feminine.

[tittiesnhrtz]

ghostface!ellie x reader

minors & men dni , fingering, cunnilingus, knife play, nipple play, overstim

it's a chilly october night, the leaves are still vibrant with autumn hues outside your window. a crisp breeze weaves through the trees outside, sending a gentle rustle through the branches. the faint scent of vanilla, pumpkin spice and cinnamon hangs in the air inside your home, wrapping all the furniture and the trinkets like a shroud. you’re sitting on your sage couch, wrapped in a cozy crocheted sweater, wearing loose shorts and leg warmers to keep your feet warm on the cold tiles beneath you. your parents are away for a few days at your grandma's, with her health getting worse, it's been hard for her to take care of herself.

the glow from the TV feels distant now, the reporter’s voice filling the otherwise silent room. it’s the same grim news cycle: more bodies found, more gruesome and grotesque details of the dead bodies that should make your skin crawl and erupt with goosebumps. but honestly? you’re just tired. tired of the stories and the police coming up empty.

two of your friends from your friend group are dead, and what'd they have in common? you dated them both at some point. this detail shouldn't probably be necessary or even worth dwelling on, but considering how almost everyone who's either flirted with you or gone on a date with you has no doubt ended up dead—killed by the infamous ghostface himself.

yes, a him. that's what mostly everyone believes but you're somehow sure it's not a man. the way ghostface toys with his victims, the blackmail and emotional mind games—it all feels too calculated, too clever to be the work of a man. not that you think men are stupid, but something about this whole situation just feels... off.

the sound of the doorbell jolts you out of your thoughts. ellie, your best friend, is supposed to be here any minute. she's been your rock through the whole ghostface ordeal. and you think you might be catching feelings for her. her stupid puns and that goofy smile plastered on her face whenever she'd talk about space, dinosaurs, comic books or anything that interested her really, got to you at some point.

with a sigh, you push yourself off the cozy couch, and shuffle over to the door. but when you swing it open, what should've been ellie on the other side is just empty air. that’s strange. you step outside, scanning the porch and the yard, half-expecting to see some kids laughing at their ding-dong ditch prank. instead, you’re hit with a chill as a dark figure catches your eye. a ghostface mask. your heart drops. but before you can even process what you just saw, it vanishes into the shadows.

you stumble back inside and lock the door, but then you hear it—a crash from the kitchen. a china dish smashing to the floor. fuck, what if this is it? what if you’re ghostface’s next target? with a tentative breath, you step inside the kitchen, holding a lamp, ready to strike. except, it's not ghostface, it's just ellie, standing there with a sheepish smile on her face.

"fuck- i thought you were-" you start, your voice trailing off as the memory of the figure outside flashes in your mind.

"i'm sorry, jus' thought i'd surprise you and come in through the back." she explains, motioning toward the kitchen door, which was slightly ajar. "you should seriously learn to lock your doors."

her gaze then drops to the shards scattered across the kitchen floor, the delicate china dish now a jumbled mess of white and pastel blooms. "sorry 'bout that." she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck.

you let out a breath, feeling a mix of relief and irritation. lowering the lamp, you speak. "next time, just ring the doorbell?”

ellie grins. "yeah, sorry."

"whatever, just help me clean this mess." you motion to the mess on the white and black kitchen tiles.

"yep."

you can't stay mad at ellie and it's not the first time she's done something stupid like this.

𓍯𓂃

after what felt like an eternity of cleaning up the mess, you and ellie finally collapse onto your bed, grateful for the distraction of a movie. the small TV on the cabinet across the room flickers to life, and the eerie sounds of SAW II fill the space. you can feel ellie’s presence beside you—she’s sitting awfully close, her warmth radiating against your side. you steal a glance at her, and to your surprise, you catch her gulping, almost instinctively, not once, but three times already. though you're not sure if it's because of the proximity or the gore-y scenes displaying on the screen.

“not a fan of gore movies?”

she chuckles nervously, her eyes glued to the screen. “not exactly in love with the idea of people torturing each other.”  a hint of laughter in her voice, but you can sense something else underneath. something you pass off as anxiety.

you turn your attention back to the movie, but it’s hard to concentrate when you can feel the heat radiating from her. the scene on the screen darkens, and the tension builds as the characters navigate their terrifying predicament. you can’t help but steal another glance at ellie, who’s now looking directly at you.

the characters on the screen scream in despair, but you hardly register it. instead, your focus is drawn to the way her tongue glides over her plump pink lips. and god you want to kiss her badly, to taste the sweetness of her lips.

you don't miss the way her eyes dart down to your lips or the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. you take a breath, steeling yourself, and decide to be bold. you lean in slightly, heart pounding as you gauge her reaction. the air is tense, and you can see her breath hitch, taking that as an invitation, you close the gap.

her lips are slightly cracked but surprisingly soft. she makes a noise against your lips, hands gliding up to rest against your hips, but then they slowly start to wander. under your sweater, from your hips to your waist. ellie can’t help how warm her hands feel against your skin, how smooth, there’s not even callouses on them like hers. the kiss is a bit hungry and impatient, her tongue licking the seam of your lips. your hands move from your lap to cup her face as you part your lips.

the unexpected warmth of her tongue against your cheek sends a shiver down your spine, silencing the whirlwind of thoughts that had been racing through your mind. it’s a ticklish sensation, one that catches you off guard. you let out a small gasp which is muffled into her mouth. ellie continues to explore, her tongue tracing the soft contours of your cheek as if she’s savoring every little bump and curve. there’s a clumsiness to it, an awkwardness that feels endearing rather than off-putting.

when you pull away, a delicate string of saliva connects your lips. your cheeks heat up as you notice the drool glistening in her chin, a sight that is enough to make your panties wet. you lean in and lick the drool off of her, and you can feel her tense up, her hands on your waist squeezing gently. the only source of light is from the TV, and it casts shadows over both of your bodies, the screen and the voices of the characters now completely forgotten. you can feel her hands move from your waist and she’s suddenly cupping your breasts over your bra.

“is this okay?” her thumb traces circles over the soft mounds, staring at you for an answer.

you nod in return and help her remove your sweater and your bra, tossing it somewhere in the darkness. her gaze flicks down to your breasts and for awhile, she just stares. and then a quiet curse follows. her hands move to knead your breasts, watching the skin closely. then, she takes a nipple between her fingers and gently pinches it, watching your every reaction. her mouth latches onto your other breast, her tongue darting out to swirl around it and suck the hardened nub as she pleases, the soft symphony of your quiet noises echoing in the night.

you arch your back, pushing your breasts further into her mouth. she alternates between both of them, giving them both equal attention. her mouth goes dry and she has to pull away with a pop, her green eyes searching your own.

“i wanna feel you.”

her breath hitches and before she knows it, your hands are on the waist band of her jeans, fingers looping into her brown belt. her eyes darken with desire as she looks at you.

“yeah, baby?” she exhales.

the nickname makes your cunt tighten around nothing and you're hastily unbuckling her belt and tossing it away. your fingers work to unbutton her jeans and you slip a hand inside. she lets out a gentle groan as your teeth bite into the flesh of her neck. you leave a series of bruising kisses in their wake as your palm comes into contact with her boxers. to your surprise, she's soaking wet. you almost want to tease her but your desire prevails over it and you're slipping your fingers into her boxers, tracing her slick folds. she's making the prettiest noises too, already falling apart under your touch. but little did you know, she's spent years dreaming of this moment. paintings and drawings of you hidden under her bed, along with the candid pictures that she oh so eagerly waits to get off to every night.

"say you want me."

her breathing is unsteady as she opens her mouth to speak. "fuck." she grunts softly and leans her head into your shoulder. "i want you, baby. please."

her pathetic begging and whines are enough for you to give in, her cunt throbbing as your fingers rub her slick along it. it greedily sucks in your digit as you slowly add it. she feels ecstatic because this isn't a dream anymore, it's real. you add another digit, eliciting a pornographic moan from her. it isn't long until your fingers are curling around her g-spot and her walls are squelching around them.

""m close..s-so close."

"i know. just cum for me, yeah?" you coo into her ear before nipping at the skin just below her ear. and she does exactly that, letting out a strangled sob as her body gets the release she's been chasing for. you take your fingers out of her boxers and suck them clean. ellie still has her eyes shut and her head against your shoulder but she can hear the way your mouth wraps around your fingers and sucks her juices off. she's pulling away and looking at you.

and then, she's guiding you down to lay on the bed, lifting your hips up to remove your shorts until you're splayed in just your cotton panties and leg warmers in front of her. she almost moans at the sight.

"you're so-" she starts, but cuts herself off. leaning down to hover over you and planting a kiss on your temple, on your cheek and one on your collarbone. one of her hands starts rubbing the inside of your thigh as she leans in and kisses you, sloppily. her hand comes to rub your clothed cunt and you feel her muffled moan inside your mouth, as you swallow the noise. she pulls back to look down at you.

"look how wet." she smirks and you almost regret not teasing her about her own drenched underwear.

you can only whimper and lift your hips up in return as her hands hook under the waistband of your underwear and pull it off of you.

"god, so gorgeous and so wet....all for me." she murmurs, more to herself than you. her pupils are blown wide, lips parted as she moves your legs up and pushes them apart. your hands find purchase on her ass beneath her flannel as she mouths at the skin of your neck like it's her hobby. as you squeeze her jeans-clothed ass, you swear you feel an outline of something resembling a... knife. in her back pocket. you take the object out and it's indeed a knife. ellie was in a daze to notice or feel what you were doing— to busy enjoying your skin after only having imagined what it must have felt like in her dreams. your voice, however, causes her to look up from your neck. you dangle the knife in front of her.

"..why do you have a knife?"

her eyes widen a fraction before she smirks and takes the knife from you. "protection. why else?" she answers like you were dumb to even ask the question in the first place. “don’t wanna risk getting killed with ghostface on the loose.”

a pause. "but...it could come handy for other things." she glides the knife down your clavicle to your breasts, the hitching of your breath only serving to encourage her. she presses it down against one of your nipples before moving it lower— where you're aching for her the most.

the cold blade presses against your puffy clit and you moan loudly. "ellie..."

"shh." she coos, grinning down at you, almost sinisterly. she pushes it further against the bundle of nerves, making you whimper. "i need-" she cuts you off by lining the knife along your delicate entrance, you let out a cry and your eyes widen in fear and shock. she seems to notice it and pulls the knife away, but not before gliding it up and down your folds.

"i'm not gonna hurt you, baby." the words roll of her tongue like honey and you feel bad for fearing her in the first place. she places the knife beside you on the sheets and moves to place herself in between your legs. a couple of kisses to your clit before she's greedily licking at your pussy. tongue moving at a relentless pace against your clit as her hands come up to grope your tits. moans fall out of your lips like a prayer and she pushes her tongue inside your cunt before pulling back and lapping away at your juices. you're awfully close and she knows it, she can sense it by the way you're arching your back and gripping the sheets, your knuckles almost white.

"cum on my face, pretty girl." her words vibrate against your clit, causing you to moan out her name.

that elicits a moan from ellie, herself. something stirs in her, hearing you moan her name out like that. and she inserts two fingers into your sopping cunt. curling them graciously against your g-spot, hitting it over and over again as her mouth does the same to your clit.

"ellie..i can't..fuck-" your final cry of pleasure, reverberates through her body. she removes her fingers but keeps lapping at your pussy even after you cum. your weak cries do nothing to pull her away. her grip on your thighs tighten and she pushes them apart from closing. you squirm and squeak due to the overstimulation, nudging her away with all your force, but it's too weak. she doesn't seem too keen on stopping, a hand pushing down on your stomach to stop you from squirming.

"s-stop." it isn't until that word comes out of your mouth that she stops and pulls away to look at your wrecked form. cheeks flush and hair tousled. you don't know how much it affects her. you never do.

"sorry, got too carried away." she murmurs. but she's anything but sorry. after helping you lay your head down on the pillow, she pulls the covers up your body. she can tell she's tired you out by the way your eyes are half lidded and your limbs look sore. she soothes you by wrapping her arms around you, intertwining your hands, and placing a kiss on your forehead. eventually, you drift asleep.

the longer she looks at you, the world outside fades further into obscurity. you, who's sleeping blissfully, completely unaware of the fact that the knife that was pressing against your clit a few minutes ago was the same knife that she used to brutally stab and dismember the body of a classmate who dared flirt with you. you, who's probably having sweet dreams while she has to go and take care of the unconscious body of the guy who rang your doorbell this very night.

this is my first time writing smut or anything close to a fan fic!! so if you see any mistakes js ignore it :3

[ghosty-writes-23]

I'm Home Sweetheart. - Leon S Kennedy.

!TAGS!: Fluff, Leon being husband material, NSFW Content, !CONSENT IS KEY!, Body worship, !WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!, Choking, Breathplay, Size kink, Spit play, Doggystyle, Blow Job, Eating out, 69, Dom!Leon, Aftercare.

Pairing: DI!Husband!Leon + Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: “Tell me about your book sweetheart, I want to recreate those scenes with you.”  Where your kind and caring husband Leon comes home early from a mission and surprises you by building a private in-home library as you were starting to run out of space to keep your precious books and wants to recreate your favourite scenes from your favourite authors.

Word Count: 3.7k

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

Ada's Version.

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18+ Content // Minors DO NOT Interact // 18+ Content.

Using your teeth to pull open the bottle cap top of the ice cold orange juice, you took a few huge mouthfuls as you waited for the stop light to turn green, the drink was cold and refreshing causing a shiver to run though your body as you placed the bottle on the passenger's seat. Today you were coming back from annual and yearly no boyfriends or husbands girls vacation weekend you and your best friend always planned since you were in high school.

The trip started out innocently just spending the day at the spa getting your nails done and relaxing, to only end up going clubbing last night and dancing on the table to when I grow up by the pussycat dolls in 6 inch stiletto heels. As much as you loved the girls' vacation and letting loose for a couple days, you couldn’t wait to get home and curl up next to your husband, with a spicy enemies to lovers book with your dog Ace cuddled into your side.

Ace is an old German shepherd that is also an ex police dog whose owner was killed in the line of duty, the poor dog was so confused on why his owner and handler didn’t come back, he would wait for his older owner to return, as time went on Ace grew more and more depressed he refused to work with anybody else or be social with other dogs.

It go so bad that the police department thought it would be better to put Ace up for adoption and hope he would find a loving forever home but Ace just stayed in his kennel hiding away, he refused to eat and would growl at anybody who came near him.

That was until he met your husband of 8 years Leon who was looking for a dog that could protect you while he was away on missions, but also he could play around with at the park or at home when he had time off, the moment the two of them meet they were inseparable and Leon rushed to adopt him that day and after waiting for a week you both welcomed Ace into your little family and you both became the dogs whole world.

Always coming for cuddles and acting like a huge baby even letting you put Leon’s sunglasses on him and take pictures, it filled your heart with so much joy when Ace started putting on weight and started looking healthier.

Then you have your sweet little Oreo who was just your average black cat with white little paws and little face markings with one marking on her chest that looks like a heart, she was a stray when you first found her huddled in a small box on a stormy night outside your mom’s bakery, she was so small and fragile you didn’t think she would make it through the night, she was really skinny and her fur was matted to her skin nearly, she must of been abandoned at a very young age which broke your heart. 

She had no collar and no microchip so it was pointless trying to find her old owners. So that night you wrapped her up in your warm woolly scarf and took her home, where both you and Leon very gently brushed her fur, clipped her nails and gave her some food and water after you asked Leon to get some kitten food before you got home. She warmed up to you both but she mostly stuck to your side always wanting cuddles and pets.

You ended up adopting her a few days later after she passed all the vet checks and got her vaccinations, she was a little cautious of Leon since he smelt like Ace, but Ace was a good boy and let Oreo get used to him, even if it meant he got bit and clawed at a few times but slowly they became friends, then even shared Ace’s bed on cold nights and play with their toys with each other.

When the stoplight finally turned green you started driving down the main highway listening to the music that softly played in your car, distracting you from the slightly throbbing pain in your head from your dull hangover. The drive home was quick and you pulled into your garage within 10 minutes, the throbbing in your head subsided and you didn't feel as bad but you where really hungry.

Getting out you grabbed your bag and started heading inside to where you could hear Ace happily barking at the front door, you could even hear his tippy tappy paws, it caused you to smile thinking somebody was excited that you were home. 

“Hey Baby.” You say happily after opening the front door, Ace was running around your legs, his tail wagging so fast it was almost like a dark blur as he was barking, it was so sweet, you heard Oreo meow from the small table by the door as if she was saying welcome home, putting your bag down you kneeled down and started petting ace and gave Oreo’s head a soft kiss.

“Yes yes I missed you guys too.” you say as Oreo rubbed her face on your cheek and Ace was nuzzling into your hand. “Where you talking to me sweetheart.” Your husband Leon says with a soft chuckle, causing you to look at him wide eyed before running over and hugging Leon tightly. “Your back early.” you say happily wrapping your arms around his neck, his large arms wrapped around your waist pulling your body closer to him. 

“Surprise.” he says as you nuzzle into his chest, you were so glad your husband was home in one piece. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you whined softly hitting his shoulder causing him to laugh before he grabbed your smaller hand in his larger one. “Because I have a surprise for you.” he hints as he starts walking down the hallway of your house, you were a little confused but you followed your husband anyway.

Soon you found yourself outside your storage room, it was a spare bedroom you and Leon used for storage since it was pretty spacious and you didn't really use it, pulling out a key from his pocket Leon slid the key into lock and softly popped open the door. “Go inside.” Leon says, by his tone you could tell he was excited for you to see his surprise, pushing the door open you gasped softly, your one messy and chaotic storage room was turned into an in-home library. 

There was black floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with your books and some new ones you recognized, there was also a small wooden ladder that travel down the bookshelves, a fluffy rug on the ground, your window seat was decorated with comfy pillows and a blanket, there was a small coffee table in the middle of the room with a container with bookmarks, colorful page tabs, highlighters fine tip pens, and a blackberry and guava scented candle accompanied by a box of matches, in the far right conner was a little coffee and tea station where you could make a hot drink and cozy up with one of your books, The room felt warm and cozy, you could feel your eyes tearing up at the sight.

“Leon…” you say quietly, your voice cracking slightly, you looked up at your husband teary eyed to which he softly cupped your cheek and kissed you softly. “Happy valentines day, I wanted you to have a place for all your books since they were kind of taking over the house.” he says with a chuckle as he rested his forehead on yours as his rough thumb stroked the soft skin of your cheek, it would explain the black paint smudge on his face.

“I love you so much.” you say wrapping your arms around his neck, sometimes you felt like you didn’t deserve Leon. “Not as much as I love you sweetheart.” he says as he gives your hips a slight squeeze.

Later That Night 

You where cozied up in your little library reading one of the new books Leon had purchased you, it was a spicy romance novel that has a few dark twists, just as you were about to turn to the next page your library door opened and saw Leon was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest he must of come back from his night run with Ace.

When your gaze met his there was a soft and gentle look in his baby blue eyes as he took in the sight of you reading your book, the soft light of the lamp casting a warm glow on your skin, to him you where Leon’s little slice of heaven from the rest of the chaos in his world.

“What's this book about?” Leon asked with curiosity as he walked into your library and rested his chin on your shoulder, his stubble tickling the side of your face. “A spicy forbidden romance between a DEA agent and a criminal mastermind.” you tell him with a small giddy look on your face, it was no secret that you had an ‘interest’ in forbidden romances but Leon was no stranger to that.

“Do you like a man in uniform?” he mumbled deeply in your ear as he started to press soft kisses to your neck, a soft sigh left your lips as you bit your bottom lip. 

“You know I do.” you say as your eyes flutter closed enjoying the loving affection from your husband, your book now just a passing thought. “How about you put your book down and get that pretty little ass upstairs.” Leon suggests against your ear, his voice a few octaves deeper causing you to squeeze your thighs slightly, you felt one of his hands make its way from your hip up your stomach and chest before he wrapped his fingers around your neck and gave it a light squeeze causing a soft whine to leave your lips.

“Okay.” you say looking up at him through your lashes, releasing your neck he placed an innocent kiss on your forehead before you started making your way to your shared bedroom upstairs.

Once you made it to your shared bedroom you could hear Leon doing something downstairs, but you just went and waited on your bed for him with your hands in your lap, after a couple moments you could hear his heavy footsteps coming up the steps “he must be wearing his boots.” you thought and when he came into view all the moisture in your mouth evaporated, thighs squeezed together and your pussy clenched. 

There Leon stood in his work clothing which consisted of a navy blue short sleeve top that was tight around his biceps, dark grey cargo jeans and black combat boots, but what really caught your eyes was the grey tactical vest that was strapped around his front and back. You felt yourself gulping slightly as you looked at your husband up and down, “I’m in danger.” you thought but you couldn’t help but be excited.

“Like what you see doll?” Leon asked, there was a slight tease in his tone as he walked over to you and gently grabbed your chin with his gloved hand, you nodded your head not trusting your voice as you nuzzled your face into his hand, hearing a soft chuckle you felt Leon gently tug your face up before he gently kissed you, his lips were warm and soft his kiss gentle and sweet.

Feeling his hand move away from your chin you felt him start to strip you of your oversized shirt that was clearly his, only breaking the kiss for a second to tug his your shirt off then tossing it on the ground before reconnecting your lips again, you feel back onto your plush bed one of his knees in between your legs as he hovered over you.

Your fingers found their way into his dark hair and gently tugged on his roots, earning you a soft groan from your husband as he tugged your leggings off your legs leaving you in your bra and panties. When Leon finally broke the kiss you looked up at each other breathing heavily, nothing but love and affection swimming in both your eyes for each other.

One of his gloved hands rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip sticking your tongue out slightly you ran it up the front of his glove before taking his gloved thumb into your mouth and gently sucking. 

“And you say I'm a tease princess.” Leon groaned, cheekily you gently bit his thumb and your teeth leaving a little imprint in his glove, before you leaned up and kissed him then used your strength to push Leon over onto the other side of the bed then straddle his waist, you felt his eyes on you but you where on a mission you wanted to pay Leon back for the library and the thoughtfulness then went into the idea.

You unclipped his tactical vest and placed on the ground be your bed before you trailed gentle kisses down his clothed chest and stomach as your hands worked on unbutton his pants and tugging them down his legs leaving him in his underwear. 

When you finally reached the top of his underwear that had a wet patch, you gently tugged them down revealing his hard cock that was leaking precum everywhere, you looked up at Leon as if to ask permission Leon nodded his head and ran his fingers through your hair and held it in a makeshift ponytail so your hair didn’t get in your eyes.

Smiling soft you let your tongue run up the side before you wrapped your lips around the tip and slowly began to bob your head you could feel every vein and ridge, he was heavy on your tongue but there was a small comfort, you made yourself at home placing your hands on his muscular thighs as you set a smooth pace.

Slowly bobbing your head occasionally he would hit the back of your throat, causing tears to prick your eyes but you blinked them away quickly.

Above you could hear Leon groaning and giving you soft praises of “such a good girl” and “feels so good darling.” the praise sent heat to your cheeks and kept you going, you wanted to make him feel good, you wanted to be his good girl.

You could feel your jaw was being to hurt slightly when your suddenly pulled off, breathing heavily saliva coating your slightly swollen lips a soft whine leaving your throat as you looked at your husband with a pout, he was breathing heavily his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Want to make you feel good too.” Leon says before you can think about what he said he pulls your lower half over his face, his stubble tickling the inside of your thighs, you could feel his warm breath on the wet patch of your panties causing you to clench around nothing and a soft whine to leave your lips.

When you felt him move your panties to the side and his tongue ran up your folds, a soft moan left your lips as you slightly arched your back. You could feel the heat running through your body as he feasted on you, as if he was in his own little world with his tongue deep inside you. 

Feeling his wrap his arms around your hips to keep you in place, you went back to giving him the same pleasure, your pillowy lips wrapping around his cock again and bobbing your head at a steady pace with your cheeks slightly sucked in.

You could feel him twitching in your mouth, you pulled away slightly and swirled your tongue around his tip causing his hips to jolt slightly you knew he was close, but so where you as your thighs shook slightly around his head. 

“Fuck doll cumming.” Leon groaned before you pushed him all the way down your throat, a few tears rolling down your cheeks at the sudden intrusion but you ignored the pain as your throat muscles tightened around him.

Leon came down your throat with a deep groan and even slightly bucked his hips, you soon followed and came with a loud moan, pulling away slightly you breathed heavily and wiped your mouth. Leon was breathing heavily but there was a huge grin on his face as he moved so now he was hovering over you. 

“Another round princess?” he asked as he reached into the bedside table and pulled out a silver square, you could barely pull a thought together but you nodded your head and let your husband position you how he wanted, lucky this time you were laid on your stomach with a pillow under your hips, your head resting against your pillow and soft hum leaving your lips as you where in a comfortable position.

You heard the sound of the condom packet being torn open and the lid of a lube bottle being cracked opened, it wasn’t that you weren't used to Leon’s size but sometimes it made it more comfortable, you heard the sound of the rest of his clothes hit the ground beside the bed as he stripped off, he even carefully took your soaked panties off and tossed them onto the pile of his clothes.

“Cold.” you whined softly as a shiver went down your spine, you felt Leon placed a small blob over your slit and gently rub it in. “I know sweetheart, you'll warm up soon princess I promise.” Leon says before you felt him at your entrance, you closed your eyes and waited for the familiar stretch, a soft moan left your lips as he slowly pushed in being careful and soon bottomed out a soft groan leaving both of your lips as you felt each other.

“Fuck.” you cursed as you placed your face into your pillow, no matter how many times you take him, he always overwhelms you with how good he makes you feel. 

“Are you ok?” Leon asked when you felt him gently kiss your shoulder, when he was this gentle with you it made your heart skip a beat, you nodded your head and gave him a smile as you leaned up and softly kissed her cheek.

“I’m ok but I do have one request?” you say when you notice he is still wearing the gloves on his hands, you saw him glance between you and his hands a small smirk on his face as he already knew what you were asking him for, moving his arm his bicep wrapped snug around your neck giving a soft squeeze Leon began to thrust slowly, teasingly but you here in heaven with his bicep around your neck.

“Such a dirty little girl, do you like it when I choke you? Deprive you of oxygen until you nearly pass out.” Leon asked his tone was mean and nasty as the pace of his thrusts picked up, your brain was going fuzzy you couldn’t focus on anything else but him.

You loved it when Leon was your kind and sweet husband but deep deep down a part of you liked it when he was mean and dominant, it made you feel so small being under him, his body towering over yours, his muscles and strength double if not triple then yours and it was such a turn on.

“Yes I do.” you choked out as you looked up at your husband, there was a smirk on his face as he thrusted into your soaked pussy, your gummy walls sucking him in and never wanting him to leave.

“Open.” he demanded and you opened your mouth without hesitation then you felt Leon spit into your mouth making you feel even dirtier, but you loved it and grinned up at him almost as if you were a crazed woman, you swallowed before you opened your mouth again and stick out your tongue. 

“Fuck I love you so much.” Leon groaned his voice deeper as he tightened his bicep around your neck, causing small spots to come into your version. You knew your safe word but you didn’t want to use it, this feeling felt like pure ecstasy and you were floating. “You close darling?” you heard Leon ask and you nodded your head feeling the familiar tightening in your stomach.

“Yes.” you choked out in between moans, your thighs were trembling and your head was feeling foggy. “Cumming.” you cry out as you let out a high pitch moan and came around Leon, you felt him soon follow. After a couple minutes you slowly felt him pull out then discard the used condom in the rubbish.

an hour later 

You were freshly showered and dressed in one of Leon’s shirts and a pair of panties, you both were relaxing in bed cuddled into Leon with Ace sleeping in his dog bed next to the window and Oreo resting and purring in between you and Leon. 

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” you heard Leon asked as he was tracing his thumb on your hip bone under his shirt you were wearing. “No, you were perfect as always.” you say you press a kiss to the top of his bare chest that had a few old scars, this caused him to smile and pull you closer to him being careful of Oreo as he doesn’t want to be attacked by her again.

“Happy Valentine's Day doll.” Leon says as he kisses your head and makes sure both you and Oreo are comfortable on the bed, “Happy Valentine's Day honey.” you say as you leaned up and softly kissed him, grateful to have a husband as kind, caring and gentle as Leon….

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[lokidjarin-7567]

Florida!!!

Aaron Hotchner x Reader After a tough case in Tallahassee, a storm blows in and the jet is grounded, so you find comfort in the arms of someone unexpected. fem!reader, 18+ MDNI 4.2k words TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

It had been a horrible case. Children had been going missing across Tallahassee for a few weeks, but the incompetent police department had only just called you in. You found the unsub after a few long days and even longer nights. He was a police officer, someone that kids were taught to trust. At least that explained the shocking lack of investigation so far. Thankfully, the children he had taken - all 9 of them - were alive, but you couldn’t say too much more than that. The state they were in when you found them… it wasn’t something you were going to forget any time soon.

And now, a storm was coming in and the jet couldn’t take off until tomorrow at the earliest.

The motel you were all staying in wasn’t the worst by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn’t exactly great. The rooms were small and dingy, the smell of sweat and cigarettes clinging to the soft furnishings, and questionable stains bloomed across most of the carpet. You weren’t complaining too much, though. There was a dive bar next door, and the bed was clean. That was all you cared about.

It hadn’t taken you long to wind up at the bar. Most of the team were there already, seeming a hell of a lot happier than you. They had drinks and a handful of appetisers spread out on the table, laughing at a story Rossi was telling enthusiastically. You were about to turn and leave, to find somewhere else to wallow for the evening, but Emily spotted you, waving you over with a wide smile. Fuck. At least you knew how to fake it. You plastered on a grin and said your hellos while everyone congratulated you on finding the kids today. It made you feel sick. Maybe that’s why they saw this whole case as a win. They hadn’t fucking seen it.

You excused yourself to get a drink before you had even sat down, ordering two shots alongside the beer you would be drinking at the table, wanting to feel something quickly. You took them as soon as the bartender gave them to you, thanking him and paying what you owed.

“Bad day?” He mused, eyebrow raised as he put your cash into the register.

“You have no idea.” You muttered, and you noticed his eyes raking over your body. He was cute. A little older than you, but that was what you usually went for anyway. Maybe he was something else that you could drown your sorrows in later.

You smiled at him as you left, just in case, and headed back to the table. It was then that you noticed Hotchner wasn’t there. He was the other member of the team who had been with you when you found them, and he had been even more shaken up than you afterwards. It made sense; he had a kid. You were sure he was calling Haley now so he could talk to Jack like he usually did after any cases where children were involved. You just hoped he made his way over at some point. It would be nice to have someone else here who understood a little more.

And you did your best to hide it, but you did have a bit of a crush on him. It was wrong, and you would never act on it; he was your superior, your boss, and he was married. But he was so authoritative and intelligent and handsome that you couldn’t help but think about it sometimes. A lot, actually. Hopefully, by the end of the night you’d be drunk enough to imagine the bartender was him.

You finished your drink quickly, having completely ignored the conversations going around the table. It didn’t take long for Rossi to offer to get you another, a soft, concerned expression on his face. You thanked him with a wide smile, promising yourself to try harder as him and Morgan headed to the bar to get another round, and Emily and JJ headed to the bathroom. Spencer moved next to you in the booth when everyone had left, filling the space where Emily had been sitting and nudging you softly.

“Are you ok?” He asked. You opened your mouth to say that you were fine, but you knew you didn’t have the energy to lie well. He would just notice straight away.

“Just… um… finding the kids today…” he nodded as you ran your hand through your hair, as though trying to dispel the images that had accumulated again at the mere mention of it. “I know it was a good thing, that they were alive and they would recover physically, but it just really didn’t feel like a win.” He didn’t say anything, just squeezed your arm and pulled you in for a hug, which you gratefully accepted. He was your best friend on the team, and he always knew exactly what you needed. You were glad he was here.

Spence had only just released you when everyone came back, their energy still high. You chatted for a bit, forcing yourself to engage now that the conversation had shifted from this week’s case. It was nice, and you felt your mood start to pick up as the drinks kicked in, finishing your second and third beer before excusing yourself for a smoke. You knew it was a bad habit, but with a job as stressful as yours, it was hard to kick.

You had only just lit your cigarette when you saw Hotch heading across the carpark of the motel. It was hot outside, the Florida humidity lasting into the night, but he was still wearing his suit, but he had ditched the jacket, and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck. He looked about as grim as you felt. You smiled softly as he got close, the usual butterflies gathering in your stomach, expecting him to go past you and inside, but he stopped, leaning on the wall next to you. You offered him the pack, just in case, but he shook his head.

“Are you ok?” You asked gently. He sighed.

“Not really. You?”

“Not really.” You took a drag as he stood there, and you felt the need to fill the void with something. “Everyone else is inside celebrating.”

“I’m not sure I feel like there’s a lot to celebrate.”

“Me neither, but Rossi seems to be buying a lot of drinks, so I’m sticking around for that.” He almost laughed at that, a harsh expulsion of air that was as close as you’d ever come to seeing a break in his stony exterior.

“That is a good incentive.” You smiled at him, taking the opportunity to just look at him. He was so fucking attractive, the dark brown of his eyes, the strong nose and jaw that gave him a permanently serious expression, his lips…

“Did you talk to Jack and Haley?” You asked quickly, as though reminding yourself that he has a wife.

“No, Jack was asleep, and Haley and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now…” You had to stop yourself from asking anything too quickly.

“Oh?” You were impressed by how casual you managed to keep your voice.

“Yeah, we separated a few months ago.” Oh. “I haven’t exactly told the team yet, I…” he sighed heavily, running his hands over his face in frustration, “I’m not really sure why I’m telling you to be honest. I just…” He seemed to stop himself, sighing again, and looking at you in a way you couldn’t even begin to interpret. Regret maybe?

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t even worry about it.” You said trying to quell his doubts, and he just smiled softly, shaking his head.

“I know.” A third sigh. “I’ll see you inside, ok?” You couldn’t do much but nod, your heart still lurching from his revelation.

You got another beer as soon as you were back inside, ordering another shot as well to calm your frazzled nerves. You knew you were reading too much into it, that he had just had a bad day and let something slip, but it had made your stupid brain think you had a chance. You sat down again next to Spencer, who smiled at you, and you noticed Hotch’s whole demeanour had changed. He was smiling, and actively participating in the team’s chatter and you felt like you couldn’t stop staring at him. How did he do it so easily?

After about an hour or so some of the team started to head to their rooms, midnight looming, and it was at this point you noticed the glances from Hotch. That was a lie, you had noticed them earlier, and you had just chalked them up to your own imagination running away from you. But now, there was no denying it. He was a couple of drinks in, and his looks had started to linger, even when you weren’t the one talking. There was an element to them that made you squirm a little in your seat, especially the way he had stopped hiding the fact he was looking. His eyes were openly gazing at your lips, your chest, and when your eyes met his, he didn’t back down. He didn’t smirk, or smile, or anything other than maintain infuriating and intense eye contact until a blush forced itself across your cheeks. It was fucking intoxicating.

Emily excused herself. Then Morgan. Then JJ. Reid finished his story with a smile, finishing his drink too as you tried your best to comment as though you were listening. It seemed to work.

“I’m going to get a drink, do you want another?” Hotch stood up, talking to both of you, but his eyes stayed firmly on yours.

“Just a diet coke please.” You had had enough for the night, your mind finally quiet enough to stop replaying the days events. “Reid?”

“No, actually I’m going to head to bed too.” Hotch just nodded, wishing him a good sleep and headed to the bar. Reid squeezed your arm softly as he stood up, his expression serious. “You going to be ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good, honey. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Ok, you know where I am.” And with that, it was just you and Hotch.

He put the drinks down wordlessly, sitting opposite you with an unreadable expression on his face, one even a profiler like yourself couldn’t read.

“What?” You asked playfully, your brows furrowing as he took a sip of his scotch.

“Nothing, just the bartender.” You glanced towards the bar to see him standing there, looking at you with a soft smirk on his face. “He was asking after you.” Oh God.

“Was he?” You asked coyly, smiling at the thought. Hotch’s face was steel as his eyes continued to rake over your face and body. Was he… jealous?

“Interested?” He muttered coldly. You grinned.

“Maybe…” You watched as he clenched his teeth and repositioned himself in the seat, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table, never once breaking eye contact.

“Really? Him?”

“What’s wrong with him?” He laughed dryly, taking another drink.

“He’s not exactly…”

“What?”

“He’s not what I’d imagine you going for.” So he’s thought about it. About you. The idea made arousal pool in your stomach.

“Who do you think I’d go for, then?”

“Not him.” He dodged the question easily, not taking the bait. “He’s too cocky, but he also has no real respect for himself. He pours drinks like a performer, just showboating for attention. A bravado begging for approval, but still believing he deserves it. He must be delusional to think he deserves even a glance from you…” He paused, and for the first time you saw a slight waver in his confidence, watching his face change as he realised he said something a little too close to home. You just smiled as he carried on, trying to retrace his steps. “I just think you would only go for him if your first choice wasn’t available.” He knows. Surely he knows. “I know Reid went to bed, but if you…” You cut him off with an uncontrollable laugh of genuine disbelief as he just furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“What?”

“You think I’m after Reid? And you call yourself a profiler.”

“Are you not?” You finished your drink with a sigh.

“Jesus, no Hotch, I’m not. And with that, I’m going to bed.” You left him sitting there, same confused look on his face, sending an apologetic smile to the bartender as you left.

You found yourself pacing when you got back to your room, unable to make sense of what the fuck just happened. You must be going crazy. You thought he knew, that it was so painfully obvious, that he maybe even saw you in the same way… but no. Nothing. Your stupid mind playing tricks on you.

You don’t know why you even wanted this. You couldn’t date him, you couldn’t do anything about it, married or not he was your boss. He was on your team. You saw him everyday at work. It would never end well. It was just a bad fucking idea, regardless of how much your dirty mind protested. How much it reminded you of all the times you’d thought about him while you were touching yourself, or sleeping with other people, or when you were bored on the jet. He had been the only thing that got you off for months and he didn’t even fucking know. But now you knew it was a possibility? That he wasn’t married, that your dirty little fantasy could actually happen? You were spiralling. You needed a smoke, some fresh air, something to remind you nothing had actually changed.

You opened the door, pack in hand to see… him. He looked dishevelled, his tie long gone and his hair messy, as though he been running his hands through it. He was as shocked as you were, just muttering your name quietly as you stood there just looking at him, waiting for him to explain why he was here. What he wanted. He didn’t. There was just this intensity that seemed to emanate from him, this nervous desperation that made you want to grab him by the collar of his shirt and show him what you could do, how you could make him feel better after horrible cases like this one, give him something to use for his own pleasure. Show him that you would do anything he fucking wanted. But you didn’t.

“Did you…” you trailed off, vaguely gesturing to the open door in a way you hoped conveyed what your lips couldn’t bring themselves to say. He was silent as he stepped into your room, closing the door behind him.

“Was it me? Am I…?” He muttered, and you knew what he meant. Am I the one you were after? You stayed quiet, not trusting yourself anymore now he was here in front of you, looking at you like that. He knew anyway. You had no doubt in your mind now. He stepped closer.

“This isn’t a good idea.”

“I know.” You let yourself whisper as he moved to just an inch away from you, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as he looked down at yours. You couldn’t even breathe, couldn’t make eye contact as he continued to scan your face and you could feel yourself getting wet before he had even touched you. Everything you’d wanted for months was a breath away and you still couldn’t bring yourself to be the one to close the gap.

“This isn’t…” he started to repeat himself, tapering off as his fingers touched your chin, tipping your face further up to look at him, a light touch that was fucking electricity through your body.

“I know.” You breathed the words, not meaning them anymore and as you met his gorgeous, hazel eyes, you knew you were fucking done for. He pressed his lips into yours. Just once, light as a feather. But that was all the permission you needed. You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, smashing your lips into his with a desperation you had never felt before. It was a kiss of teeth and tongue, and as you licked up into his hot mouth you heard a groan from him that sent your hands flying to his shirt buttons. He grabbed the bottom of your top and pulled it over your head before you had even had a chance to undo a single one. His lips were back to yours as quickly as they had left, and you only registered that you had moved backwards when your legs hit something. He grabbed your hips and easily lifted you onto the desk, and you thanked the lord you had decided to wear a skirt today as he pushed it up your thighs and settled comfortably between them. Your entire body was practically shaking in anticipation already, and as his hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, you whimpered into his mouth. He pulled you forward until you were pressed tightly against his thick erection, and you couldn’t help but grind into him as you undid his buttons, desperate for some friction against your aching cunt. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had turned you on, wound you up to the point where every tiny touch made you feel like you were going fall over the edge into that white hot pleasure you knew he was capable of giving you.

The hottest part of it all was the pure need you felt from every grab and kiss. Even the moments where he pulled back for air, he used them to bite your neck, or press sloppy open mouthed kisses to your chest that made you whine every fucking time. The way he wanted you so badly he couldn’t even move to the bed, just to wherever was closest, and even when he was trying to catch his breath it was as though he physically couldn’t keep his lips off you.\

You finally got his shirt undone and pressed as much of yourself to him as possible, wrapping your legs around his waist. His kisses were getting more and more sloppy, his hands wandering further and the moan you let out when he grabbed your breast seemed to flip a switch in him. He pulled you off the desktop by your ass, flipping you in a way that was pure filth, and pressing your hips hard into the desk.

“Can I…” You didn’t need him to finish his question as you heard him unzip his fly.

“Fuck, please.” You couldn’t help but beg. His hands ran up the back of your legs, pushing your skirt to your waist and pulling your panties down so quickly you barely noticed until his hard dick hit your throbbing pussy. You could feel the weight of him, the thickness. You wanted to turn around and look at him, truly take him in like this, but you were pinned to the table still, the sharp edges biting into your hips in the most deliciously painful way that you knew would leave bruises. You heard him mutter something, but you couldn’t make it out, anticipation causing blood to rush in your ears and your heart was beating so loud it blocked any other noise. Before you even knew it was happening, he was pressing against your entrance, slowly at first, but then he snapped his hips into yours, splitting you open and all the air was pushed out of your lungs. The groan that escaped his lips was intoxicating, and he stayed there for a moment, gathering your hair in his hands and twisting your head so your lips met his. You felt like a ragdoll, your body and movements his now, but you didn’t care. This is how you wanted it. You just want to make him feel good, and you needed to think about nothing but him. It was working. There was no space for any other thoughts with his cock filling you and his hand gripping your hair.

“Are you…?”

“On the pill.” You confirmed, and he bit down on your shoulder in approval, earning a gasp. One hand stayed on your hair, but he moved backwards, his other hand pressing the small of your back into the table. You were utterly powerless, and you clenched around him at the thought. He groaned as he pulled out of you slowly, and you could feel every single inch of him as he did. And then he started just pounding into you. It stole all the air from your lungs, and you were left gasping as he continued his merciless pace, filthy sounds of his hips meeting your ass and your shuddering breaths and whimpers filling the room. You had to brace your hands against the wall, nothing else to hold on to, and as you lifted your chest slightly to breathe, he took his cue, grabbing your neck and pulling you up so his lips could reach you, the slight force he applied to your throat making you clench around him and earning a loud moan from him. The angle he hitting into you now was incredible, this sweet spot that made your legs turn to jelly and your breaths shorten.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He panted into your ear, earning a loud moan.

“Fuck, I’m close Hotch..” Even now, with him inside you, you couldn’t bring yourself to call him by his first name, but the soft growl he let out told you he might like it more this way anyway. You just needed something to push you over, and you grabbed his hand on your neck, tightening it to indicate what you wanted. He followed suit, gripping you in a way that limited your air just enough to go a little lightheaded and you whimpered.

“Filthy.” He whispered, and that was all you needed. You started cumming, clenching around him with a strangled sob and he let go of your neck at just that second, letting the blood rush to your head and searing hot pleasure course through your body. You heard him groan and curse behind you, his hips stuttering too as he came, filling you and staying pressed deep inside of you as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, pressing soft kisses to your shoulders.

You stayed like that for a little while, catching your breath. He moved first, pulling out of you slowly with a sigh.

“You can… um…” the energy was awkward suddenly, both unsure of what to do now that passion wasn’t driving you. Unsure how to be around each other. You still knew what he meant though.

“Thanks.” You headed to the bathroom, cleaning up quickly, taking a second to fix your messy hair and makeup, and pulling your skirt down. He went in straight after you, and you took that time to find your panties and put them back on. You had no idea what would happen now. If it was up to you, he would just stay here, but he might not feel comfortable enough to do that. You just wanted to know what he was thinking.

He came out of the bathroom looking perfect, but pensive, his brow furrowed in his signature scowl. You were sitting on the side of the bed, just waiting for him to speak.

“We probably shouldn’t have done that.” He muttered. Disappointment flooded your system. You knew he was right, and you agreed, it was messy and stupid but so fucking good it couldn’t be ignored.

“Probably not.” He nodded.

“Well, I should…” He moved towards the door.

“I don’t want a relationship you know.” You blurted out, and internally scolded yourself, but it had stopped him, so you stood up, carrying on. “This is all I want. A distraction.” You watched relief bloom across his face, and he strode back across the room, planting a light kiss to you your lips.

“Ok.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He stayed, not leaving until the early morning. You knew he just wanted some comfort after the past few days. Something solid to hold on to. You also knew your feelings had already gone past a crush, welling up inside you as he slept peacefully, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath against yours. But you didn’t care. You would rather have some of him than nothing at all. Even if you were going to get hurt. Even if it got messy. He was worth it.

[4only1]

Hello, hi. I read your fantastic Gitae fic and was wondering if you could do one where him and reader are business partners and are like considered a deadly duo because they work so well together and because the basically have the same personality but reader is much more sane and mostly tries to keep Gitae's bloodshed clean and not too messy but she overworks herself and is constantly on alert and Giate want to assure that they can both trust each other but reader was betrayed alot because people considered her weak and useless. 💋 thank you for listening to my Ted talk lovieeee

What you know

Gitae Kim X Reader Word Count: 767 Masterlist

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When people heard the names (Y/N) (L/N) and Gitae Kim, they knew there would be trouble. Gitae, a man of strange habits and pure strength, the patricide. (Y/N), a genius who kept the whole drug cartel together, heck, kept Gitae together. Without you, he would be a dysfunctional wreck, not keeping his bloodsheding tendencies together.

You had been waiting in the car since Gitae went to deal with Kwak Jichang, the king- well, soon to be former king of Seoul. As you shuffle papers around in your hand, casually glancing at your phone every now and then, waves of exhaustion hit you. You both had arrived in Korea a few days ago, but when did you last sleep? Someone had to keep the drug cartel running at all hours, and while Gitae was meeting with James Lee and relaxing, it was up to you to do that work. Paperwork really wasn’t Gitae’s thing anyway. Numbers too.

As you kept fighting the feeling of sleep, the car door opened. Gitae entered the car soon after, talking on the phone, most likely to James Lee. Frustration bubbled within you as you noted Gitae's new addition to his look. He didn’t have that much blood on him when he left.

“Seriously”

Is all you manage to get out once Gitae hangs up the phone. Not only did he do the exact opposite of what he told you he was going to do, but he also came back soaked in blood. 

“I thought we talked about being less swing happy with the axe!”

“Not my fault. That Jichang guy was alright, but the police came so I had to deal with them.”

Gitae casually said, blowing out a puff of smoke with his sentence. You click your tongue at his response, before looking back at the papers. A yawn you tried so hard to keep back escapes your lips, drawing Gitae’s attention to you.

“And you have the nerve to scold me in that state. I thought we talked about you not overworking yourself.”

Gitae says, a bit mockingly, turning your own phrasing against you. You look at him, annoyance in your tired eyes. No matter how many times he told you to rest, you just couldn’t. You needed to prove your worth, no matter what personal cost came from it. You weren’t a fighter like Gitae, even the lower members of the gang have you beat in strength. You were the brains, you had to be, you couldn’t let simple exhaustion prevent you from doing the one thing that defined your worth. If things were running smoothly, you weren’t useless. 

You couldn't let a small mistake even become a thought. You feared that if something did happen, big or small, you would be cast aside, replaced with someone else. You couldn't let it happen, not again, you couldn't allow yourself to be thrown away again.

Lost in thought, you don't notice that Gitae has grabbed the papers until you feel them leaving your hand. You turn to him, ready to yell, when his gaze stops you. He didn't have a caring bone in his body, so why did he look at you with those soft eyes? Why did he make it so hard for you to not trust him. In all the time you've known him, he hasn't so much as yelled at you, just playful banter. Even that was enough to put you on edge. Why was he so kind to you but harsh to everybody else?

“Go to sleep.” Is all he says. 

“You can't be serious. I have to finish that work by tonight or-” He quickly cuts you off in a stern tone. But the gentleness is still there.

“Sleep. I refuse to spend another second being scolded by your sleep deprived ass. What's the saying, happy wife, happy life? You’re basically my wife with how you nag me all the time. I prefer if your grouchy ass was rested, so I don't have to deal with your complaints.”

Gitae calmly says before again reaching over and forcing you to lay down across the backseat, your head resting on his leg. You fought to keep your eyes open, but the comfort of Gitae's presence kept you relaxed. You wanted to argue back, but it didn't take long for sleep to consume you.

His large hand rested on the side of your head, stroking your hair. Cigarette smoke filled the air, but that didn't bother you much. You felt comfortable, safe, trusting. Maybe just this time, you can trust someone a little bit more.

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Always love writing a Gitae request. I need to see more of this man in the story please. Next request comes out next week, spoilers, it's another Shingen request (what do y'all see in that man?)

I didn't properly proof read this one so I hope it sounds fine.

[ailithnight]

Aheem... prompt from @regonold

16 Hours

Danny remembers the first time something shorted out his powers. Vlad with his stupid Plasmius Maximus thing. Well, 'remembers'. Mostly he remembers the aftermath.

Apparently Vlad hadn't known at the time exactly how Danny ended up half ghost. He thought it had been a slower progression like his own development. It hadn't occurred to him that Danny's original death had been much quicker.

Danny remembers a short, light shock. Really, the spector deflector was worse. But this shock... suddenly his muscles were seizing, his heart stuttering, his Lichtenbergs burning. And then, nothing. A blank space in Danny's head that apparently spanned 3 hours.

Next thing he knows, they're in some kind of vehicle. There are sirens outside (a police escort, Danny would later learn). His mom is driving like her life depends on it. And Vlad is giving him chest compressions, looking grieved and panic striken. He's crying. They both are.

"Please tell me you didn't have to kiss me." His voice comes out pained and raspy. Mom almost crashes the vehicle.

"No, Little Badger. Thankfully, you kept breathing. Just your heart that was struggling." Vlad chuckled, guilty yet relieved.

It was another hour before they made it to the nearest hospital from the stupid hunting cabin. 6 more for all the stupid medical tests. "An accident," Vlad told them. "Small shock, but with an already weak heart..."

Any other time, Danny might have argued. Tried to make Vlad admit more guilt. But the whole ordeal had exhausted him to much to care then.

The second time was marginally better. At least with the Fenton Crammer, it was a steady loss. And Danny managed to fix it before his healing factor fully failed. It still hadn't been pleasant, fighting Skulker and dealing with Dash while phantom echoes of his death arced across his body. But he'd managed.

This. This is so much worse. Danny thought it would be like the Crammer again. A steady decline. But it isn't.

And it isn't like the Maximus either, a one then done, pain then nothing, dying then dead, moment.

No. This is more like the blood blossoms. This is torture. This is hell.

The suppression cuffs let just enough of his power bleed through, just enough healing factor, to keep him alive. Alive and in agony for... hours? Days? Weeks? Minutes? Danny couldn't really tell. His thoughts had long since turned to nothing but static and pain. All he knew was that time was passing around him while he was here, suffering on the absolute brink of death yet unable to embrace it.

Oh god he wanted to die. Please just let him die already! It's too much. A death that should only last a few seconds drug out into an eternity. His muscles ached with the strain of being locked up. His insides were broiling from the electric heat. His heart stuttered and stopped and started and stuttered. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts!

He might have been screaming. He might have been Wailing. Or he might he been choking on weak uneven breaths. Danny didn't know. Didn't care to know. Didn't care if he ever found out the details of his time in chains. He just wanted, no needed, it to end. But it just dragged on and on and on. And Danny was lost in it.

Too far gone to even realize when it ended.

.

Batman hadn't been there when the new meta appeared, quite literally materializing from nowhere in the conference room mid-meeting. He had been dealing with a mass Arkham breakout at the time. So he wasn't there. An unfortunate fact which will haunt him for the rest of his life and possibly beyond.

He should have been there. If he had only been there...

He didn't blame his team mates. They didn't know. Who would have guessed that simple power suppression cuffs could ever be an instrument of torture. He'd never considered it possible.

He didn't blame his team mates. How could he blame them? Batman wasn't even the one to connect the dots. Red Robin figured it out. He always was good at stringing together thoughts know one else would think to connect.

Red Robin asked the right questions. He figured out in 5 minutes what the rest of the league and the best doctors -not technically- on earth had been agonizing over for 16 hours.

16 hours too long.

He should have been here. Should have come sooner.

"Don't know, B!" Flash had met him at the Zetas, already rambling at top speed before he could reorient himself after teleportation. Everyone else had gone home, unable to help and needing to tend to their own cities and responsibilities.

"He just- He appeared out of nowhere while we were in meeting. Didn't trip any alarms or nothing. Just popped up. We figured it had to be teleportation, but he'd have to know where the Watchtower was to do that.

So we figured, you know, random kid teleporting into the Watchtower during a Justice League meeting. Not good. Big threat. Bats would tell us to detain. So we did.

But before we could get him to a holding cell, there was this flash of light and he changed or something. He had white hair and green eyes and some sort of jumpsuit on when he appeared.

But after the light he had black hair and a t-shirt and jeans and I actually didn't see his eyes cause he just collapsed on the spot.

Started convulsing or seizing or something. And screaming. God, B, the screaming... So we took him to medbay and...

He's dying B. He has to be. He's got a fever that keeps spiking and dropping, his muscles keep spasming, and his heart keeps giving out...

He looks 14. He looks like..."

Flash had trailed off there, as they reached medbay. Bruce understood his reluctance to complete that sentence as soon as he saw the boy.

He looks like a Robin.

Like all 4 of his sons combined.

Like someone mixed Dick's and Jason's faces and put it on Tim's body at Damian's age.

It can't even be a trick. The suppression cuffs are nullifying his abilities. This is what he truly looks like.

His sons.

In pain.

In agony for 16 hours because Batman prioritized Gotham over an emergency on the Watchtower.

"When exactly did you say he collapsed."

"When we were moving him to a holding cell after we caught him. He was a trick to catch too. He-"

Red Robin cut him off. "Yeah, sure. But when exactly did this start. What happened immediately before?"

Flash was less then pleased about being interrupted, but acquiesced after a look from Batman. Tim had an idea. Tim was on to something. "Like I said, just after we caught him and got the cuffs on so he'd stop slipping away again."

Bruce couldn't keep the growl out of his voice one he realized what Tim was suggesting. Of course he knows it wasn't their fault. He's told all of them as much since. But in the moment...

"Take them off!"

"What?"

"It's the cuffs! Take the damn cuffs off! They're killing him!"

Flash wasted no more time, bolting out of the room to fetch the disabler. Tim didn't bother waiting for the fastest man alive. He had the cuffs disabled before Flash would have been able to swipe his access card into the detainment center storage room. Bruce practically threw the cuffs out of the room in his haste to get them away.

The change had been... not nearly as quick as Bruce would have liked. The heartrate settled out almost instantly, although into something a bit too slow for comfort. But it was steady and Bruce knew nothing about this kid's normal physiology so he counted it a win.

The screaming, of course, had long since choked off. According to Flash's report, his vocal cords failed after about an hour. But his facial expressions still indicated consciousness, though not awareness.

The muscles stopped spasming and unlocked slowly over the course of several minutes. Flash was back by then, looking a bit put out to have lost a race against Red Robin. Batman could not give a single flying fuck about Flash's ego right then.

Shortly after his muscles unlocking was when he finally passed out. Once more, Batman thought about 16 hours. 16 hours and he hadn't even been able to slip into unconsciousness for relief. He should have been here.

The fever was the slowest to break. In that it still hadn't broken almost 2 hours later. Batman had sent Tim and Flash home after Red Robin finished squeezing all the details he could out of Barry. Tim had given him a look before leaving, some mixture of worry and mischief. "Should I tell Agent A to prepare a room?" Bruce just rolled his eyes and shooed him off. Hopefully to bed. Knowing his son, probably not. Tim was most likely still up doing research. Bruce wanted to call Alfred to wrangle Tim to sleep.

But calling Alfred would mean leaving the room so the still potentially a threat meta couldn't hear if he woke up. And Bruce couldn't leave him. Not until the fever broke. Not until he woke up. Not until he knew the boy that looked like his sons would be okay.

Not until he could apologize for being late.

16 hours.

16 hours too late.

[consultingskeletondetective]

Virginal, chapter 2

Michael had left you alive, and you couldn't begin to fathom why. You know all you can do is try and forget it and move on with your life.

Except...Michael has followed you home.

masterlist ❤️🖤 ao3

chapter tags: serial killer, murder, death, violence, blood, gore, weapons, knife, female reader, non con, stalking, hair pulling, forced orgasms

The police hadn’t caught him yet.

It had been almost a week since your encounter with Michael Myers in the woods on your way home from work, and he’d been on the run ever since. You hadn’t reported what had happened to the authorities, even if you’d been on the verge of it many times. You’d spent the whole week waking up in cold sweats with a gooey and shameful mess between your legs at the memory of Michael’s large hand on your neck, or the sense-memory of his cock pressed heavy and dangerous against your core. The way he’d used you, fucked you, like his own little plaything haunted you.

No one could know what he’d done to you, no one could know how you felt about it, even if the guilt gnawed at you. Maybe if you’d told someone, they might have caught him by now, and people might still be alive. But there was a part of you, a part of you you wished you didn’t have, that reminded you that if Michael wanted someone dead, then there was nothing any earthly power could do to keep that person alive. Michael left no survivors.

Except for you.

It had been on the news religiously all week; police were baffled by his location and utterly at a loss for his motivations and patterns. Michael, it seemed, cared not a bit to cover his tracks. He even seemed to decorate his murder scenes artistically, propping bodies up and, blurred though they were on the television, reminding you of a sick and gruesome game of action figures. They were Michael’s bodies, to do with as he pleased. Twelve people he’d killed since he found you. Twelve. That the authorities were aware of, anyway. The thought chilled you to the very core.

You’d learnt from the heavy reporting that Michael Myers had been being held at the Westbrook Sanitarium for the criminally insane, not four miles from where you worked, and he’d escaped that night he’d taken you - thrust against your weak body until he came on your cunt like a wild animal. 

You were the first person he’d come across, apparently, and after years of solitude, Michael had some frustrations to take out on you. You knew well who he was, you recognised that mask and that boiler suit the second you’d seen it. You’d grown up with stories of the boogeyman who’d murdered his sister the same as everyone else, thrust into the spotlight when he’d escaped from Smith’s Grove Sanitarium a few years ago and murdered a bunch of teenagers on a spree. You’d seen the youtube video essays and buzzfeed articles on the stoic killing machine who’d baffled psychologists and doctors up and down the country, maybe even the world. You’d walked past books in shops written about this monster, his silence, his rage, his gore and death and damnation were a part of your culture. It made it easy to forget that Michael Myers was real, and not just some fictitious product of a sick mind. He became very real to you that night, your own personal boogeyman.

You’d learnt that Michael Myers was no man, he was an evil spirit, a hell-sent silent demon, a ghost - one that was haunting you. 

You turned the television off and went into the bathroom, shucking your clothes into a messy pile by the bath as you stepped under the cool spray of the shower.

It was a warm day, your skin over-hot, and you welcomed the clammy dribbles down your back. You washed quickly, fingers pressing too familiar over the lips of your pussy, you expected them still to be swollen, puffy from use where Michael had rutted his scorching and elephantine cock against you like a beast in heat, but it wasn’t. It was like it hadn’t happened. Except it had, of course, because you still wore him on your skin. His fingertips were in every bruise, his grip was the ache in your bones with every groan of your sore body. It was like he’d marked you, made your tiny body a part of his eclipsing form. 

You shook your head frustratedly to yourself in the bathroom mirror before flicking the lightswitch off and making your way to your bedroom. You couldn’t think of him every moment for the rest of your life, you couldn’t live in fear of the boogeyman. He had left you alive, and you had to live with that. Michael was gone, and you’d never see him again. 

You pulled a short nightdress on, the flimsy material to combat the hot and sticky night you anticipated, and you made your way to the kitchen to fill up your water bottle to take to bed. 

The outside light was on.

It wasn’t yours, but your neighbours. It was motion-sensored, you knew that because it blinded you every time you stumbled back from a night shift.

You frowned before crossing to the door, to close the blinds over the glass so no one would be able to see into your home in the middle of the night. Your hand tangled in the string before it froze, along with the rest of your body. Like your blood had frozen to ice inside you and made you a dead weight to the floor.

Michael was standing under the light, 50 yards away from your door. He was staring sightlessly at you through the empty eyes of his mask, utterly emotionless. His hands rested unclenched by his sides, his back razor-straight as always. He was just watching. His form gave no indication of how long he’d been there. Maybe hours.

Fear shot through you and the string began to shake violently in your grip as you stared at him. He’d come to finish what he’d started, you realised in horror, he’d noticed his mistake in leaving you alive. Was it so you couldn’t tell the police? Was it just that you needed to die, he’d had you in his grasp and that was that, a rageful itch under his skin that wouldn’t be quenched until your blood was soaking his hands?

It didn’t make sense. He was stood in the street, bathed in your neighbours motion light like a bloody homing beacon. Surely they’d seen him. Surely someone had seen him and called the police? Why weren’t there any sirens? It was deathly quiet. Just you, him and the wind. Maybe it was a fever dream, a sleep paralysis nightmare and your demon had returned to you.

He began walking leisurely towards the door, his pace bone-tinglingly unhurried as ever, before he stopped at the glass and peered down at you. You shrank, paralysed with fear. You’d somehow forgotten just how big he was. He might have been two foot taller than you, and just as broad, taking up the whole of the door so he blacked out any light behind him. That was as good a metaphor as any to describe Michael. The darkness followed him. 

You didn’t know why you weren’t moving, dazzled, you supposed somewhere in the back of your mind. A monster brought to life, in front of you, enough to convince yourself that you were dreaming.

His fist shattered through the glass, shards of glittering ice hitting the kitchen floor as his hand curled down to find the handle. You screamed, backing off so violently your back hit the fridge and tears wept down your cheeks until they were quite literally soaking the front of your nightie. This was no dream. It was a nightmare incarnate. 

Even his violent outburst seemed calm somehow, shattering your backdoor into shards of glass like it was nothing. His large hand found the door handle and began to rattle it, and the noise caused your brain to snap back to where it needed to be.

You forced your eyes from him, pushed yourself away from the fridge and scurried into the living room. The front door was in your sights. You didn’t know precisely what you planned to do with yourself when you got outside, your brain hadn’t made it that far yet. All you knew was that you needed to survive, and you had no chance of that locked in the same cage as this rabid animal.

You grabbed for the front door handle with a hiss of accomplishment, throwing your gaze back over your shoulder to ascertain how much time you had. No time. Michael was already in the living room, walking towards you like he had all the time in the world. You shrieked in pure terror at his towering form as you flung the door wide open, the concrete of your front step was cool on your barefoot but the sensation barely lasted a second as fingers tangled roughly in your hair and yanked you roughly until you fell onto the carpet. The open-palm of Michael’s free hand slammed the front door shut, cutting off your exit, and the oak creaked under the force of it, the foundations of the house damn-near shaking.

You scrambled onto your knees, screeching, crying, grasping at his hand in your hair, wincing when every flex of his fingers yanked at your scalp, tearing individual hairs out by the roots. He had to bend his back to hold you to the floor, his emotionless mask looking down on you. His breathing was barely audible over your devastated screams. You couldn’t move.

“Please, please, please, Michael, please don’t kill me. I didn’t tell anyone, I swear! I won’t! I don’t want to die, please let me go, please, please-”

You could barely beg, your throat hoarse, your words sobs. He didn’t respond except to drag you into the middle of the room by your hair, kicking the coffee table aside to make room for you both in the middle of the floor. One of the wooden legs of your poor table snapped under his boot before he tossed you down like a ragdoll. Your back hit the carpeted floor and it shook your whole frame. You instinctively planted your palms on the floor behind yourself, to crawl back, to spring up, you didn’t know.

Michael’s boot came to rest on your bare thigh, his weight utterly solid and you wailed as he pinned you to the floor. Your nightie had ridden up, not to the point of indecency, but enough that his boot kissed your flesh. You froze as fresh tears streamed down your face, remembering exactly what he’d done the last time he’d had you like this, as if just realising how acutely vulnerable you were in this position. Were you even wearing underwear? You didn’t think so. His boot was mere inches away from your exposed cunt, all he’d have to do was push your dress up and he’d see everything. See how fucking wet you were. You hated yourself.

“Please,” you tried again, voice barely a whisper as you looked up at him. Submissive, you realised, prey before a predator, begging for its life. “What do you want?”

He didn’t move, you could barely tell if he was breathing, just staring down at you as everything else in the world fell away. His hands were still loose by his sides, no knife, you noted, but a grim red-hued dirt on the rough palms of his hands you could identify without too much guesswork. Your stomach rolled.

His hand raised and you jolted, expecting pain, to be struck, stripped, killed. 

How long had he been searching for you? Maybe he’d never left, maybe he’d been one step behind you all week, watching you sleep, watching you shower - were those twelve people dead because they lived close to you? Did you kill them?

His large hand came to rest over the front of his crotch and your mouth fell open. Not again. Why me? You were already shaking your head, breathy hitching sobs racking through you.

“No, Michael, please -”

He toed your thigh with the steel-gap of his boot, shoving it to the side, affectively opening your legs and you wanted to close your eyes, the feeling of vulnerability and shame as he spread your legs for him hurt something deep inside of you, you felt dirty and shameful in every one of your nerves. Your slick was soaking the back of your nightie and probably your carpet too. What the fuck was wrong with you?

He fell to his knees in front of you, in a way that could only have hurt, but he didn’t make a sound as his large, gore-stained hands gripped your bare thighs and tugged until you were lying in front of him. You squeaked, your legs not quite touching his, more left hanging in the air as he scraped his calloused hands down your thighs in a way that definitely didn’t make your heart speed up, no more than it was already hammering, before his palms were flat on your inner thighs, pressing them apart and into the floor. You tried immediately and desperately to close them and his grip on you tightened to the point of extreme pain, your femurs tremoring dangerously like they might snap if you moved even an inch.

You stilled completely, you couldn’t tell where he was looking, but it seemed to be right at you, that emotionless masked expression, or lack of, giving you nothing, but you could feel the rage and the dangerous power wafting off of him, you could feel the coiled strength in his fingers, the strain of his bicep muscles in his boiler suit as he held you immobile and you swallowed, shivering in fear and pitiful acceptance as you stopped struggling. If you had any hope of getting out of this alive, and as uninjured as possible, you had to stop fighting. 

His pathetic, mewling hole, your brain supplied almost bitterly.

Once apparently satisfied you’d stopped struggling, MIchael’s grip on your thighs lessened somewhat, leaving deep red bruises regardless, and he shifted forwards on his knees, taking up more space between your legs, as he rucked your nightie up to your belly, sitting back a little just to stare at your pussy, exposed and dripping and vulnerable, as if getting a good look at the wet little hole that had made him come so hard the last time. 

Your cheeks burned boiling hot as he looked at you, your thighs twitching conspirately to close but you forced yourself to try and calm, utterly impossible, you trembled like a newborn foal.

He dipped his head between your legs and your back arched, startled, wondering what he possibly meant to do, particularly, your horrible brain chipped in, with a mask over his face. You could hear nothing but that breathing, before it was sucked in, the nose of his mask just nudging your folds and making you jolt. 

Was he - was he smelling you? 

He made no noise, his body shifted an inch. What was he doing? It was like he was searching for something. He kept his nose buried against your soaping heat for a few more moments before he apparently found it. Then he was sitting back up again. Your knees were nearly knocking together in terror when his hands, fuck, how were they so big? framed your cunt, pulling at the flesh of the tops of your thighs, spreading your folds, revealing the vulnerable pink flesh of your seam, your clit.

Oh fuck.

He prodded you with a long finger a few times, painful sharp jabs until he caught the rim of your opening and sunk in to the knuckle. It burned, it burned so hot, you clenched painfully around his finger. Fuck, it felt like the size of a cock all on its own. But the finger was withdrawn as quickly as it had breached you, like a fucking dip test, but no less rough on the way out and you grimaced. You had a pretty good idea about what was to follow, and the anticipation of the pain alone was enough to make you cry again. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you tried again pathetically, wondering somewhere in your mind why you were trying to distract him from fucking you, when the alternative was his heavy hands shattering your collarbone until your heart was pierced by your own brittle dagger. Survival, you kept saying to yourself, one day you might believe it, you were trying to live. Nothing else. Nothing else.

He’d already unzipped his boiler suit, you could just glimpse a sliver of pale flesh beneath but he undressed himself no further, reaching down into his trousers and pulling his cock free. 

Fucking hell.

It was a goddamn fucking monster. It sat snug in Michael’s large hand, long and thick, crown red with blood and dribbling precome, it curved up slightly, in a way that was designed to attack that spot inside of you, and when he dropped it, it dipped, bobbing against his boiler suit, so heavy under its own weight it could barely hold itself up, but it did, his cock stood proud and to attention, ready for action, as he shifted down a little, hands once more finding your thighs and hauling you practically into his lap. He threw your legs over his broad hips, stretching your thigh muscles, as his cock rested hot and heavy on your pelvic bone, like a leaden weight on you. Oh fuck, you were so fucked. It was near enough the size of your thigh, and you knew it was going to wreck you.

You jerked your hips uselessly, trying in vain to put some distance between you and Michael’s thick cock, you’d never had a partner that size before, you’d never even had a toy that size. It wasn’t going to fit, it was as simple as that. Except he didn’t care.

He pressed his hips up, taking you with him, lifting your back clean off of the floor so your spine was arched uncomfortably. He paid you no mind as he gripped the base of his erection and slipped himself down through your folds.

He was silent, calm and ferocious as he pressed forward against you with so much pressure that it hurt. You could feel his heaviness hard against your pelvic bone and you trembled in fearful anticipation of what was about to happen.

Finally, Michael found what he was looking for and his thick cockhead breached your hole barely a centimetre but still you gasped, already undone by being so violently penetrated by not even a goddamn inch of that fat unforgiving head. 

Michael surged forward, in triumph perhaps, or just in a hurry to get his cock stuffed deep into you as quickly as possible, but your traitorous cunt was wet enough that he slipped straight back out again, whole cock fucking upwards and jamming through your folds, gliding gloriously against your clit. You let out a loud moan and he stilled entirely except for the throb of his cock against you. You clapped your hands to your mouth and forced your eyes to the ceiling. You hadn’t meant to do that. You didn’t want to give him the sick satisfaction. It was the last thing you could keep for yourself.

Michael was a fast learner, it seemed, because this time he inched a little more slowly inside you until a good inch of solid cock was spearing you open. You thought you might die, knees knocking against his hips helplessly as he forcibly stretched you obscenely around him. You will take me, I will make it fit.

Only when he was firm in you, and you were surely going to pass out from pressure alone, did he plunge his hips forward, his whole cock sinking to the hilt in one brutal thrust. 

The pain, fuck the pain was indescribable, burning, aching, stuffed full, stuffed beyond full - he didn’t care - he didn’t care that he’d probably just ripped you in half, stretched you so full you were more cock than you were yourself anymore. He didn’t care you were crying, shivering, he cared that you were an open, wet heat to warm his cock in. 

Those blood-stained, murderous hands gripped your hips and an ache blossomed in your bones, your skin beneath his skin turned white to red to near-black with bloodied pressure-bruises as he gripped you hard enough you fully believed he intended to shatter bone. He could, you knew he could. It was enough to lose yourself to, you were going to pass out, you were going to die from the stress and agony forced upon your weak and small body. This was how he was going to kill you.

He moved, shifted his heavy length inside you, nudging spots of your flesh where a cock was not meant to be. He pulled out incrementally, shoved back in and oh - oh .

Your thighs shook again, trembled, as spiralling pleasure mixed with pain and your pussy clenched around his cock, contracting around it as he thrust in again, as if traitorously and deliriously pulling him in to you, to where that thick and hot pressure felt the best. He thrust in again, harder than before, faster than before, immediately picking up an athletic, robotic pace as if he were half-way through a marathon fuck, thrumming with energy. You had no time to adjust, no time to build-up - you were there immediately, clenching uncontrollably on Michael Myer’s mercilessly hard cock, your cunt fluttering and clenching on every brutal, animalistic intrusion, until you couldn’t take it anymore. There was no edge, there was just falling.

You yelped, back arching up even more than it already was, legs squeezing the small of Michael’s back as your poor cunt spasmed, coming hot and hard until you felt your own slick dribbling down the backs of your thighs. Michael didn’t stop for a second, he didn’t even slow, you nearly choked on your own spit.

He was utterly devoid of anything, breathing heavy and focused, no movement except the piston of his hips as he fucked you deep and unforgiving until you were sure his thick crown was kissing at your cervix. 

Your head was hazy, eyes unfocused, you had absolutely no control over your overworked cunt anymore, whining pitifully as you came around him again, lathering his cock in your traitorous spend, praying every time that he’d slow, but he didn’t, and you felt that molten lava in your core building again until you were covered in a sheen of your own sweat, spent, exhausted. He didn’t care. He wasn’t done yet, he wanted more. He took it.

He angled his hips up, chasing a sensation, you weren’t prepared for it. He hammered into you until his hip bones were slamming against your inner thighs with enough force to shake your entire body. His cock against your sweet spot was like a punch to the gut and you screamed. Pain, pleasure, you didn’t know anymore as your hips convulsed and jerked, clamping down on him hard enough that if he were a normal man, he wouldn’t have been able to move.

But Michael was no normal man. 

He held your hips down, taking your clenching orgasm for himself as he slammed into you. Being fucked into your leg-shaking release was like being volted off of this ethereal plane and into another, your eyes whitened, your brain slowed to juddering holt as dizzying, mind-numbing ohmyfuckinggodthisfeelssogood short-circuited your entire being.

Michael slammed into you one final time, unable to withstand the vice-like grip of your velvet walls any longer before he was stilling completely, his cock an erupting volcano inside of you that spurted hot white heat against your walls, filling you utterly.

Your mouth opened in shock, or exhaustion, as your whole body trembled, jerking uncontrollably in the aftershocks.

He didn’t linger. His hands left your hips first, the bruises behind ached immediately, black and devastating to your skin where even taking a breath in bothered them. Then he snapped his hips back, swollen cock slipping free of your drenched heat, sopping with white. He let it hang there, between his legs, a stark contrast against his boiler suit, and you trembled with undignified arousal. Your cunt felt wrecked, stretched wide, forced open to accommodate him, and yet your body still somehow ached for more. No, you were terrified, fighting for your life, this wasn’t real. None of it was.

He stood, using core strength alone, leaving your legs to fall heavily to the floor. They ached where the muscles had been stretched, kicking the pain in your back and your hips into eleventh gear. You’d been twisted like a pretzel for too long. You frowned. How long had he been fucking you? It felt like no time at all, it felt like days.

You pulled your nightie down as far as it would go, scrambling your legs together despite the way they twinged. You could feel him squelching between your thighs and your untouched clit twinged pitifully.

When you gathered the courage to look up at him, you saw that he’d tucked himself away and zipped himself back up. He stood tall and menacing over you, gargantuan in your living room, his head near-touching the ceiling. He was peering down at you, that devoid mask giving nothing. The utter silence was as terrifying and deafening as any death cry.

He cocked his head ever so slightly and you winced, fight or flight response, before he was turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen.

Terror rocked through you, vomit-inducing, head-spinning terror, and you were on your feet in a heartbeat. Your mauled insides and your ruined hips complained at you but you ignored it. They would mean nothing if you were dead. Which you were about to be. He was going for a knife, surely he was. He -

The creak of the kitchen door caught you by surprise, but it took a few long minutes for your heart to stop thudding loud enough for you to realise that he wasn’t coming back in. After a few breaths, your curiosity got the better of you and you crept into the kitchen. The back door was shut, except for the hole gaped in the glass by his fist, of course, and the kitchen was empty.

You were careful with your bare feet to avoid the shards of glass on the floor, not that it would make massive amounts of difference to your ruined body, before you shakily peered through what remained of your door.

The motion detector light was on, the street was empty.

Confusion and shame rocked through you with enough force to make you tumble and you had to grip the countertop to keep yourself upright.

How on earth were you still alive? For a second time? What did the most infamous serial killer in the country get from keeping you alive?

A hot, wet hole to come in.

You could feel the ache between your legs like Michael was still there, it was a glorious, horrible burn, trembling pleasure, irrefutable depravity - the best fuck of your life.

What did that make you?

Everything was eerily quiet. Your water bottle still sat on the side. If it weren’t for the broken door and the shards of glass, it would be easy to imagine that Michael hadn't been there at all.

Except for the warm come dribbling down your thighs where he’d marked his territory inside you. You swallowed. Whether you were his next victim or his fucktoy - you couldn’t escape that you were his. And you knew, even now, with terrifying certainty, that Michael Myers was not going to let you go.

link to chapter 3

[munsonsmixtapes]

Something dark... maybe like Eddie lived but was displaced by the Gov... and like 5 years later you find him.. in a little hole in the wall and maybe a little angst.. maybe a little smut maybe a little longing.. falling back together etc.. idk Something freaky fresh 🤪

Okay, I love this idea! But I’m going to change it a little if you don’t mind!

Eddie x fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it) fingering, angst, grief, whole lot of hurt/comfort

It had been five years since Eddie had passed away down to the day. It was a day that was one of the hardest of the year for you. It felt like it had just happened and the emotional wounds were still fresh, still exposed and you were hurting more than ever.

You had been going to therapy ever since, but the nightmares never stopped even though they were less frequent. You could still feel Steve pulling you away from Eddie while you watched his lifeless body lay there, covered in blood. You felt his hand let go of yours and the life left his eyes. You screamed his name over and over, but he never responded. He was officially dead.

The funeral was rough. The very few people who showed up sobbed the entire time and you all huddled together, vowing that you would be there for each other. And you were. You all had dinner together almost every night and it was pretty much the only thing you looked forward to in your life.

Every single year on the anniversary of Eddie’s death, you went to his favorite bar that was a few towns over and ordered his favorite drink to honor him. It was your own little tradition and everyone knew not to bother you while you spent the day by yourself while you mourned your dead boyfriend who very much should have been alive.

What you didn’t know what that Eddie was very much alive. After he had escaped the Upside Down, he had somehow stumbled upon a hospital that had nursed him back to health. He had no idea what had happened to everyone, so he decided that he wouldn’t call anyone and go into hiding to avoid the police no matter how much he wanted to see if you were okay.

He ended up heading to the town with the bar that he loved, knowing that he was far enough away from home that no one would recognize him. It was a win-win all around. But he missed you. He missed you so fucking much that he could hardly stand it and he felt so guilty for not contacting you and telling you the truth.

So, he dealt with it the only way he how. He drank away his problems. He’d go to the bar every day and order margarita after margarita and throw them back like they were water. Maybe it wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but it was the only way he knew how to deal with the pain.

You sat on your favorite stool and ordered a margarita, holding back your tears as you waited for your drink. You lowered your head so no one could see your face and your drink was set in front of you along with a plate of mozzarella sticks. You looked up at the bartender and he gave you a wink as he pushed the plate towards you.

“On the house. You look like you could use something comforting.” The nice gesture made you tear up even more. You weren’t hungry, but you felt like it would have been rude not to eat them, especially since he wasn’t going to make you pay for them.

“Thanks,” you smiled weakly. You took one of the sticks from the plate and took a bit despite your nausea and ate until the plate was empty. You hadn’t eaten anything that day because your grief had been taking up your thoughts.

“Of course,” he nodded then turned to take care of the customer who was sitting a couple of stools away from you. You turned to look at them and did a double take, absolutely sure that your mind was playing tricks on you. There was no way that your dead boyfriend was sitting right there. It wasn’t possible.

You were sure that you were hallucinating. The guy looked like Eddie but it couldn’t be him. You missed Eddie so much that you were imagining him to make yourself feel better. Maybe if you reached out to touch him, you could confirm that it really wasn’t him. You just wanted to be sure so you could put it out of your mind and put your curiosity to rest.

You tried to get off your stool, but the whole thing ended up toppling to the floor, taking you with it. The loud sound of it hitting the hard wood made everyone turn to you. You weren’t sure why, but your ears were ringing. You couldn’t hear anything but muffled voices as everyone in the bar hovered over you to see if you were okay.

“I’m good, I’m good,” you assured them as you sat up, actually telling the truth this time. Your arm hurt a little, but other than that, you were okay. You didn’t even care anyway, the man making his way towards the front of the crowd being the only thing on your mind.

Once they confirmed you were okay, everyone dispersed and went back to their tables, leaving you and the stranger alone. He was looking at you with wide eyes like he couldn’t believe you were there and your expression matched his. His eyes were watery as he reached up to touch your face, his thumbs wiping away your own tears.

“I knew it was you,” you told him, throwing yourself into his arms and he was quick to catch you, wrapping them around your waist tightly. You sobbed in each other’s arms for what felt like a while then pulled away, your lips attaching to his in a messy kiss. You tasted something salty and realized that it was the tears that you had both cried but that didn’t stop you from breaking apart until you both needed to catch your breath.

He took you by the hand and led you outside and down the block to an apartment building so the two of you could have some privacy. Part of you felt like you were in a very surreal dream but feeling his hand in yours made you realize that he was actually there. Right in front of you.

As happy as you were that he was alive, he had lied to you. For five years you thought he was dead and he had failed to contact you even though you were his fucking girlfriend. He had told you had he loved you in the Upside Down when he was dying in your arms, but apparently it wasn’t a lot since he had kept something like that from you.

He pulled you over to the elevator and pressed the button that would take the two of you up to his apartment. The doors opened not too long after and he pulled you inside, his lips attaching to yours once again. You felt a pit in your stomach and pushed him away, causing him to hit the wall.

“Still like it rough, huh?” He asked, his lips chasing yours, but you kept your hand on his chest, keeping him against the wall. Tears welled up in your eyes again and Eddie’s face softened, the lust completely gone from them. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You lied to me, Eddie. You’ve been alive this whole time and didn’t even think to contact me?”

“I was trying to protect you. I knew that the police would be after me if I came back to you. I know it was selfish and I’m sorry, so sorry, baby.” That made sense to you, but it didn’t make you feel any better. Did he think that you would tell anyone? Because you wouldn’t have. Not if he didn’t want you to. He had your full trust. Always.

“You still could have called me. I could have hid you just as well.” Eddie knew that and he wanted it so bad, but as time went on, the guilt was too much to bear and he couldn’t stand to see the look on your face when you found out that he was actually alive. The look you were giving him right now.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry. You have no fucking idea.” His hands cradled your face and you let him wipe your tears away. “You can say anything you want to me right now and I won’t blame you. I’m a fucking dick-”

“You’re not a dick, Eddie. You were just doing what you thought was right. And as mad as I am right now, I’m just so fucking grateful that you’re alive.” You pulled him in for a kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. The elevator doors opened and Eddie grabbed onto the backs of your thighs and lifted, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. His hands held onto them as he carried you to his apartment, only breaking your kiss to fish his keys out of his wallet. Once the door was unlocked, he slammed it closed with his leg then attached his lips to yours once more.

You licked into his mouth as he set you down on the kitchen counter, neither one of you able to make it to his room. Your pants and underwear were off in a flash and Eddie spread your legs open to get a good look at your sopping wet cunt. You were nervous because you hadn’t shaved, but he didn’t seem to give a single fuck about that.

“Glad to know I can still get you so fucking wet,” he chuckled. “You’re soaked.”

“And desperate,” you replied breathlessly. If he didn’t do something right then, you were going to have to take care of it yourself. “Haven’t fucked anyone in five years.”

“Me neither, sweetheart. Gonna need to open you up, huh?”

“Eddie, hurry,” you urged and as soon as the words left your mouth, he shoved his fingers inside your cunt. “Oh,” you moaned, realizing just how much you missed the feeling. Your fingers didn’t do the job nearly as well as Eddie’s.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so tight,” he commented as his fingers pumped in and out of you. “Gonna be good as new when I’m done with you.”

“So good,” you whined, leaning your head back, your eyes closing in pleasure as Eddie fucked his fingers in and out of you.

“Don’t go dumb on me now, angel,” he urged. “Haven’t even gotten inside of you yet.” His fingers moved harder and faster inside of you and you came undone at the feeling, forgetting just how good it felt to have him do that sort of thing to you.

“Need your cock, Eddie.”

“Don’t have any condoms.” That was the least of your worries. You needed him right then.

“I don’t care. I haven’t fucked anyone and neither have you and I’m still on birth control. So let’s do this.”

“Still needy for me, huh? Some things never change.”

“Eddie, hurry up before I care of it myself.” Your eyes bored into his and he got rid of his jeans and boxers, his dick springing free. It was bigger than you remembered and you wondered if it would even fit.

He lined himself up with your cunt and pounded into you, his lips meeting yours in a filthy kiss, his tongue scraping against yours as he continued to pound into you. You moaned into his mouth and the sound was just as delicious as he remembered. His lips moved to your neck as he hips bucked against yours so his mouth wasn’t muffling the sounds falling from your lips.

“Feel so good, baby. Still know how to take me so well,” he whined. “God, you’re so hot.”

Your back arched as he moved faster, his dick hitting just the right spot to make you melt. You were already reaching your orgasm and he had barely even done anything. Your vision went hazy from absolute euphoria he kept going and his moans were doing wonders for your already sopping wet pussy.

“Look so hot taking my cock, baby. Guess I’ve still got it.”

“Eddie, I think I’m gonna-” you finally reached your climax and felt embarrassed that it was so quick, but Eddie was not long after you, his body leaning over yours as he reached his own peak.

“Guess I did too,” he chucked, as he wiped the sweat from your forehead. “Did so well, sweetheart,” he praised as he pressed his lips to yours. “And again, I’m so sorry.”

“We can work through it,” you rubbed your thumb along his cheek. “I know it’s still daylight, but can we please go to bed?”

“Sure we can, sweetheart.” He picked you up and carried you to the bathroom to clean the both of you up and once you were all done, you both got into the bed and got the best sleep of your life because you both were finally reunited. And there was no way that Eddie was going to let you go ever again.

[darlingsfandom]

“ In the City of Wonder..”

kinktober day seven.

pairing: Johnathan Crane x Fem Reader.

tw: kidnapping, pet play, fingering, edging and swearing .

Tears ran down your cheeks as you stood on the sidewalk looking around for someone, anyone! No one was around it was as if the city had gone to sleep. Theres no lights on in any building, no sounds other than the sounds of nature and a train far off in the distance.

How? Why? This was supposed to be a nice little break that you had need, a quiet vacation away from every day life and now you’re stuck in a city you don’t know , with no one around besides the Jack ass who had just robbed you at gun point and ran off. You should have just stayed at home.

“Are you alright?” His voice made you jump.

“Jesus Christ !” You grabbed your chest in a panic.

“Well no, he’s dead and I’m here.” The man pushed up his glasses with his finger as he stepped closer to you. “Looks like you’re having a hard time.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. Every signal in your body was telling you to run but fear had made you tense up and freeze. He looked polite enough but even poisonous fruit looks tempting.

“I uh.. no.. I was held at gun point and the loser took my purse!” You spoke softly but he heard you.

“Well could you describe him?”

“What are you ? The police?” You felt the anger of the situation rise in you as the man with the glasses tilted his head. You rolled your eyes before letting out a sigh. “I’m not trying to be a bitch , there’s just a lot of emotions!”

The man put his finger on your lips which made your eyebrows furrow. He moved to close the gap between your bodies. Your eyes looked into his before you felt his hand wrap around your throat tightly. “If you’re smart, you’ll get your purse back! If you’re dumb… I’m sure you can figure out what will happen.” His breath was hot on your face as you grabbed onto his arm to try to pull it off. “Don’t fight me little girl.” That made you stop fighting!

His lips formed a devilish smile as he pulled you down the street and into an abandoned looking building. With a quick shove he had you on the floor that was cold against your skin.

“Please don’t kill me!” The tears started up again. He watched you cry and it turned him on.

“Now why on earth would I kill such a pretty thing like you? No that wouldn’t be right.” He got down on his knees next to you and grabbed your face forcing you to look at him. He was a good looking man, that you couldn’t deny. His hands squeezed your cheeks together making you whine to which he made a fake pout with his lips. “Oh look at you, so sad and pathetic baby. You know I’ve been watching you this whole time, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this hmm? No one in their right mind comes here for fun …” he took his hand off your face and ran it through your hair.

“How could you be watching me? I just got here a few days ago!” You yelped when you felt him pull your hair.

“I have my ways. I will say you did seem a bit boring at first. Your coffee order was that of everyone else, but then I realized you’re here alone. No ring on your finger either, truly alone. No one would care if you didn’t come back. That’s why you’re going to be my new little pet.”

You sat there looking at him with a pout of your face. He ran his hand over your cheek before he stood up and walked away. You chose not to fight because now was your chance. The door clicked shut and you scrambled to your feet before running for the door but as soon as you opened the door you screamed because he was standing there with his hands behind his back.

“What a stupid idea.” He spat at you before stepping forward until your back hit the wall. “You really thought I’d let you leave so easily? No no, that’s not how this works.” He waved his finger in your face before you felt him put something around your neck. When you looked down it was simple black collar with a chain leash attached. “Pretty little pet.” He patted your head gently before yanking the chain hard enough to choke you. “Get on your knees.” He snapped making you quickly follow orders.

The coolness of the floor provided you some relief from how hot your skin felt. Your hands rested on your lap while you hung your head low because the realization of what he said was hitting you. How could this man know so much in such little time? Your train of thought was pulled off the tracks when the sudden yank of the chain made you gasp and lean forward. His hand tightened around the chain as he pulled you forward. “Good little pet.” He walked with you out of the room and down a hallway but he had you walking on all fours.

“There’s no need to worry anymore.” He unlocked a door and to your surprise it was actually a very nice apartment. “Be a good little pet and sit.” You did as he said before he walked away and came back with something in his hand. He put the cat ears on your head and it made you confused.

“What is your name ?” You spoke softly making him smile. A sweet voice for a sweet girl.

“Crane. That’s all you need to know.” He grabbed your leash and took you to the bedroom. He pulled you up onto your feet and within a second your back was hitting the bed making you whine. Crane stood over you dragging his hand over your body before he unzipped your pants, pulled them down and raise his eyebrow.

“For such a scared little pet when I met, you sure do have a big wet spot. Your little cunt needs to be breed doesn’t it ?” His fingers ran over your cunt making you shiver.

“Please!” You let out a moan as he watched you. You looked so cute , barely being touched and begging for more.

“Please what ?”

“Please breed me master !” Did you really just say that ? What was happening to you ? How could one man know all about your kinks ? To be fair he did say he had been watching you but that’s beside the point. His fingers slipped inside of you making you grip the bed. His fingers were long and a little thick. The sound of your wetness filled the room as Crane sat on the bed next to you fingering your pussy. He took his time going nice and deep wanting to make sure you felt pleasure because soon he’d be using you for his own.

Crane used his free hand to pull up your shirt to which you sat up to help him take it off. The power he had over you made him drunk with the taste. It was pure ecstasy to him how easy in the end you gave up everything to be his little pet. You sat exposed with hardened nipples , rosy cheeks and something like a smile as he admired your exposed body.

“In the end, you will do as I say and I’ll make you very happy but I dare you to cross me sweetheart… see what happens.” His words made you clench around his fingers that had picked up the pace as he spoke to you in a harsh tone.

Your pulse was racing, eyes rolling back and to your own surprise you felt your tongue slip out of your mouth and hang as he made you squirm against the medical table. You looked like a dumb bitch in heat which is what he wanted!

“Please please please !! Please!” You whimpered as you thrusted your hips upwards to get more friction. The rough palm of his hand rubbed against your clit while his fingers twisted in and out of your wet cunt.

“You think you deserve to cum hmm?” His tone was cocky and thick.

“Oh fuck! Yes please sir!” Tears dripped from the corner of your eye making his cock twitch.

“Cute, but after how rude you were before you can suffer.” Johnathan pulled out his fingers without a warning, licked his fingers and smirked as you left you laying on the table fully on edge. If this was torture then bring it on because this was the most you’ve ever felt wanted.

[yantalia545]

May I request the axis three + America with a darling who finds out they’re pregnant and tries to escape while the axis are away. Their partner finds out after this darling fled (or perhaps they suspected)

Japan:

The day he found his place empty after a long day of work was the worst day of his life. His love had run away from him. Somehow, you had managed to chip away at the locks of his front door and escape. Though there was some light of hope that resonated that day.

He had found your positive pregnancy test.

Maybe you were just scared? You were worried about what he'd think about you becoming pregnant with his child and ran off? You're such a worry, little plum blossom. Of course he's nervous. Who wouldn't be after finding out that they're going to be a father, but this is your child. A child that the two of you made together. Japan couldn't be any happier when he found out that he was going to be the father of your child. He's so excited to start a new chapter of life with you.

There's just one problem though, Japan has to find you first.

As your husband and father of your child, he sees fit that he has to be the only one to track you down. After all, how can one prove to be a good father if he has someone else do his dirty work? It's dishonoring and lazy.

Japan will have fun with this. He tracked you down months ago but is playing a little game to punish you. He'll play mind games until the time is right. For starters, he'll leave your door wide open with a gift sitting in the middle of the kitchen table for your baby. Then things will start to go missing and your place of work will go up in flames. You know this is his doing but without proof, you can't do a thing.

As he plays with you, he's also preparing for you and the baby.

He loves watching you grow more paranoid as the months roll by. Watching your belly swell with his child had been bliss too. He just can't seem to contain his excitement over your growing body. Japan will take lots of photos when you least suspect it to satisfy his growing hunger for you.

When the time is right, most likely just before you are about to have your baby, he'll swoop in a whisk you away. What kind of father would he be if wasn't present for the birthing of his child?

Germany:

Germany will most certainly use your pregnancy to its full advantage.

Being the father of your baby, he has equal rights and deserves access to his child. Using his position in power and a few bribes to the judges, he'll use this opprotuity to bind you closer to him with the deverlopment of his child. You legally won't be able to just up and run away from him without facing legal reprocusions, and with you being a govermental figure from your country, this is a big deal. You could potentially start a war with Germnay if you ever decide to run away.

You wouldn't give up that easily though. If you couldn't run, you'll use his own people against him and show the whole world of Germany's wrongdoings.

You'll tell your story of how he had abducted you for forced you to bare his child against your will. When word gets out about your story and what his court had taken part of, the whole country will be turned upside down. Fighting if the story is true and the corruption taken place by the system for keeping you here.

It'll be troublesome For Germany. He just wanted to settle down with you, but now he has to deal with rioting civilians shouting outside his door. He won't stand for this. The people spread the word of your situation will be hunted down and incarcerated. The police and agents would be involved in shutting down this uproar. Germany has them tirelessly working around the clock just to put an end to this all. He needs this taken care of before his child arrives.

As for you, You'll be on tighter reigns. If you can't be trusted with anyone, you won't be allowed to interact with anyone but him. Germany won't allow for such behaviors to continue when the baby comes. He'll have you trained. Harsh training to ensure that something like this will never happen again. You'll be a well-behaved mother and wife for him rather you like it or not. You're his!

Italy:

It had been over a year since he had last seen you. Italy had searched everywhere for you. He even got Germany involved and he still couldn't find you. His heart splintered as more time carried on with no sign of you.

It wasn't until one fateful day when Italy unexpectedly found you. He could recognize your radiant beauty from anywhere no matter how much time had passed. What pulled it all together was the little Bambina wrapped up in your arms. At that moment, Italy knew that your baby was also his. How can anyone mistake the inherited curl of his? That was definitely his baby.

Without much thought, Italy would race up to you as if it were any other normal day. He watched the color drain from your face as he gushed over you and his little bambina.

"Is this our baby?!" Italy would ask as he ripped your baby right out of your arms. Admiring his baby. The way he said 'our' baby sent a shiver down your spine. You had wished you would never see Italy again. He locked you in his apartment and made love to you; Claiming he loved you.

He was sick and in nowhere stable enough to be anywhere near your baby.

You were terrified. You swiftly tried to take your baby back, but Italy was in no hurry to give her back. Much to your dismay.

"Aww, She's so cute~! She definitely has her mother's looks" Italy gushed while you could only stare in horror. When he called your name, your heart sank. You knew you were done for.

"(Y/N), why did you leave me? You know that's not good for the baby." His voice wasn't his usual cheery tone. It was much darker. Anger boiled under his tongue as each word struck your heart like a hot metal rod.

You couldn't answer him. You could only manage to shakely reach for your baby before he pulled her away from you; Walking away with your child as he did so.

Your heart raced as you blindly followed after him. Worried for your poor baby's life in the hands of your captor and baby's father.

"Don't worry (Y/N). We have plenty of time to catch up. I think some family time is in order. After all, our family is finally back together again!" Italy cheered.

America:

The day you found out you were pregnant was the most terrifying day of your life. America had finally done it and now you're the one that has to pay the price. While you were in complete shock and denial, America was on cloud 9. He had always wanted a child and to live out the American Dream. He made it after all! He's had a rough childhood and had wanted nothing more than a stable family of his own ever since he was a young boy.

You would never give him that satisfaction. You would never allow your child to grow up under the guidance of a monster. What if they turned out to be just as terrible as him and steal girls they love? The thought horrified you to your wits end. You just had to get out of here before it was too late.

You had everything sorted out while America was away for work. You'd run through an underground foreign route the get across the border where you'd find the help to go back home. You just had to get from America's penthouse in New York City to Texas.

Your skills in speed driving got you far, but America's cops are shifty. Stopping at nothing to be in favor of a powerful man such as America, and so, every trooper was on the lookout for any sign of you.

You've managed to outrun most state troopers. You were just too quick and had the turning skills of a mad hound for them to keep up with you for long. It wasn't until America joined a drag race with your did your luck take a turn for the worse.

Being a drag racer himself, the best in the U.S, that is, you were no match for him. He managed to corner you in an ally way and it was all over; You've lost. America couldn't have been happier to finally have found you again. As your husband and father of your child, he'll take good care of the two of you. A love crazed look in his eyes as he pulled you out of your car and back into his arms where you belonged.

"That was fun (Y/N), but you really need to start thinking about our baby. That was really dangerous and could have gotten our child seriously hurt. Let's head back home where we can be a family."

Your head dropped and tears began to trickle down your face at his heart wrenching words. You're never getting away from him now. You've spent your only chance.

[josnhoes]

Platonic!Yan batfam with young adult reader. Part 4

[Part 3]

Note: Reader is 18-22 years old. Gn reader

Content warning: being treated like a child, being looked down on, stalking, obsessions, soft yandere but still a yandere, reader has memory issues and it's ambiguous as to why, delusional batfam, batfam as a whole basically view you as a child younger then Damien despite you being older, reader is questioned by police, reader witnessed a crime, reader tried to be a hero, violence, blood, mentions of death, dissociation, abduction

Focus Dick (Nightwing)

------

Life moved on after the incident with Redhood. He'd left early that morning leaving a note saying, 'See you soon Sparky -RH'. You didn't care to think of what the note could mean. So you burried the strange sense of foreboding that clawed in your mind at the note. Maybe the Gotham paranoia had gotten to you?

Either way, things in the next few days were normal...as normal as Gotham could be. The bat clan had put most of the heavy rollers back in Arkham at a record speed. No one knew if it was just the rogues being sloppy, or the bats were feeling a tad extra feral. You remembered when you first learned about Batman and his underlings; the idea of the police having feral furry themed vigilantes was funny. You'd thought your new neighbor was joking. But no, it was true, and after your personal run-ins with Robin and Redhood, you could confidently claim the group was feral and would punch God..any God really... given the chance. Which was what Gotham needed to be blunt.

It was nice though that you got out of the heart of Gotham sometimes. So you'd taken a day off to go to Bludhaven. It wasn't better than Gotham, but it was a change of place. The fact that a comic store was having a closing door sale was totally *not* the reason. It was.. but you were hoping to get something cool for cheap! Nerd stuff was expensive, and as a nerd, you knew that well.

The quest for a trinket wasn't supposed to end with you being brought into the local police station for questioning. You weren't part of a crime no, but you were a witness, *the* witness. A mugging gone wrong. Honestly the details were fuzzy, yet at the same time, key parts you couldn't forget. The feeling of the woman's heart fading as you held pressure on the stab wound. The wheeze in her voice as she struggled to breathe and tell you her final words. The way your body trembled as the paramedics arrived and carted her away to a hospital. The sensation of blood on your hands and skin, and the smell...

"You okay?" The police officer's voice pulled you from the spiral of your thoughts.

"I'm sorry what?" You were in a haze, shock most likely.

"I asked if you would be okay answering a few more questions. Detective Grayson just got here and wants to ask a few."

"Oh sure yeah..." the voice, no your voice spoke, but it didn't feel like you.

Dick Grayson walked into the room the officers had put you in. You weren't in trouble. A nearby camera had seen it all go down, but you were a vital witness, one who was clearly not well after what you saw. Dick didn't blame you for your state either. He...he should have been there. When Bruce had called telling him you were in Bludhaven, he was ecstatic to think he could meet you. He'd been planning a nice little meet cute styled thing to bridge a gap from a stranger to you to being besties. He was your eldest brother, the one you'd be able to rely on most. You'd love everyone in the family but you'd come to him first for everything. He could so easily picture it. The two of you staying up late, watching films and you opening up to him and feeling safe in his company. The inside jokes you'd have together, you'd both be thicker than thieves.

So seeing you as you were now was a reminder of just how fragile you were. You were in shock a really bad case of it too. Your eyes were distant as you struggled to answer the basic questions. You were shaking. You still had the victim's blood on your shirt too. He should have been there. Any of them should have, but you were in *his* turf so it should have been him. He should have gotten there before you had to see it. You shouldn't have had to apply pressure to a wound like that.

Your voice was hollow, he'd seen videos of you. Hollow is never something he could have pictured you as. You had so much life to you. Yet here you were in this state because of *his* failures; as Nightwing, a detective, and a big brother. What if it had been you? You would have died on his watch in his turf. He couldn't handle that right now.

He got the answers he could from you, then easily guided you out. He told his fellow workers he was taking you home. No one questioned it, Dick was a good guy and not the type to let a traumatized witness go home alone.

You didn't question him as he ushered you to his car, or where he was taking you when you hadn't told him where you lived. He wasn't sure you could do that right now. He wasn't lying saying he was taking you home... it just wasn't the home you'd have expected if you were more here. The room in the manor wasn't perfect, but you'd be safe there.

He brought you inside, and the family members at home seethed at him. He couldn't blame them, this was his fault. Cass took you with help from Alfred to get you cleaned up and put you to bed. His heart broke seeing how you just went with everything. Like you were aware enough to function on a base level and orders, but mentally? You were gone. Pulled into yourself, protecting yourself from the trauma that he'd caused. He should have been there.

[itsgrimeytime]

drunk on you (part one) || Rick Grimes (TWD) × gn!reader (no apocalypse!AU)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: You'd known Rick forever, as far back as freshman year. He was a guy you (if you were honest) had a crush on; there was just something in his stance and the low drawl of his voice. You'd say that feeling only got worse from there. Before you could blink, he was married and had a kid; and suddenly, despite your best efforts, you felt very out of place. You faded out of his life, and he yours. So when Rick shows up at your door (drunk out of his mind) about 5 years after the last time you spoke to him, you have a lot of questions.

TWs: mentioned infidelity (Shane and Lori), strained relationships, loss of friendship, mentioned pregnancy (Judith), divorce, alcohol, mention of gunshot wounds, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: y'all remember when he was drunk that one time? this is built off of that. also no apocalypse, just normal life. Enjoy :))]]

A long time ago, you met Rick Grimes.

He wasn't the kind of teen that was awkward, like maybe his arms were too long for his body -no. Rick Grimes was broad-shouldered and built like he was on the football team -even though you weren't exactly sure he was. Shane Walsh, his best friend, was the same -both unbelievably picturesque. You were a human then, so you'd had a thing for Rick, but then again, every single person in that school did.

And one day, he approached you with a grin, "Apparently you're really good at this?"

You tutored him, and your friendship just spiraled from there. The two of them became a trio, and despite insistent Shane's flirting (not that he meant any of it), your heart stayed consistent.

Even throughout college (or the police academy for them), they would come onto your campus for lunch -always stealing bits and pieces of yours. You could clearly remember meeting Rick's eyes over the table and your heart flipping in your chest; before he could notice though, you'd flick a piece of your lunch at him. He'd laugh then, and you'd move on.

They were there with you through life, boyfriends (who they often threatened to 'take care of'), heartbreaks, and failures.

You weren't there when he met Lori, but you were there when he introduced her to the group. She was picturesque beauty, just like him and Shane were picturesque handsome -they suited each other really well.

That day, you'd been strained and Shane could tell -he kicked up the flirting to a hundred, and you spent the whole time pushing him off and cussing him out. You didn't tell him, not verbally, but you knew he knew. And you trusted him not to tell.

Even when they got married, your lips stayed sealed. You were at the wedding actually, it had been a day you couldn't decide on. Half the day you were happy for your friend, and the other half, you felt like your heart had been stomped into the ground. You cried in the bathroom a few times, and Shane hovered close by.

He seemed to understand your pain a little too much, but you never got the courage to ask.

You were still trying, though, and had honestly become friends with Lori but you still felt your grasp on the group loosen. They were leaps ahead of you, both Shane and Rick in stable jobs -making their way up, and Rick and Lori married-

You just weren't there yet. And you didn't know how long it would take. Especially since all you could see in your head about the future was Rick. And that wasn't fair to Lori and you knew that but you couldn't stop-

And then, Lori was pregnant.

That was probably the last straw for you.

It wasn't that you stopped showing up, not really. You still came to the baby shower with cute, little baby booties and a bet on a boy. You even met Carl, and he helped. You could distract yourself with him, and every time you visited, you did just that. Lori and Rick would talk to Shane, and you would be lost in playing with Carl.

You stayed until he was three.

Rick had suddenly got the notion -you always knew he was attentive, but you'd never dreamed of this.

"I can tell somethin' is wrong with ya," he had said, hands sturdily on your arms, "-I'm 'ere if ya need me, you know that, right?"

You stopped being as vocal when you met up -trying to hide it all away, all it did was make Rick watch you more. So, you started leaving early and being busy -working yourself to the bone.

As time passed, naturally, they stopped inviting you. Your life shifted, and you moved out of town for your dream job -a fresh start. None of them knew that, and even though you could've said something, you were eager for a do-over.

Maybe this time you wouldn't fall in love with a married man, you thought to yourself.

And even though it was a joke, it hurt. You weren't sure that it ever wouldn't.

That brings you to now, at your apartment in a different city -eating some food you randomly pulled out of your pantry. It was late, and realistically, you should've been sleeping but the show that was on actually caught your attention. You'd let it slide and probably hate yourself in the morning.

Just as another revelation made its way onto your screen (might've been someone cheating on someone else? you weren't really following), you heard a noise.

You stiffened, raising an eyebrow -what the hell?

Patiently waiting, you heard it again -more incessant.

Knocks, you realize, someone was knocking at your door.

Flashing the time on your phone, 1:06 am, you frowned. There was no way anyone you knew was at your door at this hour; it was probably just some weirdo-

The knock came back and this time it was much louder, a pounding even.

You startled for a minute, before standing and making your way to the door -slowly, and keeping a foot propped against it, just in case. You lived in the city, this could really be anybody.

Instead, when you opened the door, you were met with a familiar face -your neighbor a few doors down. She was an older lady, sweet, but she certainly did not look sweet then.

"Do you know him?"

You hadn't even noticed at first, but her fist was clutching hard against the white t-shirt of someone -you shifted slightly to try and see them better.

And when you did...

"Rick?" You asked with disbelief layered in your tone -this could not be real.

"So, you do," she exhaled, letting him go.

He promptly turned to you, and you could just immediately tell he was wasted. He had that flush on his face, and the gleam in his eye you'd seen before at college parties.

Rick's blue eyes fell on you and he grinned real bright, mumbling out, "Y/N! 'S good to see you. I was lookin' for ya-"

"He's been knocking on every door on this floor for 30 minutes," she all but seethed, "-apparently, I'm the only one who answered."

With a breath, your mind spinning -you grabbed Rick's shoulder and pulled him inside.

"Thank you, Beatrice, really," you smiled, apologeticly, "-I'm so sorry he woke you up."

She waved you off, disappearing down the hall.

At that, you locked the door behind you and spun on your heel -determined to make sure this was real. That Rick Grimes was in your living room.

Sure enough, he stood by your couch -a little wobbly. He actually nearly fell but caught himself on the back of the couch.

"Alright, cowboy," you sighed, rushing over to move him to sit, "-Let's get you settled, yeah?"

Rick was putty in your hands as you pulled him onto the couch -body moving only when you forced it to. He smiled at you, big and beautiful, when you stepped back -and you hate to say it made your heart flutter. It was all coming back now, you needed to focus-

"Where 'ave you been?" He asked, and it was slurred, "-Haven't seen you in forever, ya know?"

"Rick, hey," you sat across from him on the coffee table, "-Why are you here? How do you even know where I live?"

"Shane told me," he hiccups, whole body jolting, "-told me ta come find ya. And I-"

He paused for a second, like he couldn't remember.

"I came to see you," he answered, before flashing another smile. He was always a happy drunk.

"Right," you said -not buying it. Had Shane just ditched him in the city? If so, why were they here?

And why did he ditch him in the first place?

You huffed out a breath and pulled out your phone -darting through your contacts. Your finger hovered over it for a second (just a moment of doubt), and pressed it.

It rang for a few minutes, before just going to voicemail.

Frowning, you scrolled back up, skimming again for a different name: Lori. You hoped she would answer, and she should. Her husband has gone missing, assumedly? Yeah, she should be concerned.

And again, it rang for a few minutes and then went to voicemail. ('Hey, this is Lori. Sorry I'm busy right now, but I'll get back to you.')

You huffed out a breath, what the hell?

You knew it was late, but her husband had just shown up at your door -blackout drunk. Did she even know he was out? Was Shane even the one who brought him here?

Rick leaned forward and you placed a hand to keep him upright instinctively. You pursed your lips, debating on how exactly to handle this.

"Rick?" He perked up at your voice, "-Where are Lori and Carl? Are they close?"

He frowned for a moment, before throwing himself back against the couch -you made sure he stayed sat up, "Carl goes wit' Lori on the weekends."

"Goes?" You questioned, you knew you hadn't been present for five years, but it seemed like his whole life had changed -you didn't dare assume, "Rick, are you and Lori not married anymore?"

"No," he scoffed, almost in defense, "-broke up a long time ago. You didn't kno' 'at?"

You swallowed, some sort of mix of shock and disbelief brewed up your throat: so her drunk ex-husband showed up at your door.

There was something in your chest, a little flame in your heart. You were ridiculous, happy about a divorce between some of your previously close friends? God, you were reaching new lows.

Well, wasn't like you could do anything else, so you stood up -grabbing a cup from your kitchen and filling it with water. Rick, thankfully, stayed in his spot on the couch -eyes following you as you walked back over to him.

"You're pretty," he slurred, "-always thought 'at, never said it."

Your heart jumped in your throat, focus, Y/N. He's drunk.

You shook your head, and found your place on the coffee table again, holding out the cup. When his hand extended, he wobbled a bit more and you let out a long sigh.

"Okay, fine," you muttered, scooting closer, "-open up."

He was still surprisingly obedient, sipping the water as you held it to his lips. His eyes, though, stayed focused on you -blue eyes barely blinking. It made you want to fidget in your seat, but you decidedly ignored it. Focus, focus.

With half the glass gone, you were satisfied. Pulling the cup back and sitting it beside you, his eyes did not waver -you were starting to get a little flustered now. Standing to go get a blanket and container (for any... accidents), you were stalled in place.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist -calloused and long, your brain short circuited a bit.

"Rick, why-"

"Even prettier now," he laughed out, grinning, "-thought ya was pretty th'n, but you're even prettier now! How did ya do 'at?"

Swallowing the skip of your heart, you pulled your hand out of his grasp and continued your walk. Shaking out your hands and exhaling a big breath, you stepped out of the closet with the goods and back toward the couch.

"Look," you started, shaking the container in your hand, "-this is where you throw up, okay? Not on my floor."

"Aye, aye," he grinned.

You rolled your eyes, but something you had missed him -even just as a friend. You'd lost him as a friend too, and that probably hurt more than anything. He was your rock and then, he was gone.

Blinking back the fog of your eyes, you set him up in the recliner -pulling his feet up and throwing the blanket over him. It was your extra one, a soft throw blanket, and wasn't long enough to cover his feet. Which, now that you noticed still had his shoes on them.

You let out another long sigh, before beginning to untie the laces.

"Shane told me 'at ya loved me," he said suddenly as if it was a realization and you stilled where you sat. Your breath stuttering in your chest, you focused on the laces for a moment.

"Why did he tell you that?"

Rick sighed, tilting his chin up to look at the ceiling, "Asked 'im 'bout ya, why ya left. If he knew anythin'."

You flinched, something in your chest sinking. He would've been sober then, that wasn't something you just brought up drunk. But, why were they even talking about you? Did they still do that? After all these years?

Feeling guilty, you stayed silent.

Rick didn't say anything else, oddly quiet, and when you looked up, you saw him fast asleep. Eyes fallen shut and head tilted all the way to the left, he looked like quite the picture. You laughed, a tiny one just to yourself.

Maybe, if he woke up and left tomorrow without saying a word -this visual could hold you over for a while. It reminded you of when you guys were the closest, before you started... drifting away.

You swallowed, tears burning the backs of your eyes -not letting them fall. You'd cried over this too many times.

Taking a deep breath in and one last look at Rick, you disappeared to your room. The comfort and familiarity of it made you feel a lot better, but if you focused you could hear the gentle hum of Rick's breathing. A reminder that he was there, that this wasn't all some bizarre dream.

Changing into pajamas, your eyes flickered over some old photos up on your walls -your friends, all smiling and happy. You, Rick, and Shane -sometimes even Lori. It was filled with other things like your diploma and degree, family photos, little souvenirs, and just pictures you'd taken of places you'd been.

Rick looked the same as then, just a little more built. A little sturdier, and more confident in himself; kind of like he knew his place or had found it.

He didn't need you.

You shook the thought from your head and headed to bed -flicking out the lamp on your nightstand and forcing everything within you to sleep.

Waking up the next morning, you realized you forgot to get the Tylenol out for Rick. So with reluctance (it was your day off), you pulled yourself out and dug through your drawers to find it. It was quiet, so you assumed, he was still asleep. You would be if you could've.

Instead, however, when you roamed to your bedroom door -you were stalled still. Rick was up, silently looking at your wall with intense focus. Those pictures were of you, some with new work friends, with your family, with just pretty sights you'd seen; it was all you. He was staring a bit like he was in an art museum and your photos were the most fascinating piece he'd ever seen.

Your heart sped up in your chest.

Clearing your throat, he spun to you and you for a second forgot how to speak because those eyes were very clearly aware -skipping all over you like he couldn't believe you were real. You were a little embarrassed you were in your pajamas, suddenly.

Blinking and clearing your head, you spoke -a little awkwardly, "I got you some medicine to help with the... the headache."

Rick pushed his lips together, almost like he wasn't sure what to do -hands grabbing at each other, and rocking a little on his feet. It was like he wanted to say something or do something, but he just couldn't find the words or maybe the will.

He laughed, a little nervously, "Thanks, I... I'm not sure what to say."

You swallowed, before deciding to say, "You don't have to say anything, I get it. You were stranded, you were drunk out of your mind. I'm glad to help. Really."

"Stranded?" He questioned, and you wordlessly handed him the medicine -hands brushing against his. You ignored it.

"Well, yeah," you said, now a little uncertain, "-I can't imagine your visit was planned. I... You said Shane told you to come here, so I assumed he ditched you somewhere. Because he would, if given the chance."

Rick laughed a little at the private knowledge of your friend but there was something strained there -hidden. You weren't sure if you should ask.

"Look," you exhaled, "-I'm not going to poke and prod. I know I've... missed somethings but that's nobody's fault but mine. So-"

Rick seemed to look at you a type of way then, and your mind chimed that 'he knew'.

"I'm not going to ask you anything," you finished, wringing your hands -keeping them busy, "-you don't... you don't have to tell me anything either. I... Yeah."

"Why not?" He offered, and you could tell somehow he was a little disheartened -it made guilt curl up in your stomach.

"It's been five years," you laughed, incredulously, "-I kind of stopped talking to you, Shane, and Lori without warning."

He seemed to flinch slightly at the names, and you had another worried thought -trying to read him ever-so-slightly, "I didn't reach out to ya either."

"That's not-"

"In fact, I remember we stopped invitin' ya," Rick clarified, stepping closer.

"Only because I wasn't showing up," you countered, "-or I was leaving early, or wasn't really... there."

He hummed a little, and you could tell he was processing it all.

"I just, I'm sorry," you finally said, "-I had a lot going on then, and I felt like... That doesn't matter, I'm just sorry for everything."

Something passed through his eyes then, and you thought maybe it was understanding. He knew of your... thing, and he wasn't stupid. You knew he could connect the dots, you just hoped he wouldn't say anything about them. You couldn't handle that.

"It matters," he responded, slowly, "-Ya know, I tried... I tried to see you after we stopped invitin' ya, and your place was up for rent. Door was locked, but I asked the neighbors and they said you'd been gone for months."

You didn't think that he would come looking for you, any of them really. Your paths in life had just diverted and you thought it was a clean break, but... it wasn't. Rick was worrying about you through it all.

Before you could voice anything more, he continued, "They didn't even know where ya went."

I looked for you went unsaid. Your stomach tossed with guilt, a heavy feeling in your gut. It was for the best, but he didn't quite know that.

Well, he did actually. He knew exactly why you had disappeared, so why was he talking about this? Did he want to... Did he want to hear it from you? Confirm it?

Did he not believe it?

You sighed, clearing your throat, "I just needed a fresh start. I was... I was struggling there, and needed someplace new."

"Why didn't ya talk to me?"

God, you were getting into this now. You really, really did not want to. Maybe you could just-

"I would've," he started, slow, and something in him read as guilty, "-I would've done what I could to help."

"Rick," you exhaled, "-I know that. But what was happening then... couldn't be helped. It was something I had to navigate on my own."

"But-"

"Look, Rick," you cleared your throat, "-that was a long time ago, and I feel like all we're doing is dredging up old feelings. That I really..."

You trailed off, eyes getting foggy, before centering yourself and clearing your throat, "Just know, I had a reason, a good reason to leave you guys. I maybe didn't do it right, but I did it how I had to."

Rick was looking at you like you were a shining gem, precious; like the world was a storm and he wanted to shelter you, protect you from it. You weren't sure how to process that, so you just decided not to then.

He seemed to pause for a moment, before asking, gently, "What exactly did I tell ya last night?"

"Only a little," you clarified, "-uh, Shane told you to come here, and that you and Lori... um, aren't together anymore."

"Nothing else?"

You sighed, voice catching in your throat, "I really don't want to do this, Rick."

"Do what?" He asked, brow quirked.

"I've already-" you clenched your fingernails into your palms, "Okay, I know what Shane said to you. You told me last night, okay? We don't have to talk about it."

"I want to," he spoke, stepping closer.

You groaned, "Why? Why does it matter?"

"I just want to know-"

"If it's true?" You interrupted, before letting out a long intake of breath, voice shaking -no time better than now, "-Because if that's what you want to know, I can answer it. Yes. Yes, it's true."

Rick seemed to pause for a moment, something smoothing through his eyes.

"I left because of it," you clarified, as well, answering all the questions he could ask, "-and I wasn't... I wasn't ever going to tell you."

The silence was overwhelming then, as you sucked in a breath and kept your eyes trained on the floor. Your heart beating so fast in your chest, it made your head go fuzzy -your legs felt a little weak. You must've wobbled a little, because-

"Woah," he rushed to your side, one hand holding your waist, "-c'mon, let's sit you down, sweetheart."

It was instinctual, the name, and it wasn't like it was the first time you'd heard it from him. But even so, it just confused you. Everything about Rick Grimes calmed you down, but everything about your feelings made you lose it. The balance was strung so tight, you didn't know how to react.

Now, he sat across from you on the coffee table, long legs bumping into your knees -one hand sturdily on your shoulder, trying to meet your eyes. He just wanted to see if you were okay.

"I'm fine," you breathed out -meeting his eyes, "-just. I'm fine."

Rick nodded, and hesitantly pulled his hand back -you could still feel the warmth sprouted there. It made your head swirl, and part of you wanted to scream your lungs out; you can't still feel it now, that's not fair.

"Can I tell ya something?"

"What is..." you pursued, "-something?"

"A story," he clarified, hands fidgeting, "-I told you 'bout me and Lori, I want to be more specific."

"Rick, you don't have to-"

He laid a hand on your knee, ever so slightly touching -it cut the words from your lips, "I want to."

You didn't say a word.

"Few years, after you left," he started, "-I got hurt on the job. Ended up in pursuit unprepared, and the guy got my shoulder."

His hand seemed to move to the shoulder on instinct, though the scar was hidden under the shirt. You wondered for a moment what it would look like, before washing the idea of his skin out of your brain.

"Shane still your partner? Or-" you rambled a little, "-I know you guys planned it like that."

"Yeah," he smiled, "-Shane was there, kept me awake. But I... I ended up in the hospital for about a year. Half in a coma, and the other half making sure I wouldn't go back into one-"

"Jesus Christ," you muttered out, instinctually.

"And that last day," he started, something in his voice tightening, and on instinct, your hand shot to his leg -comforting. His eyes lingered on it a bit too long, before he slowly placed his palm on top of your skin and gently flipped your hand over. Calloused fingertips wrapped around your hand, and suddenly, they were intertwined -out of his own volition.

You swallowed back the flutter of butterflies in your stomach, you're just comforting him, focus.

"Lori was pregnant," Rick sighed out, big and long -something in him hurt, but something far bigger past it. You could tell, he had processed a lot of this.

"But you were-"

Rick just looked at you then, thumb rhythmically rubbing the skin on the back of your hand.

Oh.

"Shane...?" You offered slowly, carefully.

He exhaled, shakily, and you squeezed his palm -his eyes lingering on it far too long again, "They'd been together for a while. Didn't tell me how long, but I could guess."

You frowned.

"I felt so... so betrayed, and alone-" he started, and there was something heavy in his voice then, "-all I could think about was you."

"Rick," you nearly cooed.

"If," he swallowed, looking up to stop the tears from coming out (you had the thought they weren't for the infidelity, not anymore), "-If you felt like this, and 'at's why you left. I just felt so..."

"That's not fair to yourself," you explained, "-you were going through something so different. I-"

"Was I?" He offered, "-Really? 'Cause I think it was the same sort of feelin'-"

"No, no," you responded, "-very different, Rick. You... You hadn't been kicked out of your own will, I... I was. I can't imagine what you went through."

"You kinda can," he hummed out, and you got the impression he was talking about your feelings. Sure, you'd been heartbroken for years but that was nothing compared to the betrayal he'd experienced.

"Rick, we never-" you cleared your throat before starting again, "-I never said anything. There was nothing built up like you were with Lori, the walls didn't crumble. It was just... me."

He seemed like he wanted to say something in particular to you then, but he seemed to swipe it out of his head. Like maybe he was waiting.

"They're gettin' married," he exhaled, and your heart froze, "-'s why I was 'ere. Shane's bachelor party."

"Jesus Christ, Rick, what the hell-"

"Don't worry 'bout me," he looked at you, straight in the eyes, "-I'm past it, really. Just... brings up a lot."

"I know, but still-" you hissed out, a little frustrated, "-maybe I can show up uninvited and spill wine on her dress. Ooh, or stomp on Shane's toes-"

Rick laughed then, and you felt something in your gut warm at the noise, even more, when you saw the smile slip across his lips. There was something in his eyes that was twinkling and warm, you couldn't quite name it but had seen it before.

"Shane told me a few years back," he suddenly spoke, eyes focused on you -you wanted to squirm a little in your seat.

"Told you what? About him and Lori?"

"No, that you..." he clarified, words stuttering to a stop. Something in your gut snapped, and words just started coming out.

"Look, Rick," you echoed, a little distantly, but meaning all the same, "-you don't have to pity me. I know it's been a long fucking time, since we were kids, but-"

His face seemed to slow, something in his mind, "Since we were kids?"

Shit.

"Forget that I said that," you cleared your throat, mind running a mile a minute and feeling the fluster crawl up your throat (you tried to pull away your hand but he kept it tight), "-please. This is embarrassing enough."

"It's not," he spoke, comforting, "-don't be embarrassed. I'm just... I'm shocked. I never knew 'at... as far as high school?"

You sighed, succumbing, "Before I even met you. I was a member of the school population, about 80 percent of those people were into you so-"

"Yeah, sure," he hummed, a little in disbelief, "-but you?"

You didn't know exactly what that meant or what to say to that. It almost seemed like he was saying that you were leagues above him which was... unbelievable to say the least.

"I didn't know you were an option," he mumbled out, "-at all. I thought..."

"You really can't be this surprised."

"I am!" He offered in response, and you absent-mindedly noticed that he was still holding your hand. You tugged at it but he still didn't let up.

"There were other tutors, ya know," Rick mumbled out, slow and in a barely-there whisper.

"Of course," you laughed, "-it's high school."

"I didn't," he started, fidgeting with your hand, grip still solid but he was playing with your fingers, "-I didn't actually need the tutoring."

"Why would you-"

"'Thought ya were cute," he offered, and you swallowed heavily -trying again to pull your hand away. Focus. What could you even focus on anymore?

"Rick, don't-" your voice shook, and you pulled your hand back finally, "-don't do that."

"Do what?" He questioned, big blue eyes and your stomach was twisted in knots. You couldn't do this, not now.

"There's no," you echoed out, standing up and taking steps away from him, "-there was no us, and it's been five years. You don't even know me anymore."

"I want to," he stood, matching your eyes -something in him nearly pleading, "-I really want to."

You took a shaky breath in, taking some more steps back, "Rick, your mind is not clear. Your ex-wife is marrying the man she had an affair with, you are just lonely. And I will not be wanted because... because you just want to feel loved."

"I'm not," he breathed, desperately like the oxygen was being sucked out of his lungs, "-Y/N, I'm not-"

"I won't," you repeated, your eyes getting foggy and voice shaky, "-I won't, Rick. That's not fair."

"Look at me, sweetheart," he was soft and gentle, stepping forward and tilting your face up with his hands, "-I'm not."

"You-"

"I've had years to... to process me and Lori," he explained, slow and patient, "-and a few months after 'at Shane told me. I've had years to... to process you."

"I don't-" you exhaled.

"'S all new to me, but-" He dropped his hands to yours -wrapping his around them, "-I know I feel somethin'. Felt somethin' even then, I just didn't... know it."

"Rick, please," you hummed out, "-I can't do this. I really can't. It's been years-"

"I came lookin' for ya for a reason," he continued, moving his head to match your eyes, "-Shane didn't just drop me off. I got drunk for courage, and I don't think either of us knew just how much."

"You were here for me? I thought you said-"

"'Is bachelor party was a few cities over," he explained, "-Shane recognized the city name, and we got a cab."

"That is so stupid," you chastised, "-is Shane still out there? You guys could've-"

"He called Lori," he quickly interrupted, trying to soothe you, "-Think she picked 'im up."

"You think?"

"No, okay, she did," he reassured, his hands coming to rest on your arms, "-I know I wouldn't 'ave left if she didn't."

"Good," your breaths slowed, "-okay."

"Y/N," he started again, and you just couldn't.

"No, don't-" you began, but then you looked at him. Really looked at him. He was looking at you so carefully, like if he said a wrong word, you'd disappear. Or maybe like he could hardly believe you were standing in front of him.

Maybe he really-

You pursed your lips, letting out a long sigh, "Okay, look. I'll make you a deal."

Rick raised an eyebrow but still seemed so very eager. Excited even, you bit back a smile.

"When's the wedding?" You asked, gears turning in your head.

"A few months from now," he answered, and you could tell he was a little confused -the furrow of his brow and quirk of his lip. He was still so much the same.

"If you," you held his hands between the two of you, "-if you still feel the same then, we'll talk."

"'At's-" he opened his mouth.

"Your best friend and ex-wife are getting married, Rick," you reiterated, "-you do not have a clear mind, I can't believe it. But if you, by some miraculous reason, do, your feelings shouldn't change."

He pursed his lips, something shadowing over his face, sighing, "Okay."

"Don't make that face," you groaned, "-what I'm saying is completely sensible."

"It is," he agreed before his features fell into something else, "-just didn't wanna wait anymore, I guess."

"You're not going to guilt me, Grimes."

His eyes twinkled -mischievously, settling into a blinding smile and throwing your hands down in defeat, "'S worth a try."

"Plus," you added, "-we can catch up on what we missed. Might be nice."

"Ya don't 'ave to convince me anymore," he laughed, "-I'm doin' it."

You smiled at that, and his only got brighter because of it. You schooled your racing heart back into place.

"Friends?" You offered your hand for a shake -expectantly.

He smiled then, it reached his eyes and was all crinkly, "Friends."

[ckret2]

Chapter 33 of human Bill is still the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Stan takes Bill to get fillings from a creepy dentist in the back of a white van. And also they're handcuffed together the whole time.

Hijinks ensue.

Stan was startled from reading the paper by a shrill up-and-down whistle. Bill trotted into the kitchen, his voice a singsong lilt: "Incoming!"

Stan lowered the paper to glare at Bill. "Still doing that, are you?"

"Of course! I'd hate to scare you." Bill took the chair across the kitchen table from Stan. "Gooood morni—"

"Go away." Stan determinedly returned his attention to an article about the deathball arena construction.

Bill laughed. "You're funny. Anyway!" He noted Stan's plate of eggs and salsa was hidden behind his newspaper, and quietly slid the plate across the table as he spoke. "I need you to do me the teensy, tiniest little favor—"

"Nope."

"Take me to your dentist."

"No." Stan didn't even lower his newspaper. "The last time I took you anywhere, you almost made my niece cry, my brother left a Shopliftaholics Anonymous flier on my bed, and all I got out of it was a crummy ring. You wanna go somewhere, talk to Soos."

But, Bill noted, Stan was wearing said crummy ring. "Spend a day with that loser?" He rolled his eyes. "Please. I'd rather pry out my fingernails."

"You'd probably enjoy that, you freak."

"Not the point." Bill stuffed half an egg in his mouth. "Anyway, it has to be you. I need fillings, and Dr. Illing does them for free."

Stan squinted over the top of his newspaper. "How do you know about Dr. Illing?"

"What part of 'all-seeing eye' don't you get?"

Dr. Illing was a wandering dentist who spent the warm summer months in Gravity Falls. He squeezed his van and trailer into alleys between businesses in town, where he both lived and provided dental services until the police caught wind and chased him and his van out into the woods for a few days. On days with good weather, he'd pop open the back hatch of his nondescript trailer and set up a sign that read "COME INSIDE! FREE CANDY (for new patients)". He didn't attract many customers.

What really made him stand out was his unusual pay structure. He charged typical rates for regular teeth cleaning and dental maintenance; but if a patient had a cavity, he gave them a gold filling for free, and he paid them if he needed to pull their teeth.

Stan thought he was terrific. He hadn't had to pay for dental care in thirty years! Granted, he also wore dentures now; but hey, Dr. Illing had helped pay off Ford's mortgage, and at least the dentures were on the house.

Bill said, "You're the only one in the shack who knows all the places Illing might set up shop. Besides, he might be less jumpy in front of a stranger if an existing patient can vouch for it."

"I can see where you're coming from," Stan said. "But my answer is no, because I don't wanna."

Bill scowled in irritation. He sat back and ate another of Stan's eggs as he reconsidered his approach.

"Stanley—I'm a simple shape," he said. "A simple shape who's used to being coated peak to base in pure, lustrous, 24-karat gold. Having skin makes my skin crawl. I don't need any dental work done, these teeth are fine—but I'd really, really like just a bit of gold, somewhere on my body, so I feel a little more like myself in my final days."

Stan muttered, "You're trying to appeal to sympathy I don't have, Cipher."

"And then, once I'm dead," Bill went on, "I suppose I'll be leaving behind a corpse with a mouthful of free gold that whoever's disposing of my remains can do whatever they want with, do you catch my meaning Stanley?"

Stan lowered his newspaper just enough to grimace at Bill. "That's absolutely disgusting," he said. "But okay, I'm bribed!" He tried to fold the newspaper. "If you want your mouth to fund me and Ford's next year of globe-trotting, fine by me. Least you can do for messing up our summer."

"Mhm." Bill shoveled the last egg into his mouth while Stan was distracted by the paper and slid the plate over to Stan's side.

Stan slapped the paper down. "But we're not telling Ford about this. Agreed?" He offered a hand to shake.

"Agreed." Bill took Stan's hand, with the wrong hand—but before Stan could figure out what to do with that, Bill jerked his hand back like he'd been burned. "We'll take this to our graves."

"Or to your grave, anyway!" Stan laughed loudly, slapping the table.

Bill watched him with a forced smile. "Great. Deal made. Let's go get the magic friendship bracelets and—"

"Ohhh no," Stan said. "I'm not trusting a little bit of colored lace and some mystical hocus-pocus to keep you contained. If we're going anywhere, I'm making sure you can't escape."

"Okay," Bill said, a touch warily. "Fine. How?"

####

Soos took the handcuffs out of his toolbox, removed the key and stuck it in his pocket, and asked, "What side do you want it on?"

"Left," Stan said. "Gotta keep my punching arm free." Bill rolled his eyes. 

Soos closed the cuffs on Stan's left wrist and Bill's right, then tightened Bill's half until it actually held his tiny wrist. "There."

"Ha!" Stan grinned at Bill. "Try escaping that!"

"I wasn't planning to escape."

"Sure, pull the other one." Stan pointed toward the door. "Now... to the car!"

####

They stared in dismay at Stan's car.

The El Diablo was a classic of the 1960s American automotive industry—and it was in terrific condition. (Notwithstanding the recent dents, scrapes, and keyed scratches in the paint reading "TRICK-OR-CHEATER!!") It came with the features standard to American cars of the time, like a steering wheel on the left, and a wide front bench that provided space for multiple passengers to sit to the driver's right side.

Bill was handcuffed to Stan's left side.

"Wow. You're stupid," Bill said.

"I'll break your smart mouth."

"What do I care, we're headed to the dentist anyway." He sighed. "Okay! Let's go inside and tell Questiony how stupid you are."

Stan did not want to tell Soos how stupid he was. "No! How do you know I didn't do this on purpose? Maybe having my right arm free is more important than—er... driving."

Bill considered that with pursed lips. After a pause, he ventured, "Do you want me to drive—?"

"No, no, nope, I am not letting you drive my car, under any circumstances, ever! Not a chance!"

"Then how are we doing this?"

####

Stan gripped the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles white and jaw clenched.

Bill was uneasily cuddled up against Stan's right side. The handcuff forced him to stretch his right arm across Stan's chest. 

They were both wearing tank tops. Their bare upper arms were plastered together with sweat.

They were getting cricks in their necks from how far they were tilting their heads away from each other.

On the radio, a hit 50's soul song crooned romantically, "Oh, my sweet love... you're my lovely sweetie... and I never love you more, than when you're pressed to my side... as we go for a sweet loving car ride..." Neither of them could reach the radio dial without touching each other even more. They'd silently decided to pretend as hard as possible that they couldn't hear the radio.

"Welp," Stan said. "Out of all the times I've been handcuffed in a car, this is one of the worst."

####

They spotted Dr. Illing's "FREE CANDY" sign posted surreptitiously near the barrel and crate factory, and circled the block to park the car in front of a business that looked responsible enough to file a missing persons report if the car was still abandoned there by nightfall.

They tumbled out of the driver's side door with a maneuver that looked like a cross between a waltz and a mugging. Stan kicked the door shut. As they untangled themselves, in a surprisingly decent impression of Stan's voice, Bill said, "Gotta keep my punching arm free. How's that working out for you?"

"Bold words from a guy in punching range, you little—" As Stan finally separated himself from Bill and straightened out, he caught sight of Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland halfway up the block. "Oh, great. Cops. Exactly what you want around when you're doing something weird." Stan shook his head. "Well, as long as we go the other way and don't make eye contact—"

"Hi Darryl! Hi Edwin!" Bill stood on his toes and waved wildly. "Hey! Working hard or hardly working? Haha!"

"Oh, hey Goldie!" Durland waved back, and he and Blubs headed their direction. "How've you been, did you have a nice Summerween?"

"Ahh, I was stuck in the house—"

"Bill," Stan hissed. "Whaddaya think you're doing? Do you want them asking questions?"

"Hey," Durland said, "Why're you handcuffed to Stan?"

Bill turned toward Stan. He smiled at him. It was a smile that said I did not think this through.

"You need some help there?" Blubs asked. "I bet we've got a key that matches that handcuff model."

Stan bet Bill would love to accept that offer and go traipsing off with the cops. "Nope! That's fine! Thank you officers, but we're keeping the handcuffs on," Stan said. "Because." He paused. "They're necessary. For... uh... for me."

The cops and Bill watched him expectantly. Bill had that awful gleam in his eyes that he got when he saw an opportunity to make up a story.

"Because I'm old," Stan said. "It's to keep me from wandering into traffic."

Bill laughed, "Yep, that's true!" He jabbed Stan's shoulder with a finger (harder than necessary, he thought). "This guy's cataracts are so bad, sometimes he asks us if he's dying because all he a see is a white light in a dark tunnel! And the way his mind's going, woof—"

Stan growled, "All right you don't have to lay it on so thick—"

"—he's so addled it's like he's completely forgotten the last century of technology, he'll just walk right off the curb and expect the horse-drawn carriages to stop for him—"

"Hahaaa, but we won't bore you with my medical history!" Stan jerked on the handcuffs. "C'mon, Goldie, you're gonna make me late to my heart doctor appointment. You don't want my life on your hands, do you?"

Bill murmured, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Hold on," Blubs said. "You can't see? Didn't we just see you get out of the driver's seat of your car?"

Stan and Bill exchanged a look. Stan said, "Goldie's giving me directions."

"Oh! That makes sense," Durland said.

"All right," Blubs said, "We'll let you get to your doctor's appointment. You folks have a nice day."

As the cops left, Bill called after them, "You too! Hey, I'll see you guys at Rainbow Club!"

"See you there!" Durland turned to Blubs. "Y'know, I think Goldie's a step up from that seeing-eye bear."

Bill and Stan eyed each other. "All right, you're not bad at improv," Bill said. "I can respect a decent actor."

"You too," Stan said grudgingly. Bill looked at Stan like he expected a little more than that; but Stan kept his mouth shut. Bill didn't need the encouragement.

####

Dr. Illing's "FREE CANDY" sign leaned hopefully near a gap in the fence around an overgrown lot by the barrel factory. The gap was large enough that a reasonably limber human could duck through with little difficulty; however, Stan was old and Bill was still controlling his alien body like a rookie puppeteer learning the marionette, so they circled halfway around the lot until they found a gate in the fence to push open. They trod across scraggly grass, a row of dying mushrooms, and years-old litter to reach an unmarked white van hooked up to a camper trailer.

The back hatch of the trailer was flipped up to serve as a makeshift metal awning, and inside, a tall, spindly man was snoring atop a military cot in his underwear, using a white lab coat like a blanket. Stan cleared his throat loudly, and when that didn't disrupt the snoring, knocked on the side of the trailer. "Hey! Doc!"

Dr. Illing jolted upright with a yelp, seized an enormous wireless power drill off the floor to point at them like a gun, lowered it slightly as he registered he wasn't under attack, then realized he was nearly naked and yelped again. He tumbled off the cot, flailed his way to his feet, and turned his back to them as he jerked on his coat and buttoned it. "Just—just a second!" He got on one sock, couldn't find the other, and gave up, pulling on his sneakers with one bare foot. "Sorry, so sorry, I must've—just—nodded off for a second, there—"

"Maybe we should have made an appointment," Bill said wryly. "He looks busy." Stan snorted.

Dr. Illing turned around, smoothing out his rumpled lab coat. He was a jumpy, twitchy man with heavy circles under his eyes, short badly-cut hair, and a 5 o'clock shadow that had evolved into a 25 o'clock shadow. His gaze darted nervously between their faces. "Sorry. Hi, hello, can I help you? Are you maybe here for a tooth extraction, or—or perhaps wisdom teeth removal...?" His gaze caught on Stan's face, and he started. "Stan Pines! I haven't seen you since I pulled your last tooth ten years ago! What are you doing here?" His brows creased in worry. "You're—you're not mad about that, are you—?"

"What? No! The dentures are—fine. They're actually lower maintenance than teeth. Sort of. In a way," Stan said. "No, I'm here to refer a new customer." He pointed at Bill.

Bill made a gesture like he was tipping an invisible hat. "Hi there!"

"A customer?" Dr. Illing said blankly. "Oh—yes! Of course, hold on—" He pulled a hospital curtain over the front half of the trailer to hide a dinette covered in laundry and old magazines, lifted one end of the military cot and slid a step stool under the legs to keep it raised, and tugged the arm of a dental light down from the ceiling to aim it at the chair.

Stan said, "So, do I get some kind of referral bonus, or..."

"Oh—sure, sure. Have a, uhh..." Dr. Illing opened a heavy yellow and black tool bag, pulled out a battered cookie tin, withdrew a gold coin, and offered it to Stan. "One of these or something, here."

"Huh." Stan inspected it. No idea what currency it was, but a gold coin was arguably cooler than actual cash.

The dentist batted aside the hospital curtain to grab a tiny stool from the dinette, shook a damp towel off the seat, placed the stool beside the cot, and sat. "Okay!" He clapped his hands. "New customer! What can I do you for?"

Bill had been gazing in naked longing at the bag hiding the gold coins; but at the question, he looked up with a grin. "I'm here for fillings!"

"Ah! Wonderful. No charge for fillings, of course." He started rummaging through his tool bag for supplies. "Do you know which teeth need them?"

"Whichever you think would look best with some," Bill said. "Driller's choice!"

Dr. Illing stopped rummaging to give Bill a perplexed look. "I—sorry, come again?"

"I said I'm leaving it in your hands." Bill climbed into the trailer and put his free hand on Dr. Illing' s shoulder. "I'll be straight with you, Frankie: all that matters is that my teeth do not currently have any gold in them, and I want that to change by the time I leave. I'm not too picky about the details beyond that."

The dentist stared at Bill, then glanced at Stan for confirmation. Stan shrugged and nodded. "Oh-kay!" Dr. Illing wasn't quite smiling, but there was a strange, eager gleam in his eye. "Super! This'll be fun!" He gestured for Bill to sit on the cot. "Let's see what I have to work with."

He ushered Stan in, and pulled the trailer's hatch shut.

####

"Your teeth are amazing," Dr. Illing said, voice hushed with awe. "Perfectly white. Who's your usual dental hygienist? Did you just get these cleaned?"

"Nope," Bill said, forgetting for the third time that humans keep their teeth and their voice in the same hole and he shouldn't talk with the dentist's fingers in his mouth. Dr. Illing quickly pulled his hand back. "Just basic toothpaste, floss, and dish soap."

Dr. Illing shook his head in disbelief. "Well, they look amazing. And no wear at all, remarkable... Have you ever considered having any of these pulled? Do you mind if I take a few pictures?"

Stan shuddered as the dentist pulled out an old film camera and started snapping photos. "Yeesh. I forgot how creepy you are. Kinda glad I ran out of teeth."

Dr. Illing straightened up, snapped off the dental light, and sighed. "Well, I'm sorry to say that all your teeth are pristine. Not a hint of cavities—not even plaque. It'd be a shame to drill such pretty specimens. You're sure you don't want one pulled...?"

Stan grimaced, but Bill pursed his lips thoughtfully, as if he were considering a perfectly normal question. "As fun as that sounds, I said I want to leave with gold today, and the whole extraction-and-implantation process for gold teeth takes ages. Unless you happen to have a little secret magic trick to speed up the process?" Bill laughed, fixing Dr. Illing with a piercing stare.

Dr. Illing looked nervous. "Er—no."

"Then just the fillings. But who knows, maybe I'll feel naughty and be back in a couple of weeks." Bill laughed again. "Just pick a couple of your least favorite teeth to drill into!"

"Okay, suit yourself." Dr. Illing shrugged and fished around in an overstuffed cardboard box under the dinette table. "Let's gas you up and get drilling."

"You can skip the sedative," Bill said. "I don't mind a little pain. I prefer it, actually! It adds some zest to the experience..." He trailed off as he caught sight of the label on the gas canister Dr. Illing had pulled out. He pointed at a word, "I thought that additive was illegal."

Dr. Illing flinched guiltily. "Not in the state where I got it."

"Oh, buddy. I didn't realize I'd climbed into the party van!" Bill settled back on the cot, laced his hands behind his head, and got comfortable. "You know this stuff has something like sixty percent odds of causing hallucinations? Most people get either haloes around lights, or spiders. Go ahead, gas me—I wanna find out which I am."

####

In five minutes, Bill was overjoyed to report that the dental light had a spider halo. He did not explain what this meant.

Since Stan had typically been under anesthesia himself whenever Dr. Illing operated on him, this was the first time he'd had an opportunity to watch the dentist at work. Stan discovered that when Dr. Illing drilled into a tooth, he didn't suck the resultant dust up with one of those little dental vacuums with a plastic tube Stan was more familiar with. Instead, when a bit of dust had accumulated, he reached in with what looked like a cotton swab, wiped up the tooth dust, and scraped it off into a Petri dish; and only then did he use the vacuum to suck out any saliva and continue. Was he saving the leftover tooth dust? He was an even bigger creep than Stan had thought.

By all appearances, Bill didn't handle the gas well. It wasn't that it made him sick, or that he wasn't having the time of his life. It just made him completely forget how to operate a human body. When Dr. Illing told him to hold his mouth open, he also held his eyes open until they watered; and whenever he lost the battle to keep them open, he automatically shut his mouth too, often to his own peril as Dr. Illing shouted about the drill jostling. Within ten minutes, Dr. Illing had given up on convincing Bill to keep his mouth open and instead started giving him blink breaks when he could shut his mouth.

It helped some, but they couldn't do anything about the fact that Bill had fully forgotten he couldn't talk while getting dental work done, and kept up a regular chatter—during which he cheerfully mentioned he'd died recently, attempted to explain that the entire universe was actually an elaborate hologram projecting from the "true" third dimension, and asked Dr. Illing all about the cruise to Panama he'd recently stowed away on (which the dentist hadn't mentioned). During one blink break, as Bill closed each eye separately, Dr. Illing leaned toward Stan and muttered, "So... what's her story?"

Stan tilted his head toward the Petri dish. "What's with the tooth shavings?"

Dr. Illing considered that, slowly nodded, and got back to work.

####

After several hours, Dr. Illing wiped his brow and sighed in relief. "All right, that should do it. You've got fillings on five teeth now." Under his breath, he muttered, "It would have been two, if you hadn't kept talking while I was drilling."

Stan shook his head in amazement. "Doesn't that hurt?" 

"Yes," Bill said. "I've never felt pain like that before. What a rush."

"If you do come back for a tooth extraction, I'm getting a dental gag to keep your jaws open." Dr. Illing finished pulling out the array of clamps and barriers around the filling sites and wearily dropped down onto his stool. "There. The rest of the sedative should wear off gradually over the next few hours. Usually I tell patients to wait three or four hours before eating to let the swelling go down, but..." He waved wearily. "You can do whatever you want."

"Admit it, you like having an enthusiastic patient!" Bill heaved himself off the military cot, forgot he couldn't float, and immediately collapsed to the floor.

"Whoa there—" Stan helped Bill back to his feet. The handcuffs prevented him from getting an arm around Bill's back, so instead he helped keep him upright by firmly squeezing his upper arm. "I don't know about you, but I'm eating as soon as we get home. You made me miss lunch—and for some reason, I feel like I barely had any breakfast." Bill inexplicably found this declaration hilarious. Probably the sedative, Stan reasoned.

Bill waved at the dentist as Stan tugged him out the trailer's hatch, chattering the whole way: "Thanks for the gold, the sock you were looking for is a bookmark in the March issue of Floss Girls, Atlantis is rising as we speak, you have less than seven years to prepare for the plague, tell the little lady I said hi! Byyye!"

Stan squeezed Bill's arm tighter and muttered, "Would you cut that out?

Bill stumbled across the uneven lot. "I made up the part about Atlantis."

"Okay just shut up and stop saying weird things."

Bill attempted to walk sideways all the way back to the car.

####

Stan gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his arms were trembling.

Bill was sprawled all over the front bench, the dashboard, the seatback, and Stan's shoulders.

On the radio, a hit 80's R&B song with a sexy saxophone was playing, "Babe, the sad things you've been through... I swear I'll make it up to you... If it takes a thousand years..."

Bill was singing at the top of his lungs directly in Stan's ear, "I'LL WIPE AWAY ALL YOUR TEARS, WOO!—sax solo!—BA DA-DA DA, BA DA-DAAA—"

Stan turned off his right hearing aid.

Every once in a while Bill attempted to grab the steering wheel and turn it in time to the song, like a kid playing in a toy car; Stan had given up telling him to stop and instead started just smacking his hand away every time he tried. After another smack, Bill draped his arm awkwardly over Stan again, and announced, "I can't feel my tongue at all! I bet I can chew it off!"

"Don't do that."

"The last time my mouth was this numb, my girlfriend had just gotten done with me, haha." Bill stuck his finger in his mouth to experimentally poke at his tongue. "I couldn' thee for the nex' hour from all the thporeth—"

"I swear if you don't shut up—"

Bill flopped his arm across Stan again. "I just realized I haven't gotten any action since I died. Wow. What's normal for humans, couple times a week until you start the slow lingering decline toward death?" He looked straight at Stan. Stan could feel that side of his face start to sweat. "This isn't a weird time to bring that up, is it?"

"Bill, if you say one more weird thing, you're riding home on the roof of the car."

Bill was quiet for three seconds. And then he started poking Stan's bicep. "Your arm's a lot meatier than Sixer's! What's your favorite flavor of cancer?"

####

Mabel asked, "Why are you on top of the car?"

Bill—eyes wide, hair disheveled, one arm hanging through the driver's door, sprawled out clinging to the roof like his life depended on it—replied, "I don't know, it's all a blur."

Stan opened the car door and jerked on the handcuffs. "All right, get off my car."

Bill shakily climbed off, lay in the dirt, and tried to catch his breath. "That was fun. We should do that more often."

"Not on your life."

Eyeing the handcuffs, Dipper said, "What were you doing, anyway?"

"Nothing!" Stan snapped. "Why? Who's asking? I wasn't sneaking the demon out to get a shady back-alley dental procedure!"

Mabel and Dipper stared up at him.

Stan pointed at them. "What are you doing?"

"Going camping," Dipper said, turning so Stan could see his stuffed backpack.

"Something's been stealing Pacifica's alpacas at night, so we're going on a stake-out," Mabel said. "They took Giorgio. It's personal now."

"We think aliens might be abducting them," Dipper said.

From the ground, Bill said, "It's not aliens."

"Ah, taking the law into your own hands. It builds character," Stan said approvingly. "You need firearms?"

They exchanged a glance. "We're good," Mabel said. "Grunkle Ford loaned us his freeze ray. It seems less lethal."

As the kids headed toward the road, Bill finally heaved himself up. "Well, that was fun!"

"No it wasn't," Stan said.

"Your opinion doesn't matter. Anyway—" He shook his cuffed wrist. "We're home, get me out of this thing. It makes you look like my ugly accessory and I want my hoodie."

"I elevate your whole look!" Stan protested. "And I don't have the key, it's with Soos."

Mabel turned back to shout at them, "Soos is out! He's got a dinner date with Melody!"

Stan grimaced. "Uh-oh."

Bill shrugged and said, with a confidence Stan didn't share, "He left the key behind."

####

"Oh man, sorry dudes," Soos said over the phone. "I totally forgot I still had it. Yeah, it's on my key ring. Is that, like, gonna be a problem, or...?"

"It's fine," Bill said, sitting atop Soos's office desk and leaning all the way across it to reach the phone. "Just pass it through the phone, we'll catch it."

"What?"

"Ignore him." Stan shoved Bill's face away. Bill gave him a dirty look as he straightened out his eyepatch, which he'd finally gotten to put on once they were home. Stan spun the desk chair away from Bill so he couldn't try to join the conversation again. "He's hopped up on psychedelic laughing gas. When are you gonna be back?"

"Uh..." Soos thought for several seconds. "Nooot for a while. Abuelita and I were talking about maybe kind of staying the night?"

"Well—pfff—can't you duck out and bring the key?"

"Uhhh. I would but, this is the first time Abuelita and I are having dinner with Melody's parents, and I'm really worried about impressing them parents, and the casserole's about to come out, and I think they might judge me if I leave, it would probably ruin dinner..."

"Okay, fine. What if we drive over to get the key?"

Far louder than necessary, Bill asked, "Stanley can I drive this time—!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Oh sure, that'd be fine," Soos said. "I'll give you directions, Melody's parents' place is in Portland. You got a pen?"

Stan frowned. "Portland."

"Yep."

"As in, outside the magic bubble trapping Bill in town."

Soos paused. "Oh, right."

Well, Stan wasn't about to make Soos look bad in front of his future in-laws. He'd never had in-laws, but he'd seen enough sitcoms to know how messy that could get. "Never mind. We'll figure something out. You kids enjoy dinner." Stan hung up the phone, sighed, and turned to face Bill. (Bill had plucked a figurine of a bulky robot in a cute girly pose off of Soos's desk, and was staring at it in wonder, like he'd never seen overpriced anime convention merch before.) "You got any other bright ideas?"

"We could still call Darryl and Edwin..."

"No way," Stan snapped. "I am not calling the cops for help! Never gonna happen. I'd rather wait for Soos to get back in the morning if I have to!"

"Oh would you." Bill laughed scornfully. "And what do you plan to do until then?"

####

They got TV dinners and grumpily watched Cash Wheel together.

####

(This entire chapter was just an extended excuse to annoy Stan and Bill as much as possible. But mostly Stan. Thanks for reading, and if you enjoyed I'd appreciate a comment or reblog!!)

[thedeviljudges]

Hi Noel. We used to be mutuales back in the good old days. I hope you are taking care of yourself.

I am having a fucking horrible time. I am devastated. Even though I moved on from fandom so long ago, I always cared about Liam and I always will.

I think one of the least surprising things for me and I guess for you as well is the reaction so many people are having. They act as if their hatred for him is new and based on recent events but we know that shit runs deep and is old. I’m not even surprised by their hypocrisy because they are all about holding people accountable for their mistakes as they weren’t the biggest fucking bullies to him every single day since day one, why aren’t they holding themselves accountable for being fucking horrible people and being part of the problem? Many of us would defend him and point all of this out too and we knew back then how much he was hated on for literally existing within the band. He couldn’t post selfies because they would accuse him wanting attention and he would get bullied. He couldn’t tweet any simple and insignificant thing because they would hate on him. They were constantly body shaming him. They hated when he would show off his talent in concerts. He literally couldn’t have a fucking break because his existence alone was enough to fueled their hatred towards him. The way they had a fucking field day bullying him and body shaming him when they filmed you & I video. It was constant. It doesn’t matter and it didn’t matter what he did because they simply just hated him and would let him know. Not only were they a huge component of the system that messed him up over the years, not only did they bullied him back then, but now too even in the wake of his death. I never understood it back then and I don’t understand it now, how they could do all of that and continue to do so while demanding accountability and who knows what else as if they are deserving of anything from him or his loved ones when they were fucking horrible to people since the very first day of 1D.

Anyway, to anyone who is hurting and is grieving him, do so, and do so without holding back, do so because no one has the right to police your feelings, and fuck anyone who makes you feel bad for grieving Liam.

hi, babe. i hope you've been well all this time. 🥺

tbh it's hard to add anything because i agree completely. liam was always the one that went through the worst comments (aside from the racism zayn faced) and treatment within the band. people were always so cruel to him for no reason. and no matter what he did, the fandom always found fault with it. it makes me especially sick to see how twitter was relentless with their bullying the week before all of this happened. it was nonstop and then now to see them all pivot and upset... hypocrites.

and all i keep thinking about is how unfair it was because if any of the boys did what he did (and have done), everyone's been so forgiving. but not for liam.

liam loved one direction with his whole heart. he kept the band alive during their activities and long after by mere mention and discussion and knew how special it was for fans and himself. he was the reason i got into one direction, which i think is why it's also hitting me so hard. he's the first video i saw walking the streets of the us in 2012, who stopped for a few fans. he was so kind and loving, and it's incredible how many people in the industry have commented how lovely he truly was.

i feel a lot of things still, so it's really difficult to put it all into words in a single post. but liam was so talented and the fact that fandom never recognized the brilliance of it will forever hang over one direction now.

i truly hope people take this as a lesson to be kind; everyone preaches about it so much - and you're right. they want accountability but can't even recognize that their own actions warrant accountability, too. the callousness that has infected the internet and fandoms will truly be its downfall. there are so many of us who talk about how it's not the same, and it will never be the same again if we don't start having compassion and love even in the face of difficulty and misconduct.

[myalvmss]

⎯⎯ PROLOGUE, TRAVELING STAR ❞

DESC. y/n had been living her life as a detective, being extremely successful with her solved cases. however, she finds herself at the end of her path as she walked onto the next path of her new life.

WARNINGS. death, suicide, a little bit of swearing, gore

BUTTERFLY'S NOTE. this is mainly about y/n's backstory and her old life, information about how she died etc etc!! Lowercase intended. Also just a little heads up, a little rushed!!

LYRICS. "live fast, die young. bad girls do it well!" - Bad Girls by M.I.A.

PREV. ｟ MASTERLIST. ｠ NEXT.

Y/N is a full grown adult that lives alone in her apartment. as a detective, seventy nine percent of your life have you been using your brain. you never once tried following your heart, and it was expected you will never use it. because from what you thought, it was risky. and you can't risk your life falling into pieces of glass that can't be fixed. but did this mean y/n never had a partner in her life? yes, definitely. she was alone her whole life, mostly believing that she can take care of herself and become independent.

even her parents didn't care, but, it was expected for them. y/n hasn't heard from her parents for such a long time, she honestly assumed that they were out of country, or something. one thing for sure, y/n and her parents had officially cut ties from each other. during y/n's childhood and teenage years, y/n and her parents didn't specifically have a good relationship. it was like strangers living in one house. it awfully was quiet. nobody even talked during dinner, not has y/n even seen her parents talk to each other. It was obvious that her parents never loved each other. the relationship was only to satisfy her grandparents. even y/n herself was used to satisfy like some object. how rude!

currently, y/n was in her office as she skimmed through a few criminal records. she sighed, “how boring and predictable for these amateurs.” she muttured, setting down the useless criminal records on the table. all she saw in those criminal records were basically just robbing and other common crimes committed. it was like y/n wanted to handle a more serious case, it's just that.. actually, nevermind. she does, yet y/n herself denies it.

⎯⎯

it's been two hours. and finally, someone decided to report something. Y/n was called to come and arrive at a certain house, it was medium-sized and well kept. as y/n got out of her car, taking a few glances around the house. “the plants hasn't been watered for a span of two days.” y/n thought before ringing the doorbell. everything seemed so strangely unpleasant. it was always a feeling that y/n gets something is wrong, mostly occurs during investigations. the door opened, revealing a restricted crime scene where three policemen were there.

one of the few lessons y/n had learnt while studying criminology was to trust no one at all. she took a quick examine at the three policemen, before setting her eyes on the crime scene. it was a woman, who seems to be in her mid thirties.. hanged dead. “how did you get the report?” y/n asked, examining the cold body. “if you look at the body, the woman called before hanging herself. but we didn't have enough time to answer, all we could hear was the woman's mutters under her breath saying..”

“please help find my missing daughter one more time.”

⎯⎯

after a long time of investigating, it was already getting into a very late hour. yet it was assumed that the woman committed suicide after her daughter went missing. the woman called the police once and reported about it, however the investigation was closed off because she disappeared with no trace. after days of grief, the mother decided to kill herself. but y/n? oh, she's not the type to give up on a case like any other detective would. the request was given by the dead, and y/n will solve the case.

first, y/n decided to go search through the house. the missing girl was named amy, “what a beautiful name.” y/n thought despite the name 'amy' being very common. it still was beautiful. y/n walked into amy's room, searching around before she found an extra phone amy kept. it was locked, unfortunately. but that didn't stop y/n from trying. she decided to try and figure out the password, twenty minutes having to pass as y/n needed to wait the cooldown. as she waited, she flipped the phone and took off the casing, resulting in a piece of paper falling down to the ground. y/n picked up in time, it was written in nothing.

y/n raised an eyebrow. “curiouser and curiouser.” she spoke to herself. until an idea came to her mind.. y/n looked around the room, where she saw a case of pens, rulers and markers on the table. “bingo.” she searches through, later on finding a blacklight disguised as a marker. y/n turned it on, aiming at it towards the piece of paper. shining the blacklight at every single spot, until she stopped. starting to see the numbers, 8957. “smart girl. but not smart enough for me.” she chuckled, setting the password into the phone.

It thankfully unlocked. y/n searched through the phone contacts first, it was definitely a phone kept in secret from amy's parents. especially with the contacts only having one, which was a boy from what y/n sees. she looked into the chat, reading the messages. and the recent ones were just both of them wanting to meet up. “I think I know where this is going.” y/n thought. although this might be an assumption,

It was a definite piece of evidence to say this boy was a suspect. y/n read the recent messages, finding a location to where the two 'couple' was supposed to meet up at. y/n didn't wanna tell the police yet, she was only heading there to confirm. although this was dangerous, she can fight for herself and she had always knew that this job was dangerous considering how she is meddling with criminals.

but that never brought to the point where she stops. the location was definitely odd, yet this relationship between amy and the unknown boy was secret. the location there was awfully eerie, but it was a forest. it's expected and y/n got the usual feeling; where she feels like there's something wrong. “curiouser and curiouser.” but that feeling could never go against the will of you going further in. after a while of walking, she could hear sounds of a person stepping on fallen tree branches on the ground, y/n looked around.. she could barely see anyone at this time late at night, despite the fact she's holding a flashlight.

. . .

suddenly, someone was behind y/n, getting her caught off guard as they stabbed her through the vitals and abdomen. her eyes widened, feeling the knife pulling out. “shit..” y/n instantly fell to the ground, placing a hand on the stab wound on her chest as her blood started pouring out a whole lot. “y-you asshole..” she managed to speak, it was seriously a bad idea to even go out here at night, alone. she tried to face the person behind her, seeing a seventeen year old boy. “you're the boy who dated amy.. aren't you?” y/n questioned, as the boy chuckled with a little nod. “of course I am. i'm certainly impressed with your skills of finding out already,” and the boy answered. “but I can't let you live longer to tell this story.” he blurted out, before cutting the cord of y/n's life.

❝ That's how I met the end. But well..❞

or that's what y/n thought. the next thing she knew, she opened her eyes to see the beautiful eyes of a woman. “look at our baby girl right here.. she has beautiful eyes.” she smiled. “wh.. what's going on here?” she thought before recalling back the memories of her past self. it was long until y/n figured out she was reincarnated. but how? she didn't know how to answer that question. though, now, despite having the midset of a full grown adult who took criminology as a major, y/n had to act young. and that certainly wasn't gonna end well.

how did it end? well, due to her mindset of an adult, y/n ended up being seen as a born prodigy. learning big and long words already, and other talents she even develop. she grew older, her parents now in this current life was actually quite nice. they were.. surprisingly famous. y/n's mother was a famous ice skater, who though had to take break due to her pregnancy. however now, she can continue back her ice skating career. while for y/n's father — he was extremely good at martial arts, even taking part in archery competitions. now isn't that great?

even for y/n, she was able to learn those things thanks to the both of them. how incredible, with those talents, y/n can definitely end up in the entertainment industry. but what was she specifically gonna choose? well, that's a question asked for later. but right now, y/n wasn't known to the public just yet. well, the whole relationship thing between y/n's parents were also kept a secret ever since they were teenagers. it was just that.. they're just not ready to reveal it.

⎯⎯

It's been a few years now since y/n had adapted to this, new life. despite being still quite young, she was heading to the bakery near her home, using the main central streets. however, she stopped? looking at the massive commercial TVs on the building, it was only nothing but sad news. ai hoshino was murdered. y/n raised an eyebrow, wondering how exactly was she murdered. she needed details, and it was expected for this young girl to want details. not because she was such a crazy fan of ai hoshino — it was because of her past little detective occupation. however, she couldn't help but pity the ones who was dear to ai. she was devastated too, but she surely knew she could get over it. but one thing that came out from her mouth;

“curiouser and curiouser.”

TAGLIST:

@nambii @sandronebabyy

[catwrites9]

It’s A Craving, Not A Crush

Kate Bishop x fem!reader SMUT

Warnings: Smut, praise, fingering, slight hair pulling, scissoring, violence, injury, blood, not proof read, cussing, use of y/n, I think that’s it

W/n: First ever smut I’m happy with the beginning but I rushed a lot of it because I kinda lost passion for this writing and I’m just wanting to move of to my poll smut

Masterlist

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You are just like any unmasked vigilante fighting crime and coming home to tend to your wounds. You didn’t have any powers… Well, being able to hear heart beats and having a better reflex than Peter makes you have powers. You always fought crime all day and then came home around 11 or 12 to tend to wounds and go to sleep. It was the usual routine waking up at 10am to your roommate Peter getting ready for college trying to look for his spider suit as you got up and got ready.

You recently found out while spying on hell's kitchen that there was a new list of future victims. One of the names stood out to you. Kate Bishop, your mentors partner, the same women you had the worst crush on. Even though Clint told you that she was off limits you still liked her. The tension you both had mixed with how she was always caring for you made the crush’s worst. After finding out about her being a target you brought it to Clint. That's when he gave you a task of protecting her. That’s how you two got closer while the whole kingpin thing was happening.

But now it’s different you're on a mission to retrieve the ronin sword for Clint in an old warehouse. It was protected by what seemed like hundreds of guards so you couldn’t have just gone guns blazing. You picked them out one by one until there was no one left. You retrieved the sword. The sharp pain jutting you into fight or flight as you glance down seeing a whole sword stick through your stomach. You quickly elbow the guy in the face while pocketing the sword. Another two come up behind you as one hits your head with a brick and the other takes the sword out of you. Your senses are off, your seeing double. The first guy gets on top of you and starts punching you. After what felt like 5 hits to the body and about 2 to the face you grab a bottle right next to you and smash it against him. You get up and start fighting the other two. They didn’t expect it and didn’t put up much of a fight. Though one of them was able to make your wound worse by hitting the handle of their sword into the wound. The first guy comes back with a knife and is able to slice you a few times on the body and twice on the face. You were able to throw a pallet at him.

You caught your breath and examine your wound, it was bad. You needed a hospital but being a vigilante, that wasn’t gonna work. Clint wouldn’t be up, Peter is out and won’t answer, and most hero’s are asleep by now. But that’s when you know of someone that lives nearby and also usually gets home at this time. Kate. You climb the building as the police come. you start running from roof tops and swinging till you get to her fire exit. You climb it and see if she’s home she’s not but will be soon. You gently push up the window that was thankfully unlocked but still Kate will get a lecture about it. You progressively get more tired as you sit by her bathroom. Then everything goes black.

You wake up from the door opening and you try to get up but you have no strength. Kate walks through as she puts her bag down and pets lucky. You groan as you try to get up. Her head snaps to you, she was afraid at first but then sees it’s you.

“Y/n what are you doing where it’s almost 1 in the morning.” She looks at you annoyed and then worried.

“Kate please I didn’t know who else to go to” your hand bloody as she see the streak of blood on the wall

“Are you ok” she says worried and moves you to her bathroom”what happened”

“I got stabbed” you say in a very monotone way. She reaches to pull off your suit and you flinch.

“I can’t help you if you don’t take it off” Kate says sincerely as you realize that she’ll have to see your face, the one you’ve only shown to Peter and Clint.

“Ok” is all you can say and she takes it of leaving you in a sports bra and a gator mask on the top half of you . She tends to your stab as you hiss and groan from the pain. Every noise you make she praises you, you blush hard which is covered by the mask.

“Stop shifting your hips so much” she says, looking up at you and then going back to work. You didn’t realize the effect that she has on you and how much her praising you makes you horny. But you couldn’t think of that. Once she’s done she cleans your little cuts until she gets to your face. She cleans the eyebrow one but the cheek one goes under the mask, she looks at you for consent as you nod she takes it off and goes wide eyes. She starts cleaning it but her cheeks get progressively get more pink. You're now aware of how close you two are, the sound of your breathing and your groans are loud. Once she’s done she goes towards the kitchen as you follow her.

“I’m sorry for Intruding into your house but your window was unlocked and just” you pause “ thank you for helping me even though I broke into your house you could have just left me to die.” She steps close to you practically chest to chest. The tension builds. You can hear her heart beat racing as fast as yours. The feeling is mutual. This crush you’ve had on her evolves. It’s a craving, not a crush.

“I never knew that you would be that hot under the mask, I knew you would be hot just by your voice but I mean fuck your hot” she says it confidently as you just blush.”you know how Clint said I was off limits and how he would kill me and you if we did anything” you nod”you make me want to break his rule even if it results in my death, y/n I need you please” that is your cue.

You lean in kissing her, you lean in softly but she roughenes the kiss and she leads you to her bed room up the stairs. You push her onto the mattress as you get on top of her. You start making out and sliding your hand under her shirt slowly going up and starting to massage her breast. She moans into your mouth and you take that as your invite to deepen the kiss and have your tongues fight for dominance.

You break apart to take off her shirt and bra. You admire her, all her little scars, her abs, Kate starts to get red as you just take in the woman infront of you. The only thing you can hear is both of your breathing. You know that it is wrong to want her when the mentor you’ve had for years told you never to go after her but the excitement of breaking his rules fuels you more. You move to start kissing and sucking marks on her neck. She becomes a whiny mess under you pleading for you.

“Please y/n please”

“What do you want me to do Kate”

“Please anything, anything you want, just please fuck me” she whines and she squirming under you as your hands explore her body.

“Tell me exactly what you want”

“Anything please” she gets more impatient as time goes on

“Do you want my hand or my mouth, pick Kate”

“Your mouth please” she pleads looking at you with doe eyes.

You get on your knees looking up at her for consent as she nods. You pull off both her pants and underwear as you start making marks on her inner thigh. She squirms and bucks her hips multiple times. You hold her hips down as you lick a stripe of her pussy. Taking in the taste of her and moaning at it. You attach your lips to her clint as you begin to suck on it. She gives you the most pornographic moan that immediately makes you more horny.

Your fingers begin to tease her at her core. Her hips try to buck under you as you hold them down. She’s a moaning mess for you. Your fingers made their way into her wetness as she practically starts screaming your name. Her back is arching as you start at a slow pace and begin to go faster. You keep going at a faster pace until you hit her g spot.

“Oh my god right there fuck y/n right there your such a good girl you gonna make me cum so hard”The moment those words came out her mouth you knew that you needed to make her come now.

Her hands pulling your hair as your groan on her clint making her moan more from the vibrations. You can tell she’s close by how much she’s cleaching on your fingers. She comes hard yelling out your name as you help her ride out her high. Once she’s done you take out your fingers and put them in your mouth moaning at the taste of them. You get up and go back on top of her to start kissing her. Before you can react she flips you over.

“You didn’t think I wasn’t going to return the favor” she chuckles”we have to be careful with your stitches so that means no arching your back” you look confused on what she’s going to do

She takes off your pants and underwear as she moves back on top of you, moving your leg to her side as she places her pussy on yours. You both are moaning from the intimacy. She starts to grind her hips as you throw your head back. Both of your Clint’s hitting perfectly on every grind. Both of you close from the prior intimacy and even if you didn’t come then you're sure as hell gonna now.

“Fuck Kate I’m gonna come”

“Come with me”

You both release at the same time. Both of you out of breath calming down from your highs. Once you both came down Kate climbs off of you as she lays beside you. You both just sit there in bliss of everything that happened. Before both of you could say anything Kate’s phone rings. Its from Clint. She put it on speaker.

“Hey Kate have you heard from y/n at all”

“No why”

“I’m scared she got hurt on my mission I put her on”

“Oh I’m sorry I haven’t heard from her in a while I’ll tell you if I do”

“Really?” He questions suspiciously.

“Yeah??..” she questions now looking at you.

“Oh my god right there y/n right there” he pauses”that doesn't ring a bell”

Fuck

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W/n: I can’t wait to start on my next project which is Watching me undress won the poll so next up is Paige bueckers smut.