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osaemu · 1 year ago

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GOJO SATORU: HUNGRY FOR MORE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!gojo x detective!reader: fucking the serial killer you're supposed to be arresting might be the best (or worst) decision you've ever made. PART 2 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, public sex (in an alley), p –> v, orgasm denial, fingering, he cums inside, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, lil' bit of dumbification, hair pulling, squirting, dirty talk, manipulation/coercion, mentions of murder (he's a serial killer what did u expect), non-sexual mentions/usage of guns, probably more. 3K words.

author's note: wrote this instead of writing my research paper and studying for my math final. if this flops i will actually become the serial killer /j. anywaysss tagging @satoruhour @screampied @satorena.. and yes, the "season 2 coming soon" in the banner means something ;)

“looks like your little killing spree’s gonna have to come to an end,” you muse, crossing your arms and cocking an eyebrow at the man across from you. he grins back at you, and it’s almost unsettling—he looks a little too smug for a killer who’s just been caught.

“i don’t think so, sweetheart,” the man responds dryly, leaning back against the alley wall, features relaxed and at ease. he—satoru gojo—has been your target for a couple weeks, and now that you’ve finally cornered him, you find yourself feeling a little… unfulfilled. usually, when you caught criminals, they begged for mercy and showed a little more emotion than what satoru’s shown so far.

also, the criminals usually weren’t this good-looking.

you maintain eye contact with satoru while you carefully reach into your coat’s pocket, withdrawing your phone and unlocking it. unexpectedly, satoru doesn’t make any move to stop you from dialing the number to your boss, instead smiling coyly as you do so.

“so, you’re one of those guys who don’t care what happens to them?” you ask, tilting your head as you hold the phone to your ear. satoru shrugs and his grin only widens the longer your phone rings. ten seconds pass before your phone tells you that the number you dialed is currently busy, and satoru’s muffled laughter becomes unbearably suspicious. you narrow your eyes and involuntarily take a step back. “what’s with the smile?”

satoru scoffs and dips his head, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step towards you. “y’know, you’re rather brave, comin’ out to catch a serial killer all by yourself. and in the middle of the night, too.” he stops advancing when he sees you pull a gun out of your pocket and hold it up threateningly, a look of warning in your eyes. “okay, okay, relax. i’m not gonna do anything to your pretty face.”

“what did you do?” you ask suspiciously. satoru widens his eyes in mock disbelief, as if he’s completely and utterly shocked that you’d ever accuse him of anything.

“besides the fifteen separate counts of murder? not much, really.”

“i’m not an idiot,” you snap, cocking the gun and aiming it at his head. “you’re not the one in control here, satoru gojo. spit it out before i put a bullet through your skull.”

satoru laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. “fiesty, aren’t we? it’s alright, i like my girls with a little fire in them.” he tilts his head to the side and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on parts of you that suddenly make you feel naked, despite the coat covering most of your figure. “put down the gun, sweetheart, then we can talk.”

you wait a second, scanning satoru’s overly relaxed face before cautiously lowering the gun. “what are you hiding?” you ask again, eyes hardening.

“a lot of things. but i think you’re talking about what i did to your boss, right?”

“you have five seconds before i shoot you.”

satoru makes a face and then rolls his eyes dramatically. “fine, since you’re bein’ so pushy about it. i killed him, obviously. you’re a smart girl, shouldn’t you have figured that out by now?” when you don’t immediately answer, satoru sighs and shakes his head. “and here i thought that the girl who’d been tailing me for the past week would have a little sense in that pretty head of hers. looks like i was wrong.”

“shut it,” you snap again, re-dialing the number and letting your phone ring for fifteen seconds. when nobody picks up, you internally curse and think about what to do next. dialing 911 would be worth a try, but the look in satoru’s ice-blue eyes makes you think otherwise. despite the gun in your hand, something about him makes you entirely certain that he could overpower you, even if you landed a shot on him. and even if you just shot him right now, he’s been shown in the past to be able to function fine with a bullet through his chest. that’s how two of your subordinates lost their lives to him—by underestimating your city’s notorious killer.

so you decide to bide your time.

“ran out of options?” satoru asks smugly. he raises an eyebrow when you slide your phone back into your pocket and exhales a laugh. “you gonna wait for a big, strong man to rescue you? ‘cause i’m right here, honey, and i could be your savior.”

“that was actually the shittiest line i’ve ever heard,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at the self-satisfied look on his face. “are you seriously proud of that one?”

“well, it worked.”

he pushes himself off the alley wall and towards you so fast that you hardly even have time to process it, and before you know it, you’re the one pressed to a wall with a gun to the side of your head. satoru’s other hand grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head, and his face is close enough to the point where you can feel his breath—which is unexpectedly minty—on your cheeks as he grins down at you. “you really think i’d use a line as shitty as that if i didn’t know it’d make you lower your guard? tch, you really shoulda known better.”

you use every curse word you’ve ever heard in that moment and grit your teeth, rapidly thinking through all the possible ways you could get out of this situation, but nothing comes to mind. you’re quite literally stuck in between a rock and a hard place, with a gun pressed to your head and with your limbs out of commission.

satoru clicks his tongue and widens his eyes at you, leaning in closer. his lips are uncomfortably close to your own as he traces the gun down the side of your face, cold metal brushing against your heated skin. “not gonna fight back? that’s no fun.”

“the fuck you want me to do?” you snap irritably, glaring up at him and curling your hands into fists. satoru tightens his grip on your wrists and cooes a sarcastic apology to you, taking his time looking you up and down again. if you didn’t value your life, you probably would’ve said worse, but seeing as you were the only person in this ridiculously isolated alley, it wouldn’t be worth much.

“i dunno. didn’t that detective academy or whatever teach you anything?”

you roll your eyes again, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you consider the possibility of your eyes getting permanently stuck in the back of your head just because of him. “y’know, you’re not giving me a whole lot of options.”

satoru laughs. “if i did, that’d defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it?”

at this point, death would be preferable to hearing his idiot talk any longer.

“so, i’m gonna be the one asking the questions from now on,” satoru continues, clicking his tongue disapprovingly when you scowl. “if you behave, i won’t hurt you that badly, ‘kay? keep that in mind.”

“thought you liked your girls feisty.”

“oh, that’s true,” satoru muses thoughtfully. “yeah, never mind, you can be a little bratty. i need a reason to fuck you stupid anyways,” he grins after a moment of consideration.

“what the fuck?”

“you heard me, sweetheart,” satoru cooes, feeling his pants tighten as he watches your eyes widen. your “tough” demeanor drops for a split second, and satoru can’t help but want to fuck it off again when it returns. your scowl deepens and you frantically think through all your options again, but there isn’t a whole lot you can do at this point.

“if you wanna stay alive, you’ll be a good girl and you won’t scream,” satoru murmurs, leaning in closer and pressing his lips to yours. you grit your teeth and try to shove him away with your shoulder, but it doesn’t do much. satoru smiles against your lips and hums softly, pulling away with an almost affectionate look on his face. it’s so at odds with who he is and what he’s done that you drop your guard again, wanting to believe that he really will keep his promise not to hurt you.

satoru sees the shift in your features and smiles tenderly, all traces of his borderline-sadistic look gone. he studies your face for a moment and kisses the corner of your mouth, letting his lips linger for a second before he pulls away again. “i’m gonna let your hands go now, m’kay?” when he drops your wrists, they fall limply on his shoulders as you warily study him, eyes wide with confusion. it’s jarring, the way he just… changed personalities within the span of a couple seconds. “i’m not gonna hurt you, pretty,” he breathes, dropping the gun and letting it fall to the floor with a loud thwak. “this’ll be a lot more fun for me if you don’t resist, yeah?”

oh, fuck it.

“okay,” you murmur, ignoring every siren going off in your head. you don’t really have any other options, and honestly, nobody was going to walk by and get you out of this sticky situation anytime soon. and satoru was pretty attractive… and you could just arrest him afterwards, right?

as if he read your mind, satoru smiles and promises, “you can handcuff me after i’m done with you. just let me have a little fun one last time, baby.”

yeah, it’d be a stupid decision to believe the sweet-talker towering over you. there’s no way he’s just going to let you drag him off to jail, but there’s a reason he’s stayed out of the grasp of the law for so long. it’s hard to live a life as on-the-edge as being a serial killer, but the reason satoru’s survived for this long is because he knows how to use his words. he knows how to make a person go against every warning in their head, and he knows how to get what he wants.

which, for tonight, includes you.

“you have thirty—no, twenty minutes,” you mumble, knowing damn well that this would be the end of your career as a detective. whether or not you dragged satoru in after all this, you could never continue your work knowing you had sex with the biggest serial killer in the city.

satoru laughs and kisses you again, lips trailing down your face and settling on your neck. “haven’t i already made it clear that i’m the one in control here?” he muses as he slips his hands under your coat and tugs it off. it falls to the cold ground and bunches up around your feet, leaving you in a button-up shirt and flowy, dark pants. “c’mon, let’s get these clothes off you.”

within a minute, the rest of your clothes save for a black lacy pair of undergarments join your coat on the floor, and the chilly nighttime air nips at your skin. “i’m cold,” you mumble, feeling yourself involuntarily tense up everywhere but where satoru’s hands cloak your skin. satoru laughs in response and presses his knee to the spot in between your thighs, and something in you snaps at the point of contact.

“you really are an idiot, aren’t ya,” satoru scoffs, hand sliding down to your waist. his fingers latch on the waistband of your panties and he tugs them down, exposing your already-wet pussy to the cold evening air and his eyes. “lettin’ a serial killer fuck you in a dark alley… what kind of detective does that?” satoru spits on two of his fingers and slips them inside you, instantly groaning when he feels you clench around him. “fuck, you gotta be the tightest pussy i’ve felt in a while,” he mutters, white hair falling into his eyes as he looks down shamelessly. “do you not have sex with other guys?”

“don’t have time,” you swallow what would’ve been an embarrassingly loud moan as his fingers go deeper and deeper. how long are this man’s fucking fingers?

“aw, look at you, you’re so cute,” satoru cooes, smiling down at your scrunched up face. you look back at him through squinted eyes, hips starting to roll against his fingers. it’s true—you really haven’t had time to have sex given your already-insane schedule. it’s almost like you spent more time tracking the man who’s now knuckle-deep inside you than sleeping, but the slutty part of your head tells you that it paid off.

“‘m gonna cum,” you whine pitifully, squirming around satoru’s fingers as he curls them inwards, making you clench around him even tighter. a shiver runs over your body, starting from in between your thighs and spreading all over you as satoru’s fingers move back and forth inside your soaking wet cunt. “g-gojo—”

“call me satoru, baby, and you’re not cumming until i say you can.” with that, satoru withdraws his fingers from your pussy with a pop! and grins at the way you glare at him sullenly. he mockingly pouts and licks his drenched fingers clean, tongue lapping up your essence. “heh, don’t worry, i’ll make you cum more than you knew you could once you’re stuffed with my cock.”

although you’ve determined satoru’s “promises” to be dubious at best, he fufills this one after he’s spread your legs wide open and positioned his cock at your entrance. “this might hurt, baby, but remember, no screaming.” after you nod in acknowledgement, satoru slips his tip in and watches, amused, as you try to close your legs on reflex. “uh uh, keep ‘em nice and wide f’me,” satoru tuts disapprovingly.

and true to his word, it hurts—a dull ache spreads throughout your legs as his dick goes farther and farther inside you, reaching places you hadn’t felt in a long time. satoru’s hands settle somewhere on your waist as he pushes himself deeper, ignoring your gasps and pleas for him to slow down a little. your shaky hands move to his hair and you unwittingly pull on it, somehow eliciting a soft groan from satoru’s lips, and somewhere in the back of your mind you think that of course a serial killer has a hair pulling kink—it just makes sense.

“s-satoru, it won’t fit,” you whisper, feeling satoru hit an especially tight spot in your cunt. even with how wet you are, it just feels like you can’t possibly take any more of him—he might as well be ten feet inside you, given the pain in your hips. but, as expected, satoru only smiles tauntingly down at you and murmurs words of encouragement as he somehow pushes past the barrier and gets all the way in amid your pained whimpers.

“yeah, that’s it, knew you could do it,” satoru says sweetly, voice coated with poisonous honey. now that he’s all the way in, the ache from your waist down starts to fade into pleasure, especially as satoru starts moving himself in and out to get you used to the feeling of his dick. “just like that, pretty girl. jus’ like that.”

soon enough, he sets an unexpectedly harsh pace that makes your back arch off the cold, brick wall behind you, and even as satoru tries to keep up his “cool serial killer” act, you can hear his quivering breaths as he gets close to cumming. “shit, i forgot how fuckin’ good it felt to fuck a cunt this tight—” he mutters through gritted teeth. “‘m gonna cum inside, ‘kay?”

you nod breathlessly, chasing your own pleasure and not actually listening to the words satoru murmurs in your ear. at this point, it didn’t matter—all your pathetic little head could think about was satoru’s dick, and somehow, you forget that he’s a killer when he cums inside you. it’s hot and thick and it almost knocks you over—when was the last time you felt this good, if ever?

the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum with him, nodding along to satoru’s praises on how well you’re taking him. you squirt all over his painfully hard dick and suck in a sharp breath as you do so, body trembling from the force of both of your orgasms.

“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” satoru murmurs when you both come down from your highs, stroking your hair almost tenderly. you bob your head in response, face warm and eyes unable to properly focus. he stuffs his fingers back inside your puffy cunt and scoops the cum dripping down your thighs back inside, mumbling something about not letting a single drop go to waste. “who knew the pretty detective i’d had my eye on would be this good to me?” he cooes, grinning snarkily.

satoru’s earlier promise floats through your head and you force yourself to look him in the eye. “y-you said you’d let me arrest you after,” you breathe, back still pressed to the wall as satoru surveys you amusedly.

“oh, sweetheart, you’re in no condition to be giving orders,” satoru says condescendingly, pulling up his pants and grinning at you. his cheeks are still flushed red, but whether that’s from the cold nighttime air or from the heated sex, you don’t quite know. “we should do this again sometime,” he continues conversationally as he picks up your coat for you. despite the fact that you’re still naked and trembling, satoru drapes your coat around your shoulders and helps you button it up.

“but you said—” you protest, but satoru cuts you off with a raised eyebrow.

“you didn’t seriously believe me, did you?” satoru tuts, shaking his head. “i’m a serial killer. i’m not gonna turn myself in just ‘cause of a detective’s pretty pussy, baby. you should’ve known better, doll.” satoru wraps an arm around your limp shoulders and tugs you in for a kiss, lips pressing firmly against your own for a couple seconds before he pulls away with a satisfied smile.

he leaves you with a promise to see you soon.

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lightseoul · 2 months ago

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cw. worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), cussing (bkg-typical), not many warnings needed for this one chat

words. 1.3k (i had to split it so that the chapter wouldn't be a whole ass novel. also for pacing purposes :0)

masterlist | part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 8, part 9

Your eyes lazily trail the movement of the colleague you speak to at most twice a year as they give a presentation up front, the words they’re uttering slowly turning into a slew of blah blah blah, proper name, place name, backstory like in that TikTok you saw before falling into a fitted sleep the night prior.

Without you noticing, November has finally rolled around, and with it came one of the most important meetings involving Bakugou, Kirishima, and the agency’s department heads aimed at preparing the leaders for the year-end processes and reports.

The very meeting that you find yourself barely getting through at this exact moment.

Tanaka, the said colleague, seems like he’s explaining a pie graph about Dynamight, Red Riot, and their sidekicks’ stats, you think.

You shake your head in an attempt to bring your attention back to what’s in front of you, but your efforts appear to have been in vain as your mind, once again, drifts to the past, and you find yourself mulling over what Mina said two weeks ago.

It’s something that hasn’t left your mind since then, trailing behind you like a damned poltergeist who doesn’t know when to let up.

And as much as you’d hate to admit it, it’s caused considerable confusion on your part, and you don’t like how it may have inadvertently affected how you act around Bakugou, too.

You’re more fidgety, now, and you’ve since beaten your record of how fast you get flustered and stuttery around the man. Although if he’s noticed this humiliating, inexplicable change in your behavior, he isn’t showing it.

At least, not by much.

His gazes have been lingering for a beat too long whenever you stammered your response instead of doing so calmly like you usually do…

“Hey.”

You sit up in sudden attention, dizziness instantly hitting you from having been violently pulled from your reverie. You look at Bakugou, who’s staring you down from the end of the table, and scan the area around him, only to realize that everybody has apparently left, leaving the two of you alone in the conference room.

“Wha—”

“You weren’t listening, were you?”

You feel yourself flush in embarrassment. Guilty.

He shakes his head in what you think is disapproval, stacking the documents in front of him in a neat pile. You take that as a cue to follow suit, gathering your folders in front of you and hurriedly standing up to beeline out of the room.

The last thing you need is for these glass doors to magically lock you in, too.

But you don’t even get to reach the doorway, ass barely lifted a breadth away from your cushy office chair when he speaks up.

“I overheard you in the breakroom.”

You freeze in your tracks, lifting your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Earlier this morning. You said—” he pauses, eyes shifting to your rear, “Sit back down, dumbass. Your knees are gonna kill you if you keep this up.”

You’re about to retort with a comeback when it dawns on you that the guy has a point, so you begrudgingly take a seat.

“As I said,” he shoots you a pointed look, “I overheard you saying you didn’t have plans for next week.”

“Next week?”

“Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, yeah,” you absentmindedly scratch your right cheek. “My family will be on vacation and all my close friends have plans with their relatives.”

One of his eyebrows raises in question, “And you won’t be tagging along?”

You shrug, “I don’t want to impose on my friends, and being with my family on a holiday isn’t exactly the most relaxing experience.”

Bakugou merely hums in response, seeming as if he’s pondering something in his head. Unable to sustain his gaze, you opt for looking around the room instead, suddenly finding the plain, gray ceiling wildly interesting.

A few moments pass before you decide that yes, this silence is going to kill you if you don’t get the fuck out now.

You lift yourself from your chair, “Well, I should get go—”

“Come over.”

As if you’re in a slapstick comedy, you, once again, freeze. “W-what?”

He clears his throat, “C-come over, to my parents’. For thanksgiving.”

You stare at each other for what feels like an eternity before his eyes gravitate toward your rear again, only this time you plop back down before he can order you to reseat yourself.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow…”

He sighs like he’s teaching you basic ass mathematics and you’re not getting it. “The old hag has been begging me to let them meet you ever since, you know…”

The news of you two “dating” broke out. Right.

You mentally slap yourself for forgetting Bakugou had parents who would eventually also catch wind of your silly little dating scandal.

At the thought of meeting the people who raised Bakugou, your throat suddenly feels a bit too dry. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” you manage to get out.

It’s one thing to go and pretend to be Bakugou’s girlfriend in front of the man’s fucking parents, it’s another to do so in this state that you’ve been in ever since that get-together with his friend group. You don’t exactly know why, but you’ve been fundamentally reconfigured since that fated night, and whatever the fuck is causing it, you’re sure won’t mix well with being in the same room as Bakugou’s parents. That, on top of having to act all lovey-dovey with their son around them.

You’re about to defend your case as to why they should just scrap the idea entirely when Bakugou responds.

“It’s either that or she visits us here in the agency.”

Your jaw drops, “Is that a threat?”

He draws his lips in a thin line, shaking his head. “It’s an ultimatum.”

“That’s more or less the same thing,” you counter.

“My mom likes to play with the shitty technicalities,” he retaliates, tone abrasive as ever.

You can only gawk at the guy as he shifts in his seat rather quite uncomfortably.

Is he seriously going along with his mom’s wishes now?

What happened to the ever-notorious Bakugou who just goes for what he wants without minding everyone else?

You study the man for a beat, weighing your options in your head. It’s obvious, which of the two is the wiser option. It’s a matter of going for where there are fewer pairs of eyes watching you and Bakugou’s every movement. But the real question is, why do you have to choose in the first place?

“I don’t understand,” you start, “Why can’t you just tell your mom that we’re not ready to do the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing yet?”

“Why don’t you be on the receiving end of her fucking nagging, hah?” he snaps, voice defensive and loud enough to make you jump.

“Okay, okay,” you immediately concede, tone placating, not willing for this to escalate into a fight. The last thing you need is for somebody in the building to overhear you, think you’re having a lovers’ quarrel or whatever the fuck they call it, and run to the media to gush all about it.

You’ve had enough media exposure to last you for a lifetime, thank you very much.

Chancing one last glance at your boss, you find him staring a hole into the pile of papers directly in front of him, a prominent scowl etched on his face.

His mom’s nagging must be weighing him down more than you thought.

As you study the visibly bothered man, you’re acutely aware of all the fight evaporating from your body, and you eventually find yourself slouching in your seat in what you reluctantly identify as defeat.

“…What’s your parents’ address?”

“Don’t bother,” he almost instantly replies. “I’ll pick you up.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii @beab19 @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lovra974 @chelbyisbord @k0z3me @meeeepsworld @asura-rose @dragonscribble @moonz33 @citrustsuki @deadhands69 @lemuhr @rosemarygalaxy @iluv-ace @eyesforbkg @carpe000diem @shushbruv @matchat3a @ttalgi @bakunianadecorazon @the2ndl @keiscwsz @onlyisaa @aizawa19

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 they make such a huge difference! have a lovely day ( ˘ ³˘)

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #mha imagines #bnha imagines #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou drabble #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n

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fluoneia · 25 days ago

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vi knew going back to piltover after another recent robbery was bad. yet, powder was sick and was in need of more nutrition and possibly some medicines. so, she made the tough, and, probably bad choice, to go back up into piltover to steal.

so here she was, scouting out nothing other then a mansion, much different to her usual small houses that she deemed safe, far away from piltover’s harsh security.

and she swore she saw the family leave for some fancy, to what she presumed to be a ball based on their crisp suits, and extravagant dresses.

so, she carefully picks the lock from the balcony, the dark room barely lit by the moonlight. she slides the door open, taking a soft step inside.

using the light from the flickering flashlight in her hand, she scoffed and smacked it against her hand, before facing it toward the room and peering around it.

her eyes widened. valuables, gold plated decorations all around the room. the gold enough, which she assumed to be real, would be enough to last her a lifetime.

she should really try robbing mansions more often.

vi quickly opens her bag, finding every valuable she could that was worth fortunes in zaun, and stuffed them inside the bag.

when she walked into the bathroom attached to the extravagant room, she takes a second to look around.

soaps, one’s that smelled of fancy perfumes and scents, and random glass jars on the counter filled with products that smelled equally as good.

she picked up a glass, opening the lid, and taking her finger through the white product. she sniffed it, before rubbing her thumb through the product in her hand.

she shrugged, closing the lid and popping it into her bag.

vi hummed, turning around, before freezing, blood running cold when she saw you, standing with a gun pointed toward her chest.

“what the hell are you doing in my house?” you sneer.

she inhaled a sharp breath, hands carefully raising above her head. “sightseeing?” she prompts.

you stare her up and down, before cocking your head behind you. you slowly take steps backward, still holding the gun toward her.

she takes the hint, stepping toward you, until you were both in the open room.

“i’m going to ask you again,” you say, head cocking backward with a frown on your face, “why are you in my house?”

“you asked what i was doing in your house last time.” she sneers.

you scoff. “you should really be more careful talking to the girl holding a gun.”

“you’re not gonna do anything with it. pilties don’t like viole—“

she is cut off as your finger clicks the trigger, shooting just to her right, with precise aim not to hit her.

“i’m not just a piltie. i’m training to be an enforcer. do you know what that means, zaunite?”

she gulped. “enlighten me.”

she stills as you take steps toward her, each soft pad against the floor making her heart thump.

“it means i’m not above killing people like some of these other soft-hearted morons are.”

“why don’t you just get this over with and turn me in?” vi says, head tilting down toward you. “or just shoot me.”

you stay silent.

“go ahead. call for your friends and turn me in to stillwater.”

“i’m not gonna do that.”

“heh?” her brows furrow, “why the hell not?”

“i don’t want to.”

“why?” vi instigates, “come on, you were just going on about how you’re gonna become a big-shot enforcer. so, turn me in.”

“you’re talking like you want me to turn you in.”

“well, why don’t you want to?”

“just shut up!” you jeer, holding the gun with a firmer grip. “what if i.. just don’t want to?”

“then.. i guess, you’re one of those soft-hearted morons.”

your face tightens. yoh stare, before sighing and lowering your gun. you toss it onto your bed, tightening your lips.

“i’m not actually training to be an enforcer.” you sigh. “i’m.. a librarian.”

“hah!” vi snorts, “so you’re just a nerd, then.”

“hey, you’re still in my house. and you’re a thief. you’re not above me.”

she tuts her lips, shrugging.

you purse your lips. “you must be hungry.”

“do you just assume all zaunites are on the brink of starvation?”

“well, aren’t you?” you contest.

she purses her lips.

“what’s your name, thief?” you jest.

“alright, lay off the thief part, cupcake.”

“you’re a thief. are you not?” you decide to ignore the nickname.

“yeah, but..” she runs a hand over her face, “it’s degrading.”

“and cupcake isn’t?” you raise a brow. “are you hungry, or not?”

“.. i could eat.” she shrugs. truth be told, she hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. majority of her food was given to powder, considering she was sick.

“let’s go then.”

you leave no room for argument as you turn on your heel, opening the door to your bedroom, and walking down the hall.

vi followed, peering at the portraits on the wall. you weren’t in any of them. why?

“why aren’t you in these portraits?” vi asked, looking at the family of four with two boys, a mother and a father.

“uh..” you hesitate. “i’m adopted. they don’t really like me in their portraits.”

“oh.”

you stop walking, before turning back around.

“right. kitchens that way.”

“you don’t know the layout to your own house?” vi’s brow furrowed, tucking her hands in her pockets.

“i only moved in last year. it’s a big house, alright?” you roll your eyes, turning around, and walking.

vi hesitates, before letting it go, and following you again.

you step into the kitchen, walking inside and grabbing something out of the fridge.

she pops it into what vi presumed to be a microwave, having seen it in the houses she robbed before. you lean against the counter, and look to vi, before looking around.

“there’s some chocolates on the counter if you want some.” you offer, gesturing toward the island in the middle of the room.

“chocolate?” she questions.

“yeah.. chocolate. have you never had chocolate before?”

vi picks up one of the gold wrappers. “we don’t have candy down in the lanes. i caught powder almost trading something i was going to sell for food for a piece of candy.”

“who’s powder?”

“my little sister.” vi turns around, ears peeking at the beeping of the microwave. you take the plate out of the microwave, plopping it on the counter beside vi. you jump up, sitting on the island while vi inspects the plate.

“you can take some. i’m sure she’d love it.”

“wont your parents care?”

“nah, they won’t mind.” you shake your head, looking around the kitchen once more.

vi picks up the metal fork, stabbing it into the piece of meat on the plate, and taking a bite. her eyes light up at the taste of chicken that she hasn’t had in years, much less this tasty and rich.

she peers to you, looking at you stifle a laugh, and returns her face back to its solemn state.

“it’s alright.”

“alright? you wound me.” you place a hand on your chest, right over your heart.

“you made this?”

“yeah. i cook dinner most of the time since my brothers have extra-curricular stuff.”

vi nods.

“so.. you said your sister, powder, was sick?” you ask, tilting your head toward her.

“yeah.” vi nods, “you know the lanes.. lots of chemicals, and stuff. and it’s not so clean down there. her and little man like to run around, and i guess she caught something while they were out.”

“little man?”

“ekko. he’s with benzo. him and powder became friends, since there’s not a lot of people their age down there who still value their innocence.”

you hum.

“i think i have some medicine that could help her.” you say.

“no.” vi rejects, “no, i don’t need your medicine.”

“well, it could help—“

“why do you want to help me so much?” she drops the fork, “i’m a thief. i was robbing your bedroom.”

you purse your lips.

“you know, most pilties would turn in a criminal like me. not.. treat them to dinner, and offer to help their sick relatives.”

you jump off the counter. “yeah. im feeding you dinner, and im offering medicine for your sick sister. and, im letting you keep the stuff you stole from me.”

“like you said, you’re a thief. just be grateful im offering this to you, and stop asking questions.” you exhale.

vi gnaws at the inside of her lip. “fine. but i don’t owe you anything.”

“that’s fine with me.” you snap back. “give me your bag.”

hesitantly, vi hands her the bag off her shoulders. you thank her, walking toward the door.

and then, you sprint off.

vi’s brows furrow. “the hell?” she whispers, walking toward the door and peering around. that’s when she hears the crash of a window, and she internally cursed herself.

“hey!” she yells, racing toward the now broken window. she leans over, to see you climbing the roof and jumping through the rooftops.

of fucking course.

you weren’t a librarian. you weren’t some prissy piltover. no piltover has that sympathy.

you were a zaunite. just like her.

and you just stole her loot.

vi should be chasing after you. demanding her stuff back. but.. she just.. laughs.

a few weeks later.

vi told no one of the girl she encountered in piltover. she told no one she left for piltover that night in the first place.

you held a spot in her mind, both filled with anger and.. adoration.

vi had to admit, it was kind of funny how quickly she was to trust that girl. she didn’t live in that house, make that food. she was robbing the same house, and took advantage of the fact vi had already taken majority of the valuables.

she kind of admired you.

vi took a sip of her water, not paying attention to the conversation mylo and claggor were having.

and that’s when she saw you. delivering pieces of metal to vander.

vi abruptly stands.

“hey!” she calls out across the bar, “you!”

she races over to you. as soon as you see her, your eyes widen, instantly racing out the bar. she chases after you.

“cupcake, get back here!”

“cupcake?” mylo and claggor say in unison.

“oh, you little—“ vi races out the bar.

“better luck next time!” you laugh, racing down the street.

“i’m gonna find you! you can’t run forever!”

but you were long gone.

vi would find you. because you intrigued her more then anyone ever had, and..

she couldn’t lie and say you weren’t all that bad looking. what can she say?

vi likes the chase.

#fanfiction #writing #vi arcane #arcane #arcane league of legends #vi x reader #arcane season 2

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prentissluvr · 3 months ago

Text

dead eyes — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, canon typical violence, blood, death, weapons, and monsters (shifter), reader has a panic attack, character death (in a dream), nightmares, crying, kisses, unedited, 2.4K words. requested !

summary : killing a shifter with sam's appearance scares you to the point of a panic attack.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

his dead eyes. you shouldn’t have looked.

when you do, it feels like you’re being tilted on your axis, and your vision swims for a moment. his voice, though distant, brings you out of it. we should go find dean, he says, voice gentle like he caught a glimpse of the horror that flashes over your features. horror because they’re his dead eyes.

but it’s not over yet. there’s still another shifter in the house, and the adrenaline of an active hunt doesn’t let you dwell on it.

you had gotten separated, just like you said you wouldn’t, and when sam showed back up, you had to point your gun at him, you had to keep him at a distance. this proved smart when another sam walks in. your sam, you think, because he’s carrying the silver knife he took on the hunt today… and because it feels like him. but you couldn’t be sure.

so you kept your gun up and ready to turn on either one at a moment's notice, even when the mere idea of shooting sam, even a fake one, made you sick to your stomach. what if i shoot the real sam? you had thought to yourself in a terrified moment before your insincts kicked in.

you offered to test yourself first, slipping out your silver knife and cutting a thin line to prove to the real sam that you can be trusted. the shifter and sam stare each other down, and the one that you think is your real sam offers to test himself with his own knife. right as he brings the blade to his forearm, the other lunges towards sam, pulling out a long dagger and aiming right for the heart.

two shots rang out through the air before you could even think about it, and the shift dropped dead at sam’s feet.

now, as you find dean, just barely having killed the last shifter, you know that your instincts served you well, and saved both you and sam. but it had all happened so fast. the realization that there was more than one shifter, getting separated from the brothers, then the confrontation with both sams. your sam, who was calm and collected, but didn’t try to worm his way into getting you to trust him. and the shifter, who wore sam’s face and played with you.

he had insisted he was the real sam, he had chosen to confuse you. sure, to buy himself some time… but you think it was for the pure entertainment of it too. that’s exactly what the shifters had done to their previous victims; posed as their loved ones, but turned violent and angry until the victims tried to hurt or even kill them in self-defense. then they'd guilt their victim for trying to hurt someone they love. and then of course they’d kill them, with their loved one’s face as the last thing they see. they were a violent, messed up pair of monsters, and you’re glad to be rid of them.

but they got to you too. maybe you are their final victim, because sam’s voice saying please don’t hurt me keeps replaying in your head. then there’s sam’s body falling to the ground, blood pooling under him so fast and his eyes open in death.

it wasn’t sam. you know it wasn’t sam. but in the car ride back to the motel you’re overwhelmed with images of his dead body anyway. and the fact that you had to point that gun at the real sam because you couldn’t be too sure. looking down the barrel of a gun and sam being at the end of it… it just about kills you.

from his seat in the front of the car, sam knows that you’re struggling. he can feel it. your eyes on the back of his head, looking haunted when he glances back with a silent smile of reassurance. and he can’t even see your hands where they are, tucked into your lap, but he knows you well enough that it’s like he can physically feel the way they’re shaking. he wishes he could wrap his solid hands around your trembling fingers and rub your back to soothe your breathing.

he’ll have to wait until you get to the motel, and he’s thankful the drive is almost over. the silence of the car isn’t a comfortable one.

dean reads the room easily and takes to the shower the moment you arrive. before the door to the bathroom is even shut, sam pulls you into his arms, one hand wrapped around your shoulders and the other planted on the back of your head to keep you close.

“it’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek against you. “i know you’d never hurt me. you don’t have to worry about that.”

the way that he hand picks words and tone and volume for you, with ease and purpose and a complete knowledge of you, your heart, and your mind makes you melt into his hold. you mold to his body, you hug him back so tight, and you cry a few tears. just a few, because his arms around you are grounding and real and better than anything else you could ever ask for. you thought you might fall into a panic, let your anxieties and tendency to overthink things get the better of you. he fixes it all with a hug.

a hug and a love for you that compares to nothing at all. it’s like the way that he holds you and the way that he knows you, gently close the gaps where worry and fear and tears slip through. no stitches, no needle and thread, just soft bandages that hold you together.

⟢⟢⟢

you kill sam in your dreams. you don’t remember anything else. just what it’s like to point your gun at him and shoot with intent. what it’s like to press your hands to the bleeding wounds you made and see his eyes go still. you wake before you can close them with bloody hands.

you’re trembling and you don’t think you’re breathing quite right.

it’s just a dream. it was just a dream. none of it is real. you would never hurt sam, never on purpose.

with a sharp twist of your neck, you look over at his sleeping form from your spot on the pullout couch.

you share a bed much more often than not, but this motel is out of rooms with queen beds. last time you slept in a twin bed with him you almost fell to the floor even with him holding you close. that thought brings you out of it for a moment. but seeing him so still in bed is too scary for you to stay calm for any longer than that.

he’s fine, you think desperately. he’s just sleeping. if you could take the time to let your eyes adjust to the dark or see through the tears in your eyes, you’d be able to catch the rise and fall of his breathing. but you can’t.

you can’t even keep track of your own breathing as you stumble out of bed and towards him before realizing at the last moment that you don’t want to wake him.

so you put a hand to your chest and try to breathe as you turn around and make your way to the motel room door on shaky legs. the tears run and run like they can outpace the fear, maybe drown it, and you don’t realize how much noise you’re making as you fumble with the lock and the handle and the door that wasn’t this heavy earlier today.

you’re looking for the cold. the wind, maybe rain if you’re lucky. you’re looking for something to feel that’s not a phantom of your nightmares or suffocating guilt and terror. how could you even dream that? how could you?

and you can’t breathe, you don’t think that you can breathe as your knees buckle and you sit down hard on the concrete outside. it would hurt if you could feel it.

you squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head between your knees because you know somewhere in the back of your mind that you’re having a panic attack. but from your position on the ground and the intensity of your anxiety, it’s not enough. you gasp and gasp and can’t hear sam’s footsteps or your name falling from his lips until he’s right in front of you.

he doesn’t touch you for fear of startling you, but he says your name so soft and steady and worried.

“please look at me, honey,” he asks. sleep tints his voice, love colors it. “it’s alright. you’re alright. i’m alright.”

looking at him is hard because he’s already there, behind your eyelids and bleeding out. but he’s alright. that was his voice saying it, his voice calling you honey and maybe if you open your eyes and look up, he won’t sound so distant the next time he talks.

he’s in front of you. the sight of him sways a little, but he’s there and if you’re seeing well enough, he looks so concerned. so sorry and worried and a little helpless because he wants to bring you out of it and isn’t sure if it’s working yet.

but you hear him and you listen, and when he can see your eyes, it’s a little bit better. when you can see his eyes, it’s a little bit better. they are not open in death. they are alive and feeling and looking at you with love and pain and softness and sorrow. he’s so sorry that you’re so scared of hurting him.

“can you focus on me, love?” he asks, noting your distant eyes and faraway mind and wanting more than anything to bring you back to him.

like a miracle, you find out that you can. you can focus on his eyes, and then his voice, and then you see him holding a hand out in case you want something physical to ground yourself with. it’s instinct to grab his hand, to grip it and steady yourself with it like you have a million times before for a million different reasons. like when you got tipsy and wobbly or when you wanted to go home but you didn’t have one. when you missed him or when you twisted your ankle or fell in love. when you killed him in your dreams.

you still gasp for air and you still cry. but sam is there and that means you’re going to be okay. that means he’s okay, at least for now. he makes for now enough, and you’ll make sure that it’s always. i’ll protect him, you tell yourself. you’ll protect him.

but for now he’ll be the one to protect you; tonight it’s from your fears and the cruel tricks of your mind. he pulls your shaky form into him. he rubs your back and kisses your forehead and your breathing slows down. the air comes into your lungs and it stays there long enough to make a difference. you feel the cold and the breeze on your skin. there’s no rain, but the moon can be seen and it hangs over sam’s head. the moon reminds you of sam.

you walk yourself out of the panic attack without even needing him to ask you for five things you see or four things you can feel. he’s proud of you for it. of course, it’s his being there that helps you more than anything.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, “there you go. i got you.” he smooths his hand over the back of your head, soft and slow and sturdy. when your eyes flutter closed, the only thing you see is the imprint of the bright moon against your eyelids for a moment. the rest is dark and calm.

the fabric of his sleep shirt gets all bunched up in your weak hands. the t-shirt is soft and thin from wear and it feels familiar in between your sleepy fingers. it’s october. he’s probably cold.

i’ll protect him, you remember. your fingers loosen and the fabric falls away from your hold. it rides up and exposes his skin to the wind when you rub up his back. it falls back over the hem of his jeans when you rub down. you’re trying to warm him, but your hands are shaky and small compared to the expanse of his back, even smaller compared to the expanse of the sky.

for a moment sam isn’t sure what you're doing, but he smiles so sadly when he realizes. his heart aches with love and adoration.

“let’s get inside,” he whispers. you nod against his chest. he’ll be warmer inside. so will you. you might be shivering. he hoists you to your feet with steady care. your knees feel weak, but you hold his hand tight and walk back into the room. sam closes and locks the door, the guides you to his bed. he sits you down on the edge and crouches in front of you, wiping softly at your tears. then he leans forward and up to press a kiss to your cheek, then another to the spot between your eyebrows.

you fall into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he accepts you happily. he rubs your back soothingly, lets you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. he holds you there until you sit up. he lets his legs go sore and doesn’t care about it one bit. you heave out a huff of breath and he cups your face, thumbing softly at your cheekbone. your hand slowly wraps around his wrist, then you turn your head to kiss the heel of his palm.

“let’s sleep,” you mumble against his skin. with a soft heart, sam obliges, climbing into the small bed after you. he bundles you up into his arms before pulling the covers over your warming bodies. he kisses the top of your head, letting his lips linger for a long moment before he rests his cheek against the same spot.

“goodnight, sam,” you whisper softly, voice still holding a hint of its earlier shakiness.

“goodnight, honey,” he echoes, voice just as soft and prettily hushed. he wants to say more, maybe another ‘it’s okay’ or sweet reassurance. he wants to make sure you know that he’s not afraid of you hurting him, that he trusts you and that loves you all the way. but he thinks you already know, and that you’re better suited for silence now.

he’ll tell you tomorrow.

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luvyeni · 1 year ago

Text

❛CUPID AND HIS ANGEL❜ ( l. know )

💬nia's notes: i seen the shoot and got hella inspired.

p. cupid!leeknow x angel!reader w. 2.5k+

warnings? yandere themes, corruption kink, talks of blood, oral (m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, poor knowledge of greek mythology ( like zesus should strike me down), leeknow is referred to as both lk and cupid.

— 𖦹 ( youre lee knows precious angel, and he'll be damned if he shoots his arrow into your hear for anyone but himself ) !

“she is a beauty, isn’t she?” lee know stared at the photo in front of him, ready to snap his bow and arrows in half. “she isn’t a goddess by any means, just a mere angel, but she’s special.” he knew who you were, he’d been watching you since you arrived here in olympus, he already claimed you as his. “you want me to use my arrows on a useless angel?”

he didn’t mean to be so harsh, but if this male angel found out he also had an eye out on you, he’d surely try and start a war over it – and lee know didn’t bother for another war, nor did he wish bloodshed, but he’d spill the angels blood all over olympus if it meant you’d be his alone – plus the angel would never win against lee know, he was a god of course, but that wouldn’t stop him, male angels are very prideful. “please, i’ll pay you a generous amount.” lee know smiled, tapping the table. “of course.” the angel put the sack of gold on the table, lee know scooped up the bag, putting it in his pocket. “good day to you.” he turned to walk away. “so you’ll do it?” he turned back facing the angel. “consider it already done, i’ll inform you when it will take place.” he smirked walking out of the establishment.

of course he wasn’t gonna do it, no way was he gonna let you be taken from him by some lowly angel, no you deserved more than that – you deserved to be treated like the goddess you really were, spoiled with many jewels and dresses, to eat the best foods… you deserved to be with him, he could give you all that and more.

of course, he already knew where you hung out, in the fields with the other angels, he’d often watch you picking flowers, your wings fluttering behind you, perfect for him. “hi my precious little angel.”

you turned around to face the voice, with a smile, it was your friend leeknow, you smiled running over to him. “hi cupid.” you teased, he smiled, patting your head. “i told you to call me leeknow.” you chuckled. “i know, but i like teasing you.” you were so cute, so unaware of the explicit things he thought about doing to you. “are you here to stay or are you gonna go make people fall in love today.” he shook his head, he only had one person he was gonna make fall in love today – and she was standing right in front of him. “no i’m just here to watch you today, make sure you’re being the good angel i know you are.” he took a flower from your pile. “(y/n), come!” your friend called for you. “go little angel, i’ll be here when you’re done.”

he sat down watching you run over to your friend who wanted to show you something in the grass, probably a animal or something – he didn’t mind, he had business to attend to. pulling out his trusty bow, along with a single love arrow, he waited for yours and your friend to be far enough so you’d be to look at him first, but you won’t see him shoot you, before aiming the arrow, making sure to wait for the exact moment – lord knows that if he shot your friend by accident he’d sure end up killing them, he didn’t want anyone else but you, and was willing to do anything, and he couldn’t have that if he has a stupid little angel floating around here actually thinking he’d love them, no all his love was for you.

once you were in the right place, he wasted no time, letting the arrow go, shoot right in the heart, right where it needed to be. he saw you stumble, meaning the arrow did hit you – making direct eye contact with him. he smiled, and just as he planned, you dropped the flowers, waving goodbye to your friend, running over to him. “you’re back my little angel.” you smiled, he seen the look in your eyes. “pretty little angel.” he held the flower he took from you, placing it behind your ear. “leeknow, i feel- shh, i know angel, let’s get you back to my castle okay?”

lee know was ecstatic, the magic from the arrow seemed to hit faster than anyone he ever shot before, you were all over him on the ride back, to the point he had to hold your wrist down to keep you from unbuckling his pants, “angel stop it.” he sighed as you pressed warm kisses to his neck. you pouted, whining. “but why, i just want to show you that i love you so much.” he smiled, this is exactly what you wanted. “yeah? you love me?” you nodded. “yup, so so much.” he chuckled. “and i love you too angel, but you have no clue what you’re doing, just wait a little while longer, and i’ll show you exactly how you can show me how much you love me.”

as soon as you touched the inside of your castle he was taking you to his chambers, not even caring to explain to the maids, close his door, leaving you both alone. you rushed to kiss him, he finally allowed you to, it was messy, due to your lack of knowledge of how to kiss someone or do anything in a sexual nature at in general. he pulled away grabbing both your cheeks. “calm down my little angel, you don’t even know what you’re doing.” he chuckled. “let me guide you, okay? i’ll give you anything you want, just submit to me.”

Your body finally calm down some, he smiled. “good girl, now undress for me.” you untied the string of your dress, that was tied around your neck, letting it fall, uncovering your boobs, the cold air hitting your nipples. “perfect, my perfect little angel.” he brought his hands up to your nipples, pinching them, you whimpered at the sensation. “sensitive baby.”

he sat down in the chair, patting his lap. “come here pretty.” you moved to where here was, standing in between his legs. “be my sweet little angel and get on your knees for me.” you obeyed, sinking down on your knees, looking up at him. “good little angel, listen so well for me.” he caressed your face, the lovesick look in your eyes making him smile. “gonna do whatever i ask you, be a good angel for me.” you nodded. “anything.”

he let your face go, sitting back to unbuckle his slacks, pulling them down along with his underwear, his cock slapping again his abdomen, his hissed at the cold air. “are you hurt?” your eyes filled with worry, he let out a dry laugh. “no angel, i’m fine.” he groaned, stroking his cock in front of your face. “you want to show me how much you love?, prove to cupid how much you love him?” you nodded. “i do.”

he grabbed the base of his cock, bringing it to your pink glossy lips. “open for me angel.” you slowly parted your lips, he slid his cock into your mouth, moaning as he guided you down his length. “there we go angel, keep going, don’t use your teeth.” you took as much as you could, until his tip hit the back of your throat. “pretty girl, my cock is too big for your little mouth.”

you shook your head, desperate to please him, you tried to take him further down, gagging around his length. “you really want to please me little angel, you took me all the way.” he threw his head back as you worked your mouth up and down, eventually getting the hang of it. “sh-shit you’re a natural angel.” the god was losing his mind, the way your mouth worked on his cock, he had to grip the chair to keep from grabbing your head, fucking up into your mouth – not wanting to frighten you during your first time, plus you both had all the time in the world, both of you being immortal, he had all the time in the world to fuck your face, teach you and corrupt you even more than he was about to.

“fuck angel, angel i’m about to cum.” he groaned. “wanna cum in your mouth okay? gonna fill your mouth with my cum.” you hummed, he grabbed the back of your head, pushing it down until your nose poked his pubic bone. “breath through your nose angel.” he groaned out, stilling your head. “ngh, fuck angel, i’m cumming!” his cock twitched before you felt his warm cum hit the back of your throat. “mhm shit, take all my cum love.” he cursed, his cum filling your mouth.

he finally released your head; you coughed, spit and cum wetting your lips as you caught your breath. “did i do well?” your voice was scratchy due to his previous assault, he smiled at your need to please him – even though he was the cause of it. “yeah angel, you did good.” he said grabbing your cheek, wiping the cum from your lips. “now it’s time for me to show you how much i love you now.”

he helped you up, guiding you to the bed. “lay down angel.” you complied, laying down, your wings spread behind you, your skin glowing, you were truly a beauty. “such a pretty creature.” he lifted the skirt of your dress up on your waist, your white panties on display. “so fucking pretty angel.” he kissed your navel. “spread your legs for me angel.”

he sat on his knees between your legs, the wet spot in the middle of your panties, proving your arousal. “look at the mess you made angel, you love me that much?” he rubbed you through your panties. “leeknow.” you whimpered, your eyes widened at the noise that so easily came out of your mouth. “it’s normal sweet angel, it’s just you showing how much you love me.�� he moved your panties to the side, your cunt soaked with your juices. “look so sweet angel, gonna let have a taste later.” it didn’t sound like a question, and lee know didn’t mean it as either, he would spend the rest of eternity in between your legs, but he was equally as desperate to fuck you, his cock swelled just at the thought. he pushed a finger into your hole, you whimpered out his name in reaction. “that feels nice angel?” you nodded. “i’ll let it slide this once angel, but when i speak to you, you use your words, okay?” he pressed a second finger at your hole. “you want another?”

“pl-please.” you moaned as he added the second finger, using his thumb to rub your clit. “sweet angel your little cunt is squeezing my fingers like crazy.” he said. “you’re barely taking them, how can you take me cock if you can’t even take my fingers.” you whined. “i-i can, i promise.”he smiled, speeding up his movements, curling his fingers. “you gotta cum on my fingers first then, gotta open you up to take my cock.”

you felt something, your thighs began to tremble, your legs trying to close around leeknows wrist, but he held them open. “s-something- shh let it out angel, this is a good thing, that means you’re about to cum, be a good angel and cum all over my fingers.” on his word, you felt yourself release, cumming on his hand. “le-leeknow.” your body convulsed as he worked you through your orgasm, pulling his fingers out, bringing them to his lips. “oh fuck angel, you taste so good.” he groaned, tapping on your sticky clit.

“you ready for cock angel?” he rubbed his length on your folds, your juices coating his cock. “y-yes.” your whimpers turned into a loud moan as he slowly entered you, the tip of his cock alone stretching your cunt. “leeknow.” he sighed, his cock sinking into your cunt, your walls gripping him like vice. “fu-fuck angel, your cunt is squeezing me like crazy.” he grunted. “relax your pretty cunt for me, let me in.” he slowly moved his hips, taking his cock out, pushing back in.

you were a mess as he slowly moved inside you, the uncomfortable feeling slowly subsiding, turning into pure pleasure. “m-more.” that’s all he needed to speed up his movements, your moans bouncing off the walls of his chambers as he fucked you. “that’s it angel, take all of my cock.” his hand toyed with your nipples, pinching them.

you felt like you were floating, the tip of his cock slamming into your cervix. “are you going dumb on my cock already angel?” he chuckled. “it’s okay love, i’ll be right here, your love will be here when you come back.” he lifted your hips fucking deeper into you.

“fu-fuck angel, gonna make you my wife.” he grunted. “give you everything you deserve.” he promised. “no one will ever be able to harm you.” you listened to his confession, unable to speak. “sh-shit you’re clenching so tight around me, gonna cum aren’t you, tell me you love me first, i want to hear you say it.” he grabbed your chin. “i-i love you, i love you so much.” you mustered out. “lee-leeknow i’m gonna cum!” you screamed.

“cum for me angel, cum for me so i can fill your little cunt with my cum.” his words alone made you yell out his name as you came, your thighs shaking. “fuck angel, you came so fast -shit- you want my cum that bad, want to have my children, give me a heir?” you nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist. “p-please.” his hips began to falter, his thrust becoming more messy. “fu-fuck angel, i’m gonna cum, gonna fill your pretty cunt up -ngh- fuckfuckfuck.” he cursed, his cum filling your cunt up. “take my cum, my little angel.”

your body laid there limp, your eyes fluttering close. “little angel are you sleepy, my cock made you that tired?” he chuckled as you nodded. “go ahead and sleep, i’ll clean your sweet body up.” that’s all you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

“you cannot enter cupids chambers right now he is-.” his door swung open, lee knows eyes opened, the angry angel making his way in. “you bastard! you’re a thief and a crook.” he yelled at the god, you can tell he was angry, because not even a prideful angel would dare do what he was doing. “you stole my gold and my angel.”

your eyes opened due to the commotion. “leeknow?” leeknows eyes darken upon hearing your voice. “you woke up my little angel with all your yapping.” he said. “your angel? she’s supposed to be mine!” the angel yelled. “enough of this.” leeknow belted. “why would i need your gold? you’re a lowlife.”he scoffed, the angel stood there fuming. “now get the fuck out before i have you killed, you’re scaring my wife.” with a snap of his fingers, two guards came in dragging the male out. “who was that?”

he turned to you, starring up at him. “just a upset customer, don’t worry about you’ll never see him again.” he dipped under the blanket, kissing your thighs. “wh-what are you doing?” you stuttered.

“gonna eat my little angels pretty pussy.”

©LUVYENI

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halfwayhearted · 3 months ago

Text

I Love You, I’m Sorry — Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Summary: Since your abrupt (and rather dramatic) departure, Spencer’s been tormented by his thoughts. It’s unsettling how he only seems to grasp that it’s always been you when you’re critically injured in the field.

Word Count: 1.4K+

Disclaimer/s — Mention of guns, violence, gunshot wound, hospitals, no use of Y/N, angst to comfort, I think that’s it!

A/N: Read part one here! ^_^ Did Reader lowkey forgive him a little too easily orrrrrrr… gulps.

You weren’t exactly sure about what went wrong.

You trailed behind SSA Luke Alvez, who moved with a tense urgency up the stairs. His silent signal directed you to the rooms further away while he tackled the ones closer to him. With a deep breath, you pushed forward, every step heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

Pushing open the door, your eyes widen at the sight of the woman reported missing just three days ago. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is taped shut. Without thinking, you rush toward her. You don’t pay too much attention to the way she shakes her head vigorously and sobs even louder than before. You wish you had. Just as you rip the tape off her mouth, you hear a cold, menacing voice sound from behind you.

“Drop the gun,” he murmured, using the tip of his foot to gently close the door. “Or I’ll shoot. And trust me, I will shoot. Just ask her.”

Her blue eyes, now glossed over with a new wave of tears, slowly shut while she nods her head at his statement. He’ll shoot.

He will shoot.

Steadily turning around, you tilt your head, raising your gun and aiming it at him. Your voice is stern, “You know I can’t do that. I will if you drop yours.”

“Oh, bullshit. Drop it, or so help me, I’ll kill her right now,” the man snapped, clicking off the safety of his weapon.

Where is Luke? Backup? Hell, Spencer?

“Okay! Okay. Look, I’m putting it down, see?” You relent, kneeling slowly and placing the gun on the ground. He seems satisfied, but the tension in his eyes tells you it’s not enough.

“Now, slide it over.”

Reluctantly, you place your foot behind the firearm and kick it toward him.

A small, bitter laugh escapes his lips. “Now get up. Onto your feet, come on.”

“Okay,” you muttered, ignoring his instructions. Instead, you subtly felt around your ankle, your fingers brushing against the second gun you had stashed there. You cursed yourself under your breath, realizing that Spencer was right again.

Carrying two was incredibly helpful.

“I said get up!” He yelled, his mistake. The sound of shuffling outside the door catches his attention, and that distraction is all you need. You take it out, click off the safety, and aim it at him just as he turns to face you, his eyes widening.

Then, gunshots. Exactly two of them.

Your body crashes against the wall, and your ears are filled with a piercing ringing. The door bursts open, and you hear footsteps rushing toward you.

Did you get him? Did you hit him? You don’t know.

Hands find their way to your abdomen, eliciting a pained whimper from your lips. The person mutters a frantic string of apologies, making you open your eyes to see who it was.

Spencer.

It’s Spencer.

You’re still so, so mad at him. But his expression is worrisome. He’s worried about you.

Looking ahead, you see the UnSub clutching his arm, pain etched across his face, with Luke and another officer roughly dragging him outside. You got him. A small, relieved smile struggles to form on your lips, that’s when it finally registers. There were two gunshots. You were shot.

Your eyes trail up to meet his. “Will I be okay?” You question, your voice soft. He couldn’t help but feel himself choking up, he had to be strong. You needed reassurance. He knew that.

“You’re okay.” He tells you, “You’ll be okay.”

Letting out a hum, your eyes welled up with tears that quickly spilled over. He was just telling you what you wanted to hear, and deep down, you knew it. You didn’t feel okay, not even close.

You could barely keep your eyes open.

Spencer says your name, low but loud enough for you to hear. “Stay awake, hm? Can you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s try, okay? Keep your eyes open.”

Fluttering your eyes open, you meet his panicked gaze. He’s saying something—no, he’s yelling something. Medical. Medics. “Medics!”

Just then, three paramedics burst in, dropping to the ground beside you and swiftly but carefully lifting you onto a stretcher. His desperate words echo in your mind: “You’ll be okay.” But you couldn’t fight the darkness much longer. They were here. You’d be okay, right? You’d hope so.

So, you surrender to the sudden exhaustion, darkness consuming your vision as your body goes completely limp on the gurney.

That was when he knew.

A life without you wasn’t a life at all.

Once he came to that realization, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the hospital. Not until he knew you were okay. Not until he knew you were alive. The weight of his mistake crushed him. How could he have been so stupid? So utterly foolish to let you leave. So reckless for letting you go.

He only left when he was informed that your surgery was successful and that he should come back tomorrow since you were now resting.

The tension in his shoulders faded, and they slumped against his frame.

You were alive.

The next day, he was right there by your bedside, his calloused hand holding onto yours with a desperation that betrayed his calm facade. He had spent a sleepless night consumed by thoughts of what he would say to you. But the problem was, he wasn’t actually sure.

Though it seems he’d have to figure it out now rather than later, when he hears you stir in your sleep, leading to your eyes blinking open.

The first thing you did was panic. All you remember was being on the floor, with Spencer and the paramedics surrounding you. That was when he quickly stood up and leaned over to look at you, saying, “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe, okay? Look. Hospital.”

At the sight of him, you relaxed. “Right.”

“Good,” Spencer nodded, squeezing your hand once, “You’re okay. How are you feeling?”

“Like I was shot.”

He couldn’t help but wince at that. Too soon. “I’d expect nothing less. Do you need anything?”

You don’t answer, too consumed by the fact that he was actually here. Despite everything that’s happened, he was here. Maybe you should’ve expected it. This is Spencer, after all. He’d be here even if it were someone else.

You weren’t entirely sure if you were only trying to convince yourself to shield from the emotions that had quickly loomed. Still, you couldn’t stop the words from spilling out, “Why are you here?”

His figure tensed, yet without hesitation, he responded, “For you.”

When you don’t reply, he continues, his voice breaking, “I’m so—God, I’m so sorry. For not telling you what I was thinking. For not reassuring you. For letting you think I didn’t care. I do care. You needed me to talk to you, communicate, and I didn’t. I… I don’t know why. What JJ said, it didn’t mean anything to me. You mean everything to me. And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you that when you asked. I shouldn’t have even questioned it. I shouldn’t have pulled back from you. And it shouldn’t have taken me so long to realize that. I love you. I love you, and I’m sorry.”

I love you, I’m sorry.

You could see the way his eyes watered, and you couldn’t help but pull him toward you, his upper body bending down slightly while you wrapped your arms around his neck. Both of his hands reluctantly settled on your waist; he didn’t want to hurt you. However, when he didn’t feel any signs of you being uncomfortable, he rested them fully before choking out, “I thought I’d lost you.”

Your heart broke. “I’m right here,” you whispered, pulling back and taking his hand to place it over your heart. It was beating a little fast, but still beating nonetheless. “See? I’m okay, I promise.”

Spencer looked down at his hand that still covered your heart, then flickered his gaze to meet yours. You met his with a soft expression, something he hadn’t seen in the past few weeks and had wished to. “Will you come home?”

A small smile made its way onto your face. You nodded. “Maybe.” A pause. “Yes.”

He released a sigh of relief, leaning down to place a tender kiss to your temple. His lips lingered there, savoring the moment longer than needed, and you welcomed the warmth. He settled back into the chair beside your bed, his hand instantly finding yours when you reached out. His thumb brushing back and forth across your knuckles, a gentle and soothing rhythm that spoke volumes.

“Hey, Spence?” You started. When you heard him say your name in return, you asked, “Do you think you can get me some jello?”

The man smiled and nodded, “Of course.”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr + @writtenbyhollywood ! ౨ৎ

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds angst #criminal minds comfort #jilval #i love you i’m sorry - gracie abrams

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latenightdaydreams · 6 months ago

Note

Could you write something where the reader is König’s enemy, and once koctac wins, Konig takes reader as a prize, fucks her in front of her team making sure they see how good he makes her feel, then takes her back to base where she’ll be his personal and only fleshlight/fuck toy.

"Oh nooo, the big sexy Colonel took me as a sex toy." heeheehee🤭

I Win (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Part 2, Part 3

>cw: fem/afab, nc, r@p3 spelled out, humiliation

1.0k word count

🥇

König walks you towards a tent with one of his hands on the back of your neck, your hands cuffed behind your back. He walks through the flaps where you see your squad, handcuffed and forced to kneel on the ground while KorTac soldiers surround them with guns aimed at them. König forces your head down on a table, making you see your squad.

“Pathetic.” König spits at your squad. “You thought you could go up against Colonel König? My men?! I’ll show you all what a winner looks like.”

He snaps his fingers and has two of his men come over to you. They grab your arms and spread them apart over the table. You can feel König’s hands pull away at your gear and undo your pants. In an attempt to fight him off, you squirm and kick. A hand comes down and slaps your ass harshly.

“Don’t fucking move or I’ll kill your squad.” He snaps quickly.

With a look of disdain on your face, you stop moving. König pulls your pants down to your ankles, pulling your black cotton panties down with them. His hand comes up and spanks your ass once again. You can feel your face heating up from embarrassment and nervousness of what is coming.

“Everyone, take a good look at your sergeant now.” König points at your squad. “I don’t want to see one person looking away or I’ll fucking shoot you, understood?”

Your squad was quiet, not knowing how to react in this situation until König shouted again, “I said IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!”

“Yes…” Their broken voices rung out.

“Gut…” König chuckles as he turns his attention back to you. His fingers rub in between your legs, parting your folds before shoving two fingers into your pussy. Your hands balling into fists as it takes everything in you to not try to kick him off of you.

“Nice and tight, just like I thought you would be.” He withdraws his fingers and wipes your wet arousal on his pants before pulling off his belt quickly with one hand, quickly unfastening this olive-green cargo pants.

You can feel the size of him as he slaps his cock on your ass, leaving behind little drops of pre-cum behind on your skin. The look of discomfort and sympathy is written all over your squad’s face as König spits on your ass, rubbing his dick in the spit. He can sense you tensing up, thinking he’s about to fuck your ass.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Liebling. I’m saving that for later.” He laughs at the mental strain he’s causing to you.

König lines his cock up with your entrance, looking over your body. The shape of you is perfect. You’re the type of woman he would typically go for outside of these circumstances, so it’s perfect that you just ended up in his hands. Without warning, he shoves his cock into. A loud pleasured groan leaves his lips as his hands grasping your hips shove you back even more on to him. Your knuckles are white from holding a tight fist.

“Keep those eyes open for me, Liebling.” He demands while pulling your head up by your hair, he forces you to look at your squad as he fucks you. Looking ahead you notice your squad and KorTac soldiers growing erections in their pants, you’re disgusted.

Your eyes meet those of your squad, their eyes trying to avert your gaze; but it’s difficult when they have guns pointed at their head. With each thrust a small pleasured whimper leaves your lips. König’s fingers are digging into the supple flesh of your hips so deeply, they will be leaving bruises behind.

“Look at your leader, submit so easily to the stronger man.” He laughs loudly before a hand comes down and spanks your ass. “A woman like this needs to be shown she’s nothing more than a hole to fuck.”

His hand lets go of your hair and wraps around your neck, squeezing until it’s a little hard for you to breathe. Your small whimpers coming out strained as König begins to fuck your cunt faster. He scans the faces of your men to make sure they’re watching.

“Beg for me to cum in you.” König pants as his hips begin to roll into you faster. “Beg to be bred.”

At first you stay silent, not wanting to give in more than what’s happened.

“You know I can rape you and then kill all your team in front of you…one by one…” His voice sounded deep and intimidating as he spoke those words.

“Please cum in me.” You say with a strained voice from being choked.

“More convincing!”

“Please! Cum in me please!”

“There you go, keep begging.” König could feel himself building up to the moment, your horse voice just adding to his arousal.

“Please breed me… please I want your cum.”

A loud moan leaves Königs mouth as he throws his head back. His cock shoved deep inside of your fertile pussy as he cums inside of you. Slowly he pulls out and his men let go of your arms. He lifts you up, placing you on the table on all fours.

“Look at your sergeant, my little cum dumpster.” He spreads your ass to show your pussy to your squad as a little of his seamen drips from your now very stretched hole. “Push.”

You do as he says and push the cum out of your vagina. His thick creamy cum falling on to the table underneath you as your squad sits there and watches you do this.

“I stretched her good, huh?” He says to his men and they laugh with König. You stay on all fours humiliated. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you refuse to cry in front of König.

“Bring them to HQ, I’m taking this one with me.”

“Wait!” You protest. “You said you’d let my men go.”

König began to laugh even more, “I said I wouldn’t kill them, not let them go. What happens to them from here is no longer my concern, only you.”

He walks over to you and lifts you over his shoulder before walking you out of the tent to his truck, he was going to have so much fun with his new toy.

Part 2, Part 3

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sitepathos · 2 months ago

Note

Hello (⁠＠⁠°⁠▽⁠°⁠＠ )

What if MC in Gold to mold did kill the kidnappers somehow , and called Alfred all shocked that he just killed ! ?

And now he decided to not wait for his graduation , and just leave, and live in his mother's house.

Thanks for your time (⁠^⁠^⁠)

You were in an extraordinary amount of pain.

The leader of your kidnappers was quite thorough in inflicting pain on you; one eye is swollen shut, your nose is busted, several bones feel broken, and you’re fairly sure you have a concussion (though since you’ve never had one, you’re not entirely sure if it’s a concussion or just a really bad head wound).

“I think he’s had enough, man,” one of the other two men say.

“Yeah,” he says, huffing from the beating he gave you. “You’re right.”

Even while in a world of pain, you can still think about caused it: Bruce Fucking Wayne and his collection of bastards. They spend every night running around Gotham and beating the hell out of thugs and Arkham’s escaped patients, so you would think that they would take the call seriously if only for the sole reason of hunting down ransomers and putting the behind bars.

But no, he’s too busy looking for his psychotic boyfriend to spare this another thought.

And while you’ve always assumed they forgot you existed, that phone call silenced all doubts. They said that no one was missing from the manor and all of Bruce’s kids were with him. And the fact they laughed at your kidnapper, causing him to take his anger out on you.

You would cry about being forgotten by your “family,” but you’re too busy crying from the beating you just took.

“Let’s just take what he has on him and go,” the third one chimes in. He motions to you. “What do we do with him?”

“Well, since he didn’t give us a number to call,” he snarls, pulling out a gun from his pocket and aims it at you. “I doubt he has anyone who’ll miss him.”

You freeze at the sight of the gun. Is this really how you die? Being shot by some lowlifes in some dirty cabin in the middle of the woods?

“What do we do about the body?”

“The fuck do you think,” he shouts at his cohort, turning towards the man behind him. “There’s the pit a ways from here! We’ll toss him in there!”

The two man fall into a shouting match and as they hurl insults, you notice something: the ropes binding you to the chair are loose, most likely due to the man beating you with the pipe. You start to shuffle around, moving your body around as best as you can with your condition, and finally, you feel the rope become slack.

The man with the gun is still busy yelling with his friend, so you take advantage of the distraction and strike, lunging from the chair and kicking the man in the balls as hard as you can. He howls in pain and drops his gun to cradle his wounded manhood, where you quickly scoop it up and point it at the men, who stare at you in shock (with the leader still having a pained expression).

“No one move,” you say, your heart pounding in your chest at the development.

You look down at the weapon in your hands. This is the first time you’ve ever held a gun and by god is it terrifying. You have a real gun in your hands and may probably have to use it, meaning you killed another person.

“Alright, kid,” one of the other men say. “Just put the gun down and we’ll let you go.”

That’s a load of bullshit and you both know it. You’ve seen their faces and they can’t risk you going to the police and reporting them. Plus, after hurting their leader and holding them at gun point is something they won’t let go.

The leader proved you right by lunging for you and in a panic, you fire the gun without properly aiming it. He falls to the ground and doesn’t get up; upon inspection of him, you realize that you somehow managed to shoot him in the head, guaranteeing a death blow.

The three of you just stand where you are, staring at the body of the man lying on the floor. Right now, the the gunshot rings in your head, making it hard to hear anything and your right arm, the one holding the gun, feels like it’s made of lead and you have to fight to keep it upright.

Holy shit, you just killed a man. Granted, he was going to kill you, but he’s a piece of shit while you’re a good person. For fuck’s sake, you’ve never fired a gun outside of a video game before and now you just shot a man in the head!

The other two break out of their stupor and go to rush you. You quickly react by aiming the gun at the one of the men and shooting, the bullet hitting him on the chest, making him fall to the ground with a yelp.

You go for the last man, but he grabs the gun and you fight back as strong as you can, causing the two of you to fall to the floor and wrestle over control of the weapon. Right now, you feel adrenaline pumping throughout your body and you gain the extra strength to flip the gun ever so slightly towards the man and in the struggle, you pull the trigger.

The bang fills the room, once again deafening you, and the man falls on top of you, pinning you to the ground. You use what little strength you have to flip the man on you and when you do, you find a bullet hole in the man’s chest, specifically on his left side, blood pooling from the wound and staining his shirt.

You look at your hands and upon seeing them covered in blood, you scream. A few hours ago, this day was awful because you lost a job you loved and now, it’s gone to rivaling the day you lost your Momma; you’ve never even held a gun before and not only have you, but now three men lie dead thanks to you, their blood literally on your hands.

“Oh my god,” you shout, tears streaming from your eyes like a waterfall.

Seeing the bodies causes your lunch to churn and before you can help it, you empty your stomach contents over the floor, mixing in with the blood, making you even more sick at the disgusting sight and empty everything you have in your stomach and more.

Finally, you stop puking and somehow manage to crawl over to your bag and pocket your Momma’s pen the had fallen next to it. At least your most treasured possession is safe, so at least something went your way tonight.

You unzip your bag and put it in and fish out your phone, powering it up. An eternity passes before it finally turns on, just in time for it to ring, revealing Alfred on your screen.

You sob seeing the picture of the man, wishing he was here right now. Knowing him, he would’ve come in guns blazing and gone John Wick on them, killing them and sparing you the burden of having taken three lives tonight.

“Master Y/N,” the man says when you answer it. Based on his tone, he sounds a little pissed off, probably because he’s tried calling you and since you’ve been kidnapped, you weren’t able to answer his calls.

“Alfred,” you sob back, the dam breaking upon hearing the man’s voice.

“Are you alright,” he quickly responds, his tone now worried and concerned.

“No,” you cry out. “It’s horrible!”

“Where are you? Are you home?”

“No, I’m in the woods. In some cabin.” You want to tell him everything that’s happened to you, but you’re exhausted and all you have the energy to do is cry.

“Can you make it home?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Do whatever it takes to get back home, Master Y/N. I’m on my way back, now. I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t go,” you cry, not wanting to be left alone, even if he’s just on the phone.

“I won’t,” he reassures you. “I’ll be on the phone as long as I can. I’ll message Master Bruce and have him—“

“No,” you exclaim, using a chunk of your reserve energy to show you want nothing to do with that man. “This is his fault! His fault!”

“Alright,” he says, his tone one that you would use when trying to calm down a startled animal. “Alright. I won’t. Can you make it home on your own?”

“I think so,” you say as you get your feet, throwing your bag over your shoulder before walking towards the door.

It took you two and a half hours to walk from the cabin to Wayne Manor; it probably would’ve taken you half of that, but in your condition, it’s a miracle you’re walking at all. True to his word, Alfred remained on the phone with you, reassuring you that everything would be alright and that he would be home soon.

Apparently, the man is former Special Forces for the SAS and had many favors with both former and current military, one of which he used to get his hands on a military jet that could make the journey back to Gotham in a fraction of the time it takes planes.

Fuck, you should’ve given that asshole Alfred’s number. Then none of this would’ve happened and you could be back in your room and in your bed, trying to forget this night ever happened.

Finally, after walking down the mile long driveway and your way up the stairs and the multiple hallways to your room.

“Master Y/N, I just landed in the years,” Alfred reports as you open your door and fall onto the warn out carpet of your room. “Where are you?”

“My room,” you mutter.

“I’ll be up there in a minute.”

As much as you don’t want to go without the man’s voice, you know that he’ll run up here as fast as possible and be here in a few seconds, so you just hum an affirmative and the call ends. As you expect, you hear running in just a few seconds of the call ending and when you manage to turn you body to face the door, your savior comes to a stop at your open doorway.

“My god,” the man says before kneeling down to you. “Master Y/N. What on earth happened to you?”

You thought you had reached your limit, but seeing Alfred here, what little strength you had finally drains from you and you start bawling your eyes out. The butler holds you tight and you cry even harder.

“I killed three men,” you sob.

“What.” The man pulls you back to face him, but he still keeps a firm, but gentle hold on you. “You killed someone?”

The look on the man’s face makes you fell even worse and you cry even more.

“They kidnapped me,” you say as best as you can. “They tried to ransom me and they were gonna kill me! I got free, we fought, and I killed them!”

“What about Master Bruce? Don’t tell me you didn’t try to get him to help you?”

“I did! But he said all his children were with him and they all laughed and he did this to me!”

“Oh, my boy.” The look on Alfred’s face makes you feel even worse. He looks horrified, and shocked, and angry, and disappointed all at once. “My dear, sweet boy.”

“I’m going home,” you say, standing up and making your way to your dresser.

“What do you mean, Master Y/N? You made it back home, already.��

“No,” you exclaim, looking back at the man. “Home isn’t here! Home is Goodsprings!”

“But Master Y/N—“

“I almost died, Alfred! The one time I ask Bruce for help, and he nearly gets me killed! He proved that he doesn’t care about me, so I don’t care about him!”

“Master Y/N, I understand how you feel. Believe me, I plan on having firm words with all of them as soon as I see them, but you’re in no condition to be going anywhere. You need urgent medical attention! It’s nothing short of a miracle that you’re able to stand, let alone walk all the way here from Gotham Woods!”

You want to argue, really, you do, but you know Alfred’s right. You have so many injuries that you’ll probably die before the bus even leaves Gotham.

“Please, Master Y/N,”. He pleads, taking your hands into his. “Let me take you to the hospital.”

You nod and the man guides you to the garage, taking one of Bruce’s many fancy cars, and slams on the gas, pushing the engine to its limits.

“Mr. Pennyworth?”

Alfred looks up at the nurse in front of him.

“How is he,” he asks, standing up.

“He’s in pretty bad shape and it was touch and go at parts, but the doctors were able to stabilize him.”

“Oh thank god,” he says, holding back a few tears. “Thank you so much. Can I see him?”

“They still have him for tests and scans, but he’ll be done and in a room in about ten minutes. You can wait in his room if you wish.”

He gives the nurse his thanks and walks round your room. It’s absolutely appalling that it takes you getting kidnapped and almost dying to get a decent room. He should’ve tried more to get your a proper room, but after Master Damian joined the family, you insisted on staying as far away from the rest of the family as possible, especially from your brother.

He had hoped that they would finally see reason and realize that you’re a part of this family and should be treated as such, but the time for waiting is long over.

He kicks himself for leaving; he knew he was the only one you could rely on in this damn city and he had to go and leave you, endangering you just to walk around the cloudy streets of his hometown.

“Enough is enough,” he says, taking out his phone and patching it into the Bat comm channel. While he intends on giving all of them a long and stern lecture (while he was waiting for an update on your condition, he accessed the manor’s phone logs and listened to the ransom call and needless to say, it only made him angrier at them) , he knows that the important thing is at least one of them being here and supporting you.

“Alfred,” Bruce asks, clearly confused. “Is everything alright?”

“No it is not, Master Bruce,” he says in a stern tone he only reserves for when they mess up really badly. “I am absolutely disappointed and disgusted by all of you.”

“Allie,” Dick shines in, clearly upset and concerned. “What did we do?”

“It’s about what you didn’t do, Master Dick. Do any of you know where Master Y/N is right now?”

“Y/N,” Tim asks. “He’s… at the manor?”

“No, he’s currently in Gotham General’s Intensive Care Unit.” The channel fills with various gasps. “For years, you ignore the poor boy and the one time he reaches out to you, you prove you don’t see him as family. That ransom call you received? The one you said no one was missing? They were talking about him!”

They say nothing, but Alfred’s known all of them for years ad he knows that right now, they’re all feeling bad about themselves right now.

Good. After all they’ve put you through, they deserve to feel like the scum of the earth.

“He managed to break free and was forced to kill his kidnappers,” he continues.

“He killed someone,” Bruce interjects, but he continues as if his foolish master said nothing.

“He managed to call me and I was able to get ahold of a jet and come home. Imagine my surprise when I saw him beaten, covered in blood, and barely able to move. The doctors weren’t sure if he’d make it.”

“I,” Bruce spits out before falling silent.

“You have five minutes to get here, Master Bruce. And if you’re not, I will come looking for you and you’ll be in the hospital room next to his after I’m done with you.”

“I’m on my way,” he responds, dejected. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Me too,” Dick quickly adds.

“I will come as well,” Damian adds.

“This conversation is far from over, I promise you all that.”

And with that, he ends the call. As he pockets his phone, you’re wheeled into the room by an orderly.

“The docs gave him a ton of painkillers, so he’ll be out for a while,” the man explains as he locks your bed into place.

Alfred thanks the man who nods and leaves. He walks over to your side and takes in the sight of you covered in more bandages than a mummy.

“My sweet boy,” he says, taking your hand into his.

After today, things will change. No longer will you be the forgotten child of Bruce Wayne, but the firstborn he would move the mountains and the stars to make happy. You’ll no longer sleep in a guest room on the far side of the manor, far from the rest of the residents, but sleep in a proper bedroom as befitting your status. And yo’ll no longer tiptoe around the house, afraid of making even the tiniest bit of noise for fear of attracting attention, but you’ll join in on your siblings’ roughhousing and merry-making.

It’s then Bruce, Dick, and Damian walk in, dressed in civilian clothing, and when they see you, he knows they feel guilt.

“So nice of you to join us,” he says, his tone so cold it could give Mr. Freeze frostbite.

Oh yes, things will change.

#asks #yandere batfamily #from gold to mold

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ch4mpagnedrought · 6 months ago

Text

compensation

[full series]

mdni ! art donaldson

summary: you and art cant help but try and compensate for everything you’re missing out on now that tashi and patrick are together.

ever since tashi had suggested a game of tennis for her number and patrick won, its left you and art to roam around the stanford campus like two little lost puppies, begging for their attention when patrick comes to visit tashi.

patrick has made it impossible to get a hold of the girl, her dorm room always locked and her absence in the daily work-outs the two of you usually have made very obvious. not to mention the betrayal art must be feeling, having his best friend be only in the adjacent building to him, but never coming to actually see him.

you’ve had to find ways to preoccupy yourselves, and stop you from going on an angry rampage, like;

hitting racket to ball in the middle of the court, not even bothering to play a real game. “my prof is making me rewrite my whole assignment this week.” you complain, aiming the ball at the green fencing at the sides and watching it bounce back in art’s direction for your own botched version of squash. he laughs loudly, “who knew you were so bad at everything besides tennis.” you shoot him a scowl and his eyes widen, shoulders shrugging unapologetically as he swings his arm once again.

spring fading into summer means that evenings still have a little light in them, and you fight the urge to lie straight down on the tarmac and look up at the greying sky. the light breeze washes through art’s strawberry blonde hair, swaying it to the side to expose his brows that furrow when you let the ball bounce away between your legs, looking at him with a tense expression. the thought that tashi and patrick were somewhere doing god knows what (you knew what) and completely ignoring you made a reappearance in your head suddenly, and it boiled your blood. “ugh! im gonna kill them!” you huff out, grabbing the ball from the ground and stomping to where you left your stuff. art’s arm finding the both of your shoulders, “ditto that.”

having lunch at the food hall together: waiting in line for the same exact salad that you get every day, curtesy of your game-preparation meal plan and taking a seat on the bar stools that overlook the rest of the campus. stabbing your fork into the frail pieces of lettuce in your plastic bowl, art taking another bite of his churro in silence and licking away all the rouge sugar particles from his lips. “you know, patrick didn’t even bother to call me about his visit.” art says, taking off his red baseball cap just to put it back on his head again. “what a dog.” you scoff, shaking your head and taking a sip of your smoothie that tastes a little grainy from the protein powder. you would’ve continued to rant if you hadn’t spotted tashi and patrick walking hand-in-hand in the distance, all smiles and giggles; it makes you sick. “look.” you point it out to art and he mocks patrick in a high-pitched voice, “hey tashi aren’t i so cool? i play pro and i’m totally not cheating on you.” you chuckle, leaning over to snag a bite of his churro.

and confiding in each other in art’s dorm late at night, when the haunting noises coming from the other side of your wall get too much.

his room is surprisingly so…boyish. a couple posters of tennis stars on the walls that seem so out of place, like he put them there for the sole purpose of taking up space. his medals are hung up on the corner of his wardrobe, tinkering on the edge and there is an unidentified pile of clothing in the corner.

his sheets are a deep maroon colour and you lie flat across them, both of your heads leaning on the single flat pillow he owns, legs crossed. his ceiling has remnants of a water leak the university tried to paint over and you study it from below. “i wonder what they’re doing right now.” art hums, putting his hands behind his head, and letting you rest your head on his bicep.

you shoot up, glancing down at him, one brow lifted and eyes narrow, “i can tell you exactly what they’re doing right now,” you say, scrambling up onto your knees, “’patrick i need your racket right now!’’’ you moan tauntingly, rolling your eyes back and crossing your arms over your chest. art cackles, stomach contracting and grabbing onto your shoulder for support. his hand is pumping warm with blood, hovering over your skin for longer than socially acceptable, and his fingers caressed by the long strands of your curly hair that fall at your sides.

running over to his room meant that you hadn’t had enough time to grab a change of clothes to sleep in, so he graciously lent you one of his t-shirts, a navy one with white embroidered writing that you hadn’t bothered to read, which prods at the aching in his head to see you without it.

“when was the last time you slept with someone?” your question catches art off guard, lying back down next to him and watching the blush creep up onto his cheeks, eyes darting away somewhere to think of an answer. “oh come on, was it that unforgettable?” you laugh. he knew when exactly when the last time was, but the thought that him sleeping with someone had crossed your mind, putting the idea of the two of you together into his own had clouded his head, making it unbearably difficult to think, or speak.

“maybe last month” art estimates when the last time he saw the girl in one of his classes that he casually slept with from time to time, your expression remaining unchanged, which whirls something inside of his stomach. you nod, smile spreading across your lips, and eyes glancing down to art’s partially parted ones. art adjusts himself, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at you, “when was the last time that you slept with someone?”

its unclear to him whether you're joking with your response. “ask me that tomorrow.” it spins his head until he sees double, having to shut his eyes for a second to regain consciousness. your nonchalant smile quite frankly irks him, because you seem so unaware of how he is sliding the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, preparing just incase you decide that you want to kiss him. or the fact that he moved his leg upwards along the bed to cover his raging boner at just the mere idea of you and him together.

the shirt he lends you rides up on your hips, obviously showing off the black panties that you’re wearing and the neck-line hangs low enough to show the indent of your collarbone that he imagines licking a stripe over.

you thrum, looking up at art through dark eyelashes, “isn’t it so unfair how tashi and patrick can ignore us just to get at each other?”

he got the hint, every crumb you’ve put down he’s followed and scooped up all in one go, sighing out a weak, “yeah” that sounds more like a whine, and leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

the taste of your lip gloss he had missed sweetens his mouth immediately and the faint smell of a chocolatey lotion on your skin sends him into complete overdrive, left hand desperately reaching for the side of your face to take you deeper into him. he sinks himself down, pressing his chest into yours and disconnecting his lips to breathe out a groan at the sensation of your boobs against him like a boy who's never felt them before.

his face is burning hot, lips even hotter as they move simultaneously with yours, covering the perimeter of your mouth with long and drawn out movements to fully get the taste of you hes been dreaming of ever since that hotel room. his hands roam down to the curvature of your waist, taking a strong grip to it to make sure his fingerprints forever remember it, then down to your hips, kneading the flesh.

with him over you, he pulls away from your arms that are wrapped around his neck, pulling the hem of his shirt to unveil your midriff and the black lace that frames your lower waist, your thighs pressed together to catch the heat that he manifests within you, “oh my god.” it might just be the lewdest sight he has ever seen, along with your swollen lips that are glistening with his saliva.

he can barely keep away the moans that try to escape his mouth when he lowers himself down to you, eager lips pressing into your hip, lapping at the surface of your skin with a desperation only art could have, along the hem of your panties, and back up your stomach while your fingers entangle with his blonde locks.

your pulse quickens, exhaling his name out when his finger pulls your underwear to the side, letting the air hit your leaking core, a smile playing at art’s lips. “please, please art.” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the sensation of one of his digits swiping through your folds overcome you.

he nibbles at your inner thighs, soft licks soothing the area as one of his fingers slides inside you, while the other gropes at your breast through your shirt. his mind is completely consumed by you, watching every change in your expression with his fingers pumping in and out of you, flush on your face and brows knitting every time he draws back.

your legs instinctively move over his shoulders, trapping him around you to continue the motion and giving him the chance to tilt his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the thigh that is thrown over him. “is this okay?” he asks, caressing a hand down your calf and watching the way your hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist.

“lie down art” you keen, his eyes narrow and he pulls back with a sense of confusion that is overrode with your impatience, ushering him below you. so he does, leaning against the headboard whilst you throw yourself onto his hips, his jaw tilting upwards to unconsciously fulfil the want of his lips devouring the whole of your figure.

the shirt he lent you doesn’t last long, ending up in the pile on his floor and letting him ravish in the sight of your bare torso. he gasps out your name, wandering hands reaching out to massage your breast, flesh filling out the gaps between all five of his fingers. “take this off” you strangle out, gesturing to the shirt he is wearing, disheveled hair falling back into his face that burns hot when you let your eyes roam down to his abdomen. even the weight of your ass pressing into his dick through his shorts is teetering him to climax, hands not knowing where to put themselves when he wants to grab a hold of all of you.

your fingers wrap around the waistband of his shorts that he is wearing, pulling down his boxers at the same time and freeing his erection to slap back onto his stomach, recalling something patrick said about the time he taught art to jerk off. the palm of your hand ghosts his cock, restraining yourself from taking it into your hands there and then, “can i?” even the way you sigh out the question has the hairs on art’s arms standing up and mouth swallowing saliva in anticipation. “yes, yes.” he whines, brows furrowing up at you and all of his muscles tensing.

with a gentle touch, he guides you above him, his hands at your sides as you spread yourself open for him, sinking down only to the tip before he grabs your waist and pauses in the position. he looks like a little helpless, bottom lip between his teeth and an alarmed look in his face that says if you go any further he’ll come right now. “i’ll go slow,” you whisper, a small smirk on your face that’s hard to resist when his shimmering eyes try to find the last slither of dignity within him, “i promise.” you smile reassuringly and he glances away, the flush in his cheeks getting a little deeper.

you keep your promise, slowly lowering yourself down onto him, goosebumps fevering your skin and palms laying flat across his abdomen to steady yourself.

taking him in completely, you whimper out his name and his hands journey to graze your back, up to your shoulder blades where he presses them into you to pull you into him, mouth suctioning down the valley of your breasts. his moans vibrate back into your skin when you pull back up from him, stimulating every single nerve ending in his length like it never has before. you set a pace, slow and steady for art, snapping your hips down onto his in a way that knocks the wind out of you each time, gasping for air. he keeps you close to him, rolling his hips to meet you in the middle and put some of that athlete stamina to use and murmuring your name with every movement.

his finger moves your hair from your shoulder, so he can press soft pecks onto the surface, whilst you clutch the wooden headboard, growing impatient and consequently pounding him into you. his moans purr into your ear, grabbing onto your ass to keep you still as he thrusts himself into you from below and shakily calling out an, “im gonna come.”

you nod, clasping around his biceps and leaning down to nip at his neck, losing composure the more your walls contract around him. you ignore the muscles in your legs that ache and your lungs that can’t seem get a hold of the air that is shared between you to continue to mercilessly plunge him deeper into you until it feels like you’re melting into one another, a shudder sending itself down your bare back and deepening the heat that builds in your core.

art is panting, popping your tit into his mouth one last time before falling still, twitching inside of you and releasing all of his seed into you until it overflows from below. your name echoes out of his mouth, whimpering and whining it out until he can open his eyes back up and centre his vision on you burning every last bit of energy to bounce on his dick.

you lean forward onto him, eyes rolling back into your head when reaching your climax and pressing your burning cheek against his face to feel all of him. he brushes his hand down your back comfortingly, you heaving into the crevice of his neck that glistens with sweat and feeling your walls contract around him the last couple times.

art sighs your name out, pressing his lips into your cheek and letting a smile spread across his face when you brush the dampened hair out of his forehead to get a better view of his eyes.

your body feels limp, falling back down next to him with a post-sex fatigue that follows you all the way into the next morning, where you sit at a table in the food hall, thanking art for bringing you some breakfast and trying to ignore the echoing of all the noises he made last night in your head.

“fuck i really need to work on that assignment today” you groan, taking a bite into a slice of honeydew with your head in the palm of your hand. art watches and nods, a false portrayal of an active listener when what he’s really focusing on is the way your lips curl around the slice, biting off a chunk and closing your lips around it in a way that makes him reminisce that he was right there too only a couple hours ago. “i can help.” he offers, truly from the kindness of his heart that kindly wants to spend the rest of his life looking at you.

“you wish.” you scoff, “i’m not allowed to be alone in a room with you anymore.”

art takes a swig of his water to hide the grin that spreads on his face, and when he makes eye contact with a random student from across the hall he feels like they heard that too. he wishes they could hear, and know that you, the best tennis player stanford has probably ever had, are having to physically restrain yourself from him.

“what are you smiling about?” the familiar voice of patrick calls out from a few strides away, in a pair of indigo levis and a white tee, grabbing onto arts shoulders and lowering himself down to his level to grab his chin playfully. art swats him away immediately, pushing patrick down into a chair. and tashi grazes your shoulders softly with her hand when taking a seat next to you and stealing a piece of your fruit from your bowl, “good morning.”

“morning.” you sigh out, taking a sip of your tea and hoping that it isn’t totally obvious that you slept with your friend. but tashi takes notice of the slight frizz in your hair, a dishevelled-ness that is never usually there, so it wasn’t her intention to call you out in front of the four of you when she asks, “why do you look hungover?” she even moves a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at the colour under your eyes. your brows furrow, eyes glancing to the left of you at the two boys whose expressions couldn’t be anymore different. art’s poker face is awful, he’s trying to keep his face composed but his posture slumps under the weight of patrick’s hand that spreads across over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of your breakfast to act like your lungs aren’t constricting and you aren’t going into fight or flight, “late night i guess.”

theres a moment of silence, everyone in their heads peacefully while you wish you could get into art’s and find out what he’s thinking about your pathetic lie.

“nice shirt.” patrick says.

“thanks." you reply, swiping over the embroidered ‘mark rebellat tennis academy’ with a finger and looking up at patrick, who meets your eyes with a knowing smirk that makes you feel silly for not assuming that patrick would have memorised art’s whole closet, or recognise the school they went to.

and when patrick squeezes art’s shoulder and asks whether he is “up for a game?” you suddenly become hyper aware of how much his gaze slips past art’s eyes and down onto you as they stand up from the table, eyes squinting and a stupid smile on his face. the combination is so piercing you’ve become aware that even if tashi believed your lie, and art thinks he’s got away scott free—he knows, and he’s letting you know.

his hand ruffles the hair on art’s head, arm falling over his shoulders and drawing him into himself, “we have a bunch of catching up to do, art.” he keeps art close to him as they walk away towards the tennis courts, leaning in to whisper something into his ear after the both of them briefly turned around to wave you and tashi goodbye.

tashi seems unphased by their behaviour, continuing to braid a small of piece of your hair that she unconsciously started. “you know patrick’s about to tell art all about your get together.” you chuckle and tashi scoffs, leaning back into her chair, “he wouldn’t say anything” she reassures, “also we didn’t even do anything.” she adds in quickly, stealing another piece of watermelon from your bowl and taking a bite to avoid talking about the topic like you hadn’t just done that. you smile at her, and she widens her eyes to let you know that she’ll tell you all about last night later.

“i wouldn’t be so sure.” you shake your head, stealing back the half-bitten melon from in between her fingers and finishing it off.

#art donaldson #challengers x reader #art donaldson smut #challengers x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers

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samandcolbyownme · 6 months ago

Text

Summary: Reader goes on a run with a few of the others but they end up getting blindsided by another group, reader and Rosita take the most damage.

Warnings: strong language, twd apocalypse setting, not-so-secret feelings between reader and Daryl but nothing is official right away, mentions of alcohol, mentions of fighting, reader gets injured and needs stitches, reader giving and receiving punches, kicks, etc. mentions of blood, cuts, weapons such as knives and guns, heavy mentions of killing (FAKE OF COURSE!!), a kiss or two, maybe three if you’re lucky ;)

Word count: 5.8k

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

“Y/n. You comin’ or what!?” Rosita yells over to you, “or are you too bus-“

“I’m comin’, alright!” You yell back, cutting her off, and all she does is smile.

You look away from the group, cheeks turning red as you look up at Daryl. His head tilts to the side as he looks at you confused, “What’s she mean by busy?”

You shake your head, “Nothing just.. girl talk.”

Daryl scoffs, shaking his head, “Good luck out there.”

“You sure you can’t come?” You bat your lashes, which definitely does something to him, but he just shakes his head, “Y’know I would if I could.”

He reaches up to pinch your chin between his fingers, “Be fuckin’ careful out there, a’right.”

You give him a smile, “I always try my best.”

He hums lowly as he watches you walk away, keeping his eye on you until you and the group were out of the gate.

If Daryl didn’t have a prior commitment to help Aaron with the one wall, he would definitely be going with you.

“Try and convince him to come along again?” Rosita asks as you walk with her. You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh, “Can you give me a break?”

Rosita is your best friend, has been since you saved her life. She had six walkers on her, you were moving by and decided to stop and help her and she instantly liked you, so away to hilltop you went.

One night later on, when you both were giggly off some liquor you found, you admitted to her that you had a thing for The Archer in your group - Daryl Dixon.

Which, you and him also did end up taking a liking to one another. It only took one look from each of you and that was enough to not keep each other off your minds.

“I think it’s really cute.” She glances over at you, “Seeing you guys in looove.”

“Please. He is not in looove.” You scoff, a laugh following right after, “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

“You guys talking about you and Daryl?” Michonne elbows you and you sigh, “Not you, too!” You groan, “Oh my god.”

“I think it’s cute, too. Never really seen Daryl look at someone the way he looks at you, and I’ve known him a while.” Michonne raises her brows and you just shake your head.

Someone even mentioning his name has your cheeks turning a rosy color.

“You know it’s true.” Rosita adds, “C’mon y/n. Just take a chance already.”

“I’ll think about it and get back to you.” You laugh, everything becoming serious when Rick holds his hand up, signaling to stop.

“Walkers?” Michonne asks, moving closer to Rick, and he nods, “About seven or eight? Some might be in the side tree line.” He looks back at the group, “I think we can take ’em.”

You nod, getting your knife gripped in your hand before you continue to walk down and take out the small group of the dead.

——

About an hour later, you come to the few houses at the end of the one road, “Wait.” You grab onto Rosita’s arm, “I don’t think we’re the only ones here.”

Rick snaps his head towards you, “What do you mean by that?”

“Something just fe-“

Bullets. Lots of them flying your group’s way.

“Get down!” Rick yells as you all duck behind old cars and trees. You get your gun ready, along with everyone else and aim, looking through the sight to see if you can see anything.

As soon as you see a body you fire, which leads everyone else into shooting blindly in the direction of where gunfire came from first.

“We move on three. You two go that way.” Rick points to you and Rosita and motions towards the houses, “You two go that way.” He motions for Carl and Michonne to go the opposite.

“I-“

“I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere.” A voice from behind and the sound of a shotgun loading makes you all whip around.

Six men coming to form an arch around her.

“Who are you?” Rosita asks and the woman with the gun laughs, “Hell, I should be asking you all the same. Damn. Thing.”

“Wait.” She squints her eyes at you and points, “You. I’ve seen you.. with that long haired, crossbow wielding, psycho.”

You clench your jaw, tilting your head slightly, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” The lady with the gun tilts her head, “I think you heard me. I don’t really like repeating myself.”

“What do you want?” Rick asks, ready to negotiate, “We didn’t come to cause any trouble we-“

“I don’t fucking care about your bullshit we need supplies sob story, although.” She purses her lips, eyes scanning over your backpacks and weapons, “It really doesn’t look like you have a sob story at all, so I’ll just go ahead and let these men pick you off one. By. O-“

“We will give you our guns and walk away.” You say with a shrug, “How about that?”

She hums, gun now pointed at your chest, “How about… no.. and instead, we bring you inside and try to find out a little bit about you mysterious, pathetic looking people.” She looks at all of you again, “And where you came from.”

“No. We’re not-“ Rosita is cut off by the woman pointing the gun at her, “Was I talking to you?”

“Well, you said, you mysterious people, so I’m guessing I was included in that, too?” Rosita fires, sarcasm on her words.

The lady just sighs, “You made it so easy to pick who the first one is going to be.”

She steps closer to Rosita and you all move a step closer, too, “I’m just sayin’, you mess with one of us. You mess with all of us.”

You stare at the woman, a cold stare, “Put the gun down, and we’ll fucking talk.”

“We can talk this out. If you just let us explain why we’re here.” Rick steps up and the gun is now on Rick before it’s lowered to the ground, “Who’s in charge here?”

You all motion to Rick and he nods. The lady raises a brow, smirking as her eyes fall onto you, “Really? Because it seems like she’s running the show.”

“Walk.” The woman points towards the one house, “Now. Before I change my mind about killing you where you stand.”

You all move in a line and her men take your stuff.

Guns, knives, backpacks. Everything.

You were racking your brain for a way to get out of this, just like the others were.

“I have to pee.” You blurt out, instantly going with it, “Can I use the bathroom, or a tree, or something?” You cross your leg over your other one to make it more believable.

The woman looks you up and down, rolling her eyes as she motions to you, “Take her around back. Bring her in when you’re done.”

The man grabs you by the arm and pulls you, “Wait, I-“

“I have to pee, too.” Rosita does exactly what you did and the woman looks between you and her and squints, “If this is some kind of a ruse to escape, I swear, I’ll keep the kid hostage until I find you again, and then.. I’ll make him watch you all die a slow and extremely painful death.”

“No.” Rick and Michonne says instantly, “You can trust them.” Michonne assures the woman, but she didn’t believe it.

“I don’t trust you.” She shakes her head, “Do what you want, but just know, I warned you.”

You try not to laugh at the stupid woman as you and Rosita are walked back to behind the one house, with only two guards.

You share one glance with her, and that’s all it took for her to be on the same page as you.

You both turn around to face the men, giving them both the stink eye as you squat down. You bring your thumbs up to connect them to your belt loops.

“Are you going to piss or wh-“

You and Rosita lunge forward, knocking them both back onto their backs by the knees with a grunt.

You’re in fight or flight mode, and you weren’t going anywhere, not without a major fight.

“Fuckin bitch, get-“ you stomp the heel of your boot on his wrist and he yells, letting go of his gun. You go to try and kick it away, but he manages to get you on the ground and his hands quickly moving to go around your throat.

You grab his wrists, trying to pry his hands away as painful whimpers and squeaks are forced out of you.

He brings one of his hands back, quickly delivering a punch to your cheek bone. You’re dazed instantly as the punch jarred everything in your skull.

He delivers another punch, this time harder, which busts your cheek open.

As your vision is turning darker by the second, you try your best to kick him anywhere you can connect at. A sudden wave of panic sets in as your vision is almost totally back now, causing you to fling your legs up, your ankles on the opposite sides of his head.

You straighten your legs out to tighten them, pushing his arms together as you bring your knees in. He starts to lean backwards, and it’s just enough for you to bring you foot back, kicking him directly in the face.

He falls backwards off of you, his hands instantly moving to feel the blood that’s gushing from his nose, or mouth, hard to tell.

You go straight for the knife, lunging over to grab it before whipping around to stab him.

His hand catches your wrist, pushing your arm away from him as you try your damdest to keep pushing down. You groan loudly, smashing your knee into his groin area, which gives you the opportunity to push down and plunge the knife, handle deep into his throat.

You look over at Rosita as quiet choking fills your ears. You’re still dazed, in pain and your breathing just as rapid as hers.

She stands up, and you notice she’s got a decent cut on her forehead, “You good?”

She looks back at you, eyes going wide, “Holy shit, y/n.” She rushes over to look at your cheek, “That looks.. bad.”

“M’fine. We don’t have time.”

You stand up, looking down at the corpse with the knife in its neck. You bend down, pulling it out with a squelching noise as it comes out.

As you both gather up the weapons and supplies as quickly as you can, you flick off the bodies lying on the ground and Rosita can’t help herself, “I see why Daryl likes you.”

“You’re still on that?” You ask quietly as you move with her to the back of the house, looking around to make sure no one is coming to investigate.

“Honey, I’ll be on that until you’re on him, okay.”

“Oh my god. Okay, I promise, I’ll make it clear to Daryl, but only if we get out of here with everyone alive.”

“I swear to god if-“

“On your knees! Now!” One of the two guards starting to run towards you yells, but it was only a split second later that you were being shot at, again.

You and Rosita book it around the building, stopping her once you see the woman come out of the house with another guard.

Rosita leans around, firing a shot right into the one guards head, but the other one is still back there somewhere.

You go to pull your gun up and you hear your name being yelled.

“Y/n!” She’s pulled back and slammed against the old garage door, falling to the ground with a groan. You turn your gun on the guy who threw her, “Step the fuck back or I wi-“

He smacks the gun up in the air, it fires one time before the man kicks you in the torso, causing you to fly back onto the concrete, “Fuck.”

The man kicks your gun before moving to stand over you and your hands desperately search for something sharp or hard enough to crack his skull open with as you kick to keep him back.

Rosita jumps on his back, yelling as she tries to choke him out.

You scramble to pick up a rock you felt, and as he flings Rosita off, he quickly bends down to try and grab the collar of your jacket, you quickly slam the rock into his temple.

He stumbles back, groaning, and you get up as quick as you can, moving to grab your gun as you glance back at the porch.

One of the guards from

You turn to warn her, but the man you hit with a rock runs at you, slamming you into the brick wall, back first, before he grips your shoulder and neck and delivers another hard slam.

He does it again, this time throwing you away from him you roll across the dirt a few times and groan, coughing from the dust that your body stirred up on impact.

. He steps back, looking towards Rosita who is now standing up, gun in her hand. The guards cant even say or do anything before Rosita shoots both of them, back to back, not even giving them time to think about what they even wanted to say.

Which meant there was only one guard.. and the main bitchshow left.

And speak of the devil, Rosita points the gun to the door as the woman walks out first, Michonne, Rick and Carl all follow, and they have the final guard on their tail.

The woman comes down the steps, walking over to you and Rosita. Her eyes move over to examine the dead bodies of her people.

“There’s more outback, probably making their way up here right now.” Rosita says as she walks up next to you.

“Should have just listened, you now.. because now, I’m going to fucking kill you two in front of everybody.” The woman raises her gun and you scoff, “Go fuck yourself.”

You step towards her, “We never wanted this.”

“That’s funny..bbecause once you’re on my land, this is usually the only way it ever ends up.” The woman looks around, “Looks like we got more than the two out back.”

Walkers push their way through the trees and brush, moaning and groaning as they move towards where the gunshots and yelling has been coming from for the last half an hour.

You swing quick, hitting the gun out of her hand which catches her off guard, “Rosita. Go. I got this.”

She nods and grabs her weapons, making her way up to where Michonne and Rick had just taken out the last guard.

The woman goes to hit you but you grab her arm, jamming your knee into her ribs as she groans, catching your leg and body slamming you onto the ground.

You cough as she stands up, placing her boot on your chest, pressing down as you’re now looking at the shotgun from the bottom of the barrel up.

“If you kill me, you’ll have people after you.” You lay there, looking up at her as you wait a few seconds for your chance to swipe her legs out from under her with yours.

She falls to the ground with a grunt, trying to quickly get to her feet but you tackle her to the ground, instantly starting to wail on her.

“More walkers!” Carl yells loudly and you wrap your hands around the woman’s throat, “Kinda busy here, kid.”

“You got this?” Michonne asks as she looks down at the woman turning purple in your grasp, and you nod.

As soon as Michonne walks away, the woman brings her knee up, hitting you right in the middle of the back.

You tense up, “Fucking bitch!”

She leans up, head butting you in the nose and you fall back, with a quick and blurry glance around, you see walkers, at least twenty or so making their way in from the field.

She moves her body onto yours, straddling your thighs as her knees pin your hands down before she delivered a hard punch to your face, “You really think you can kill me? I’ve been doing this for years.”

“I’m gonna.” You spit blood at her, clenching your jaw as her hands tightens around you neck, “Maybe if I get you out of the picture, I can have that rugged lookin’ archer all to myself.”

“S-say one more fucking thing about him.” Your voice is strained from her grip, “I swe-“ you squeak as she squeezes, lifting your head up off the ground.

She leans in, “I bet he would make me feel so-“

Now you were pissed.

Everything in you felt like it was on fire, “Fuck you.” You manage get out before getting one of your hands free.

You reach up and grab as much of her hair you could get. She groans through gritted teeth as you pull her down with a hard yank, her body lifting to free your other hand.

You immediately try and deliver a punch, but she beats you to it. She cracks you over the mouth, the force busting your lip open again your teeth, and you instantly taste blood, lots of blood.

You grab her by her shirt collar, heaving yourself forward as far as you could go before throwing yourself backwards.

You’re able to get your leg under her, which helped you throws her body over yours.

You quickly move, getting into a standing position, just like her. Your chest rising and falling quickly, face swollen and broken.

More walkers keep coming, but you weren’t leaving this bitch alive.

“Give it up already.” She pulls a knife from her side holder and spins it around over her finger before gripping it.

You keep your stare on her, ready for whatever was about to come.

“Y/n! duck!”

You duck, watching as the knife she threw, land perfectly in the bitches chest. Michonne helps you up before going to take care of the walkers that are a little too close for comfort.

The woman falls to her knees, gasping as she sluggishly brings her hands up to the object protruding out of her chest.

You walk up, putting a hand on her shoulder as you grip the knife with your other hand, “Who are you?”

She smiles up at you, “Oh honey. I’m am only the start of what’s about to come.” Without another second, you twist the knife, pushing it in more before you push it upward.

The woman gasp, groaning in pain as you twist it again, “Oh, and the crossbow wielding psycho, just happens to be the love of my life, and the people you pointed your guns at, are my family.”

“Family doesn’t mean shit.” The woman chokes on her blood, droplets splashing all over, “They just.. screw you over in the long run.”

“Not my family.” You stand up, getting ready to walk away when you fall, due to the slash to your thigh.

Your hand slaps over the open cut in your blood soaked jeans, crying out in pain, just hoping someone can stop bashing heads in enough to hear you.

You look over, quickly trying to push yourself over the broken concrete and stones to get closer to a knife that’s lying on the ground.

The woman moves over as fast as her knees could carry her, “It’s not over until one of us is dead.” She grabs your ankle, holding you from moving any closer.

As she moves up, she puts pressure on your wounded thigh with her knee, making you cry out in pain. You opened your eyes, watching as she brings the knife up,

It all happened so quick, right as her arms went up, you struck, gripping the the knife and plunging it into the side her skull, causing what little life she had left in her, to fully die out.

She falls over, revealing Michonne, who is looking at you, “I’d ask if you were alright, but..” she cringes in a joking manner as she moves down to hold pressure on your thigh. , “..you don’t look it.”

“What the fuck was that?” You ask, laying back on the ground, “I feel like none of that made sense.”

Rosita runs up, falling down as she digs through her bag for medical supplies, “Shit, all I have is gauze, and you need stitches, y/n.” She looks up at you, “Oh my god, your face.”

“Have you seen your face, yet?” You try to raise your brows but you just can’t, “You need em, too.”

Rosita nods, “I can feel that it’s bad.” She laughs slightly, “Alright, lift your leg so I can wrap it quick.” She sighs, “And then we can get the hell out of here..”

“You guys ok-“ Rick stops talking when he sees how beat up you and and Rosita actually are, “I’m so sorry.”

“Rick why are you apologizing?” Rosita asks as she glances up at him. You have your eyes screwed shut as you push through the stinging pain of Michonne holding pressure on your thigh.

“I brought us here I-“ Rick hakes his head and you look at Michonne, “Tell him it’s not his f-ah, fuck.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Rosita says in a mumble.

You look back to Michonne, “Please tell your man that this isn’t his fault. We’ll be okay. We’re the one who live, right?”

Michonne nods, a smile spreading across her face as she looks at Rick and Carl, “We are the ones who live.”

——

About two hours later, you finally reached home.

Your adrenaline has been keeping you going. That was until you seen Daryl’s face fall and him running over to you the second your past the gate.

“What the hell happened?” He yells, looking over the beaten and exhausted group as he goes right to you, “Y/n, hey. Ya still with me.” He cups your cheeks, tilting your head up and holding you with one hand as he snaps with his other.

“We were attacked, they’re dead. But..” Rick shakes his head and Daryl looks down at you as he feels your head move.

You slowly look up at him, a slight smirk on your lips, “I kicked ass, Dixon.”

That’s all you get out before you fall into him again.

“Whoa, hey, alright, alright.” He catches you, holding you up as he turns Rosita’s face to him. He looks at Maggie, nodding towards Rosita, “Take her to get help. I’ve got y/n.”

Daryl picks you up bridal style, carrying you over to the medical trailer. He kicks the door and Dr. Carson opens it, immediately rushing Daryl to bring you in.

You come to again, looking around as you try to figure out where you are exactly.

“Has she fallen asleep or passed out at all?” Carson asks as he moves with Daryl to look at you.

“yeah, yeah, uh..” Daryl’s mind is a mess right now, “..few minutes after they got back, then she collapsed on me right before I brought’er over.”

He lays you down on the table and you groan in pain, “S’okay. We’re gonna get you better.”

“Try and keep her talking.” Carson turns his attention to you, “Y/n, hi, it’s Dr. Carson, do you want any pain medication?”

You shake your head, whimpering at the pain setting in more and more, “No. no.”

“We have plenty, y/n. I sug-“

You cut Carson off in a snappy tone, “I said no.”

“Alright.. Do you know what happened, y/n?” He asks as he shines a light into your eyes, “Can you see me?”

You nod, groaning as you close your eyes again. He moves to get an IV ready while you mumble memories about the day you’ve just encountered. You try to move your leg but you forgot about your injury first a second.

You groan, “The fucking bitch in the woods.”

Daryl and the doctor look at each other then back to you.

“Hey.” You can feel Daryl lean in, interlocking his fingers with yours. You give it a weak squeeze and slowly turn your head towards him, wincing in pain. He lays a hand on your head gently, “None uh that shit, don’t be forcing yourself to look at me.” He shakes his head, trying to blink away the gloss coating in his eyes.

“But.. I like looking at you.” You smile slightly and Daryl sniffles, giving you a slight laugh, “I know whatcha mean, darlin’.”

You raise your hand up slowly, laying it on his cheek, “If.. i-f it makes you feel any better, I ki-lled her because she s-aid shit, shit.”

Your body starts tensing as Carson wipes the excess blood from your thigh. You whimper, returning your attention back to Daryl, “About you.”

He scoff, shaking his head slightly, “Me?”

“Said.” You grit your teeth, squeezing Daryl’s hand and the table below you, “You were a long.. haired.. c-crossbow wielding psycho, but.. but that was before I-I pissed her off.. enough to say some.. more dumb shit.”

Your words are almost a mumble, but Daryl focuses enough on you to understand what you’re saying, “what else she say?”

You shake your head, “I’ll tell… you later.. Where’s Rosita?”

“She’s with Maggie and Enid.” Daryl assures you, “She’s fine. Jus’like you’re gonna be.” He brings your hand up slowly and gently presses his lips to your turning purple knuckles.

“Y’sure you don’t want any pain meds, y/n?” Daryl asks, his words full of concern. You nod slightly, “I’m sure.”

You squeeze Daryl’s hand tight and he lays his other one on top of your hand. You arch your back slightly, “Fuck, Carson that hurts.”

“I know, I know but I have to clean it out.” Carson answers as he continues to work on your thigh.

“Tell me more about what happened, hm.” Daryl reaches in ever so gently as he moves hair from your face without trying to touch any bruised and swollen skin, but you didn’t care what he did, “Y’think you can tell me how you kicked ass?”

“Mhm.” You close your eyes and reopen them slowly, “We.. went, to that apa-apartment complex and a-ah..” you wince, “..As we were deciding on where to go, they came up behind us, held us at gun point while she ran her mouth.”

“They, who?” Daryl asks, “What did they say, what did they want?”

You work through telling Daryl about when those people first arrived behind you and what all happened in the woods.

“She thought you were the leader’n not Rick?” He smooths his free hand over your hair, “You did kick ass, huh.”

You smile, letting out a sigh, “I wanted to e-end her the-” You wince at the sting from the second round of the antiseptic on your leg, “Second I s-saw her stupid smug looking face.”

You tense up, groaning lowly as tears form in your eyes, “Um, she.. she wanted to know why we, we were on her land? Took our weapons, back..packs..” you let out a long breathe, “Said she had other questions?”

You go into telling him about how you and Rosita got alone and what you were able to do to kill the first two guards and how dumb the woman was because she were to only send two.

“They didn’t ..do nothing, right?” Daryl asks, tensing up as he let’s out a huff, “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em all.”

“They’re both dead, Daryl.” You whimper out, taking a deep breath, “They’re all dead. Rosita and I took care of them.”

“Wait, hold on a minute. Y’both took out.. how many guards yourselves exactly?” Daryl asks and you fight back a laugh, knowing it’ll hurt, “Five. Rick and Michonne got the.. last guard.”

“Alright, y/n, I’m going to ask you one last time.” Carson looks at you and you turn your head slowly, “No.”

“Alright. Sutures are going to be going in soon, okay? I’m going to need you to try and sit as still as you possibly can, do you think you can do that?”

“Like I have a choice to go anywhere.” You mumble, “Sorry i-“

“Nah, stop that.” Daryl shakes his head, “You’re in pain, we get it.” Daryl glances up at you, squinting his eyes as he leans in to look at your neck.

He lets out a low growl, “If there’s more. M’gonna find them ‘em. They’re fucking dead.” Daryl’s leg was bouncing up and down.

“Stop, stop, Daryl. I’m fin-.” You dig your nails into his hand as your back arches with the first stitch going through your skin.

Your eyes start to close then reopen as you try to keep yourself awake and talking to Daryl, but you cannot form any words right now.

“Hey, hey.” Daryl tries to comfort you but he doesn’t really know how, “Stay right here, darlin’.” He lays his hand on your head leaning in towards you more, “Don’t y’even think about leavin’ me.”

“I’m not..” you whisper out, “Going anywhere.”

You clench your bruised jaw, keeping your lips shut tight whenyou feel Carson do another suture, “The l-eader..” you groan, taking a deep breath, “..said that-that this is just.. the beginning.. I don’t..”

Carson squeezes a little bit harder and you are forcing yourself not to kick him in the face, “Fuck I want to kill you now, too.”

He shrugs it off, knowing that it’s just the pain and anger talking. He just shakes his head as he keeps his eyes on his work.

Daryl lays his hand on the lesser bruised side of your face, “Y’don’t gotta keep talking, if ya don’t want to.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “You’re doing so good, almost done, baby.”

You can’t lie, your heart absolutely fluttered out of your body with his words, “I-I got..” you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the final two sutures go in, a sigh of relief falling from your lips when Carson steps back, “Thigh is done, now let me have a look at that cheek.”

You turn your head, following commands from Carson all while Daryl still holds your hands.

He hates that you’re going through this, he’s kicking his own ass over not just going with you like you asked.

He blames himself, and you knew that, too.

Two hours has gone by, Carson said you could sleep so that’s what you did.

You opened your eyes, looking around to see that you’re in an actual bedroom and not the medical trailer anymore.

You try to sit up, just as Daryl comes back into the room, “Thought you would have been out longer, m’sorry.”

“Don’t do that.” You say soft as you look up at him. He shrugs and shakes his head, “Do what?”

He’s avoiding eye contact with you, that’s how you know something’s up.

“Can you help me sit up?”

Daryl is right there, sliding a hand on your back as you hold onto his other one to sit up.

“Good?” He asks, “How’s your pain?”

“I’m not taking any meds.” You argue and Daryl chuckles slightly, “Why are you are so stubborn sometimes.”

“Says you.” You smile up at him, shaking your head, “I just… I didn’t want to be taking it away from someone who needed it more than me, I-“

“Y’needed it though, baby. Somethin’ could’a-“ He stops for a second, “why ya lookin’ at me like that?”

You shake your head, a small smile resting on your lips, “What meds did I get?”

He sighs, “Look, I had Carson give ya antibiotics, a’right, but thats it.”

You nod, “Thank you.”

He looks up at you confused, “Y’not mad at me?”

“Mad at you for, what? Caring about me?” You shake your head, “I don’t think I could ever be mad at anyone who tries anything they can to keep me in their life.”

Daryl looks up at you, nodding as his eyes scan over you purple and stitched up cheek and your voice is low, “Could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But It happened to you.” Daryl stands up, walking over to the window before you can grab his arm, “Daryl.”

He keeps looking out and you sigh, “Don’t make me get up.”

He turns slightly, sighing before making his way back over to you, because he knows you’d try, “Don’t y’even think ‘bout it.”

“Look at me then.” You reach out, moving your finger slightly. His hand immediately finds yours and you can hear him trying not to get upset.

You give his hand a squeeze, “Hey.”

He leans over, careful not to put pressure on your hurt thigh. His arms wrap around you, holding you as you close your eyes.

You hand moves up and down his back, squeezing him tighter when you feel his body jolt slightly with a sniffle, “Daryl.” Your voice is just enough for him to hear, “it’s not your fault.”

You feel him nod, but he still doesn’t let go, “jus’don’t wanna loose ya.” He mumbles into your neck, laying his hand on the back of your head, “I like ya, a lot actually.”

“I told Rosita the same thing about you.”

He lifts his head, leaning back as he wipes his cheeks on the back of his gloved hand, “Been goin’ on t’me bout you, too.”

“That’s no surprise.” You laugh slightly, closing your eyes at the pain, “I’m good.” You look at him, knowing that he hates seeing you in pain, “I promise I’ll ask for medicine if it gets worse.”

Daryl goes to say something, but you cut him off, “Just shut up and kiss me.”

He rubs his thumb over his fingers, giving you a slight shrug and nod, “If y’want that,”

You tilt your head, reaching your hand out to him, “I want you.”

He smirks, laughing slightly as he shakes his head, “You’re gonna be the death’a me.” He leans over, hand moving up to rest on your neck.

You lean in, closing the space between you as your hands move up to cup his cheeks.

“You know you called me baby a few times.”

Daryl laughs softly, “I know.”

There’s a soft knock on the door before it opens, “Y/n?”

Daryl leans in, pecking your lips a few times before he tilts his head to kiss your cheek, “M’gonna go talk to Rick, ya good?”

You nod, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “More than good.” You smile and he kisses you a few more times before he stands up.

Rosita is standing there, arms crossed as she watches Daryl with a smile, “See, what did I say?”

He just shakes his head, a small on his face as he looks up at her, “You doin’ a’right?”

She nods, “I’m good.” You watch as Rosita comes over to sit next to you on the bed, “We’re good. Now, go.” She laughs slightly as she waves her hand, “We have things to talk about.”

——

Let me know what you think! I truly love each and every one of you. Thank you so much for reading! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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lordprettyflackotara · 7 months ago

Text

dollhouse || jeff the killer

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. PLEASE READ TW LIST: MURDER, YOU ARE A CREEP/MURDERER, blood kink? kinda?, choking, hate sex, enemies to prob lovers trope, orgasm denial, etc etc. yes there will be a part two ;) <3

part two

“God fucking dammit!”

The screech left your mouth involuntarily, your hand gripping the back door and slamming it shut. The sound echoed through out the kitchen, your vision borderline seeing red. You continued to mutter curses under your breath as you stormed into the living room. Ben nearly bent his neck backwards trying to look at you from the couch, “Uh, something wrong?”

Your eyes were shooting daggers as you looked at him. The blonde would’ve cowered in fear if he didn’t find you tragically attractive. (Considering you’ve made it very clear you are off limits from any mansion residents). “I got a fucking assignment like i’m a goddamn proxy,” You grumbled, stomping into the living room. Lazily you flopped down on the couch beside Ben, running your fingers through your hair.

Ben playfully elbowed you. “Oh cmon, that’s not that bad. Every creep has had to go on a mission for Slendy at one time or another,” He said cheerfully, resuming his button mashing on his xbox controller. You slumped in your seat, sighing as you propped up your head.

“Yeah, but not every creep has been paired with Jeffrey Woods.”

“Don’t flatter yourself sunshine, i’m not happy to be paired with you either,” Jeffs cold voice rang from the staircase. Ben looked back and forth between you to, pausing his game. “Oh and call me that again and i’ll slit your throat,” Jeff barked. He casually strolled down the stairs, parking himself in his usual chair by the window. You refrained from looking at him, his face making you physically sick. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about either. If I were you i’d be dropping my fucking panties and praising Slender,” Jeff continued. His rambling was growing tiresome, your patience becoming thinner.

You and Jeff were equally as aggressive, which led to many disputes and many more fist fights. Jeff never knew when to shut his mouth and you never knew when to stop throwing punches. “You single handedly have the best killer on your team and you’re still running your mouth. At this point it’s a mystery why your folks didn’t stitch it shut,” Jeff snickered. Your ears twitched visibly, your eyes widening at the sound of him mentioning your human family. Your human life.

In a swift motion you dug the (carefully thought out) emergency knife from the couch, throwing it at his head. You were known for your aim, your accuracy. The blade whisked past Jeff, digging into the wall. “You’re gonna break a window!” Ben screeched. Jeff frowned, glaring at the knife in the wall behind him. “You missed doll face,” He seethed. You grinned your petty scheme paying off.

“Did I?”

A warm liquid began trickling down Jeff’s ear, his fingers reaching to identify the source. Crimson red blood stained his fingertips, the lobe of his ear nipped by the launched blade. “You bitch i’ll kill you!” Jeff yelled, rising from his seat. You matched his energy, standing up immediately. Despite Jeff’s tall size you refused to let him intimate you, your gaze always burning with a sincere hatred. Ben was quick to hop around you, wedging himself in between you both.

“Guys let’s think about this, you know Slender’s rules,” The blonde suggested. Typically Ben didn’t give two shits about Creeps wrestling it out. Shit, last week he let Masky throw Toby into the coffee table. (Shattered it, by the way.) But he genuinely liked the both of you, considering you both his best friends. Your eyes flickered past Jeff for a moment, landing at the disney princess clock Sally had requested.

“Shit we’re late. Clean yourself up and let’s go.”

One key thing was to be known about Slender missions: if you had any questions, you kept them to yourself. This is what you tried to convince yourself as you pulled on a set of scrubs. Cosplaying as a nurse was not on your bucket list, certainly not like this. “Could you be any slower?” Jeff huffed. You both stood in the back alley of the hospital, a keycard having been delivered to you to gain entry. Jeff stood on the other side of the car, facing the wall. You threatened to scoop his eyes out if he looked at you changing, the mere threat alone leading to half of his annoyance.

“Oh im sorry, maybe if your face didn’t look like it went through a meat grinder you could’ve been the doctor,” You spat, venom lacing your words. You shoved on your face mask, your key card pinned to your shirt. You rounded the car, shoving Jeff his sunglasses and blue face mask. “Do I look legit?” You asked. Jeff scowled as he shoved on the sunglasses, shoving his hood over his head. “I wouldn’t trust you with a walnut, nevertheless my life,” He snarled. You had learned long ago to discard anything Jeff said to you, no matter how hurtful or spiteful it seemed to be.

But he noticed your eyebrows briefly furrowing, your eyes flickering with concern you didn’t look nurse like enough to complete the mission. “But yeah I guess you look like a healthcare professional,” Jeff finished, shoving his face mask on. You locked the car, shoving the keys into your scrubs. Jeff’s part was to play a sick patient, one you were taking to the emergency wing. The same wing where they had a lab with copious amounts of blood bags. Again, you were never supposed to ask questions. But you couldn’t help but wonder what or who Slender would be feeding with these bags.

“Why did you make me wash my hoodie again? The blood on it could’ve looked like I was coughing it up,” Jeff asked. Jeff was notorious for not wanting to wash his hoodie. You figured it was an ego thing, pride always seeming to drip off of him when he paraded around in his victims blood. Grabbing your keycard you bypassed the pitiful security system, the door unlocking with a click. You grabbed him by his shoulder, assertively guiding him inside. “Yeah we would’ve wanted you to look like you were coughing up blood, not coming back from a murder scene,” You whispered. The bright hospital lights were borderline overstimulating, your vision narrowing as you struggled to remember instructions.

Jeff sensed this, fake coughing and jerking his head towards the sign. West wing. Great. You led Jeff through the busy hospital, nodding respectfully at any medical staff that made eye contact with you. No one seemed suspicious, just another human nursing a sick patient back to health, right? The journey felt longer than it was, your nerves gnawing at you. It wasn’t the fear of being identified necessarily. You and Jeff (if you managed to work together as a team) could certainly slaughter this entire hospital floor and get away. It’s not like many would try to fight you both off either.

Creeps were not to make spectacles of themselves by having their identifies revealed to humans. Camera systems were in place, people had cell phones, police were nowadays just one click away. If you both failed to remain secretive, you’d violate one of Slender’s rules. And if you cared to live another day with more than three brain cells in tact, you did not disobey Slender.

Finally reaching the west wing brought instant relief, both of you reaching your destination. You swiped your keycard, both of you pushing into the room. A middle aged man stood at the counter, turning around to see who had entered. He briefly turned back around, before realizing Jeff did not appear to be medical staff. You shoved a metal cart in front of the door, Jeff quick to take out the threat. “Go to sleep,” He snickered, slitting the man’s throat. You rolled your eyes, grabbing a trash bag from under the sink.

“gO tO sLeEp,” You muttered mockingly. You wondered when he’d retire the corny catchphrase. You threw your mask aside, tired of playing pretend. Jeff strolled over to the fridge, yanking open the door. Blood pooled on the floor beneath his shoes, staining them as he crouched down. Jeff wasn’t bothered in any capacity, reaching out to grab a trash bag. You both began shoving the bags into the bag, grabbing each and every type. “Wait did Slender want the different blood types in different bags?” Jeff asked. You sighed, ignoring him as he stopped and looked at you. He yanked off the mask and tossed aside the sunglasses, his obsidian eyes boring into yours. “He didn’t specify,” You shrug, grabbing another row of bags.

“He didn’t specify? So why wouldn’t you do it then?” Jeff asked. You rolled your eyes, dropping your hands. “What does it matter? We’re putting bags of blood into trash bags and delivering it like we’re in the twilight zone. We don’t even know what this is for,” You argued. You went to grab another bag, Jeff’s pale hand harshly grabbing your arm. “Exactly, we don’t know what it’s for. Meaning we should play it safe,” Jeff debated. You yanked your arm away from him, disgusted by his touch. Angrily you dropped the trash bag, standing up.

“You just want an excuse to argue. I knew you would fuck this mission up,” You growled. Jeff rose to his feet, towering over you as he did so. “I’m fucking up the mission? You’re the one who’s being sloppy,” He said, poking your chest. You shoved his shoulders, hating his touch. “You’re the sloppy one. Yeah Jeff get your shoes stained with the humans blood so they can look for it later. We’ll just have to burn it in the middle of nowhere,” You said, gesturing to his shoes. Jeff rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Them knowing my shoes, which by the way, are converse, which half of the planet owns, is not a big fucking deal,” He said mockingly.

You threw your arms up, exasperated. “Yes it is! Because then they’ll link it to any other crime they’ve captured with a stupid pale guy in converse and it’ll be all over the news, and you know how Slender hates the media-” You began, before the hallway light stopped your sentence for you. Two nurses shoved their way inside of the room, both of you freezing. Shit.

Jeff grabbed both of them by their scrubs, yanking them inside and slamming the door. He shoved his hand over the first one’s mouth, slamming her onto the cold floor. Your victim seemed dumbfounded, her eyes widening in the same fear that dripped off of every victim of yours. “Dont scream bitch, whatever you do, don’t scream,” You suggested. You didn’t look visibly armed, maybe she’d listen to you. As Jeff repeatedly stabbed her coworker in the chest, she changed her mind. A shallow gasp left her lips before you were on her like a wild animal, your pocket knives blade stabbing her from the underside of her chin.

Not your preferred method, gallons of her blood pouring down onto you and your scrubs. Her eyes went blank as the soul left her body, her life officially drained. Crimson paint coated your entire front side, the skin on your arms stained with the color. “There is no fucking way i’m going to be able to walk through the hospital like this,” You seethed. You turned to Jeff, tossing the nurses limp corpse aside. “You should’ve been keeping a lookout instead of picking an argument!” You exclaimed. Jeff rose to his feet above his own victim, her organs on full display as smashed lumps of meat.

“Nothings ever your fault, is it sunshine? Maybe take some responsibility for your fuckups instead of pinning it on me,” Jeff spat. You hated him. You hated him beyond belief. You also hated that he in one way or another, was right. You let him get in your head and distract you from the mission. In a fit of rage you shoved at his chest, the pale killer having enough of your hissy fit. He shoved you back, pushing you against the counter. Slipping on the blood beneath you, you instinctively grabbed handfuls of Jeff’s hoodie, dragging him with you.

His body smashed into yours as your back hit the counter, both of you breathing heavily. You glared up at him, his body not deserting yours. He licked his dry lips, observing you from above. Your chin and neck were coated in blood, along with the rest of you. When Jeff came to think of it, you didn’t look half bad when your mouth was shut and you were covered in his favorite liquid. Glaring up at him you noticed he was stained the same way, splatters of blood painting his face. “I hate you,” You seethed. Jeff leaned in closer to you, his face an inch away from yours.

“I hate you too sunshine. Don’t ever think for a moment I don’t,” He replied. You could feel your heart beginning to race, the close proximity making your stomach do back flips. “Why would I think you don’t?” You asked. Jeff hesitated, knowing what he was about to do would change everything. But fuck he could not resist a hot chick covered in blood. “Cause of this,” He huffed, smashing his lips into yours. You were surprised to find yourself kissing him back, clashes of teeth ensuing more than a traditional kiss. His large hands helped you onto the counter, the pale killer wedging himself between your legs.

You wrapped your arms around Jeff’s neck, bringing him closer. You both were willingly jeopardizing the mission, all for a sweet release. Because you both knew deep down that you both were the same, cut from the same cloth. Jeff’s hands slid up your thighs, reaching for the hem of your scrubs. Your lips refusing to stray from his, awkwardly lifting your hips to help him take them off. Jeff’s tongue slid into your mouth, the faint taste of a monster energy drink dancing across your tongue. Jeff was quick to pull down your pants and panties, leaving you completely exposed.

“We don’t have much time,” You panted into his lips, nibbling on his bottom lip. Your hands reached for his pants, fiddling with the belt. Jeff rubbed two fingers up and down your slick, sickly satisfied with how wet you were for him. “You’re fucking drenched. I knew your slutty ass wanted me,” He snickered. You glared up at him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Without thinking you raised an open hand, slapping Jeff across the cheek. The stinging electrified him, his cock throbbing with a more intense desire.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” He seethed, shoving two fingers inside of you. You let out a groan, your hand slithering down to your clit. “Who are you supposed to be pretending to be now? Ben?” You asked, relishing in the sight of his pale cheek turning pink. He curled his long fingers inside of you, your eyes fluttering shut as you moaned. “You greedy bitch, pay attention,” Jeff growled. His spare hand flew to your throat, harshly gripping at the sides. Your eyes burst open, meeting his dark orbs. “Thats it, look at me as I ruin you,” Jeff ordered.

You began drawing quick circles around your clit, biting your inner lip. “You gonna make me cum or just keep talking?” You huffed, grinning as his grip on your neck tightened. Jeff continued finger fucking you, your groans music to his ears. “You sick bitch. You like me choking you, huh?” He taunted. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your orgasm threatening to wash over you. Jeff could sense so too, releasing your throat and yanking away your hand from your clit. His fingers emerged from your cunt, just as you were teetering on the edge of cumming.

“You fucking asshole, fuck you,” You seethed. You spat in his face, your saliva coating the same cheek you slapped. Jeff picked you up off of the counter, slamming you against the closest wall. Aggressively he pulled down his pants and boxers, his lips meeting yours again. For such a prick he was intoxicating, his lips working wonders against yours. “Be patient for once you brat. You’re gonna cum on my cock like a good whore should,” Jeff grumbled, rubbing his shaft up and down your slick. He forcefully shoved himself inside of you, your body splitting in half as his dick bottomed out inside of you.

You gripped his blood stained hoodie, your palms covered in the liquid you could never escape. You swallowed as you screwed your eyes shut, attempting to adjust. Your body was tense and still, your breathing heavy. You expected Jeff to be a prick and move, ramming into you the way he wanted to. But he didn’t, his eyes watching you intently. Slowly and unsurely he grabbed your chin, forcing your head towards. His touch seemed too caring to be real, his lips working against yours again. Your body slowly relaxed, his lips bringing you ease.

Jeff hadn’t expected you to be overly experienced, your walls squeezing him like you were a virgin. An uneasy silence flooded between you to as you fully adjusted, your eyes fluttering open. “Jeff, move,” You ordered weakly, straying away from his heroin laced lips. The pale killer wanted to deny you, to make you beg for him. But as your victims blood pooled at his shoes once more, he knew he didn’t have time for that. He began moving quickly, his thrust rough and reckless. His cock abused your g spot just like his words abused your sanity.

“You’re bigger than I thought you’d be,” You huffed, unable to stop yourself from insulting the man who was providing you euphoric pleasure. Jeff laughed dryly, burying himself in the crook of your neck. “You’re tighter than I thought you’d be. I thought you’d be so desperate as to let EJ fuck you and stretch out this cunt of yours,” He rambled, jealousy ensuing. He hated how well you got along with EJ. He hated how seeing you laugh with him made him feel. He didn’t understand it. That nagging feeling. He couldn’t understand it. He didn’t want to understand it.

You licked your lips as you tried to contain your sinful noises, Jeffs name finally straying from your lips as he abused your cunt. “Thats it, moan my fucking name,” He praised, a sick satisfaction making his hips snap into you faster. His breath was hot against your neck, the twisted fucker licking the side of your neck. The taste of sweat and blood was intoxicating to him, the killer only more turned on by the taste. You could feel yourself finally close to the finish line, your hands combing into Jeff’s shaggy ash black hair.

“Fuck, right there. Please don’t stop,” You whined, unable to stop the plea from falling off of your lips. Who was Jeff to deny you of that? Your walls spasmed around him as you came, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Jeff came with a grunt, huffing into your neck as his warm seed flooded your cunt. You both were frozen for a moment, the realization of what had just happened washing over you. You shoved Jeff’s chest, pushing him away from you. The pale killer backed away, removing himself from your cunt.

He watched as you shoved your clothes back on, grabbing the trash bag.

“Get dressed bitch boy, we have a mission to finish.”

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