#and yellow flash beat people up

[luxaofhesperides]

Accidental Bride Sacrifice ; requested by @starlightcat04!

Danny has long since gotten used to the feel of summonings. They don’t happen often, but sometimes the right components are put together to force him into answering, and he’d have to go as the new Ghost King.

Which no one told him was a thing! He hadn’t protested too much about the whole Ghost King deal when they finally told him about it after he graduated high school. It gave him a good excuse to ditch life in the living realm and not worry about college or a career, and let him really embrace his ghost side. 

The summonings are a problem, though. They always feel staticky and bad, like a dumpster that just got struck by lightning. The taste of iron on his tongue, a clear sign of blood being spilled, lets him know that it would be one of end the world for us summonings, because some people can’t put in the effort to do it themselves, apparently. 

But this time, the summoning feels different.

Danny pauses, eyes going unfocused in the middle of his conversation with Jazz. He had been looking forward to spending the week with her, now that she’s on winter break, but his luck is as bad as always.

“I’m being summoned,” he tells her, cutting off her rant about a transphobic professor she had. 

“Oh, no. Do you need me to do anything? Should I go with you to beat up whoever it is that’s summoning you?”

Danny tilts his head to the side, considering. The taste of blood is noticeably absent. In fact, this summoning pull doesn’t make him feel sick at all. It makes him feel warm, as if he’s just been wrapped in a hug.

“No,” he says. “I think I’m good. This one feels different.”

“A good different?” Jazz asks, worry clear in her voice.

“Yeah. A good different. I’ll come back soon, okay?”

“Alright. Be careful, Danny.” Jazz pulls him into a quick hug, then steps back to watch as Danny stops fighting the pull of the summoning and disappears into a swirling white rings that flashes into existence behind him, blinding her for a moment, and is gone when she manages to blink the spots out of her vision. 

For a minute, Danny drifts in a void of stillness, traveling through the realms as the summoning draws him closer to the correct realm. And then he’s rising out of the ground in a dark building made of concrete, candles of green flame scattered all over the place.

“Great One!” someone in a hooded cloak cries, raising his arms in jubilation. “Our calls have been answered!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” a mechanical voice yells from farther back. When Danny looks past the cultists’ heads, he spots a man in a red hood and leather jacket chained to a pole, along with a bunch of other people in strange costumes tied up, desperately trying to free themselves. 

“Silence!” The leader of the cult, or who Danny assumes is the leader, snaps at the hooded man and gestures to the people off to his left. They force another costumed person forward, this one in yellow armor. He can see the blood running down their face from beneath their helmet and from their nose, dark lines of blood cutting through their brown skin. 

The cultists throw the armored person forward, forcing them to kneel. Then they bow to Danny and step back.

“Great One,” the leader says, voice unpleasantly reverent and grating, “Welcome to the mortal realms. We offer you this sacrifice to feed your strength. He will make a fine general for your undead army in your crusade to rid this world of its filth.”

The people in the back begin shouting all together, panicked voices overlapping, and Danny is left staring down at the cultists in shock.

The summoning had felt so nice. What the hell was this? He did not sign up for another ‘end of days’ insane cult. He just wanted to be hugged. 

His silence makes the cultists nervous. They begin to shift uneasily, whispering to each other, and the leader clears his throat, then pulls a large crystal dagger out of his cloak. “We shall prove our devotion to you through an offering of a hero’s blood!”

And then he moves towards the sacrifice and Danny snaps out of his shock to yell, “Wait!”

The entire room freezes. Even the costumed people in the back go still. 

Danny winces, then tries to smother his power, make himself more palatable to the humans of this dimension. “Wait,” he says again, and he sounds closer to human now. If he could, he would drop his ghost form entirely, but he knows better than to endanger himself like that. “What, exactly, did you summon me here for?”

The cult leader stares at him for a moment. “To… To rid the world of filth and allow your loyal followers to spread word of your power. You will be worshiped again, Great One, and serve as a reminder to man that Death shall always prevail.”

“Okay, I get that, but I was talking more along the lines of the summoning. What ritual did you use? What specifically were the summoning requirements?”

Normally, he’d be able to figure it out himself, but these cultists didn’t use a summoning circle. So they did something else, something less visible and therefore harder to figure out, in order to bring him here.

A woman standing off to the side speaks up, stepping forward hesitantly. “I had pieced together a few summoning spells from this book to bring you here. You had to accept our chosen sacrifice to your side in order for the summoning to work.”

“Hold up that book for me, please?”

She does, and Danny flies down to grab it from her hands. “Point out which lines you used,” he says, already reading a few of the words written down. It’s definitely ghostspeak written down, which should be near impossible for living humans to translate without being skilled in magic.

“Ah, these ones.” She points to each line, reading them out for him, and Danny starts understand what, exactly, went wrong.

“Is there a problem, Great One?”

Danny returns the book then floats over to the sacrifice and picks him up. The costumed people make alarmed noises, but quietly quiet down again when all Danny does is move him away from the cultists.

“Okay,” he says, “So. The lines you used to summon me were not translated properly. What you interpreted as ‘accepted to stay by the king’s side in loyalty and strength’ is not meant to be, like, him being part of my undead army or whatever. It’s a royal marriage vow.”

“They married us?” the sacrifice shouts, disbelieving. The cult leader buries his face in his hands and sighs.

“My deepest apologies, Great One. We meant no offense. We simply wanted to aid in your destruction of this depraved world.”

Danny scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me. I do not do the biding of random people, especially those who are ready to murder innocent people for no reason. Frighty, if you would.” He snaps his fingers, calling up Fright Knight who always enjoys getting to torment the people who summon Danny for murderous reasons.

Fright Knight appears in a swirl of darkness and screams. Shadows swallow the room, and when they recede, no cultists remain.

“Thanks, Frighty. Have fun with them. I need to figure out all… this.”

Fright Knight bows to him, then disappears. Danny lets out a breath, then floats down lower to be eye level with the sacrifice. “Hey,” he says gently, with a smile, “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m Danny. What’s your name?”

“Du— Uh, Signal,” the sacrifice says, sounding rather dazed. 

“Signal,” Danny repeats. “Like… a traffic signal?”

“No. I mean, maybe? But it is Signal. That’s my hero name, not my real name.”

“Oh, you’re a hero!” His getup makes more sense now. Danny checks him over for any signs of injuries. So far, only his head and nose seem to be injured, but his wrists are tightly bound behind his back. Carefully, Danny calls upon his ice and shapes it into a sharp knife, then cuts through the zipties.

He helps Signal up to his feet, floating by his shoulder. “All good?”

“Yeah, man, all good. Let me just get the others free.”

“Oh, I can do it!” Danny flies over to the other costumed people, who must also be heroes. All it takes is one link in the chain being frozen and broken for the entire thing to go lax, allowing them to free themselves. Hooded guy spares Danny a single glance, then hurries over to Signal to check on him. The other three, a man with a blue bird across his chest, a blond girl with a yellow bat outline on her chest, and a guy with bandoliers and a golden bird emblem, all watch him warily as he floats back towards the center of the room.

“So,” the blue bird man says, “If they summoned you with a marriage vow, and you accepted, does that mean you’re planning to steal Signal away from us?” He’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile.

“No! I had no idea they did this! I am so sorry you all got caught up in this. You most of all, Signal.”

Signal shrugs, nudging hood guy away from him. “Nah, man, it’s all good. This is definitely the better outcome.”

“I don’t know, being married off isn’t really a good thing.”

“Hey, at least they married me off to a decent guy.”

“You don’t know that,” Danny says, “What if I’m secretly evil?”

“If you were secretly evil, you’d be destroying the world right now. I think you’re fine.”

The blond girl waves at him, demanding his attention. “Quick question! They were calling you ‘Great One’. Are you a god or something?”

“Not really? I’m the Ghost King. So I’m a ghost who rules over other ghosts and also a majority of the Infinite Realms.”

She nods as if this is all totally normal for her, then shoots Signal a grin. “Congrats on bagging a king! Not the worst way to spend a night, right?”

“Can you break the marriage?” blue bird man asks, the lines of his shoulders tense.

Danny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, not looking any of them in the eye. “I honestly don’t know. I can look for a way! But I genuinely have no clue. This was unexpected.”

“But you accepted.”

“I didn’t know what I expected! It just felt like a hug, and I wanted a hug! I thought I was being summoned for something nice for once!” Danny curls up, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hides his pout behind his hands. He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help but be upset that he couldn’t have this one good experience from being Ghost King. 

It’s always responsibilities and death cult summonings and fighting ghosts who don’t think he should be king. Sure there have been some good things, but they’re comparatively few when looking at all the other stress and pain that comes with the crown. Sue him for wanting to have a nice night for once. Hell, at this point, he’d take being summoned to help with some kid’s homework, because at least then he could have a quiet night helping someone.

“Hey, man, can you come down here?” Signal asks. 

He wants to stay out of reach, hiding himself away for a bit longer, but Signal is his new, surprise, accidental husband, so Danny lowers himself to the ground and peeks through his fingers to look at him.

He tenses when Signal hugs him, soft and warm and comforting. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on, and then he’s melting into Signal’s embrace, dropping his hands to wrap them around Signal’s back.

Distantly, he can hear the other heroes talking quietly amongst themselves. He blocks out the sound as much as he can, determined to enjoy this hug while it lasts.

Which is… fairly long. Signal makes no moves to end the hug, so Danny closes his eyes to really savor the moment. 

“So,” Signal murmurs into his ear, “As newlyweds, how about we get to know each other a bit better before we start working on fixing all this?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s ditch these guys and take some time to ourselves.”

“I promise I’ll get this fixed,” he says, just to make sure Signal knows. “Genuinely, I am so sorry to have married you through an old Realms vow when you had no say in it.”

“Hey, if it lands me a very nice, very attractive king, then I don’t mind at all. I could have done without the murderous cultists, though.”

Danny huffs out a small laugh. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for being so cool about this. Want me to fly us out of here?”

“Yes please,” Signal says. Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Signal, then lifts them both up. “I’ll see y’all later! Have fun with the rest of your patrols!” he calls out to the other heroes, who start shouting at him.

Danny flies them right out the roof before the other heroes figure out a way to kick his ass. The city they’re in is smoggy and dark, tall buildings rising up into the cloudy sky, and police sirens ring through the air. There’s no where that looks like a particularly nice spot to land for a conversation, so he asks Signal where he’d like to go and follows his directions from there.

They end up phasing through a building, then into the floor, which leaves them in what Signal calls The Hatch. 

Danny takes a quick moment to freak out over being in a hero’s secret hide out, the composes himself and finally pulls away from Signal.

“So,” he starts, looking around The Hatch and taking in the giant computer, the workstation, the motorcycle farther down the way, “What did you—Woah!” Danny spins around, slamming a hand over his eyes the instant he realizes that Signal is taking off his helmet, leaving his face bare.

It’s not like he’d know who Signal is anyways, being from a different dimension, but it’s the principle of the matter.

Signal laughs when he sees Danny’s attempt to keep from looking at him. A warm hand wraps around his wrist and gently pulls it away. “It’s okay, Danny, you can look,” he says. “It would be pretty weird if my own husband didn’t know my face.”

Slowly, giving Signal to change his mind, Danny opens his eyes. He moves his gaze up, going from Signal’s armor to his face, his very cute face and his warm brown eyes, and Danny stares for a moment. 

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Signal says, fondness coloring his voice. “My name’s Duke. Are all Ghost Kings as cute as you?”

“Duke,” Danny repeats. “Hi. Um, no. The last one really sucked, actually, which is why I fought him. He was so bad the Infinite Realms didn’t want him anymore, so though I technically didn’t beat him in single combat, it was enough for the Infinite Realms to kick him out and get me on the throne.”

“Man, I can not wait to hear more of your stories. Think we got time for that while we search for a way to undo that marriage vow?”

Taking his chance, Danny says, “Sure! It’s a date.”

He’s awarded by Duke’s bright smile and idly wonders how long he can keep them married. Hopefully long enough for them to get into a real relationship where he can propose properly. And then he can get Jazz’s blessing too—

“Oh shit,” Danny realizes. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell my sister or she’s going to actually kill me.”

Duke winces. “And I should probably tell the others before Spoiler makes a mess of things… B is not going to be happy with me.”

They share a despairing look, already dreading the amount of scoldings they’re both going to get. He’s not looking forward to it.

“...Put it off until tomorrow?”

Duke nods. “Yeah. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, how about a late dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dpxdc fanfic #dp x dc fic #prompt fill #my writing #dukes pov is just: u're abt to be sacrificed. u're mildly concussed. a cute guy glowing like the north star saved u and is now ur husband #he's had a night but all in all it ended pretty nicely! #they're gonna work together and just hang out while trying to undo the marriage summoning ritual and find they're super compatible #and then in a few years they'll be marrying each other for real :) #thanks for the prompt!!

[itsbeeble]

NO BITCHES?

SUMMARY: When you met Eric, you’d thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any woman’s pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never would’ve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.

GENRE: smut, fluff, crack, mild angst

PAIRING: Eric Sohn x afab!reader (ft hak, sunwoo, sunwoo's gf, and sangyeon)

WC: 10.5k (there go my plans of proving Ally wrong)

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI AGLESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: um... okay so virgin!eric, kinda dom!reader, eric's a fucking loser, reader kinda makes fun of him at first for being a virgin, reader kinda teaches eric about everything from kissing to uh...yeah, dry humping, kissing, making out, oral (m and f receiving), eric cums in his pants, eric plays fnaf, um...public making out? public fingering?, multiple orgasms, eric goes from little virgin boy to I TOLD YOU WE NEEDED MORE GLITTER real fast, sunwoo slander, sunwoo's annoying in this idk, eric's a dumb gamer boy who needs desperate help from the boy who concussed his gf (cough sunwoo), slight bit of miscommunication?, eric cries (ummmm dacryphilia?), reader also cries (again...dacryphilia?), edging el oh el, sunwoo and. reader know the importance of CONSENT, i think that's all the important stuff

A/N: I'm never gonna beat the allegations... ally will always think i bias eric. Anyway, happy birthday to my little munchkin princess eric sohn 🥰🥰

Eric was practically shaking as he approached you. Scratch that, he was definitely shaking but he could blame the ripples covering the drinks in his hand on the pumping base. It thrummed in his veins, or maybe that was his pulse steadily increasing when he locked eyes with you.

You. His gorgeous, intelligent, perfect…

Lab partner. You were his lab partner and at that very moment, nothing more. At least, not in your eyes. Eric, though? He was enamored by you. The way you laugh, the teasing grin when he does something wrong and you scold him, the way your body looks in that dress—

“Hi.” You look away from your friends and face him, a curious look on your face. He’s starting to feel warm. Was it warm in here? He thinks he’s starting to sweat, and can feel something drip down the back of his neck.

“Hi…?” Your hands are empty, and Eric forces himself not to jump up and down with glee that he doesn’t have to make the excuse of having two drinks for himself. 

“I’m— Do you—” He stutters, and heat begins to spread from his neck to his cheeks as your friends giggle. You just smile. A kind smile that has his body slowly relaxing the more he looks at your face. “Do you wanna drink— I mean— fuck, I meant do you want a drink. Not— not do you wanna drink— I mean that could—  that is also a question, but—”

More laughter from your friends and Eric suddenly thinks he’s gonna throw up all over you, your dress, and his nice white button-up shirt that he’d forced Sangyeon to iron for him. 

“Thank you, Eric.” You say, reaching for the cup in his left hand. Your fingers brush against his, and his knees begin to wobble visibly. Your smile disappears into a concerned frown, and suddenly Eric’s attention is on your lips. He isn’t paying attention to his surroundings anymore. Can’t find himself caring that your friends are still laughing at the scenario, nor that you shoo them away. 

“Eric?” Your hand waves in front of his face, effectively catching the boy’s attention. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah!” Eric says it far too quickly, knowing immediately that you don’t believe him. Fortunately, one of his many charms is that he’s very good at lying to people. “I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?” 

You giggle, and it’s the sweetest sound that he’s ever heard.

“You just— you seem a little uncomfortable right now.” You lean close to him, scanning his face under the flashing lights. You can hardly make out his features under the colors. Blue, purple, red, white, green, yellow. All the colors under the rainbow covered his face and changed every few seconds. When they flashed white, you swear you can see a flush in his cheeks. 

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” He leans toward you with a sudden surge of confidence that has your heart pounded a bit. “Why would I ever be uncomfortable around the most beautiful girl in the building?”

And there it is, folks, you think. Your eye twitches, something so subtle that Eric fails to catch it. The irritation, the disappointment. 

“Ah, I see.” You grimace, and Eric begins to panic again. 

“What— did I upset you?” He asks, and you roll your eyes. 

“Eric, if you wanna get into my pants you’re gonna have to try better than that.” 

Eric’s heart drops to the floor, his face flushing even more as he begins to panic. He stutters, he tries to backtrack, he tries to explain himself. You, however, are hearing none of it. Not a single word that comes out of his mouth reaches your ears. 

“Stop, Eric.” You snap and his mouth snaps shut. “Just…Just stop.” 

You set the cup he’d given you down on the table, and he stares at it dumbly while you storm away to find your friends again. The amber liquid in the cup sloshes with the base echoing around it and the loud noise of partygoers around him. 

He watches it spill over the lip of the cup, and then sets his own cup down next to it, turning around to return to the party but the weight of crushing rejection sits uncomfortably on his chest. 

It’s two days later when you see Eric again. Monday morning, an 8AM Physics lecture that no one wants to be in. Two weeks into the semester, and almost twenty people had already dropped the class. He walks in with a black hat covering his head, and a white tee shirt covering his torso. It’s certainly not clothing suitable for the cold air of early February, but he’d been unable to do his laundry over the weekend due to the parties on Friday and Saturday and the neverending clean-up that occurred on Sunday. 

He spots you, tucked well into the second row, and his eyes light up. Yours, on the other hand, narrow. You keep your gaze on him while he makes his way up to you as quickly as possible, hoping to have a chance to talk to you before the lecture begins. 

“Hey,” he grins at you, gently setting his bag on the chair to his left and turning to face you. Your eyes are still narrowed with suspicion. “How was your weekend?” 

How was your weekend? It’s as if the both of you hated that question; one of you cringing with something close to disgust, the other with something like horror. Is he stupid?

“It was fine,” you tell him curtly. Eric frowns, leaning back in his chair when you turn your gaze to the front. 

“Did I do something wrong?” He blurts out, and your shoulders sag. Was that the wrong thing to ask? Did he do something wrong?

“Did you seriously just ask me that?” You hiss out, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He opens his mouth to speak, but he has a hard time finding the words. What is he even supposed to say? What if you think he’s an asshole for not knowing what was wrong? What if you never smile at him again?

“I— honestly I really don’t know!” You scoff and Eric sits up, leaning forward on the table to get a better view of your face. You can see the pout, see the way his eyebrows knit together in what you can only assume is faux confusion. There’s no way he doesn’t know what he did.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” You look at him fully now and watch the way his body recoils from the words. Hurt, confusion. No anger. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Eric Sohn angry in the two years you’d shared classes with him. 

“What— what did I even do?” The professor walks in, and he hushes his voice. “I can’t fix things if I don’t know what I did wrong!”

“That’s your own damn fault then, isn’t it?” You click your pen, and Eric shuts up. You almost feel bad, carefully watching as he takes out his own notebook to begin taking notes. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the lecture, and you feel a pang of regret in your chest. Maybe he really doesn’t know what he did wrong, you think, nibbling on your lip in thought. No, there’s no way he doesn’t know. He’s the smartest guy in the room, no way does he not know what— 

You glance at Eric again, this time turning your head to fully look at him. His blond hair falls over his eyes, even with the hat covering his head. His shoulders are hunched, his hand moving so quickly over the lined paper so that he can at least try to keep up with your professor. For a moment, you think about Eric Sohn. About the frat boy who had been nothing but kind to you since the day you met. About the boy who once gave you notes far more detailed than you’d ever written during the week you were sick. About the boy who���

No, you shake your head and begin to write down more equations you know you’re going to have to ask Eric about later. He’s a frat boy. All he wants is a good fuck and then he’s gone. 

But why did he seem so hurt when you spoke to him so rudely? When you turned him away not once, but twice within the past three days. 

You liked him, you really did! He was kind, thoughtful, and he was always helping anyone he could. He never refused to help anyone, even if it was a subject that he didn’t know that well. Had you gotten it wrong? Was he just trying to talk to you and you had responded—

Your pen clicks again as you give up on the notes, and you lean back in your chair to squint at the whiteboard in front of you. 

Talking with Eric Sohn was inevitable, but it was only a matter of how long you could avoid the topic—

“I want all of you to pair up. These will be your partners for the midterm project.”

Eric’s gaze turns to you uneasily, tilting his head in question. You bite down hard on your tongue, fighting every urge inside of you to turn around and ask the girl behind you to be partners. 

Fuck, how could you say no to those eyes?

Your room is brighter than Eric thought it would be. When you originally invited him over to study that night, he had been terrified. Was your apartment going to be almost falling apart? What if it was really nice and he broke something? What if you killed him and stuffed him into a dumpster?

Fortunately, none of those things were necessarily true. Your building wasn’t falling apart, thankfully, although it was arguably nicer than any other off-campus apartments and you could still choose to kill him. 

It was nice, though. It was a two-bedroom apartment that you shared with your friend Eunseung, one full bathroom and another half-bathroom, a decent kitchen, and a nice-sized living space. According to what you told him in the last semester, the rent wasn’t too awful either. 

The walls of your bedroom were yellow, but not an ugly shade of yellow. It was pastel, not quite bright enough to be harsh on the eyes but not dark enough to make it hard to see. You’d lined bookshelves up to the wall, most filled with books but some with photos and plants and music albums. You had a small desk in the corner, and your bed was aligned with the center of the back wall, a light green comforter covering white sheets. 

“I’m surprised we’ve never studied here.” You hum, but your tone is distant. Eric laughs dryly and sets his bag down on the ground next to your bedframe. 

“You prefer the library,” he points out. “The lighting is easier for your eyes.” 

For a moment, you pause in your motions. How did he—

“How did you know that?” You ask, turning to face him. You can see the flush in your partner’s cheeks, and he ducks his head so that the baseball cap on his head covers his eyes. 

“I just— you would always squint when we studied at the library or— or at the TBZ house. I just…I figured that was the reason.” I pay attention. That’s what you knew he meant. 

Why does a boy who only wants to get into your pants care so much about you?

“Oh.” You dig your laptop out of your bag and take a seat on your bed, leaning against your pillows with your legs straight out in front of you. Eric joins you, sitting crosslegged at the other end of the bed. He’s careful not to get too close, shifting away from you when you adjust your position. Your skirt flares out to the side, ruffled by the blanket and exposing your thighs a bit more. Eric has to force his eyes to remain on his laptop. You notice, but there’s no anger with it. You choose to not even acknowledge it. 

“So what do we wanna do for our project?” His eyes flick over to you, and you shrug. 

“We could build something?” You suggest. “Maybe, like, a paper airplane launcher?” 

He hums, tilting his head back and wrinkling his nose in thought. 

“What about something with electromagnetism?” You nod slowly. 

“That could be good. We could keep with the idea of building something and make an electric motor with things people have lying around their houses?” 

Eric grins at you. “Now we’re thinking. We’ll have this done in no time at all.”

Eric was right. 

The brainstorming and research portion of the project had been completed within a few hours, and the two of you had cast your laptops to the side to search your apartment for things to use. Paper clips, some sort of copper wire (you had no idea why anyone would have a copper wire hanging around their house. Eric, however, said that there were several around the frat house), wood, some batteries. Anything that the two of you could use. The only thing neither of you had was a staple gun.

“It’s getting late,” Eric notes with a quick glance toward your living room window. You hum in response, lying back on your couch with your phone in your hand. “I should get going soon.”

Your eyes flick to him, but he isn’t looking at you. “Do you wanna stay the night?” 

Silence. A long moment of silence, and then Eric looks at you with a look nearing scandalized. 

“What?” You sit up, draping your arms over the back of your couch and getting a better look at him. 

“You heard me.” His face is bright red, similar to the night of the party. 

“Why would— why would I want— I mean th— thank you for the offer but— but I can’t stay the night. Why would— where would I even sleep? I don’t have clothes to sleep in!” He throws every excuse he could possibly think of at you, adding to your amusement. He had no clothes, where would he sleep, you had classes earlier in the morning than him, it would be weird if he stayed the night. It was cute. 

You’ll admit it, Eric was cute. The puppy-like look in his eyes, the pout on his lips. Everything about him was cute. It almost shocked you how fast you were able to get over the anger that he only wanted to sleep with you. In fact, you weren’t sure that’s what he even wanted from you. Only one way to find out, right?

“Eric,” you finally cut off his rambling and his voice stops, leaving your apartment oddly quiet. “Come here.” 

He listens, slowly slinking toward you. Eric is nervous, you can tell. Every step he takes, every twitch when you shift your body. It fills you with pride, or maybe some other emotion. 

Eric stops when he’s right in front of you, just a few steps from the back of the couch and both of you (really just him) are all too aware of how his crotch is level with your mouth. 

“I wanna tell you something,” you beckon him toward you with one finger and he slowly, albeit a bit awkwardly as well, bends down so that his face is just above yours. Heat radiates off his face, so hot that you may start sweating soon. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

His Adam’s apple bobs, his hands gripping the couch for dear life, short nails digging into the cheap fabric. 

“Sure.” Eric’s voice is hoarse, and it makes you smile. 

“I kinda like you, Eric.” 

Your lips press gently against his. Entirely experimental, just enough to see what he would do. His body seizes up, his breath hitching in his throat. He doesn’t move against you, doesn’t tilt his head or part his lips. He sits there like the lead in a lame drama where the main characters seem like they couldn’t be less into each other. You begin to pull away from him, fearing you’d made him a bit uncomfortable, but a whine is pulled from his throat when your lips part from his. 

You look at him, but he’s already looking at you with wide, bulging eyes. 

“Eric…” You have a sneaking suspicion that you know why he didn’t kiss you. “Have you…has no one ever kissed you before?”

“What?” The boy’s voice is shrill, and you know the answer. “Of— of course, I’ve been kissed? What kind of question is that?” 

Your lips quirk up. “Are you sure? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, you know.”

“What— why would I be embarrassed?” His frustration and denial are cute. Adorable, really. 

“Because you’re a sophomore in college and have been kissed once— by your physics partner, no less.” You smirk playfully and then gasp, pushing up and toward him suddenly. He reels back, nearly falling backward with the suddenness of the motion. “Eric Sohn! Are you a virgin?”

Eric looks like he’s about to cry from embarrassment, and he turns away from you completely. You grimace briefly and climb off the couch to come around and stand in front of him. He avoids your gaze by looking above you, around you, at the floor and the walls. 

“Eric,” your voice is gentle now. He doesn’t move, nor does he make any noise. He’s like a deer in headlights. “Eric, can you look at me.”

“No,” he denies, crossing his arms over his chest. You feel a bubble of amusement rising in your stomach. “You’re just gonna make fun of me.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” You promise, your hand grazing his forearm. Eric’s eyes lock with yours, and for once you choose to hold his gaze. “Now, can you tell me the truth so I can help you?” 

“Help me,” he echoes with an air of offense. “I don’t need help!”

“Eric, you’re a sophomore in college who’s in the most popular frat on the campus. Add onto that your personality and your good looks, you should be getting bitches left and right.” You say pointedly and the tips of his ears flush red. Or, rather, as red as they can when his whole face is burning up from your prior insinuations. 

“What if I’m just waiting for marriage?” He counters. “Or— or the right person?” Your lips draw into a thin line, knowing that statement was bullshit. 

“We both know you wouldn���t be hard as a rock right now if that was the case.”

Eric’s heart plummets to the ground, his eyes following it to check for himself. To his complete and utter dismay, you weren’t lying. Pressing against the front of his cargo pants was the solid outline of his member, straining against the seam and begging to be released. 

“I— I am so— so sorry,” he stammers, his hands yanking the edge of his sweatshirt down to cover himself, his hands remaining carefully placed over his crotch but he knows it’s too late. “I didn’t— I don’t— oh my god I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, holding tightly onto his sleeve so he can’t run for the door. “I knew you wanted to sleep with me, it was kind of obvious.”

“No I— I don’t want—” Eric frantically shakes his head. “I don’t— I can’t— I don’t wanna sleep with you— I mean I do, I really really do, but not— not like this—”

The hand on his sleeve comes up to grab his cheeks, squeezing them together until his lips are pushed out and he can’t speak anymore. 

“You can admit it, Eric.” You hum, and with your hand still on his face, you begin to walk him back and around to the side of the couch. He yelps when you push him back, letting go of his face and watching him fall over the arm and land with an oof on the cushions. “You can admit that you wanted to fuck me from the moment you saw me.”

“But I—” He choked on spit before he could finish talking, eyes widening into saucers when you climbed onto the couch, crawling up to sit on his lap. He’s sitting up straight now, but the risk of falling back again is high with nothing to support his spine. Your hands just rest on his shoulders, not digging in or moving to grasp anything else. They stay there, waiting for him to make the first move. 

“Tell me if you don’t want me to continue, Eric.” His hands are trembling, his pulse higher than it’s ever been. He slowly rotates his body, placing his feet firmly on the ground and resting his spine against the back of the couch so that he doesn’t hurt either of you. 

“I want—” his voice cracks. 

“What do you want?” Your lips are on his neck, featherlight kisses being left in your wake and knocking the breath out of him. He’d never felt like this, he’d never been touched like this save for his own hand in the darkness of his room with an animated video on loop on his laptop screen. At his lack of response, you pull your lips back from his neck. Eric lets out a loud whine at this, his left hand coming to the back of your head to lightly try and push you back into him. 

“Keep doing that,” he gasps out, and you smile. 

“Don’t you want me to kiss you?” You ask him, and another whine tumbles from his lips.

“I— fuck, I do— god, why are you doing this to me?”

“I just wanna know what you want, Eric,” you’re teasing him and you know it, but you’re pretty sure Eric might fall to pieces if you don’t give him something soon. “Can’t you tell me what you want?” 

“Just—” he leans his head back, and you watch the rapid bobbing of his throat as he tries to swallow and take in air and do anything to calm himself down. “Just do something.”

“What’s the magic word?” He raises his head, gasping when he finds your lips suddenly inches from his own. 

“Ple— please?” Your lips quirk up.

“Actually, it was—”

You don’t get the chance to tease him anymore. He crushes your lips together with so much force that it almost hurts. There’s nothing coherent about the way he kisses you, although you could hardly call it a kiss at all. It was more him putting his mouth against yours, tilting his head, and squeezing his eyes shut. It’s clear from the moment it started that he’s never been kissed before and that knowledge has you squirming in his lap. 

“Eric,” you’ve barely pulled back and he’s chasing your lips as if you’re a glass of his favorite wine. “Eric, hold on.”

“Why?” His eyes flutter open and you have to force yourself not to kiss him senseless, even if he has no idea what he’s doing.

“Just—” You inhale deeply and the scent of his cologne begins to overwhelm your senses, practically intoxicating you. “You’ve never kissed anyone before.” 

He nods, his previous embarrassment returning when you say that. “I mean…Yeah, I— I haven’t. But I—I’ve used WikiHow—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off and choose to ignore the comment about WikiHow, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Just follow my lead.” 

When he nods, you press your lips against his again. This time, it’s more fluid. It’s easier for you to kiss him when he’s copying your movements. It’s still awkward, your teeth smacking together painfully, but you can tell he’s getting used to the feeling. You’re able to part your lips against his, to open your mouth just enough for your tongue to slip out and brush against his lower lip. His whole body jolts, his hands digging into the fabric of your skirt hard enough that your skin would be bruised the next day. His hips roll up against yours, drawing a heady moan out of you. 

When Eric parts from you, his eyes are hazy. “Did— did you like when I did that?” 

“Yes,” you groan and begin to roll your hips down into his, watching the way his eyes roll into the back of his head and his back arches off the couch. 

“F-Fuck, okay,” He screws his eyes shut again, lips completely parted as the two of you begin to hump into each other like some damn animals. Your lips meld together again, and you let your tongue slither into his mouth. It’s obvious that Eric has no idea what to do with his tongue— pushing against yours aggressively, shoving it to the side, and trying to push his into your mouth— but as the minutes pass, he begins to understand what to do. He begins to understand what makes your body react positively and what has you unintentionally cringing away from him. 

Your lips part from his one more time but you hardly give him time to complain before you place a kiss on his cheek, then the corner of his jaw, and then right below his ear. He emits a nearly wild moan at this, his hips jerking up into yours in such a way that his bulge presses against your clit and punches a moan out of you. Being the quick learner that he is, Eric adjusts his position and rolls his hips up again and again and again, addicted to the way you sound and feel against him. 

“Eric,” you whine, parting from his neck. “Eric, oh my god.” 

He just huffs into your collarbone, licking and sucking and trying desperately to not cum too soon, but you just feel so good against him that he just can’t help it. 

His hips stutter against yours, and he moans so loud you fear that the neighbors hear it. You let him continue to grind into you, to work himself through his orgasm as your slips back and escapes you. It doesn’t matter, you’d get yourself when he leaves—

“You didn’t cum.” 

“What?” You blink dumbly at him, and Eric begins to pout. 

“You didn’t— you didn’t cum. You should’ve told me. I would’ve held off!” You knew that wasn’t true. He could barely hold himself together from a few kisses, what made him think he’d be able to hold himself off until you came? 

“It’s fine, Eric.” You reassure him, but he’s having none of it. You can’t stop him from lifting you off his hips and settling you against the couch cushions. Well…you probably could, but you wanted to see where this went. 

You watch as he unceremoniously yanks down your panties, not bothering with your skirt whether out of impatience or because he liked seeing you in it. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Eric peers up at you, a boyish smile on his face. 

“Can’t be that hard, right?” You laugh, choosing not to argue with him. You’d tell him, when it came time, where your clit is but for now? You’d let him work things out for himself. 

Your body shudders when Eric takes his first taste, licking from the bottom to the top of your pussy. You’re amazed that he didn’t accidentally go too far down like most (slightly more experienced) men have. It’s almost impressive how much attention he pays to your quivering body, and you flip your skirt up so you can see his face buried into you. Every lick draws out a moan from both of you, and you can see him starting to roll his hips down onto the couch. 

“Fuck,” his words are muffled by your cunt, and vile slurping noises accompany him. “Could get addicted to the taste of you.”

“Mm, feels good, Eric.” Your eyes flutter shut, one of your hands slipping down to tangle in his blonde strands of hair and tugging him up slightly. Your other hand taps at your clit lightly, making your body jolt a bit. “Here. This— fuck— feels good here.”

“That’s it?” He drops his head down again, swatting your hand out of the way to replace it with his own. His touch is much rougher than yours, his hands thick and calloused compared to your delicate ones. “Right here?” 

You whine for him, and he has to bite on his tongue to not cum again so fast. He’s quick to attach his mouth to your clit, sucking violently and swiping his tongue against it. If you weren’t impressed by him before, you most certainly were now. It hadn’t taken him long at all to figure out what felt good for you. Reading your mind and body was almost second nature to him, it seemed, and it became abundantly clear when your orgasm began to rise again.

“Close, Eric!” You gasped out, “I’m close!”

He groans against you, catching your hips in his hands when they begin to roll into his face. Eric wanted to drown in you. He wanted to feel you shake around him for the rest of his damn life. He wanted to hear you screaming his name until your throat was raw and your voice was gone. 

And the sight of you cumming on his face, your essence soaking his chin and dripping onto his sweatshirt? 

If he could stay glued to you for the rest of his life, he fucking would.

Becoming a habit came easy for you and Eric. You’re not dating, but you’re unsure of whether the puppy-like boy cares or not. You discovered very quickly that he would do anything for you, would learn anything for you. You’d successfully taught him how to kiss a girl without looking like a dumbass (i.e. the straight-face-to-sudden-kiss scenario you’d faced too many times to count), how to finger you and hit all the right spots, where not to put his mouth and fingers unless explicitly told otherwise. There was, of course, your next problem.

Eric refused to put his dick in you.

You knew he was clean, both of you had gotten tested when you originally began screwing around. You knew he liked you, that much was obvious. He looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, he told you how much he loved you every time you gave him head. He just…never went farther than that. Was he scared? Did he not want you as bad as you (very clearly) wanted him? It made you nauseous to think about, but it was getting frustrating how all you two did was make out, grind on each other like teenagers, and give each other head every time you saw each other. Shit— he was even fine with fingering you underneath the table in your lecture the other day! 

That’s why you developed a plan. Here you were, standing outside of the Tau Beta Zeta frat house under the guise of needing to work on your project (which wasn’t necessarily a lie) but really planning on getting him to finally fuck you. Yes, you were aware of the fact that he was a virgin but it was obvious from the start that he didn’t give a shit about that.

Unless he did. Your hand pauses just inches from the door, but you shake your head to clear the anxious thought and you knock on the door. 

One, two, three…one, two three…one—

On the third round of knocks, a boy swings the door open. His eyes are wide, his hair in disarray. 

“Hi.” You wave your hand with a smile, but the boy just stands there with a dumb look on his face. Were all the TBZ boys like this? 

“…Hi?” He says it in the form of a question, which draws a laugh out of you. 

“I’m Y/N.”

“…Sunwoo…” 

“Oh, the star soccer player, right?” He nods and you grin. “I saw your last game, the one where your girlfriend— I’m assuming girlfriend— knocked some sense into you. You really killed it out there!”

“Thank you…uh…can— can I help you?” You rock back and forth on your heels, biting at your lip in thought. The idea of wearing a skirt is choosing to bite you in the ass as a cold breeze picks up. 

“I’m here for Eric, actually. Um…Eric Sohn? I think he lives here, right?” Sunwoo’s jaw drops, his head dipping down as well and he steps to the side to let you in. You smile, using your feet to pull your shoes off as you step into the entryway. You see a pile of shoes to your left, the larger men’s pairs shoved into a large pile while some smaller women’s shoes sit neatly. You can’t help but wonder if it was the girlfriends that did this or if one of the frat members cares a bit more about them than the others. 

“He’s…he’s on the second floor, third door on the left…” You thank Sunwoo, ignoring how he follows you with obvious confusion and awe. Another boy passes by you, staring in confusion but ends up in the same state as the soccer player when he explains the situation. 

You knock before you enter Eric’s room, rocking on your heels again as you wait for some sort of response. You get none, and when you go to interrupt him, the second boy stops you. 

“Hi, um, I’m Haknyeon— you can call me Hak, though— Eric’s— he’s— he’s gaming. You can just go in because there’s no way you’re gonna get his attention by— by, um— yeah.” He stumbles over his words in an almost incomprehensible way, but you get the basic idea. 

“Thanks, Hak,” you dip your head and twist the doorknob. Sunwoo and Hak both watch you enter the room, only snapping out of their daze when you shut the door tightly behind you. 

“You…you saw that too, right?” Haknyeon grabs Sunwoo by the shoulder with a grin on his face.

“My best friend…” Sunwoo’s voice is quiet with confusion. “He’s…he’s getting bitches?”

“What did I say about saying that,” his girlfriend pops around the corner with a scowl on her face. Sunwoo’s face lights up, but it disappears at the scolding gaze she gives him.

“Sorry, baby,” he pouts and she rolls her eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Give them some damn privacy,” she clicks her tongue, eyeing the door. “Lord knows they’re probably gonna need it.”

Eric is facing a large gaming setup when you enter the room. You can see the dark polo sweater which is partially unzipped to reveal some of his chest, the beige hat, and the khaki combo he had, unfortunately, chosen to wear today (you’re going to have to update his closet soon, whether you date him or not. You have to save the next girl he’s with). The lights, shockingly, are purple rather than the red you had expected. You can see expensive monitors and a keyboard, all of which are cleaner than any other gamer’s setup that you’d seen. In fact, his whole room is so much cleaner than you had ever given him credit for. You’d expected to see something absolutely filthy, but Eric never fails to shock you.

What doesn’t shock you, however?

Five Nights At Freddy’s playing on the screens.

You clear your throat, and he barely even spares a glance at you. You wonder if he even recognized that it was you—

“Yo, Y/N!” Oh god, this might not go as planned. “You’re early!” 

“Figured I’d come by to hang out before we got started on the paper.” You come up behind him, dropping your bag and jacket by the edge of the bed, revealing the black sheer top you’d chosen to go with your white skirt. You’d also chosen the perfume you know gets his attention the most, the one that always has him practically gluing his face to your neck. 

That doesn’t happen this time. He stays glued to his game, his legs spread wide open and tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips. 

“Feel— fuck!” His body jerks when an animatronic (Foxy, maybe?) comes out of a vent and gives him barely enough time to start protecting himself. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable, I might take a while.”

You hum, not moving from your spot. Your hands are on the back of his gaming chair, your eyes focused on the screen with fake intrigue. He doesn’t acknowledge you, so you let your hands begin to sink onto his shoulders. His chin tilts toward you a bit, but he corrects himself and goes back to ignoring you even when your nails graze the skin of his collarbone. 

“What are you doing?” Eric asks, but it’s more dismissive than anything. 

“Just watching you play,” you reply with a sly grin. Another jumpscare appears, and he grunts when you intentionally dig your nails into him (something you’ve learned he loves over the past two weeks). 

Part two of your scheme begins when you sink to your knees beside Eric and slip under his desk. This grabs his attention. Eric watches as you get comfortable, no longer paying attention to the screens in front of him when you run your hands up his thighs, grazing the button of his khaki pants. 

“Y/N, this—” his breath catches in his throat when you finally undo the button and pull the zipper down. You can see his member already hardening, twitching in his boxers. “You don’t have to— I don’t— why—”

“Jus’ play your game, baby.” You purr, your fingers hooking under the band of his boxers to tug them and his pants down at the same time. His jaw is hanging open, eyes wide with awe, but you stop your movements. “Play your game, Eric, or I’m leaving.”

His response is immediate, sliding his chair closer to you and lifting his hips to let you work. Your smirk is wide, and you yank his clothing down in one go, letting them rest around his ankles. Eric’s knee begins to bounce, and you rest your hand on top of it to steady him. His member, in just a few moments, has completely hardened. You can see the slick precum beginning to leak from his tip, and you lower your mouth to catch each drop on his tongue. 

The moan he emits is loud, and you pull your mouth back just an inch to dig your nails into his thigh.

“Stay quiet and don’t cum unless I say so.” He whimpers in response, and you bring your mouth back onto him. You begin by suckling at his tip, letting your tongue swirl around him like a lollypop, and listening to his barely restrained moans. You hear clicking and tapping on his keyboard, as well as random noises from the game

You take him a little deeper and his thighs tense, but he’s good at staying quiet. He’s good even when his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. Even when you take him so deep that you’re choking on him and spit is dripping from your mouth and onto his skin. Even when you begin hollowing your mouth and bobbing your head, and swallowing around him a few times when you take him all the way down so your nose is against his pelvis. 

Another jumpscare and his hips jerk and force him farther down your throat. You moan around him, your eyes rolling back at the feeling, and that elicits a whine from him.

“Y/N,” he pleads. “I’ve been s-so good for yo—you right? Haven’t— Haven’t I been good? Ple—please let me cum. Jus’ wanna cum, please?” 

Eric sees you look up at him through your eyelashes, and just the sight of you slobbering all over him has his eyes rolling back in his head.

Then you pull off him completely, leaving his dick twitching and lonely against his stomach. 

“Why did— why did you pull off?” His eyes are dazed, and you flash a coy smile at him. 

“I told you to pay attention to the game, didn’t I?” 

“I— yeah, you did but— but I just— you—” Eric is tearing up as you begin to push your body out from under the desk to stand in front of him. 

“Poor baby,” you cup his cheek and your stomach churns when he leans into your palm with a sigh. “Should’ve just paid attention and beat the night, then, hm?” 

“Please,” he whines, leaving little kisses on your palm and working his way to your wrist, your forearm, your elbow, and then he’s pulling you onto his lap so you’re nearly sitting on his dick. You can feel it pulsing against your core, and you can’t help the tiny rolls of your hips to gain some sort of friction. “Please, just— I’ll…I’ll do anything you want. I’ll— I’ll eat you out, I’ll finger you, fuck, I’ll— I’ll let you sit on my face if that’s what you want.”

You hum, tapping your fingers against his chest in thought. “What if I want you to fuck me?” 

His body tenses and his cheeks begin to flush, his eyes refusing to meet yours. 

“Eric,” you say softly, moving your hand to his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Eric, talk to me.”

“I— I don’t—”

“I’m not gonna force you to do anything, Eric,” you reassure him, stopping the ministrations of your hips and bringing your free hand to the side of his neck. “I just want to know why. I want to understand. Do you— do you not want me? Do you wanna save yourself for another girl?” 

“No!” He snaps, his voice a bit harsher than he’d intended for it to come out but it has you flinching away from him. In a moment of panic, he brings his hands to your waist and tugs you closer to him. “I— sorry. It’s not— it’s not that at all.”

“Then why?” Your hands are playing with the ends of his blonde hair, and Eric swallows once. Twice. And then he tucks his head into your shoulder. 

“I…I don’t know.” 

You nod, disappointment filling you, but you don’t let it show. 

“Let’s work on the project.” You slide off his lap, ignoring the somewhat heartbroken gaze he shoots you. “The paper is due in a couple of days, so I grabbed a few sources and drafted an outline.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just tucks his member back into his pants and comes to join you on his bed. The air is tense and you know he wants to say something. You wait for him to say it. 

He doesn’t.

“Eric, you’re fucking stupid.” Sunwoo throws himself onto his best friend’s bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of Eric hitting his head on his desk.

“I know…”

“I mean, we already knew this from previous incidents. Ahem, giving my then-crush-now-girlfriend a concussion. But holy shit I thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse than that.”

“I know!” Eric whines, sitting heavily on the gaming chair he’d gotten head on almost four hours ago, and could have gotten laid in had he not been a damn moron.

“I mean, you’ve been trying to get laid by this chick for how long? And you cockblocked yourself because…” Sunwoo trails off, his eyebrows knitting together as he sits up. “Wait, why did you cockblock yourself?”

“I don’t know, man!” Eric huffs and leans his head back. “Fuck, she was so nice about it too. Too nice. I know damn well she’s pissed at me but she’s too fucking nice to say anything.”

“Well yeah,” Sunwoo shrugs. “Sex 101— don’t force yourself onto anyone. Hello? Why would she do that to you?”

Eric crosses his arms over his chest, using his feet to spin his chair back and forth lightly. You had been really sweet about everything. You could’ve gotten mad at him, especially since this wasn’t the first time this had happened, but you didn’t. You wanted him to be ready. 

And he was. He was so ready! He just— he gets nervous around you! What if he’s a disappointment? What if he’s so bad that you have to fake an orgasm? What if he doesn’t fit? What if he hurts you?

“Eric,” Sunwoo claps his hands together to snap Eric out of his thoughts. “Stop getting distracted while I’m trying to help you in a way that won’t lead to injuries.” 

The poor, self-cockblocked boy lifts his head with a pout. 

“There’s a party this weekend, right?” 

“Yeah…” Eric tilts his head.

“Make sure she’s there. Use whatever excuse you need to, and make sure she shows up. Then, ask her to talk. Go somewhere private, talk to her, tell her you’re ready, and then fuck until the sun comes up.” Sunwoo claps again, throwing his out to the side in a cocky I just made the best plan ever manner. “First of all, gets you laid, second of all— free revenge on Sangyeon.”

Eric drums his fingers against his legs in thought. The plan was good, he’d admit that. Of course, not out loud. No, he would never let Sunwoo know that he was right about something.

“Fine,” Eric agrees. “But if shit goes south, it’s your fault.”

“Deal,” Sunwoo grins mischievously. “And if shit goes right, you owe me and my girlfriend dinner.”

“Deal.”

Eric doesn’t see you at all that week, something that has him nearly crying on the ground in Sangyeon’s bedroom. He’d texted you, asked if you were okay, sent you notes, told you about the party but didn’t outright invite you. Nothing. No sign of you in lectures, no texts from you aside from a confirmation that you’d submit your written portion of the midterm.

“Take a damn breath.” Sangyeon rolls his eyes and tugs a formfitting black mock-neck shirt over his head, sliding a silver chain around his neck afterward. “She’s probably busy.”

“But she never goes this long without texting me! Or being in a lecture!” The youngest member of the frat holds his head in his hands, staring down at the white buttondown shirt that hung somewhat loosely on his body. 

“Maybe she hates you, I don’t know!” Sangyeon exclaims. “Stop bothering me about it!” Eric pouts up at the TBZ president.

“But you know how to handle these things!”

“Not when you’re on my ass about it all day every day for a week straight.” Sangyeon’s lip curls and Eric huffs, laying back on the hardwood floor. “Dude, just be patient. Who knows, maybe she was sick? Maybe she’ll show up today and you’ll get laid. Just. Be. Patient.”

And patient he was. 

He lurked around the party, a drink in his hand and a ripped red baseball cap covering his head and shielding his red-rimmed eyes from the public. They didn’t need to know he’d cried over his two-year-long crush ghosting him. 

“Who pissed in your cheerios?” He turns his body slowly, ready to crack a corny joke, and walk away from whoever yelled in his ear, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. You’re in another tiny little black skirt and a black bralette that was used as a poor excuse for a shirt with a leather jacket thrown over it. He nearly crumbles in front of you, ready to worship you and the ground you walk on, ready to take you in front of all these people so they know that he’s yours.

“Oh my god.” 

You laugh at the dumbstruck look in his eyes, at the way his eyes are stuck on your chest, and the way your bralette pushes your boobs up just enough to catch attention. 

“You okay, Eric?” Your hand is on his arm, and in an instant his cup is thrown to the side and his lips are on yours, his tongue shoved into your mouth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, and, really, the suddenness of it all, but you don’t complain. You love how frantic he is for you, love how he’s ready to risk it all after just a week of not seeing you. 

When he parts from you, there’s a string of spit connecting your lips that only breaks when you swipe your thumb across his lip. 

“How’s that for a hello?” You say just loud enough for him to hear it. 

“We need to talk.”

“We do.” You confirm, but his lips are on yours again, and you’re so glad that everyone is distracted by a game of beer pong on the other side of the room. You let your eyes flutter shut, moaning into his mouth when he pushes his tongue against yours. They dance together, swirling around each other but not fighting for dominance. No, this kiss isn’t about that. This is two people being addicted to the taste of each other, two people who could never get enough of what the other has to offer. 

You have to force yourself to part from him, turning away so you can find somewhere more private— preferably his bedroom. He doesn’t stray from you, gluing his lips to the side of your neck as you try to weave through the crowd. It’s not easy, especially with Eric on you and refusing to let go, but you don’t mind. 

Not when he shoves you against his dresser as soon as his bedroom door is shut and locked. 

The handles of the drawers dig against your spine, but you’re too distracted by Eric’s lips on your chest to care. His hat is missing, likely somewhere on the staircase. Your jacket has been thrown to the opposite side of the room, the straps of your bralette shoved down and both breasts freed from its confines so Eric can lick and suck and bite at the soft mounds. 

“Eric,” you moan out, arching your back into his hunched form. He groans against you, sucking hard at your nipple and eliciting a loud moan from you. “Eric, pick me up.” 

Without even pulling away, he does, plopping you unceremoniously onto his dresser and moving his lips to the other breast, replacing his mouth with his hand. Your hand comes to the back of his head, and you find yourself smiling at the desperation your lover shows. 

“Missed me that much, huh?” Your composure is crumbling, but you don’t care. “Might have to disappear more often.”

He rips away from your chest, eyes narrowed into a glare. “Don’t even joke about that. I thought you died.”

You kiss him again, both hands holding his face to yours, and your legs wrap around his waist. Eric’s hands find your thighs and he lifts you off the dresser. He sucks on your tongue, biting on your lip when you start to pull away and you whimper at the sting of pain. 

“Thought I died, hm?” You brush back the blonde strands of hair covering his sweaty forehead and smirk. “It’s a good thing I didn’t then, hm? What would you have done? Fucked your fist for the rest of your life?” 

A muscle in his jaw feathers and he throws you down on his bed. You yelp, eyes widening at the personality change. A week ago, he would’ve been begging you for any touch, would’ve been falling apart just for one look at your dripping pussy. But now?

Now he looks like a starved animal, and you’re the first helpless creature he’s seen in weeks. 

“Eric,” you warn, watching him unbutton his shirt. “Remember what I said.” 

He eyes you, smirking at the way your jaw drops when his shirt hits the floor. It’s odd, isn’t it? You’d probably been bare in front of him countless times but you’d hardly seen him with his pants down.

“Holy fuck.” You stare at his torso, at the chiseled abs and biceps, at the veins in his arms, at the trail of hair leading down to his dick. “You’re— you’re fucking shredded.”

“Shredded?” He quirks an eyebrow, undoing his belt and the button of his pants so he can push them down and kick them to the side. “That’s the first word you thought of?”

“Well—” you clear your throat and turn your gaze away from him. “I mean— you are.”

“Cute,” He coos and crawls over you, hooking his fingers into the hem of your skirt. “May I?”

“You may,” you look at him again, then down his body and swallow hard at the sight of him. You’ve seen him many times. You’ve held him in your hand, in your mouth. You know what to expect.

So why does it make you so nervous now?

“You’re getting distracted,” Eric kisses his teeth, lowering his face to yours but not kissing you. He traces his nose across your cheek, light kisses from his lips going with it. His nose nudges against your jaw, urging you to tilt your jaw up so he can kiss you there. You do, and his lips feel like fire against your skin. “I thought you liked it when people pay attention?”

“I— I do!” You gasp out, and Eric laughs against your skin. Where the fuck is all this confidence coming from? 

“Then why aren’t you paying attention to me?” His fingers press against your sopping-wet entrance and you lift your hips in a weak attempt to get them inside of you. 

“I am!” Tears are welling in your eyes. “I am paying attention to you, Eric, please!”

He juts out his lip in a mocking pout, using the hand that’s not against your heat to wipe the tears away. 

“Okay baby,” he says softly, sinking two thick, calloused fingers into you. “Don’t cry, not yet.” 

The intrusion has you crying out and Eric does his best to hush you, to soothe you, and then he’s thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. Your fingers cling to his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense and shift with every movement of his arm. Eric grins when your eyes finally flutter shut, when you finally give in to him. He praises you when he slips a third finger into your core, and then a fourth. He praises you as he works you through the sting, curling his fingers gently to search for the spot he knows would have you falling to pieces under him. 

Eric finds it easily and is oh so pleased by your wail of his name. He grins almost maliciously, when you begin to shake, when your body begins to thrash, and your nails dig into his shoulders and drag down his back. 

“Always so easy for me,” he hums, staring in awe at the wrinkle between your eyebrows and how your tongue practically hangs out of your mouth. When he knows you’re about to cum, he crushes his lips against yours again and begins to move his hand faster. You’re sobbing into his mouth, unable to kiss him back between your cries and moans, but Eric doesn’t mind. 

He lets you grind against his hand until you’re not shaking anymore. Then, and only then, does he pull his fingers out of you, watching with curious satisfaction as your cum drips from his fingers and onto the blanket below you. 

“Don’t— don’t sit there staring at that shit.” you hiss, but Eric just smiles. 

“So you can speak coherently now?” 

“Shut up and fuck me already, or do you need me to teach you how to do that too?” 

Eric’s gaze hardens, his tongue pushing against his cheek. You push yourself to sit up, but Eric pushes you right back down and uses his hands to push your legs apart. 

“I don’t need you to teach me anything,” he grunts, lining his member up with your entrance. 

“Really? That’s not what it looked like three weeks ag—oh fuck!” Your back arches off the bed when he suddenly sinks into you. Four fingers seem to have been just barely enough, the sting fading just as fast as it came. Or maybe you just like the pain so much it turned into pleasure. Whatever the reason, you’re quick to tell Eric to pick up the pace. 

You’re both shocked and impressed by the movement of his hips. He alternates between smooth, sharp rolls and harsh, pointed thrusts that have your body forced up the bed and the headboard knocking against the wall.

“You think I need your help?” Eric growls, digging his hands into your thighs and spreading them farther apart, lifting the lower half of your body a bit to change the angle. This brings a new pleasure to both of you. Something that you’ve never felt before, and has your mind reeling. “I didn’t need you. I wanted you. I wanted every part of you. I craved you, craved your taste. It was pure fucking luck that you wanted me too.”

“Eric,” You gasp out, sinking your teeth into the side of his neck to leave another mark on his skin. “Eric, feels so good, god it feels so good please, please don’t stop. Don’t stop, oh my god!”

“Look at you,” he yanks your head out of his neck by your hair, staring down at your fucked out face as he continues to plow into you with no remorse. “All fucked out for me. I did this. Your little virgin boy. Isn’t it embarrassing?” 

You whine in response but apparently, that isn’t what he’s looking for because he slows down at your lack of response. 

“Answer me,” he hisses.

“I— I don’t— Eric I don’t—” You don’t even know what he’s trying to ask. You stopped listening as soon as he pulled your hair, the sting of it feeling too good. Eric laughs, picking up his pace again and dropping your head back down onto his pillows. 

“What? Too fucked out to answer me? Who would’ve thought that I was the virgin and not you? What would people think if they walked in here and saw me fucking you like this?” He doesn’t expect an answer this time, not that you’d be able to give him one anyway. 

Your legs draw tightly around his slim waist, holding him close as your orgasm approaches again, but Eric doesn’t seem to be even close to cumming. Even when your second orgasm washes over you, and then your third. He fucks you through each one, sweat dripping from his hair and down his torso until his body is sliding against yours. Your body feels numb, but at the same time, you can feel everything. Every drag of his length against your walls, every punch of his tip against your cervix. Your arms curl around his neck, but your grip is loose. 

When Eric’s hips finally begin to stutter, you’re about four orgasms in, the fifth about to wash over you. Your voice is hoarse, a puddle of drool on the pillow under your head. You can’t find it in you to make any more noise, just gasping breathes and quiet whines. You cum together, and the feeling of his cum filling you has your back arching again. This time, Eric catches you and holds your body against his. He kisses you gently, uncaring that you can barely breathe let alone kiss him. 

“That— that was a good talk,” he jokes, and you say nothing at first. “Um…are— are you okay?” 

“You just—” you clear your throat, but it does nothing. “You just fucked me within an inch of my life, as a completely inexperienced virgin, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?” 

Eric frowns, settling down on top of you, but careful not to lay his full weight onto your obviously aching body. He can see the bruises he’d left all over you— on your chest, your neck, your hips. Anywhere his lips or hands touched, there was a bruise left in his wake. He imagines, however, that he looks no different. He can feel the scratches you left on his back, marring every inch of his skin and likely drawing a bit of blood, he can see a hickey on his arm that you left at some point and can imagine how the front of his body looks.

“So…so you’re not okay?” He tries and you huff, throwing an arm over your eyes. 

“Eric, I love you, but you’re such a dumbass.” You groan, shoving him off your body so you can breathe properly. “Go draw a bath. I’m gonna need one after that shit.”

“Before I do, can you answer one question?” You pry your eyes open to scowl at him and his damn puppy-like eyes. 

“What?” 

“Are we— are we dating now?” 

“We won’t be for long if you don’t get that fucking bath going.” 

“Aw, yeah!” Eric cheers, jumping off the bed and running to the bathroom to start the bath like you asked. “Guess who isn’t single anymore, Sunwoo!”

“What’s your problem?” Haknyeon peers at Sangyeon over the lip of his mug. The frat president is glaring at you and Eric with something murderous in his eyes, which seem to have dark bags under them.

“My bedroom is right next to Eric’s.” Haknyeon raises an eyebrow, and Sangyeon clears his throat. “My bedroom is next to Eric’s.”

“Okay…oh. OH. Oh, shit man, I’m sorry.” Haknyeon turns his gaze to the two of you, grimacing at the thought of how long Sangyeon could have been kept up, but smiling when he sees how the two of you are cuddled on the couch. The grimace returns when he sees the state of your necks, neither of you having bothered to hide what you did to each other. 

“I mean,” Sunwoo sits on the counter, a bowl of cereal in his hand. “You kinda deserved it after what you did to him.”

“What the fuck— what did I do to him?” Sangyeon exclaims, and Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow. 

“You fucked your girlfriend for, what, seven rounds straight? The poor man didn’t get any sleep that night. Be glad you were able to rest after that.”

Haknyeon raises his cup, and the three frat boys return to “subtly” watching the two of you.

“Do you at least know if he was good? You know, for a virgin.”

“Oh my fucking god, Sunwoo, shut up.”

“You shut up, Hak! It was just a question!”

“You two are fucking nasty,” Sangyeon’s lip curls into a sneer, trying to block out the memories of last night. “But I’m gonna need a shit ton of bleach if I wanna forget that bullshit.”

“Hot.”

“Sunwoo, shut UP!”

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

#blackoutorbackout🍻 #itsbeeble #reese's moots 🩵 #reese's works 📩 #reese's pieces 🗞️ #fawn~ 🧼 #ally~ ⛄️ #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop smut #the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #eric sohn #eric sohn x reader #eric sohn smut #eric sohn imagines #eric sohn fluff #eric sohn the boyz #tbz eric sohn

[venus616]

Hi!! Requesting a spicy tasm!peter fic where he puts his photography skills to use if ya know what I mean 🔥🫶🏽

his muse; {p.p.}

Pairing: peter parker x f!reader (gif is tasm but you can interpret this as any peter parker)

Summary: peter puts his photography skills to use when you're naked

Warnings: established relationship, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, oral sex (blowjob), praise kink (if you squint), photos during sex, language, unprotected sex, 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: hi. i love this trope So Much… like more than you will ever know, but bc i love it and i’ve seen it done multiple times with peter i was very scared to even do anything with it sjnksks but here is my finished product, i hope you like it~

(Also- it is my gift to anyone who actually likes reading my content bc ive been gone for a While and will be gone for another 2-3 weeks bc finals are not fun! so i hope this is good, enjoy!)

You’re putting away your shared laundry when you hear a loud noise on your window sill. You don’t even flinch this far into your relationship and only shake your head, separating your clothes from his. The window opens letting in a cool breeze and Peter’s book bag hits the ground before he gets inside. 

It's only then you look and give his body, clad in his suit, a scan and smile. “You okay?” You ask. The sun already set and the crisp winter air started to fill the room. 

He scoffs before shutting the window. You turn your body around from the basket in front of you to see Peter shaking his head while taking his camera out of his bag.

The professional camera Peter spent a year saving up for when he was 18 was sat next to your much less efficient Polaroid camera. On it, there was a photo of you two celebrating your anniversary together recently. The flash showing you kissing Peter on the cheek, he’s blushing at the attention and eyes closed from the flash. 

Peter smiled at the memory before he continued speaking. 

“Why do people think it’s okay to commit crime when I’m just getting off my shift?” He sighed before setting down his bag next to your bed.

“They’re so inconsiderate,” You pout playfully while folding his clothes into his reserved drawer at your place.

Peter looks up from unpacking and focuses on your ass poking up from your position. You feel his eyes on you as your t-shirt hangs loosely on your body, and the hair on your legs prick up from the cold in the room.

Peter takes off his mask revealing his disheveled hair and takes in the sight of you like it’s his last.

Your lacy underwear decorating the plump flesh of your butt, reminding Peter of how quickly he had to leave this morning before getting to appreciate for bandaging him up last night.

His eyes continued to scan up, seeing the old t-shirt frame your shape, admiring it as if he had x-ray vision.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Peter is brought out of his thoughts hearing your soft voice, taunting him for his staring problem.

“Don’t tempt me,” Peter quips back. He shakes his head before tossing his mask in your empty hamper. Sitting on your bed and bending over to remove his boots, his ears don’t miss your footsteps as you saunter to him.

You place your feet in between his while he looks back up to you, removing the rest of his suit. 

“It’s never stopped you before,” You cross your arms while he slips out of his suit, leaving his web shooters on. The suit is strewn across the floor and your eyes focus on Peter’s body. 

No matter how beat up he was, Peter remains to be the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You ran your hands over his, now, yellow ribs. Compared to the purple constellation he had yesterday, you were grateful for his superhuman healing. 

He had a nasty fall yesterday, left with some scars and bruising, but thankfully this time you didn’t have to stitch him up. 

You even notice the scratch on his arm is almost gone but Peter liked wearing your special bandaids. He likes giving you a reason to buy more cartoon ones for him. 

Peter watches your eyes carefully scan his body for anything else and adores you for it. Still, he hates making you worry.

“You weren’t naked before.”

A smile creeps up on your face, a giggle disguised as a scoff when you answer: “I’m not naked.”

You don’t realize you set yourself up for Peter’s response until he smirks. His hands snake up underneath your shirt to toy with your nipples, already hard because of the cold air lingering in the room. 

A hiss escapes your mouth at feeling his larger, colder hands grip your boobs. Peter slightly grins at his effect on you. He pulls at the bottom of your shirt before raising it up your body. You oblige, pulling it over your head to toss it across your room.

His face lit up at your frontal nudity, hands placed on either side of your hips tugging at your underwear. 

“Let’s change that.” 

You roll your eyes at his response, but not without a smile plastered on your face. You could feel the heat pooling in between your thighs and the excitement in your stomach. 

“What position should I be in?” You shudder under his callus fingers. Peter lightly furrows his eyebrows when you turn, gesturing to your polaroid camera from your bedside table. 

His face relaxes when he registers what you guys are doing, not realizing how serious you were being. 

Your eyes flicker up and down his body when you turn to face him, noticing his erection bulging out of his briefs. Leaning down you use your hand to palm him through the fabric, feeling his cock pulsate in your hand.

“On your knees,” You whip your head up when Peter says that, his hands still roaming around your body. 

You quirk your eyebrow up in response. Pressing your forehead and nose to his, you plant a kiss onto his lips. Your hands are now on either of his thighs, sinking lower onto the ground as the kiss deepens. 

Before you can fully get down, you hear a light thwip and break the kiss. 

You see Peter’s wrist is flicked out with his web shooters activated, latched on to your polaroid camera. There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes before he pulls it into his hands.

Resting on your knees, you’re before him with your fingers tracing the waistband of his boxers. You carefully watch for his reactions, but he’s refamiliarizing himself with your flimsy camera you got in your teenage years as a novelty.

You cross your arms on his legs and look up at him, the camera points at you and all you can focus on is his wide smile behind the camera. “Let’s see if I still know how this works,” Peter jokes.  

You repose with both your hands on your knees, pushing your breasts out in between your arms. You didn’t realize they were hardly the focus of the photo (but still included, Peter was only human after all). 

The photo snaps and you remember you have to get used to the flash again. Blinking a few times to get used to the discomfort, the photo prints out and Peter seems pleased with himself already. 

“It hasn’t even developed yet,” You taunt, you resume palming him as you assume that was the extent of his practice shots. 

Peter shrugs while shaking the photo as gently as possible. “Hey, who’s the photographer here? I know a good subject when I see it,” He nudges you. 

When the photo barely develops, he shows you and you see yourself: half naked on your knees with your face fully in the photo. You were surprised he included that much of your face, and managed to catch you looking as confident as you could. But it was easy when Peter was behind the camera, he never fails to make you feel like his only muse. 

You blush and look away from the photo as you continue to massage him. Peter’s breath hitches at the rate at which you go at, and you smirk to yourself. 

No matter how much control Peter took in bed, he wasn’t afraid to show you how quickly he’d fold for you. It was one of the many things you appreciated about him. Another one was just how vocal he was, his whimpers before you even got to touch him were making your underwear dampen. 

When his dick starts twitching, you pull his boxers down, his cock slaps up to his stomach while he watches your movements. Locking eyes with him, you wrap both your hands around his shaft before slowly jacking him off. 

You’re mesmerized by the way his body is flexed under your touch, you almost don’t hear what he says. 

“Your mouth,” He breathes out. 

You sit up higher on your knees and kiss up his happy trail, lingering when you get closer to his cock. You hear his groan and look up, meeting his eyes.

You raise your eyebrows. “My mouth, what?” 

Your lips quirk up again, teasing him. “Use your words.” 

He rolls his eyes in response but you shake your head.  “I can stop,” You remind him. 

His brown eyes almost bulge out his head when you say that, wrapping his own hand over yours to stop your movements from pausing. He leans over to get closer to your face, the scent of you surrounding him. Peter’s face softens at your smugness. 

“Baby,” He starts. You wait to listen to how he pleads for you to stay while he leads your hands.  

“I need that pretty mouth of yours to suck my cock,” He gasps out and removes his hand when you loosen your wrist in response. Your eyes soften at the praise and Peter mentally celebrates when he leans back to his original position. 

You reposition yourself as well, with your neck getting to work as you lick a stripe underneath the shaft of his cock. Peter sharply inhales at the feeling and brings his head back up. 

You lock eyes with him when you feel the jolt in his body and open your mouth in an ‘O’ shape around the head of his cock. 

Relaxing your throat, you lower your head on his length and feel the tip of his cock hitting your uvula before you begin bobbing your head. 

Caught off guard, you could taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue now. You gagged a bit and popped off him to lick it off in the most obscene way you could think of. 

Peter mutters, “Just like that.” and you look up. 

Forgetting he had a camera, the shutter went off to capture your tongue on the underside of his wet tip. 

You collect more saliva in your mouth while you run your hand up and down his shaft. Feeling prepared enough, you go back down on him with the drool dripping on his cock on your hands. 

Peter went crazy at the heat of your mouth and the sight of your lips around him. The only thought he had was to get the camera out again to keep this moment forever.

Getting slack jawed at this, he tangles his hands in your hair but doesn’t change your pace. He only starts pushing it out of your face as it gets in the way. 

You look up at him and see Peter pointing the camera at you as you have half his cock in your mouth. The first shot is taken, and he tries to not move too much as the photo prints out immediately.  He releases a few breathy moans at the pace you're going at while he places the new photo on the side. 

Peter silently gestures to you to get him out your mouth so you release him with a pop, flipping your hair to the side as you continue to jack him off.

“That’s good,” He mutters, when he places the camera at his eye before snapping a new photo. 

“I probably look insane,” You grumble, already feeling self conscious at how messy your hair looks, coupled alongside the drool and precum at your mouth. 

Peter shakes his head and pulls you in closer by your waist and you yelp, finding yourself now pinned under him on the bed. 

“Never,” He shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your tit as he pulls your underwear off. You immediately moan at his aggression on your sensitive nipples and he chuckles against your skin when he feels you flinch. 

Peter’s calloused hands find your clit and start massaging it, and you throw your head back in pleasure when he finds his rhythm. 

You feel a twinge of disappointment when he removes his mouth from your tits but you look up to see the camera watching you, and a shutter going off before you are even ready.

“Pete,” You warn. Your sternness doesn’t last when he slips in a finger in your embarrassingly wet cunt. You almost mewl at how full he makes you with just one finger. 

“You looked so pretty moaning like that,” Peter explains while his finger curls into you. He knew what he was doing when he smiled again, leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

Your annoyance was no match for his desperation as you eventually gave in. One of his hands cupped your cheek while his lips were frantic on yours. He’s greedy for you, almost lapping up your tongue with his own before he pulls away. 

“Just let go, forget the camera is even there,” He mumbles in your neck when you gasp at the absence of his lips. 

He slips in another finger and thrusts faster, making you nod mindlessly as you surrender all control.You grip onto his bicep as he pumps in and out of you, begging him for more friction. You can hear how wet you were, and while you were embarrassed, Peter relished in it. 

“Can you take a third for me baby?” He asks in a low voice as he sits up on the bed in between your legs. You nod vigorously but he quickly removes both fingers.

You open your mouth to complain but instead yelp out when Peter pulls both your legs closer to his chest as he kneels on the mattress. He set aside the camera briefly. 

“Yeah?” He searches for an answer.

“Yes,” You grunt out, already desperate for much more than his fingers. 

He massages your heat with his fingers again before he inserts three fingers in, jolting your body to sit up. You let out an obscene moan and couldn’t help but to massage your clit while he fucks you with his fingers. 

One hand being in competition with Peter’s while the other massages your boobs, you’re almost too dazed to notice the shutter then went off while you were closer to an orgasm.

“Fucking incredible,” Peter breathes out before putting the camera with the new photo down, and leans down to kiss you. His pace never falters, making you whimper against his lips. 

“I’m about to cum,” You announce shakily. Peter swallows your pleas with a kiss and just curls his fingers against your g-spot faster. You feel that familiar build up in the pit of your stomach and the pace of your clenching pick up. 

“Cum all over my fingers baby,” He answers, and you immediately let go. You hold Peter closer as you cum, heaving underneath him like you’re in heat. Your body Peter continues to finger you but only because he loves the way you suction around him. 

He still lets you come down from your high, kissing you through it and massaging your breasts with his free hand during. When your breathing slows down, he sits back up and removes his fingers from you. 

“Need you inside of me,” You remind him as you reach over to palm his already hard cock against his stomach.

“Gonna let me cum inside of you?” He asks, holding his cock in his hand already glistening with your wetness. He readjusts to line himself up to your pussy awaiting your answer.

You cock your head with your arms supporting your body from the bed. “I’ll let you cum wherever you want,” You say. 

Peter grunts at your answer before inserting himself into your entrance, and immediately throws his head back at the feeling, your warmth and wetness engulfing him. 

“So fucking tight,” He comments, and you silently agree as you feel yourself stretching out on him. Your eyes fluttered shut as you clenched around him. 

“Fuck,” you moan out as he finds a comfortable pace for the both of you. 

Or that’s what you thought. 

You hear a shutter from your camera and realize he took a picture (or two) of you in this position beneath him, moaning out for him flat on the bed with his cock inside of you. 

You didn’t have time to care as when he got his shots he immediately started to rock into you, and you felt the strength of him against your thighs before he picked up the pace. 

You watch him thrust into you and slowly lose himself above you.

“I love the way you feel around me,” He pants out, closing in on your body with his forearms framing your face. You nod as the bed squeaks and your hands roam his body, stopping at his shoulders and the nape of his neck. 

Peter obliges to your physical demands and dips down to suck on your neck, causing you to whimper as your body continues to jolt from his thrusts. His soft brown hair tickles your skin as his teeth chew at the sensitive skin in your neck. You don’t know whether to giggle or moan, but you’re vocal regardless. 

“Go faster,” You whine, becoming impatient with him. 

“I’m not gonna last if I go faster,” He growls against your skin, sending vibrations down your spine. He thrusted slower, bringing his hand down to the back of your knee to bend it closer to your body. You felt him hitting your g-spot repeatedly that you knew you weren’t going to last any longer like that. 

“I don’t care,” You cry out. Peter scoffs in your neck as if to say a begrudging ‘Fine.’ and kisses you on the cheek before kneeling back up. He’s already twitching inside you before he begins thrusting again. You almost forget what you got yourself into until you feel his balls slap against your cunt repeatedly. 

A string of curses escape both your mouths, yours because he’s just so big and you can feel the tension build up in your stomach again. Peter’s cusses are because you just won’t stop clenching around him in response, he feels like he might burst the next time you tighten around him. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” He mutters before spilling into you. 

You go slack jawed at the feeling of him cumming inside of you. It feels hot between your thighs, in between the burning feeling of his hard thighs slapping against your softer ones, and feeling him twitch and coat your insides and the outside of your cunt with his load. 

You cry out as he almost slips out of you, but realize he’s gonna take another picture. You’re not sure what to do, or what exactly he’s capturing but you decide to listen to his earlier advice and let it happen. Peter places the camera on his eye while his cock almost goes soft half away inside of you, and you can feel him rubbing his cum around your thighs and up your hips. 

He mutters another curse, before snapping the picture. You close your eyes and your legs when you decide that that was the last photo and miss how Peter compiles all of them on your bedside table. 

Eventually, you look up and see him pulling back up his underwear and beckoning you to see the photos. When you get up and see 6 photos lined up from tonight. 

One of you on your knees, your breasts protruding and almost being the main focus of the photo if it wasn't for your face. You want to laugh at how excited your eyes looked but you know it was only because of who was behind the camera. 

Two more during and after the blowjob, one of you in the middle taking Peter in your mouth and giving the camera (but really, Peter) siren eyes. The other was you slightly disheveled, but Peter swore you were the prettiest girl in the world with drool around your mouth.

A third of you being fingered, your head is thrown back in unfiltered pleasure from his fingers, your breasts sitting high on your chest as you’re on your back and your nipples were glistening in the photo due to the suckling that happened off camera. While scanning this photo, you realize that being caught in the moment wasn’t such a bad thing and Peter is silently celebrating he caught your O face in action. 

The fourth was similar but you had more control over your pleasure as you’re on camera massaging your breasts and hand on your pussy. You feel like a vixen with the way you’re fondling yourself, Peter silently agrees as he knows you look like one. 

Fifth and sixth photo show the before and after of Peter fucking you senseless. Fifth with your body being still underneath his, and the photo displaying that exhilarating feeling you both get when your bodies meet in the first thrust. And the sixth photo when you’re both comfortable enough to come down from your high together. The sticky, white cum is slayed over your sopping, wet pussy and Peter’s fingers and cock in the frame to remind you who fucks you like this. 

“Do you like these? I can burn them away if you don’t,” Peter runs his hands through his hair nervously, not trying to make you uncomfortable if the bit had gone too far. 

You only shake your head with a laugh bubbling in your throat at his consideration and hug his much taller frame from behind. It felt good to rest your head on his back, while his arms engulf yours from the front. 

“I love them, I love you,” You speak low but loudly enough so he can hear, and feel, your words. 

“Which ones do you want to keep?” He asks. 

You know it’s out of courtesy, just one of those things you two got used to asking each other after taking pictures on this camera. You kept the silly anniversary photo while he kept the very nice one he took of you. 

“It’s all for you,” You answer. Peter sputters quickly, turning back around to see your face when you say it, you only nod in full seriousness. 

He leans down to kiss your cheek as a thank you and you only smile back. 

“I think you’d get more use out of it than me,” You add with a tinge of humor. Peter only plays it off with another suggestion while hugging you from the front. His arms wrap around your shoulders while you rest your head in the crook of his neck. 

“You know what though?” He asks, trailing his hands down to your naked hips, stopping to cup the round of your ass. 

“What?” You mutter in his hold, already feeling your body heat up at the thought of round 2. 

Peter smirks before snaking one of his hands to your pussy. Knowing that you’re about to start throbbing, at the thought of him. You gasp before he speaks and he chuckles while he proposes his new idea. 

“I think it’s only fair if we make a movie now.”

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #tasm!peter smut #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!spiderman x you #andrew garfield smut #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x female reader #andrew garfield x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter imagine #oneshot #fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #mcu!peter x black!reader #peter parker x black reader #plus size reader #peter parker x plus size reader #the writing’s on the wall

[nexysworld]

Summary: Leon Kennedy is your new neighbor, and seemingly a great guy; handsome, funny, sweet, mysterious. It doesn't take long until you're falling for him hard and fast. But things take a turn after the death of someone close to you. Strange events keep happening around you, leaving you in a whirlwind of confusion. Desperate for a sense of normalcy, you rely heavily on Leon. He plays his part well, always being there for you, always being your safe space. There's only one problem, unbeknownst to you, his obsession towards you is growing and as it does, so too does the measures he'll take to watch over you, and more importantly make you his.

Pairing: Yandere!Leon x Fem!Reader

Tags: NSFW, Dead Dove, Dubcon, Kidnapping, Stalking, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, violence, gore, MDNI, masturbation, murder, slow burn.

Read on AO3 || Ask Box Open || Masterlist

You had lived in this apartment since the day you moved out of your parent’s house. It was small, only a single bedroom located in a rougher part of the city. While the appliances hadn’t been updated since the 90’s and the place looked like a disaster, you did your best to make the beat down apartment your own. A few fresh coats of paint on the yellowed walls and some throw rugs to cover the stained and now flattened shag rug and boom — not too shabby. 

It was home. 

Living in such a rundown building meant that the turnover rate for neighbors was quite high, people always coming and going. None really caught your attention except for the few long-term tenants that seemed to have no intention of leaving. So of course when a new person moved in on the other side of Mrs. Wilson, the sweet elderly woman who shared the apartment next door, you paid no mind. 

In fact, it wasn’t until several weeks later that you had even seen who the new neighbor was. Returning from work, you watched Tina, the girl from 202 painfully trying to hit on – what you could only describe as – an absolute tank of a man. 

Sandy blonde hair was slicked back out of his face revealing a handsome mesh of chiseled and soft features. He had clearly been accosted on his way back from exercising, clad in black basketball shorts and a sweat-soaked gray t-shirt, sleeves straining against his massive biceps. His earbuds were tossed over his shoulder as he talked to the girl, music still playing quietly through them. Turning to the wall of shared mailboxes, you tried your best to not stare or eavesdrop, but damn was it hard. As you opened the small metal door, you couldn’t keep your eyes from darting back to him. 

‘I thought guys like him only existed in magazines.’ You thought to yourself, collecting the mail – even taking an extra moment to slowly sort through it where you were, buying more time to be nosy. It was obvious he was not into her at all. 

“Soooo Leon..” Tina said awkwardly, twirling her finger through her choppy red hair, the metal bracelets on her wrist clanging together with each movement, bubble gum gnashing between her pearly whites.  “You listen to music while you work out?” “Uhh…yeah, sometimes.” He said almost flatly, scratching a spot on his slightly cleft chin. 

“Oh that’s cool. What uh, what do you usually listen to?” She bit her red coated lip, and batted her lashes, it didn’t seem to garner any additional interest from the man.  

“Rock music, I guess.” Another flat response, his jaw clenching ever so slightly before he resumed his neutral look. 

“I like rock music. Uh…” You watched as she fumbled to try to come up with anything else to add, tapping her heeled boot against the floor. 

“Look, it was real nice talking to you, but I have to go.” He said flashing a small smile before popping his earbuds back in and running up the stairs, not giving the girl a chance to respond.

‘Ouch, that was awkward. But damn even his voice is attractive.’ Stopping yourself from giggling, you collected the few pieces of non junk mail and made your way back to your apartment. There was the smallest amount of guilt bouncing at the back of your mind, knowing you shouldn’t be ogling men like that while having a boyfriend. ‘It’s not like I did anything. I didn’t even speak to the guy.’ 

About a week after that, you had your first real run-in with Leon. Heading out to work you saw Mrs. Wilson’s door ajar — definitely unusual as she didn’t tend to get many visitors besides yourself. Concerned for her, you poked your head through the opening. The familiar smell of mint and warm bread hit your senses, but you didn’t hear a thing. 

Sliding inside you quietly poked around as you made your way to the back of the apartment, keeping an eye out in case anything nefarious was afoot. Much to your relief, the hall opened up into the living room at the back where you saw Mrs. Wilson. Next to her was another figure you hadn’t expected. 

Leon was standing with one arm above his head, unscrewing the blackened lightbulb from the socket before replacing it with the fresh one he had in his other hand. Workout attire replaced with a pair of worn blue jeans and a long sleeve black shirt. “Oh thank you.” Mrs. Wilson said with her signature wrinkly smile. “You’re so kind to do this for me. I hate having to bug the sweet girl next door all the time, but you know the lights in this place tend to blow every time there’s a storm and I can’t get up on the chairs like I used to.” “No worries ma’am.” He said with a far brighter smile than he’d worn during his interaction with Tina. His hair was no longer slicked back either, instead it framed his face, soft and fluffy, accentuating his cheekbones. You couldn’t help but notice the tiny gap his shirt left while his arm was raised, just the smallest peek of a dusty blonde happy trail and the faintest hint of hard muscle. “Looks like you have a visitor.” 

Leon turned his attention to you with a small nod before he flipped the switch on the wall to test the new light. It lit up, further illuminating the area with a soft yellow glow. “S-sorry.” You snapped out of it, raising your eyes to meet his. “I saw the door was open and I just wanted to make sure Grams was okay.”

“You’re always such a Darling.” The elderly woman said with a toothless grin aimed in your direction. There was a homeliness about the old woman that made you feel warm.  “Mr. Kennedy here is such a sweet boy. Have you met him yet? He moved in next door a while ago and offered to help me with a few things.” “I told you Mrs. Wilson, call me Leon.” He said as he tossed the broken lightbulb into the small pink trash can by the kitchen counter. “And I don’t believe we have met. Nice to meet you. The name’s Leon, well I guess you already knew that. Leon Kennedy.” He added his last name, reaching out a hand to you. 

“Nice to meet you too Leon. I’m glad to hear Grams has someone else to help take care of her. I live next door, in 306.” You couldn’t lie, your heart melted a little. ‘Handsome and kind? This guy must be a unicorn.’ You whisked the thought away again, the picture of your own boyfriend flashing behind your eyes again. 

The vintage clock hung against the floral wallpaper cuckoo’d and chimed, indicating the top of the hour. “Oh shit—“

“Language!” Mrs. Wilson chimed. “You know it’s unbecoming of a lady to—“

“I meant, shoot. Sorry Grams. I’m just running late for work.” You wrapped an arm around her in a quick side hug. “Sorry to cut this short, but I have to run.” Waving to Leon, you made a beeline for the door. 

“Well Ms. 306, I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” He shouted after you. 

“You too Mr. 302!” 

Ever since, Leon became a regular in your routine. Short conversations in the hallway that always left you with butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t help the way your muscles in your face stretched into a permanent grin that you couldn’t stave off for the life in you. How a man managed to be so stoic and corny at the same time you’d never know. 

You ran errands for Mrs. Wilson together too, taking his Jeep out into the city. He would leave the top down and take the long way. Your hair would whip your face as you both sang along — poorly — to some dad rock mixtape Leon had. It seemed so fitting that he’d have an out of date tape player in his car, something so indescribably Leon. 

He really seemed like a great guy and you were enamored to say the least — though you tried desperately not to be. ‘It’s just a harmless crush.’ You told yourself. ‘He’s not into you anyway. Leon’s just a nice guy, worlds out of your league.’ 

~~~~~

Cool air bit at your cheeks and nose while you leaned against the brick wall of the building. Derek was abysmally late, you had the feeling he was upset at you for some reason but unable to fathom why. Hoping that it wasn’t the reason for his current absence, you checked your phone again.

Still nothing. A sigh escaped your lips as you readjusted your jacket.

“Everything alright?” The voice was immediately recognizable and your face lit up into a smile before you even looked over at him. 

“Hey Leon. Yeah everything’s fine, I’m just waiting on Derek.” You couldn’t be certain but you swore there was the slightest change in his expression, facial muscles contracting tightly before settling back into the lax warm look you were used to. “Oh. You know it’s not nice to keep a lady waiting.” Leaning against the wall next to you, he tilted his back to look up at the sky. He was wearing his brown bomber jacket that you found so attractive on him. A small part of you wondered how it would feel to wear it yourself, if it would smell like him. The other part of you was curious how a guy could afford such a nice brand name jacket, but lived in a place like this. 

“Yeah well… I think he’s mad at me actually.” You moved some dirt back and forth with your foot. “Why’s that?” A thick blonde brow was raised with interest as he tilted his head to look down at you. The dull light of the street lamp lit up half his face, casting hard shadows on the other, it accentuated each of his features in a way that made you never want to stop looking. 

“Wish I knew.” A dry laugh escaped your lips. As the wind picked up again, dust kicked up from the ground, blowing towards you along with some plant debris. You covered your face with the oversized jacket sleeve for a moment to protect your face. 

You heard Leon chuckle. “Looks like you picked up a straggler.” He brought his hand up to your head, just above your ear and gently removed a small weed stem that had made its home in your hair. 

“Thank you, I would’ve looked silly walking around like that.” 

He lingered close to you for a moment, flicking the stem away before he brought his hand back to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Mhm, can’t have that.” 

The moment felt intimate, and your heart beat out of time for a moment. You wanted to return the gesture, to say something, to do anything, but your brain was frazzled for a moment by the electric feel of his touch. 

“Ahem.” Your head snapped in the other direction to see your boyfriend standing there leaning against his car, not having heard him drive by or even exit the vehicle. 

“Have a good night Leon.” Quickly, you jerked away from his touch and ran over to your boyfriend, who had already started walking around to get back in the driver’s side of his car. Slipping into the passenger seat, you tried to lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek, but he turned his head enough to dodge it. Shrinking back, you buckled up and rested your head against the window, looking out as the city blurred past. ‘Guess he is mad at me.’

You attempted to fumble through some radio stations, but Derek made it clear he didn’t appreciate it, reaching over and turning it off entirely after the third one. The forty minute ride felt like hours as the rest passed by in total silence. 

His mood didn’t seem to improve at the movie theater either. Each little gesture of affection you attempted was immediately spurned. Every part of him radiated with negativity — and the thought of dinner afterwards made your stomach churn. A movie was a distraction and there was no requirement to talk, but sitting across from someone dead silent, that would be harder to deal with. The uncomfortableness of the situation caused your focus to drift again, only tuning in when a jumpscare appeared – unfortunately he left you to reel in your chair alone during those parts too. The movie ended, indicated by the overhead lights that suddenly appeared and the credits rolling on the screen.  Derek was halfway out the door before you even finished grabbing your bag. 

You had to run after him across the tacky carpeted floor of the theater and out intl the parking lot. “Why are you acting like this?” You pleaded, grabbing his hand before he could reach the car. 

“Acting like what?” He asked coldly. 

“Like this.” You gestured broadly towards him. “You’ve been cold to me the whole evening. Well actually more than just this evening.” 

“Really? I honestly didn’t think you’d notice.”  

“What does that even mean?” 

“You know exactly what it means!” He finally shouted. He brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep breath trying to calm himself. Of course the two of you had fought before, but he’d never acted like this. It didn’t help that you had no idea what he was even talking about. “You’ve been pulling away from me for weeks now. You’ve been distant, canceling plans to ‘run errands’. When we are together all you ever do is talk about that stupid neighbor of yours — and then tonight, I catch him nearly eye fucking you right out in the open. You certainly didn’t seem to be bothered by it.” 

“Derek….that’s not true. I — Leon’s just a friend, my neighbor I swear.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“What?”

“Are. You. Sleeping. With. Him?” He brought his eyes back up to meet yours, the look of hurt on his face made your stomach twist and heart ache. 

“No! What? No, I wouldn't do that to you.” You assured, stepping towards him. “Come on, please don’t be like this. I’m sorry if it seems that way, I don’t realize I’m talking about him so much. I’d never —“

“Save it.” He said, pushing you away from him again. “I don’t believe you. I don’t even know why I came out here tonight.” 

“Der—“

“I said save it!” He snapped. 

“This isn’t fair!” You shouted in return. “Why drag me out here on this whole date if you were this upset? You could’ve brought it up this whole time”

“I did. I told you over a week ago I was sick of hearing about him. I asked you to stop seeing so much of him, you told me no.”

“Leon’s a friend, I’m not going to ruin my friendship with him because you’re being psycho and jealous.”

“I’m a psycho because I don’t like that my own girlfriend spends all her time with some guy that looks like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad? How about the fact you don’t even seem to care that I’m hurt I thought I’d have been more important — you know what? Forget this. Forget it.” He turned to walk around to the driver’s side of the car. “I’m over this. You want him? Have him. I’m not chasing you. I thought you were my future wife, I thought we’d have the picket fence, kids, all of it. But now I get how you feel about everything.”

He slammed the car door shut, started the engine, and began backing out of the spot. You banged on the window to get his attention. “What are you doing? You’re seriously just going to leave me here?”

“Call your boyfriend to come get you.” He sneered through the window before blasting off and out of the parking lot.

You were stunned, unable to move as you watched the car disappear. ‘He can’t be serious right now? He’ll be back right?’ Pulling your phone out of your pocket you checked the time, 10pm. Wanting to hide your shame from the few people staring at you, and deciding he just needed a little while to cool down, you sat on the sidewalk in front of the theater, hidden by a bush that extended out. 

15 minutes passed. Nothing. 

Dialing the familiar number it rang a few times before going to voicemail. You tried again, this time it went straight to voicemail. 

10 more minutes passed and you tried to text him.

20 more minutes, still no response or call back. 

The wind was picking up again, making it chilly even under your jacket, which you’d brought down over your knees to try and keep in more warmth. This part of the city you weren’t familiar with, and weren’t sure it was worth the risk of trying to walk home. Given the situation, calling Leon was the last thing you wanted to do, especially since he was probably asleep by now — not that it was his job to really come save you anyway. 

Opening the Uber app on your phone, you put in the respective addresses. “$30? Not including a tip? Fuck.” You bit your lip in frustration. Technically you had enough, but it was the last of what was left in your account after bills.

Tapping your fingers along the cement, you shivered as a particular gust of wind leaked air into your jacket from the opening underneath. ‘Even if I did call Leon and he wasn’t mad I woke him up, that’s still a drive away. An Uber would be faster…but I do need groceries to sustain life.’

“This sucks.” You said out loud to yourself, burying your face into your knees, you had no clue what you were going to do and were running out of time to decide. By this time, the parking lot had emptied entirely, theater closing for the night. ‘Fuck it. I’ll just call and if he doesn’t answer I’ll order the stupid Uber.’ 

Opening his contact, the picture of him you’d taken at the park came up. Blonde hair pushed back and messy, one sea blue eye opened staring at your phone’s camera while the other was closed in a wink. You’d even convinced him to throw up a peace sign – it was so silly and so very Leon. Sighing, you began the call, letting the phone ring.

As it rang over and over again, you could swear you heard a familiar tune in the distance. It was very quiet, like someone was playing the radio several blocks over, but it tickled your ears all the same. You ended the call the moment it went to his voicemail, as you did you swore the song had ended too. ‘Weird, I must be hallucinating. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top, abandoned and crazy.’ You let out a dry laugh at the thought. 

Luckily after a moment, the phone buzzed in your hand, heart fluttering a little when you saw his name pop up on your screen. “Hey.” You said softly. 

“Hey there.” He replied, his voice sounding groggy. 

“Sorry to uhm….sorry if I woke you up.”

“S’not a problem. Everything ok?” 

“Well I uh….” 

“What’s wrong?” His voice sounding more alert now, you heard some shifting on the other end of the line. 

“Derek kind of ditched me at the theater. I’m a little stranded —“

“Need me to come get you?” 

“If you don’t mind. But if you’re asleep —“

“No, it's fine. I’d rather make sure you’re okay anyway. Where are you at?”

“The theater up by main, across from the big shopping center.”

“I’ll be there in 15, ok?”

“15, are you sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be? This a test?” There was a small chortle from his end. “Well it’s just that the apartment is nearly 40 minutes away? I hope you’re not planning on driving like a maniac.” There was a long moment of silence on the other end, so long it began to make you feel anxious. “Hey Leon, you still there?” 

It was still another few seconds before his voice could be heard again. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry about that. I actually crashed at a friend's house after you left, so I’m nearby.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

The wait for him to show up felt like an eternity, you watched each and every minute tick by on your phone, both giddy and nervous with anticipation. When his Jeep came to a stop in front of you, you bolted up with a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He replied with the same grin he always greeted you with. His hair was a little messy and he looked tired, making the guilt bubble up in your stomach more. “So….you gonna get in or?” 

“Oh yeah.” Letting out a nervous laugh, you ran around to the passenger seat before hopping in. He had the heater on, not that it was doing much with the open top, but you appreciated every time the warmth hit your legs. 

“So what exactly happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” He leaned back more comfortably in his seat, driving with one hand as the other rested on the door.

“We just got into a fight….” You fidgeted with your phone as you gave him a glance in return. “He seems to think I’ve been cheating on him…or at least that I like someone else. I tried to tell him it wasn’t true, but you know…

“So he abandoned you? Just like that?” He asked bewildered. 

“Yeah I guess he did…” 

“That’s pretty shitty of him. I mean what if something happened to you?”

“Yeah it was… I don’t know…” You trailed off, not wanting to talk about it further, just dredging up those bad feelings. Instead, you opted to change the subject entirely. “Hey you know what’s weird?”

“No, what?”

“That one Nickelback song you like so much…you play it almost every time we’re in the Jeep together.”

“Oh, Far Away? Sure, what about it?”

“Well…as I was calling you, I swore I heard it. Was so weird, like a scene from a movie or something — maybe it was a sign that you’d come get me. Or I had a psychotic break and imagined the whole thing. Could be either one.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a chuckle. “I don’t know about the universe, but I am always here if you need me – even if you’ve lost your mind.” He tilted his head and gave a nonchalant shrug.

“Thanks Lee…” The rest of the ride home went smoothly — things falling back into place like they always did. Blasting music obnoxiously loud for the hour, singing along. He even stopped to get you milkshakes on the way back, despite your insistence that you were fine. In his defense, the logic of ‘no one can be upset with a milkshake’ made a lot of sense. 

As the vehicle rolled in front of the building, he leaned over, swiping his thumb across the side of your mouth. “Had something there.” His tongue darted out, lapping the sticky white substance off of the digit.

“Oh.” The simple touch had that electric feeling sparking throughout your veins again. “Thank you….and thanks again for the ride.”

“No problem.” 

Not knowing what else to say, you nodded and scurried from the vehicle back inside the building. He didn’t follow immediately behind you, having to properly park, which left you relieved. 

The entire evening was a whirlwind of emotions and that last little interaction had your entire brain scrambling inside your skull. All you wanted was for the night to be over with, forgotten as you drifted to unconsciousness. 

You took a quick shower before changing into your pajamas and all but flopping into the comfortable fortress of your bed. 

Curling up into the soft bedding, you expected sleep to come over you quickly — but you were wrong. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could picture was that pink tongue darting out to lap up the milkshake from his thumb. His smile, his eyes on you. It made you shudder and clamp your legs together, heat rushing between them. You squirmed around tossing and turning, trying to get your mind to relax and to stave off the arousal that was hindering your sleep.

Nothing you did was working, finally deciding to just give in, sinking your hand down between your legs. ‘Just so I can sleep…’ 

Hand tracing gently along your slit through your panties, you spread your legs farther to give yourself more access. Closing your eyes you could vividly see his face between your legs, tongue out lapping at your panties the way he’d done to the ice cream. 

A soft moan escaped your lips as you applied more pressure, rubbing the slick soaked fabric against your aching bud of pleasure. “Mmm Leon…” The comforter was slowly becoming suffocating, too hot. You tossed it off of yourself to the other side of the mattress, letting yourself feel the cool air as it rushed against your skin – nipples sensitive to the temperature change. 

You brought your left hand up under the silken sleep shirt, circling one hard bud with a finger before pinching it lightly. The fingers of your right hand teasingly walked themselves up to the hem of the fabric, dipping inside the band to properly travel down. Air escaped your mouth once direct contact was made to your throbbing clit. “Leon…so good…” 

In your little vision the man had moved to hook your legs over his shoulders to gain a better angle - the real you bucking your hips up against your fingers, desperate to add to the vision. “So good to me Lee….always so good to me….fuck…” 

Your fingers slid up and down against yourself, left hand abandoning your breast to travel it’s way downward as well, two fingers slipping themselves within your soaking hole – desperately needing to clench around more than the nothingness you were left with. “So close….gonna…” The words caught in your throat as the pressure finally released itself, tingling warmth spreading from your core throughout your body. It was quick and rough, far from the best you’d ever had but it was exactly what you needed. 

The illusion finally cracked and you were left with sore arms, staring up at the ceiling – momentarily sated and relieved, again hoping sleep would take you quickly. 

A/N: If this looks familiar, it's a total rewrite/reboot of my yandere!leon series. This original series was inspired by @explorevenus' Something Permanent series. Other inspirations include @gigabyte-flare, @lipglossanon, and @girldungeon's works. Special shoutout to @elfven-blog and her superior pinterest skills for the aesthetic pics used in the banner.

Next Chapter

#Leon Kennedy x Reader #Leon Kennedy x You #Leon Kennedy x y/n #Leon Kennedy #Leon s Kennedy #Yandere #yandere!leon kennedy #yandere leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #re4 #re4r #re4r leon #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #fem!reader #female reader #x reader #guardian angel fic #yandere fanfiction

[recreationalfanfics]

Yandere Bachira/ Yandere Shidou + Obsessing Over Their Agent

Giving into their egos at the end of Blue Lock, they're used to getting everything they wanted and what they wanted next...was their cute little agent who handled their public relations and contracts♡

Characters: Bachira Meguru, Shidou Ryusei

Bachira:

"You're staring again."

Bachira blinks at your words, dazed as he slowly was brought back to reality. Huh, he must've zoned out staring at your face again. Your sharp (e/c) eyes focused on your phone, your stoic expression making his heart beat a bit more quickly in his chest, and your hair which was all fixed up and neat was just begging for his fingers to come through it with how it looked. He tilted his head to the side cutely and closed his eyes, flashing you his most charming smile.

"Can you blame me?" He chuckled, moving his way over to you. With lightning fast reflexes, you stuck your foot up in the air to stop him while still focusing on your task at hand as he whined and tried to pinch your cheek. He pouted after a few unsuccessful minutes and frowned, "Aw! You're no fun, (Y/n)-chan!"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but you did respond to him.

"Sir, don't be misinformed; this relationship is purely professional. I am your agent, you are my client. That is all." You spoke sternly to him as if he were a child, "Now, let's get you ready for that commercial shoot."

Just a client, huh?

Bachira sighs and holds his chest where his heart would be and looks at you with his big yellow puppy dog eyes: "That hurts, (Y/n)! After everything we've been through!"

Again, his attempts were met with silence and he frowned, seeing that you were still focused on your phone. That's not fair, (Y/n), so many people would've absolutely killed to be in your shoes in this moment and you have the audacity to brush him off? Fine, he'll just have to make it clear that there was no one else but you.

- He makes everything difficult for everyone if it doesn't involve you, he's still likeable, but everyone just talks about how he's a bit too energetic to stay still. You can't tell how many times make up crews, directors, and training coaches or even other players had to shyly come up to you and make Bachira comply with their wishes because "he behaves when you're around".

- Many times Bachira tries to make it appear you two are a couple; telling you that he loves you as you do his foundation for his upcoming interviews, excitedly running at you in between commercial breaks to ask you if he did well, and often wanting to take you out for casual outings as celebration but you declined. You didn't want to feed into whatever delusion he had in his head about you two.

- You tried to be a bit personal and suggest he try out some sports modeling, casually mentioning how a current model heart throb was interested in collaborating with him in hopes that it'd be enough to get him to move on but he frowned and shook his head. NO! He's not posing for pictures with anyone, especially not for some random model, if its not you!

- Even though you're in charge of his social media; he will still post pictures of you to his own account, admiring how cute you are when you're in the zone, or just captioning the photo with a simple: "Mine♥️💕" and even though you tell him to delete those photos everytime, you feel a bit uneasy when you realize you didn't even notice him pulling out his phone and getting these photos until he tagged you in them. You just hope he doesn't have anymore photos of you that you didn't know about.

- Bachira is without a doubt obsessive, he gets giddy when you call him because he believes one of these days you'll wake up and realize you love him back just as much, only to be slightly dissapointed when you are merely calling him to discuss contract details. That's fine, though! One of these days you're going to have to face the reality that you two were meant to be together♡

- You're just like him after all! It's just that you want to dominate a different field than him. Your goals are similar, be the best that Japan has to offer, making sure that Bachira succeeds on and off the field helps ensure your own success, and while you didn't want to deal with his annoying behavior all the time; it'd be a foolish choice to quit working for him. You think that he knows that too because he'll always try to test the waters of your relationship, never really believing your threats of switching to a different player.

- Because even if you didn't love him, you needed him, just as he needed you. Surely you'll end up loving him back, though, after all: there was no one else in his eyes besides you. So he'll work hard to be the best, not just for Japan, but for you. Each goal he makes, he looks at you and sees the briefest smile on your face and it drives him wild the rest of the game to keep scoring and scoring.

- Don't think you've tamed the monster inside of him, though. Because it'll never be truly satisfied until it finally has you. All of you.

Shidou:

"Why're you buying flowers for that asshole?"

You felt a shiver go up your spine, feeling Shidou's sharp chin resting on your shoulder and feeling his warm breath on the back of your right ear, he was still a little sweaty from his daily drills and workouts...technically, he should've been working out still but his fitness coaches knew the moment you stepped into the room that he wouldn't be able to focus on anything but you.

"Technically, you're buying him flowers," You corrected, moving away from him. He raised an eyebrow but kept a deadpan face as you turned around to explain to him, "Shido, you're already controversial. You played way too hard and broke that man's ankle. Sending flowers is the least you could do."

Aw, give him some credit...he could've done a lot worse if he wanted too but he managed to restrain himself from doing that, all for you. Plus, it was entirely the other guy's fault anyways. That asshole was eyeing you up and down when you weren't looking and jokingly told Ryusei that he wished he had an agent that was as hot as you were instead of his current old and grumpy one. Shido knew he had the best things: the best cars, the best shoes, the best career a soccer player could ask for...but you were different. You were one of the things he had that made him the best, flipping his controversies into picturing him as this passionate player whose just motivated to represent his country, but you were meant for only him to admire. Everyone else is allowed to stare at you two with envy and jealously but that's ALL.

"I'm not sending him no damn flowers and neither are you." He scoffed, taking your phone from your hand and canceling the order. You frowned and tried to grab it back from him, he raised it above his head am to force you to reach for it and when you raised one arm and stood on both your tippy toes, he used his free arm to hook it around your waist and pull you close to him. Pining you against the wall, his pink eyes focused on you in a way that a predator would eye its prey.

"Quit thinkin' about some nobody player. You're MY agent."

- Before you, Shidou went through a lot of agents. Agents who quit on the spot because he was impossible to work with, agents who just stormed out of the doors because they couldn't take anymore, agents who still badmouth him to the public and feeding into his reputation.

- Then you walked in through those doors. Steely gazed, chin up and proud. You were cute, that's for sure, but you weren't gonna be any different then the rest of them. At least, thats what he had originally thought. You never lost your mind over the way he played, you never complained about how he was making your job impossible, and you never lost your cool.

- You were a professional at your job, you knew how to make him appeal to the audience and frame him in a better light while also making sure he didn't have to change too much...because he would never change. So you would work with what you had, how did the saying go? There's no such thing as bad publicity.

- Unlike Bachira, you just being there isn't gonna make him behave. If you're gonna make him do some lame ass photoshoot then he better be getting something out of it. At first it was just things like arranging a deal with a brand he liked, setting up a soccer match with some good players only for him to absolutely ruin them. He started to like you because of those things.

- However it escalated one day when he asked for something that took you off gaurd. A kiss. It was for an interview and he refused to let anyone touch him so they all ran crying to you, he instantly looked at you as you put a gentle hand on his shoulder and asked him what he wanted this time so you both could get through this.

- He didn't even really think about it either, he was a little shocked when he said it himself but he was just mesmerized by your lips that he wondered what it'd be like to kiss them. So he wanted to find out. You were flustered, rightfully so and tried to bargain with him but he was dead set on that kiss...oh well...it was one measly kiss. So you kissed his cheek and he frowned, not exactly what he wanted but you did give him what he wanted technically.

- But yeah, that just kinda sparked his obsession with you and his obsession isn't what you should be concerned about. It's his possessive nature, you work for him so you belong to him. He doesn't like you talking to other people most of the time, constantly grabbing your phone and hanging up important calls when the conversation goes somewhere he doesn't like or deems isn't as important as him.

- Shidou knows he doesn't love you but love isn't exactly on either of your radars since your focused on your career, which only does well as long as Shido's does well. It doesn't stop him from looking at you tying his tie for him, imagining you doing something more intimate than a mere kiss on the cheek, to take you out on fancy dates and buy you nice things and all the crap (he's tried before but you always refuse) and when he wakes up in the morning, he wonders how different it would be if you were next to him. He might love you but overall, it's a matter of possession. You belong to him. No one else.

#yandere bllk #yandere blue lock #tw. yandere #tw yandere #yandere bachira meguru x reader #bachira meguru #bachira x reader #bachira x y/n #Yandere Shido Ryusei #shido ryusei #blue lock bachira #blue lock shidou #shidou x reader #shido x reader bllk #bllk shidou #FERAL FOR SHIDOU OKAY #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #yandere #yandere male x reader

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

☀️ with evan buckley "I would choose you over anyone." { keeping the relationship a secretl and catching eyes in a crowded room} pleaseeee

Fire Hazard.

l. Catching eyes in a crowded room + m. Keeping the relationship a secret + 17. "I would choose you over anyone."

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my first buck fic!! love him so much, he's an angel :((

Pairing - Evan Buckley x Female Reader

Age Rating - 16+

Warnings - none!! just tooth rotting fluff x

Word Count - 710

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

It's absolutely against the rules.

There's a strict no fraternisation policy in place in every firehouse. It's there for a reason, after all. The city can't have all of its firefighters totally distracted because they're in love with each other.

Buck has never been one to follow the rules.

The minute he saw you, he knew he was in trouble. You cruised into the 118 with your sun kissed skin and gentle eyes and he knew there was no turning back. You flashed that million dollar smile in his direction and he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. Yeah, he was screwed.

Little did he know, the feelings were very mutual. The first time he laughed at one of your jokes, your knees almost gave way. He looks at you like you're the only girl in the world. You feel like it, when you're with him.

At the 118, they call you Hazard. No one knows the meaning of the nickname besides Buck. Your little secret.

It came about one Friday morning shift. You weren't supposed to be working that day, but Hen called in sick, so Bobby asked you to cover. You were actually planning on going to the farmer's market, but you diverted your journey and made your way to the firehouse.

You weren't exactly dressed for work. You were wearing a pale yellow floral sundress that fell mid thigh, paired with sneakers and sunglasses. Buck took one look at you and almost passed out.

"Thank you so much for coming at such short notice. You're the best," Bobby says as you walk across the floor.

"It's no problem," you smile, making your way upstairs to grab some water.

Everyone goes back to their tasks, but Buck's eyes are glued to you. You look at him through your lashes, and he abandons cleaning the truck to run after you.

"Hey, you," he grins.

"Hey! You're in a good mood today," you wink.

"Well a pretty girl just walked into the room, so."

"Really? Where?"

You look around while laughing, and he shoves you playfully.

"You're an idiot," he chuckles.

You look at each other for a moment, before you realise what you're wearing.

"Well, I guess I better change," you tell him, turning to leave.

"Wait!"

Buck grabs your wrist and spins you back around, pulling you into him.

"Can you just give me one more minute to admire you in this dress?"

You look down at your feet, slightly taken aback by his boldness. Buck is not one to ever hold back, but he seems to with you. If only you knew it's because he's worried he'll accidentally tell you how he feels - or worse.

He uses his thumb to tilt your chin up so you're looking at him.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, aware of the other people on the level below. "Most beautiful girl in the world."

"In the entire world?" you tease.

"Are you kidding?" he asks sincerely. "I would choose you over anyone."

He leans in without hesitation and presses a kiss to your lips. It's sweet and chaste and a promise of so much more. When he pulls away, you're both grinning like idiots.

"I've been waiting to do that since the first day I met you," he confesses.

"Well I've been waiting for you to do that since the first day you met me," you giggle.

He kisses you again quickly, before grabbing a hold of your hand.

"Wear this dress again tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?"

"When I take you out on a real date."

You aim a beaming smile at him, and his heart skips a beat.

"Fine, since you asked so nicely," you wink. "I can't wait."

You lean up to kiss him softly. You both can't get enough.

"If I knew that this dress is all it would take for you to ask me out, I would have worn it months ago," you laugh.

"You walked in and I thought I was gonna burst into flames. You're a fire hazard, woman."

You shove at his arm jokingly, smiling as you do it.

"Well it's a good job I'm a firefighter, huh?" you tease.

No one needs to know how you got your nickname. It's your little secret.

#murphy's 500 followers celebration #911 #tv: 911 #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 fox #evan buck buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #buck 911 #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader fluff #911 fluff #evan buckley fluff #buck 911 fluff #reader insert #oliver stark #buddie #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buckley x you #evan buckley x oc #evan buckley drabble #evan buckley oneshot #911 oneshot #evan buckley smut #evan buckley x female reader #buck x reader #buck fluff #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Scared Half to Death | Bucky Barnes x reader

Hi! I haven't posted a fic in forever. School has been a nightmare.

I literally wrote this in under an hour lol it's very short and not my best. But I just wanted to get something kinda Halloween-y out there in time to celebrate!

🎃👻🎃👻🎃Happy Halloween! 👻🎃👻🎃👻

Warnings: blood, Bucky's anxiety, injury

Bucky pulled his hand from the doorknob with a disgusted expression. A thick, sticky substance coated his palm and dotted his fingers. He rolled his eyes at whichever small child had covered his door handle in candy residue while he was gone. But just as he tried to wipe the syrupy remnants on his jeans, the color caught his eye. The flash of red sent shockwaves through his system. 

He’d stepped away from the apartment for just a few minutes, only long enough to replenish his candy supply for the next wave of trick-or-treaters. But in the short time that he was gone, something terrible- something violent- must’ve taken place. 

He dropped the candy to the floor and struggled to yank his keys from the lock, his hands shaking with anxiety. And when he finally burst through the door of the apartment he shared with you, he only found more carnage. 

Droplets of blood dotted the floor. They coagulated against the tile and wormed their way into the grout, staining it red. Bucky’s stomach turned. A leaden knot formed in his gut and weighed him down like an anchor. Where were you? Was this your blood? Were you hurt- were you dead?

He followed the gruesome path like a trail of breadcrumbs, fearing what he’d find at their end.  Only a few hours ago, everything was perfect. He’d sat with you as you got dressed for your best friend’s Halloween party. He rested on the bed you shared and delighted in watching you dance around the room as you did your make up and put on your costume. 

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come?” you asked as you shimmied into your costume.

“I’m sure, baby. It’s not really my thing,” he shrugged. “You know how I am with big crowds. Plus, Halloween is a little weird for me. People dress as my friends-” He swallowed hard, “people dress as a version of me that I try not to think about… it’s just not for me.”

“Yeah…” 

Silence filled the room. Guilt coursed through your body with each beat of your heart. Part of you itched to change out of your costume and forget the whole thing.

“You know, I don’t have to go-”

Bucky stood from the bed and made his way to your side, “Yes, you do.”

A stern expression crossed your face, “I really don’t. And I shouldn’t ditch you for a stupid party-” 

“You’re not ditching me,” he said. “You love this party! You look forward to Kelly’s-” he paused, struggling to remember the name of the shindig. “What does she call it again? Her Creep-Tastic?”

You laughed, “Spook-tacular!”

“Right!” Bucky rolled his eyes at his attempt. “You look forward to her Spook-Tacular every year! And I’m not gonna let you miss it just because I don’t wanna go.” He took your face in his hands, careful not to mess up your make up. Never had anyone made him felt so loved, so cared for. You put him first at every turn, prioritizing his wellbeing and his mental health above all else. You sacrificed so much for him in the early stages of your relationship; the last thing he wanted was for you to miss out on the party you’d looked forward to for the last eleven months. 

“Seriously, doll, I’m gonna be fine. I’ll hand out candy to the kids and watch some tv,” he shrugged. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

It wasn’t a trick or a test; Bucky didn’t secretly hope you’d choose him instead of the party. He only wanted you to be happy. And you knew he meant every word he said. 

“Okay. Then tell me…” you did a quick spin, “how do I look?”

Bucky eyed you up and down, drinking in the neon pink and highlighter yellow leotard. The electric yellow kneepads. The pink visor. The bright yellow high-top sneakers. 

“You look amazing, Barbie. You belong in the Dream House!”

Not soon after that, you left. He’d walked you to your Uber and made you promise to be safe. He’d told you that he loved you. And that was the last time he saw you.

Until now. 

The trail of blood ended with you. Bucky discovered you sprawled on your back on the living room rug, your body soaked with blood. Smears of red coated your neck and stained your arms. Your clothes were saturated with gore. This Barbie didn’t belong in the Dream House; she belonged in a nightmare. 

“Oh, god-” Bucky made his way to your side and sunk to his knees, breathless. “Baby, hey- can you hear me? Open your eyes, look at me-” His fingers traced your neck in search of a pulse, desperately scrounging for even a flutter of life. 

And there it was- your pulse. You were still alive; your heart still managed to beat despite the blood loss. 

But Bucky’s gratitude only lasted a moment. He still had to find your wound and stop the bleeding. He had to call 911. He had to keep your heart beating. 

His hands scrounged across your abdomen in search of a stab wound or evidence of a gunshot. But just as he reached for your side, you made a sound.

Did he heard that right? Did you… giggle?

“Whaaaaaaat’re you doin’, Barnes?” you laughed. “Don’t tickle meeeee!” 

Bucky’s gaze shot from your blood-soaked clothes to your face. “Baby?”

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, Barbie!” you slurred, your face plastered with a smile. “Oh, nooooo- wait, you’re just Ken!” A fit of laughter exploded from your chest as you sang, “I’mmm juuuuust KEN! Anywhere elssssse, I’d beeee a TEN-” A sudden contemplative look banished your lighthearted spirit. “But you reeeeally are a ten, Buck… and I mean that.”

Bucky remained frozen. He was lost, confused. Were you woozy from blood loss? Or alcohol? Were you even hurt? Did you need an ambulance or a cold shower? 

“Baby, are you hurt? Are you okay?” He took your face in his hands, “Why are you covered in blood?”

“Because this Barbie hugged her friend!” 

A befuddled expression took over Bucky's face. "What?"

The room spun as you struggled to sit up. Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat; if you were hurt, you needed to lie down. You needed to stop moving and let him dress your wound. But you moved without wincing, without crying out in pain. Sure, you swayed from side to side just a little in your intoxicated state. But that was the worst of it. 

“I huuuuuugged Kelly! But Kelly was aaactually Carrie! Y’know, the girl covered in pig’s blood,” you laughed. “It kiiiinda ruined my costume a little. Buut, now I look like Scary Barbie! So s’okay.”

A deep sigh of relief filled Bucky’s lungs. He rocked back off of his knees and plopped down onto his butt. His bloody hands covered his face. “Then what are you doing on the floor, sweetheart?”

“Sometiiiiimes… sometimes ya just gotta lay on the floor. Y’know?” You shrugged, “And I didn’t wanna get allllll the blood on the couch.”

He nodded.

"I guess I fell asleep for a hot sec," you shrugged. "I was just waiting on ya to get home."

Bucky did his best to regulate his breathing, to calm the aggressive tsunami of anxiety that drowned his every cell. His entire world came crashing down the moment he found you on the floor, and now, he had to put it back together. 

“You okay, Buck? I came home early cause I missed yooou- I missed you sooooo much,” you placed a bloodied hand on his face. “But I didn’t mean to ruin your night to yourself. I’m sorry…”

“No, you didn’t ruin anything. It’s not that at all. It’s- baby, I thought…” he shook his head. “I thought you were hurt. I thought you were…” He didn’t want to finish his sentence. 

“Ohhhhh no, I’m fine! I’m okay! I’m druuuunk…” you laughed, “But I’m okay!”

Bucky pulled you close, grateful that the blood clinging to your skin came out of a bottle. "I know that now, I'm just..." he took a deep breath. "It's just gonna take a minute for my body to catch up with my brain." He let his hand roam up and down your spine. He needed to feel you breathe, feel your voice vibrate against his palm. Seeing you like that- bloody and unresponsive- on the floor of the home you shared nearly scared him to death.

This wasn't the kind of Halloween scare that flooded your system with pins and needles and left you laughing. No, this stripped him of all breath, of all ability to think. It cut him to the bone.

He never wanted to imagine you getting hurt, about you getting killed. For him, losing your was a fate worse than death.

The two of you sat there together in the quiet calm as Bucky remembered how to breathe. He held onto you as tightly as he could without leaving bruises, and didn't care than you'd stained his white shirt with your gory mess.

“I’m glad you’re home, doll. And that you’re okay," he said after his heart returned to its normal pacing. "I just- I didn’t expect Bloody Barbie.”

You shrugged, “no one ever does.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh that echoed off the walls and made your heart flutter. “Alright, we need to clean you up and get you to bed, baby. I think we’ve both had enough Halloween shenanigans for the year.”

You allowed him to help you to your feet and guide you to the bathroom for a much needed shower. He was always there for you when you needed him, even without you asking. You knew he'd protect you, do anything for you- he'd even scrub fake blood from your nail beds.

"Buck?" you whispered as he helped you into bed.

"Yeah, baby?"

"You're soooo much better than Ken."

He knew it was a genuine, drunken compliment, but it nearly made him burst out laughing. "Thank you, doll. Yeah, I prefer Allan anyway."

"Saaaaaaame," you sighed, melting into your pillow.

Bucky tucked the covers around you and made sure your water was within reach. He placed a kiss to your forehead, once again thanking his lucky stars that you were home safe.

"Goodnight, Barbie."

----------------------------------

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality  @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony  @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl  @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie  @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine  @evangeliamerryll @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather  @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @barnesselo @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #fatws bucky #bucky x reader

[tiyoin]

part 2 | 📍part 3

floyd is staring at you.

he hasn’t stopped since last night.

all through out class his gaze never leaves you- not even when trein gives out an assignment, off handedly commenting about floyd’s ogling, but even then, trein seems to not his strange quietness.

the professor gives you a strange look, silently saying ‘what ever happened between you two should be resolved and fast. because a dead silent floyd is an eerie, unpredictable floyd.’

the only time floyd’s gaze seemed to falter was when trein snipped at him to ‘keep his eyes on his own paper.’ the moment that statement left trein’s mouth your eyes flicked up to floyd’s. there was a brief moment of eye contact, a brief moment where your breath caught.

floyd’s mismatched eyes slimmed down to his paper, magical pen hovering over the top left as it was your turn to observe the eel. he looked up again, mouth agape like he wanted to say something.

but like leaves twinkling through a spring breeze, you changed your course of attention as you were now focused on putting your name on your paper.

to you change it, or divert it? unable to listen to him after… that.

you could almost hear his frustration, since the distance across the room wasn’t enough to conceal his emotions nor was he too worried about the others catching on.

floyd leech was… tricky, like that.

he let people see what he wanted them to see but also had a loose grip on his emotions. he could bottle things up with a toothy smile when he wanted to, other times his body movements would leave him open him like a display book in the library. there for anybody to pick up, skim through, and decide if they liked it’s contents. deciding in that moment if they’ll check it out to read, or put it back in search of something… less floyd-like.

resting your heavy head in your palm, you sighed, trying to focus on the paper but you mind had other thoughts. like spell drive players on the pitch, your mind was racing, swerving, tumbling and zipping around as your thoughts seemed to allude you.

your brain was in so much distress everything canceled out, you felt so overwhelmed that there were no thoughts to overwhelm you.

it was a paradox that frustrated you greatly. made a dullness in place of that… anxiety take root in your chest. man, you just wanted to curl up and… simply? stop existing.

“that will be all for today- make sure” without waiting to hear his thoughts, you bolted up out of your seat like it had burnt you and hurriedly collected your belongings.

‘get. out.’ was the only thing you thought as your rapid thoughts turned into one unified message. a single voice that made the hair on your nape stand.

“y/n-“ you heard ace next to you speak, but the moment your head lifted to across the room, a flash of wolf grey and electric yellow flashed in your vision. blinking, the image of his haunting eyes weren’t right in front of you, staring through you as it picked apart your entirety…

no, they were across the classroom. and while they weren’t as close they were still watching your every move. his movement seemed to mirror your own as you raced to beat the eel out the door and into the safety of the crowd.

you gasped, floyd visibly flinching from your reaction. swinging your head to your right, you examined your shoulder, a pale hand resting comfortably, ebony sleeves covering everything past their wrist- even the brown freckles on the person’s arm were covered in the fabric.

your eyes traced the seams of the jacket, your eyes quickly going back down to the cuff as you noted the white undershirt- a minor over sight you let yourself have as you were too focused on trying to figure out the stitch style.

something you have no prior knowledge of, yet an eye for nonetheless.

you stayed on the cufflinks. a proud, royal gold that had tiny raven’s encrusted in them.

“y/n” the voice commanded. but you couldn’t look at him. at ace. looking everywhere on his face but his eyes. it felt too much for you. too.. intimate of an action at the moment.

“let’s go” a voice on your left whispered- ‘must be deuce,’ you wondered. because where ace is, deuce is not far behind and vice versa.

nodding automatically, your fought the temptation of sneaking a glance at floyd. stopped yourself from focusing on the sound of footsteps and rustling papers, forced yourself to not try and figure out where he was or what he was doing.

into the tunnel you go.

having your friends guide you down the row and down the steps, through the door and into the bustling hallway. the hand on your shoulder never leaving, only changing as three footsteps turned into two.

…you should be thinking about your friends, about… the leeches. but all you could think about in the moment was how this is what it felt like to be in shock. you think.

not hearing anything yet hearing everything, not feeling anything yet having an uncomfortable prickly feeling where the heavy hand laid. how you could sense things you previously made yourself blind, deaf, and mute to.

your body felt heavy, like an anchor dragging through the sea floor.

you felt every emotion, and yet you felt deader than a freshly buried corpse.

so like leaves in a spring breeze, you let the arm now hung across your shoulders and the hand that gripped your tricep guide you through the weaving hallways and sea of students. letting the figure take reign over your autonomy as you blocked the world out for a second longer.

everything seemed to blend together. notable black outs as you went from the indoor hallways, to the outside corridors, from the court yard to main street.

-

rapid knocking awoke your from your dream- nightmare? or just another unwanted memory? you’d judge that later as you focused on trying to life your limbs. you arms seemed like lead weights everything you tried lifting yourself upright. your eyes, just as exhausted couldn’t open more than just a squint.

swift knocking on the dark oak door seemed to spur you from slipping back into unconsciousness.

stretching with a groan, you felt your hair. you don’t remember taking a shower last night, and even if you had your hair would’ve been dried by now.

you sighed, choosing to ignore the knocking as you shifted to the other side of the king bed. burying your face into a crack between the pillows, you forced yourself to listen.

your heart, once a raging beat in your chest slowed down with each measured breathe, up until you escaped back into unconsciousness. hoping that this time, you’ll have a dreamless slumber and not revisit the days of youth.

i’m attempting to think of a name for this mini series cause i don’t think ‘you’re such a dick floyd leech’ is a good one el oh el

i also think i made this chapter too short, sigh

unedited and not proofread cause we die like men!! 🏇🏇

taglist:

@hopefully-not @dmiqueles @ryuuisthecutest @kiwibirdmother @nico707 @iwillrisefromthefire @itslucieen @tyellowcardinal @snowgirlhd @chlousp @chikitasmol @faethornss @dotster001 @anxious-chick

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎 #floyd x reader #floyd leech x reader

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, shoot, sorry. Go back to sleep. Sorry.”

Nico shifts, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. The light in the infirmary is low, and strangely soothing. It’s almost hard to keep his eyes open. But he manages, rubbing his knuckles under the curve of his eyesockets, and searches in the dark until he finds what woke him up.

Will stands a couple feet away from his bed, figure curled and shadowy, owlish eyes wide and almost unnaturally reflective in the dark.

“‘S’okay,” he mumbles. “Couldn’t really sleep anyway.”

“Oh.” There’s a shuffling sound, and suddenly Nico feels warmer where Will has stepped closer. “You in pain?“

“No. Just bad at sleeping.”

“Hey, me too.”

Surprise at Will’s easy admission and a little bit starstruck at the bright flash of Will’s grin, Nico doesn’t have the chance to beat himself up over being so flippantly open. His teeth seemed to glow as much as the whites of his eyes, which would be creepy, except it’s hard to feel anything but calm as a cool night breeze wafts the scent of lavender from the sill planters in every inch of the infirmary, and it’s hard to think of Will as anything but warm. Especially the hand he places, briefly, on the curve of Nico’s knee.

“Insomnia?”

“Something like that.”

“Still. Sorry for waking you up.”

Nico hums, fiddling with his skull ring. “Why were you up, anyway?”

“Oh, I won’t have time to sleep for another couple days.”

There’s a mellow cracking sound, and then all of Will’s knuckles begin to glow a soft, sunset yellow. Nico startles.

“Apollo thing,” Will explains. A smirk is now visible at the corner of his mouth, forcing a dimple on his right cheek. In his hands, almost hard to see under the glow, are three small vials of something Nico doesn’t recognize. “Getting meds and salves in order.”

Hesitantly, Nico drags his gaze away from the clinking glass bottles, forcing himself to meet Will’s eyes. They’re ridiculously bright. Is that an Apollo thing, too?

“Why does that mean you can’t sleep?”

Will gestures to the myriad of occupied beds outside the curtains Nico has pulled up. “Shitton of injured, man. I got way more people than I got stuff. I prepped for the Romans beforehand, obviously, but I didn’t have a good hand on their numbers and didn’t prep enough. I’m short on supplies. Haven’t slept since Gaea did.” At Nico’s look of alarm, he quickly assures, “But don’t worry, I had Cecil brew me something strong. It’s disgusting, so I think it might be his Coffee Redbull Matcha Heartstopper Special, With A Shot Of Crushed Caffeine Pills For Good Measure, but I’m not sure. Hands are only a little shakey, though, feel.”

In a mirror of a few days ago (fuck, Nico hopes he’s kidding; how long can people go without sleep?), he darts out and rests his hands under Nico’s. Sure enough, they’re trembling, although nothing nearly as bad as before.

“Dangerous levels of sleep deprivation aren’t as bad as delivering a baby, huh.”

Will shudders. “Don’t even joke.”

He looks so genuinely horrified that Nico can’t help but laugh. All they’ve seen, all they’ve suffered — and golden boy is gagging at the miracle of life. If Nico wasn’t so sure that he’d seen at least as many gory nightmares as Nico, if not more, he’d tease him for being squeamish.

…Actually.

“What kind of school nurse wannabe is squidged out by birth?”

“Nurse?” Will squawks, snatching his hands away (Nico finds his own hands, strangely and suddenly, cold). “I didn’t go to seven years of med school to be called a school nurse wannabe!”

Nico narrows his eyes. “You didn’t go to med school. You’re fifteen.”

“As I said.” He grins teasingly. “I didn’t go.”

It takes Nico a second, but when he gets it he cannot physically hold himself back from kicking him. Solace, weak from muffled laughter, stumbles sideways into a lamp.

“Ay! Be careful, you wanna kill the camp’s only brain surgeon?”

“If he’s being annoying,” Nico bites back. He can’t quite stop smiling, and he’s embarrassed about it, but thankfully the darkness hides his face. “There’s no way you’ve done brain surgery.”

The shitty cot Nico’s been coerced into camping on for the next three days creaks as Will perches on the edge of it.

“Have so. In the woods, two years ago, removed a brain tumour. Stressful as shit.” He flashes another sideways grin. “Couple dozen more medical emergencies under my belt, and I might actually be as qualified as a nurse in this country’s garbage medical system. Thank the gods for them, honestly. They do a shit lot more than a lot of doctors claim to.”

Sensing the topic change for what it is, Nico doesn’t press any further. “That what you wanna do?”

“Aw, man, I don’t even want to think about it. The idea of someone else running this infirmary gives me a stress ulcer. Y’all do a lot of stupid shit and frankly some of the procedures I have performed exist in no medical textbooks anywhere, medical or no.” He snorts. “Anyways.”

His hands are blazingly warm again, almost like sun through a maginifying glass, when they pat his shin twice. He stands, stretching — more bursts of light appearing along the length of his spine, lighting what his fading knuckles leave out.

“Try to sleep again, Neeks. You’ll need it.”

“Maybe I should be the one to say that to you,” Nico says. Will waves his hand dismissively, and in a fit of impulse Nico reaches out and grabs it, meeting his raised eyebrow with a stubborn set to his jaw. “I mean it, Will. No one’s awake right now. I just woke up. Why don’t you crash for an hour or so? I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Will hesitates. “If anything happens, that’s on me. It — I can’t let it be on me.”

“Do you trust me?”

Stupid question. Of course Will doesn’t trust him, Nico let someone die in front of his eyes, Nico is the bringer of death and darkness, why would he —

“Yeah.” Will sighs. Nico looks up, startled, but the medic is eyeing one of the few spare cots, face screwed up in consideration. “You’ll wake me?”

“Immediately,” Nico assures hastily. He nods his head at the bunk next to him. “Sleep, man. You look like you need it.”

“Oh, well, just what I’ve always wanted to hear from you. You look stunning, by the way.”

Nico knows it’s a joke, but he flushes anyway. Thank Hades again for the dark infirmary, and the length of his hair.

“Whatever. Sleep or don’t.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

In seconds he’s out of his flip-flops, slightly-scratchy blankets turned up and wrapped tightly around him all the way up to his neck.

“Thanks, Nico. I owe you.”

In the next breath, he’s out, all that’s visible of him the flutter of his light eyelashes and the tangled mop of blond hair. He snores, slightly, with every puffed exhale; a tiny, stuttered sound, not unlike a cat. It’s kind of cute, and Nico’s smiling before he realising.

“You don’t owe anybody shit.” He shakes his head fondly, leaning back onto his pillows to keep an eye out. “Goodnight, Will.”

#i think nico would be very protective very early. and i am correct #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #nico di angelo & will solace #smart will #will i lvoe u like so much truly #100 ways #100 ways to say i love you #my writing #fic #longpost

[crguang]

now i bend like a willow thinking of you

You don’t do sleepless nights. But tonight, Kafka’s absence feels heavier than usual.

fem!reader, 1.2K words of fluff really

A/N: can’t believe kafka of all people got me writing… i thought of this cute scenario and it wouldn’t leave my mind until i wrote it. curse you, sexy woman!!!!

Thermostat set to just below room temperature and unable to see a foot in front of you due to the room’s absolute darkness, it won’t be long before you surrender to your body’s fatigue. You stayed up later than usual, your mind restlessly running circles around a certain woman. You’ve willed it to shut up and let you sleep for almost an hour now, to no avail. Your limbs are heavy, your cheek is comfortably buried in your pillow and still you think of her. Honestly, how pathetic can you be— unable to sleep because her presence leaves behind a substantial silence whenever she leaves your sight. It’s strange, it’s the first time quiet has made you uneasy. You’ve built your life in the deep of it and found a home in solitude, yet…

In the past few years you’ve known her, you’ve learned that Kafka leaves an impression in any room she steps into, purposefully or not. She’s elusive and her thoughts even more so, but impossible to overlook. Maybe it’s the obvious disinterest in almost everything that reflects through her eyes. Maybe it’s the fixed curl of her lips into her signature enigmatic smile, leaving you with the sensation that she has something up her sleeve. Perhaps it’s her unusual hair color. You don’t know. Despite her infuriating ways and the amusement she finds in toying with people, you’ve always noticed her; the subtle perfume she wears, the twitch of her mouth when something catches her eye, her ridiculous attention to detail when it comes to coats. You feel you could notice everything about her and still not know who she is. Or rather, still have things to discover like she’s an entire universe compacted into one person. Could you be content learning her if that was the only thing you dedicated your years to?

You bring a palm to your cheek, feeling your skin heat up, and groan in disgust. No way the thought of her was flustering you so. How deplorable. It’s only been four days since she offered you a wink as goodbye and left to complete part of Elio’s Script with Silver Wolf in tow. You’re stuck with Blade and Sam, the brooding ones, and it would be fine if the quiet wasn’t making your skin crawl. Such an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling. You pat your cheek a couple times and shake your head. You shift into the bed, adjusting the comforter over your body. You will not let Kafka take up any more space in your mind when you should be peacefully asleep, enough is enough.

You’re drowsy and minutes away from finally passing out when the door creaks open. You hear it shut softly seconds later. Your muddled mind only allows your muscles to tense up in the face of a potential threat before the realization hits you when the sound of heels clacking across the floor registers in your brain. You sit up in a flash, reach for the lamp on your bedside table to flick the light open, then turn towards your supposed assailant with narrowed eyes.

Kafka blinks at you when you meet her gaze, and her fingers stop fiddling with the button of her shirt as she stands in the middle of the room without her favourite coat. You stare at each other for a moment before her eyelids lower perceptibly and her lips stretch into that usual smile.

“…Ugh.” You ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at seeing her in the dim yellow light and turn the lamp back off. You can feel her amusement as you settle back into a comfortable position on your side, an arm under the pillow.

You’re still sleepy, but now that she’s actually here your traitorous mind has been lit up again. You hear the rustling of her clothes as she unclasps the various straps and buckles of her outfit. Without saying a word, she fills the silence around you in a way that brings relief to your soul. It’s stupid, you think, how easily she reduces you to a lovestruck fool. You hate the power she holds over you, yet crave its soothing effect.

“How was the mission?” You mutter, eyes still shut.

You hear her clothes hit the floor when she replies with a drawl, “Boring. Long.”

You catch the notes of exasperation in her voice. “At least you got to stretch your legs.”

She hums. You guess she’s rummaging through your closet for something to sleep in when she pauses, presumably finds what she’s looking for, then closes the door.

“Don’t worry,” she says, her tone undoubtedly teasing, “we’ll find a use for you yet.”

“Fuck you,” you utter without a bite, fatigue slurring your words a little.

Her following chuckle makes you smile. There are muted footsteps on the wooden floor as Kafka approaches the bed, tugging on the tie in her hair to set it loose from her ponytail. She runs a hand through the freed locks.

“Move,” she orders simply.

You grumble, brows furrowing in offense even as you comply and make space for her on the left side of the bed. “You’re so bossy. It’s literally my bed.”

She makes a noise of agreement while slipping under the covers. Her chest presses against your back and a hand sneaks under your shirt to slither across your stomach to the valley of your breasts where it rests comfortably. Her thigh lodges itself between yours. You hear the faintest breath of satisfaction as the tip of her nose brushes your exposed nape. Kafka is warm and secure against you, two things you feel a bit silly to associate with her. They best describe her in this moment, however, and you’re too tired to fight how relaxed she makes you feel.

“…You’re wearing my shampoo,” she says suddenly. You feel her breath on your skin.

“No.”

Embarrassment washes over you. You forgot that you washed your hair with her shampoo that morning because you always liked the scent and you missed her. You didn’t think she would be back in at least a couple more days and thought that the smell would have time to fade away before she could notice. Ugh.

You can almost see her teasing, growing smile in your mind’s eye as she makes a show of inhaling your hair more deeply, burying her nose in it and taking a long audible breath.

“That is definitely my shampoo.”

“I ran out of mine and yours was right there,” you reply dismissively.

Kafka smiles. She sees through your charade, of course, she always has. Her index finger traces inconsequential shapes into the skin of your chest.

“You missed me.”

You don’t contradict her. “Whatever.”

Your hand moves under your shirt to lace your fingers with hers and she hums contently behind you. Kafka leaves many statements unsaid, masterfully navigates a conversation to only reveal what she wants you to know, but you know her enough for these words to not get lost in the sensations she gives you. It’s the middle of the night and she came to your room fully dressed in her everyday clothes. She only had the idea to discard her coat before seeking you out moments after coming back from her mission, and now she’s curled around you like a satisfied cat, breathing in the shampoo in your hair. She’s missed you too.

With Kafka’s heartbeat against your back and her controlled breaths on the back of your neck, sleep comes ridiculously easy. You doze off, the sound of her alike a lullaby meant for your ears only.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #kafka x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #kafka x you #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail kafka

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie's hard work has finally paid off. Corroded Coffin is the new sensation and soon enough, Eddie gets an invitation for an interview, one that could promote the band on a much larger scale. He's excited but also terrified and Steve, being the supportive boyfriend he is (and also CC's unofficial mascot, "the yellow sweater boy" or simply "Stevie" to the fans) offers to go with Eddie. Eddie introduces Steve as his "emotional support ex-jock" and it goes well.

Until it doesn't.

Eddie gets more lively as he talks about the band's beginnings, the inspiration behind their songs and their influences, his own musical idols and influences. He's at ease, gesturing animatedly as he explains the evolution of the band's style, so he's caught off guard when the interviewer brings up that fateful spring of 1986. Eddie freezes, opens his mouth but nothing comes out. The memory of snapping bones, feeling of helplessness...it all comes flooding back.

But where Eddie feels like curling up into a ball and hoping the world will finally leave him alone, Steve is ready and prepared. He grasps Eddie's shoulder - Eddie blurted out a confession in one of his concerts so it's no secret for his fans that they're together, but why tempt fate - and gives the reporter a wide smile, sincere to someone who doesn't know him. He slips into his charming persona and speaks for the first time during the interview. "Thank you for asking this question," he says and the drop of poison easily dissolves in the sweetness of his voice. "I hope my recollection will be enough because I sure don't want to have Eddie go through all that horror again. But I assure you...I was there for nearly all of it. So ask away. I'm glad to finally set the record straight."

And so Steve talks about that March, about how Eddie found Chrissy dead in his trailer, mutilated in such an inhumane way his body took control and got him out, no call to the police, not a single thought. He mentions there was a witness who saw him enter the trailer and immediately stumble out, not enough time to harm anyone (Max has stuck to this story and never changed it, no matter how much anyone pushed). He talks about how he met Eddie later, how shaken he was and how the town started a manhunt for Eddie for no good reason, except that he was different. "He started a club for kids who were outcasts, who just wanted to remain children for a bit longer - and the whole town went to hunt them down. They attacked a thirteen year old girl. They beat up a fifteen year old boy just for belonging to the club."

Now it's Eddie's turn to grasp Steve's shoulder, his arm, worried about his sharp tone, his hardly contained anger. But Steve carries on, staring the reporter down as he stutters that he will have to verify this information. "This is rather different from the official story," he says, his forehead glistening with sweat.

And Steve just flashes the disarming smirk that established him as King Steve once upon a time and tells him to verify it all, please. Because Eddie Munson has nothing to hide and neither does the Corroded Coffin. "It's not different if you paid any attention to the police report," he mentions calmly, leaning back in the chair. "People don't like to speak ill of the dead, but a dead person is exactly who's at fault here. Jason Carver riled up the mob. He bought a revolver after he did that, publicly for self-protection, but..." he shrugs, buries the edge in his voice under his charm yet again. "We have a witness that heard him admit who it was for." Dead men tell no tales, but Nancy Wheeler sure does.

And as the reporter scrambles to put together a coherent thought, Steve lands the finishing blow. "It's a shame you only invited Eddie to discuss this," he says and the sympathy in his voice is almost believable. "After all, his band mates were also targeted and attacked."

The reporter stares at him, speechless.

"Oh, you didn't know?" The disbelief is genuine for once and he leans in, looks the man straight in the eye. "Jason Carver and his friends went to interrogate the band, you know. Only to talk, they said. Except they almost broke Gareth's hand during that talk. Once again...there is a witness. A different one, if you were about to ask. Perhaps you should talk to them too, I can give your their contact details. You know," he adds, smiling at the reporter, "I am incredibly thankful you brought this up. There aren't many who are willing to dig up old wrongs to set things right. I wasn't sure what to expect of this interview, there was always a possibility of someone malicious taking advantage of this traumatizing event, just to get a shocking scoop on a bunch of guys who have worked incredibly hard to get where they are. I was wary because there are always people willing to destroy lives just to get a bit further in theirs. I'm so grateful you aren't one of them. Because I see you as someone who wants to do more than shock their audience...I think you're someone who wants the truth, no matter how ugly it is."

And no matter what the reporter intended before, he is that man now. He nods frantically, assuring Steve that he will bring justice to Eddie and the Corroded Coffin. Steve Harrington has that effect on people - if he believes in someone, that belief is often enough to give that final push. Anything to keep Steve Harrington's faith, not to disappoint that earnest look in his eyes. Eddie almost feels sorry for the reporter - after all, he knows the best what his boyfriend is like when he doesn't hold back. It's a sight to behold.

After a few reassurances from the reporter, the man finally turns to Eddie. "I apologize for bringing up bad memories, Eddie," he says and perhaps this time he means it. Eddie would like to believe that. "Is there...would you like to add anything?"

Eddie thinks screw it and firmly grasps Steve's hand, homophobia be damned. He needs to get through this. "Yes, actually..." he says and his voice is low, almost broken, but at least it's coming out now, carrying the words he's wanted to shout at the world for years now. "That night...was probably the worst night of my life. Worse than when I almost died. Well. When I actually died before someone brought me back," he smiles at Steve, briefly, before turning back to the man scribbling down every word. "It took me a long time to realize I couldn't have done anything to save Chrissy. Hell, some days I still don't believe myself, I'm thinking if I've done something differently, been faster, but...in the end, it didn't matter. Doesn't stop me from feeling like I failed her."

Steve knows these things, of course. That's why he doesn't interrupt, just strokes his thumb over Eddie's whitening knuckles.

"Chrissy Cunningham was a wonderful, bright girl. She was friendly to everyone, even outcasts like me. There is no way in hell I'd ever want to harm someone that...that warm. Kind. The truth of the matter is - for years I didn't defend myself against these accusations that still appear from time to time, no matter what the official investigation said. I didn't sue anyone even though I was advised several times to do so, for the slander, the attempts at my life. Because you...because I felt guilty just for being there. For surviving when she didn't." He looks at the reporter with full force now, straightens his spine. "But I knew Chrissy Cunningham and I know she wouldn't want anyone feeling guilty for something they didn't do. She brought joy to others, not misery. And I want to honor her memory. So once and for all, for the record - I didn't kill Chrissy. I never hurt her, couldn't have. But I still keep her with me as an inspiration, as a soothing voice behind every bitter thought - I don't talk about her, don't use her story for publicity because she didn't, doesn't deserve that. But she's what I think of when I see bright smiles of our fans, when I see young people having fun at our concerts - I wish, more than anything, that she could have been one of them. So I try to bring as much joy into this world as I can to make up for the empty space she left behind, even if that might never be enough. That's all."

The interview spreads like a wildfire. Headlines like "Corroded Coffin's Eddie Munson breaks silence for the first time!" or "CC's frontman reveals details of persecution and mass hysteria in 1986". The news pick up the story, question the people in Hawkins who deflect or begrudgingly admit to their actions, justifying their deeds...but some of them talk. Karen Wheeler becomes the star of the show, recalling in horror the hunt for her daughter and her son's friends. "I vouch for Steve Harrington's recollection," she says firmly, shushing her husband's feeble attempts at deflection. "I'm glad someone finally had the courage to call the spring of 1986 what it really was - a witch hunt."

Eddie finally has the courage to do what he's wanted for years - he names the next album This One's For You, Chrissy. The world knows now, it knows that he mourned for her in his own way and that she meant so much to him, as a first extended hand, as a symbol, as a human being. He donates as many profits as he can to a foundation in Chrissy's name, providing the much needed mental health support to Hawkins children and teenagers. And piece by piece, Eddie Munson heals.

Before the interview becomes the sensation it is, Eddie crushes Steve in a hug and thanks him for everything, for making this burden easier. He's still worried his words will get twisted, that there will be a new wave of hatred, but Steve just chuckles and kisses his head. He reaches into the leather satchel he had at the interview and presents Eddie with a dictaphone - everything they've just talked about recorded. "Please, Eddie," he rolls his eyes in that bitchy way that has Eddie swooning, "I may be pretty, but I'm not stupid or naive."

Apart from the much needed closure and at least partial justice, there is an unusual side effect to this whole ordeal - Steve gets a new nickname in the Corroded Coffin fan base. After the way he handled the interview, after shielding Eddie and his band mates from unwanted attention, he becomes "The Guard Dog Steve", also lovingly referred to as "Golden Retriever Steve". Eddie loves it. Steve finds it ridiculous, but it makes Eddie smile so maybe it's worth it.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie drabble #corroded coffin #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things drabble #protective steve harrington

[lunargrapejuice]

oh, how badly i need you

surprising the boys with kisses <3

diluc ragnvindr, kaeya alberich, kamisato ayato, alhaitham x reader

warnings: no pronouns used, some spicy kisses and making out but nothing explicit, mentions of reader being shorter than character, mentions of reader having pink cheeks in dilucs and alhaithams, previous sexual acitivies mentioned in kaeyas but again nothing explicit, my first time writing for ayato and i totally ran away with it klshsdjhljsv hopefully it is okay

diluc

it wasn’t unusual for his looks to get the better of you, to distract you from even breathing. diluc was a gorgeous man. after all, it wasn’t just his money or family name that had made him the most eligible bachelor in all of mond but you had happily taken away that title and gifted him with others that were much more to his liking; your beloved, your one and only, your husband.

no matter how long you’d been with him you were certain he would always take your breath away, would always have you so needy for him though he didn’t do either on purpose. you craved his touch and more so than just the hand holding you were doing now even though you loved the way his large hand felt in yours, warm and protective as his thumb ran over your knuckles. but you never wanted to make him uncomfortable, knowing that he preferred your affections in the privacy of your own home so you tried to be patient, tried to ignore the way your lips tingle at the memory of his own pressed against yours, slightly chapped and oh so warm as they claimed you, reminding you just how special you were to him.

you couldn’t get the thoughts out of your head nor could you stop looking up at him. you drank in his defined jawline and long lashes. the way the city lights caught in his eyes and made them sparkle like burning rubies. how the fading sun, the sky painted with yellows and oranges, made his hair look like ethereal fire.

how were you to resist?

it all happened so fast- the tug on his arm and the quick footsteps he took to keep up with your own as you darted into the dark alleyway with him tow, the cold brick of the building cooling the fabric of his coat and seeping into his vest, your hands finding purchase on his chest. though there wasn’t much force behind it, at least not enough that could truly hold him down, he didn’t fight it.

“what’s wro-” his words die down and turn into a passionate rumble within his chest as your lips meet his, soft and sweet and only for him. 

he had briefly gotten a glimpse of your expression before his eyes fluttered closed under your affection, a flash of pink cheeks and a determined glint in your eyes. leading up to this, without knowing what was going on, all he could do was survey the area around you, the street still bustling with people, though in the alley their voices are quieter, much easier to forget because the moment your lips met his, his only thoughts were of you.

you lift on your toes to reach him, feeling the hard and skipping beats of his heart under your palm with each kiss you share and to provide you with better support, while also keeping you closely pressed against him, his hands resting on your hips, powerful fingers sinking into your soft skin.

truly insatiable is what you would have called yourself if you could speak as your tongue swiped across his bottom lip, begging for even more of him.

quiet and deep he whispers your name against your lips, the sound of it makes your entire being flush with heat, his grip on your growing more desperate as he keeps you pressed against him so there wasn’t a single inch between you. “not here,” and yet he kisses you again, unable to hold back from tasting you as his tongue slips past your lips. when he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you still, he’s panting, those scarlet eyes dark and full of hunger. “not when i want you this badly.”

kaeya

it was his laugh echoing through the halls of knights of favonius library that broke your resolve to leave him be while he was catching up with the paperwork he had been putting off. you were always so weak for kaeya, he constantly had you as melting putty in his loving and calloused hands, but this morning you found it exceptionally hard to resist him and ever since you parted this morning you had thought of nothing but those star flecked eyes and his beckoning soft lips.

peeking from the bookcases you had been between for the last hour as you attempted, and failed thanks to your run away thoughts of a certain knight, to find the information you were looking for you can easily spot his sapphire hair and cape that flows behind him. you feel your heart begging to race as you hurry to catch up with him, not knowing what your plan really was, only knowing you couldn’t stand to be away from him for a moment longer. 

of course he had heard you coming before you could even call his name, he was always one to be aware of what was going on around him - especially when it came to you, turning to meet you with an adorable smile on his face. archons, you are so in love with him. he doesn’t get a chance to say anything either before he’s being dragged by the grip you have on his hand down an aisle of books, to a place where it was only the two of you. 

it happens quickly, the way you lead him and press him between the bookcase and your smaller body, but kaeya easily keeps up with your pace and movements, like this was a dance you had practiced time and time again even though this was bolder than you normally were with him. 

“why hello there my snowflake,” he coos, teasing and light, gloved hands running up and down your sides. he relishes the way you grab onto him, your hand lost in the fir of his cape, the other pressing into the chest, your warmth seeping into the cotton and onto his skin. “what a su-”

it wouldn’t be the first nor the last time you stopped your beloveds words with a kiss but from the first moment your lips touched his kaeya could feel how these kisses were different from the others, needy and passionate; a kiss like you might never get the chance to do so again, though he would always be sure to shower you with love the moment you both returned home.

you stood on your tiptoes to reach him and when you wanted more of him still your hands found themselves lost in silken strands of blue hair to pull him deeper into your kisses. he hummed in pleasure and amusement at your advances, his skilled hands pressing into your plush skin, strong arms almost lifting you from the little ground you already stood on. easily he held most of your weight while keeping you pressed against his chest.

in sync heart beats permeate through the layers of clothes between you, echoing in the space around you, heaving chests so desperate for breath as you continue to share kiss after kiss, not wanting to pull away. even when you do, both of you fighting to catch your breath, he doesn’t let you pull away from him and his azure eyes sparkle in the light coming through the window above you as he catches butterflies inducing glances of glistening saliva on your lips.

“kaeya..”

fucking archons he loved the way you called his name like this, as if it was the only word you knew, breathless and full of adoration he hardly deserved. though he knows you think otherwise and he is beyond thankful for that.

“needy for me already doll? was last night not enough hm?” he teases, flashes of his chilled fingers running down your bare back last night flooding his mind. his grip on you tightens. “you know-”

using the support he gives you to lift on your toes to kiss him once more but this time light and chaste, sweet and smooth like honey. you drink in the way his messy locks look in the rays of sunlight, the way his dark lashes flutter close and a dark pink dusts his cheeks, the ever suave captain puddy in your loving hands. only you could do this to him. 

“i could never get enough of you kae.”

ayato

ayato was on to your neediness the moment you grabbed his arm for your walk to the tea house to meet ayaka and thoma, your eyes practically full of hearts when you looked up at him and smiled, pressing his arm against your burning chest. and he certainly thought you looked adorable attempting to hold back while you were in public, even though the way your body reacted to him, the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, gave you away. 

of course he’d indulge you a bit, keeping close enough to feel your warmth - and he loved it too. but he also couldn’t help but tease you in the process. his lips ghosting against your ear as he leans in to speak lowly to you on your way to and during tea, the warmth of his breath on your neck. wrapping his arm around you to press you against him as he reaches for the sugar he could have easily asked you for, his pink lips only inches away from your blushing skin. 

he keeps your proximity close even after tea but continues his act of innocence as you continue to walk through the city and seems as though he’s ignorant of the way your eyes continue to find their way to his lips. but every time you’ve looked up at him, every bite of your bottom lip and when you thought he looked partially kissable, every deep breath you took to steady your eager heart and run away thoughts did not go unnoticed by him and patiently he waited to see when you would break.

you had almost asked to skip tea in favor of spending time in his lap with your lips lost within each others but you knew how much it meant to ayato to get to spend time with all of his loved ones within the little free time he already had. so you didn’t ask and attempted to hold in just how desperate you were for more of him. he was of absolutely no help, almost as if he had wanted to see you break and lose yourself to your need for him. he probably did and something about that makes you think that maybe you should give in. what would be the worst thing to happen?

okay maybe thinking like that wasn’t going to give you the courage to do what you wanted. he was the commissioner and had a reputation to uphold and as his beloved you had the duty to also maintain it but surely one kiss wouldn’t be all that bad.. or maybe you could even get away with a few kisses stolen in secret. 

without giving yourself much time to contemplate it, knowing you might talk yourself out of it if you did but also not wanting to wait a moment longer to indulge in him, the moment you spot a quiet place away from pry eyes you let your want for him take over and drive you to be a bit a daring.

almost too easily he follows your split moment choice to tighten your grip on his hand and lead him in between a building and a stack of tall crates. when you see the devilish smile on his lips as he presses you against the crates and towers over you, you knew he had known exactly what you were up to.

“quite eager today aren’t we darling?” he asks, the playful lilt in his tone and the scent of him, like cherry blossoms after the rain filling your nose making your knees feel weak as he cages you between his arms.

your cheeks burst with heat at the truth of his words and the vulnerable position you had found yourself in when you intended to be the one to get the upper hand and kiss him like you so desperately wanted. but when one of his hands finds your skin, a delicate touch under your chin as he lifts your eyes to his, you can’t bring yourself to care that you had been so obvious in your feelings for him the whole night.

you swear you could drown in the sea of violet that swirls with hidden need and you can hardly tear your gaze from his, even though it feels so intimidating at times, when he leans in close. close enough you can feel the radiating warmth of his lips near yours.

“it’s so impossible to resist you,” he whispers, low and husky before closing the little distance between your lips. 

his own desperation shows through his kisses, deep and full of tongue that lingers with the taste of the tea you shared not long ago; devouring and full of pent of love that you couldn’t show each other till now. it shows through the way he cradles your head with his fingers lost in your hair and the way he presses against you, only allowing space between you while you lift to reach him better. 

a whimper of his name escapes your lips when you finally part and he relishes in the way you continue to cling to him, your trembling fingers gripping tightly onto his lapel.

“you’ve been so good, y/n. be a little more patient for me, okay? i promise you can have me all to yourself soon enough.” but for now he’ll indulge you both in a few more kisses and the taste of your sweet lips.

alhaitham 

it wasn’t all that unusual for your paths to cross without you realizing it; you running from place to place in the city and within the akademiya, all the while alhaitham stole admiring glances but you still hadn’t expected to run into him at port ormos while you were there for a commission. he was talking with someone you didn’t know and you didn’t want to disturb him but you still found yourself unable to look away from his handsome features.

your heart beats irregularly when you glance at his lips for far longer than you’d like to admit out loud, pressing your own together to relieve the pressure you are desperate to feel against them but it doesn’t do anything to even kind of replicate the feeling of his lips on yours. maybe you could find a moment to steal his time after he finishes..

before you know it, as your getting lost in your thoughts of how you could pull him from sight and share a kiss, all you can see is his back walking in the direction opposite of you, the stranger he was talking to before nowhere in sight.

even if you wanted to you couldn’t resist wanting to feel him, if only for a moment- for one kiss - and you let your eager feet carry you in his direction. his long legs take him farther and farther from you and as quickly as you can blink suddenly he is gone. a pout forms on your lips and your steps become more tentative as you search for him, not wanting to give up your sudden endeavor to be with him, just to suddenly jump at his voice calling your name from behind you.

your chest blooms with warmth seeing him leaning casually against a stack of crates, arms folded and a small smile on his face.

“following me now, hm?” his voice is as normal as ever but there's a playful teasing light behind the amber of his eyes.

“well, technically yes, but i have my reasons,” you give him an innocent smile as you close the distance between you, finding space between his legs for you to stand comfortably close.

“oh? what reasons would those be?” he asks but he already knows. the pink of your cheeks, the love in your eyes, the way you hold onto him. he knew and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same.

your movements are quick but meaningful, your hands gripping onto his folded arms for added support as you lift on your toes to reach him, pressing a sweet and slow kiss to the edge of his lips. it might have been enough to satiate you but the way the breath left his lungs and spilled past his lips, his arms unfolding to hold you closer to him, added fuel to the flickering flame of your desire for him. 

“just wanted you, ‘haitham,” you whisper against his lips, honest and full of need that brewed within you.

he may have known what you wanted from him even before you started to follow him but he still found himself incredibly weak, his chest full of butterflies flapping their wings against his rib cage, when he heard you speak those words. 

with one hand pressed to the small of your back, the other sprawling across your upper back before flexing and clinging onto your shirt ever so subtly, he held you impossibly close to him and didn’t hesitate to return to your kisses in kind. he was the first to deepen them, letting his tongue swipe against your bottom lip and press against your own tongue when your jaw slackened and allowed him to do as he pleased. 

your hands on his chest feel the rumble of his groan when you bite his bottom lip and pull lightly, teasing and fleeting before you kiss him sweetly once more. your shared kisses grow chaster and gentler with each passing dancing of lips until only loving pecks between heaving breaths remain.

his eyes are soft, lips pink and glossy when you finally pull away, never getting too far with the way he keeps you pressed against him even after your feet find flat around once more. toned muscles of his chest press against you with every breath he takes, his palpitating heartbeat echoing in time with your own.

“with the way you were devouring me with your eyes before, it made it hard not to want you too, love,” he admits far too casually for your liking, the admission of his need for you too and the sweet pet name making you ever weaker, and a bit embarrassed that he caught you staring.

 “you saw that?” 

“heh. yeah, you weren't very subtle sweetheart.”

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #kamisato ayato #ayato kamisato #alhaitham #al haitham #genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato kamisato x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr fluff #kaeya alberich fluff #kamisato ayato fluff #alhaitham fluff #al haitham fluff #genshin impact fluff #diluc #kaeya #ayato #diluc fluff #kaeya fluff #ayato fluff #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #ayato x reader

[astrophileous]

Hey hey, it's me~

If I could, I would like to request a Derek x Reader or Spencer x Reader, how you feel it better. Maybe where the Reader is someone working with kids (in a nursery, childcare center, if possible ? If not, no problem at all). I wonder how they would react with someone like this 😇

Bonus point if the Reader is short 🙈

I'm weak for your fluff stories, and any of you works if I'm being honest so a fluffy one would be nice.

Again, no pressure if you don't feel writing this. Congratulations for your almost 1k, you'll get them I'm sure of it ❤️

Have a wonderful day sweetie 🌸

val, my love, tysm for the request and the kind words 🥺💞 I'm so happy you entrusted me with this request! Idk if this is what you were looking for, but I hope you're happy with it ❤️ (p.s. you can just send more requests if you weren't satisfied with this one lol)

Warning(s): derek morgan x fem!reader, stalker, break-in, typical cm stuff, swearing (?)

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Seeing all the flashing red-and-blue lights outside the building he had grown to know intimately for the past couple of months was perhaps the closest thing to a heart attack Derek Morgan would ever experience in his life.

Derek ignored the shouts of his name from his fellow teammates as he ducked beneath the yellow police tape, along with the curious glances people threw his way as he stalked towards the building with purpose. Once inside, he thoroughly checked every room he passed by, stopping only when he spotted the familiar figure sitting on one of the chairs in the pantry.

"Derek? What are you—"

You didn't get a chance to finish your question before Derek was enveloping you in a bear hug.

A wave of calm instantly flooded over his entire being. Derek buried his face deeper into you, breathing in the smell of your body wash and the addictive tang of your perfume. Your own arms wrapped around his muscular frame once the shock evaporated, letting the warmth of Derek's body seep into you as you listened to the rhytmic beating of his heart.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked once he could finally find his voice again. "Did you get hurt? He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"No, Derek. I'm fine," you convinced him as you pulled away. "I called 911 right away. He broke through the back door but ran as soon as the police arrived."

Derek rubbed his palms up and down your arms, an appeasing gesture for you as well as a reassuring one for him. He needed to make sure that you were fine.

"Good. That's good. You did the right thing, sweetheart."

"All thanks to you, Derek." You smiled. "I wouldn't have known what to do if you didn't warn me beforehand. We're all safe because of you."

Derek's heart sat fifty pounds heavy inside his ribcage. Before he could pull you back towards his chest, an interrupting cough sounded from behind him. Derek turned around to see Rossi standing in the doorway.

"Everything alright in here?" the older agent asked.

"Everything's fine," Derek replied. "Rossi, this is (Y/N). She works here."

Rossi wasn't blind. He knew you meant something more to Derek despite the younger man introducing you as an employee of the daycare center where all of you were standing in. Nonetheless, Rossi made no mention of it as he shook your hand and offered you his name.

"Are you the one who called 911, Miss? Can you tell us anything about the man who did this?"

"Yeah, I did. I've told pretty much everything to the officer over there," you said, pointing to the uniformed policeman standing outside in the hallway. "It was before lunch, so the kids were having outdoor playtime. One of the kids, George, suddenly came crying to me about someone being hurt. His hands were red. It looked like blood at first, but after a closer look, I realized that it was paint. That's when I told everyone to gather inside."

Rossi jotted down everything you said in his little notepad. "And that's when the man barged in?"

"Yeah. He tried to go through the front door at first and became aggressive when he noticed it was locked. I called 911 after that. He just barely managed to break down the back door when the police finally got here."

"And then he fled the scene," Rossi concluded. You nodded your head in confirmation. "Same MO as the school and the orphanage. This is definitely our guy."

"Did you happen to get a look at his face, sweetheart?" Derek asked.

"I, uh, I think so? But everything happened so fast, I don't know if my memory is reliable."

"You should still sit down with our sketch artist, Miss. We'll take any help we can get," Rossi responded.

For the next hour, Derek proceeded to investigate the crime scene with his team while you sat inside with a sketch artist who brought your hazy memory of the perpetrator's face to life. Derek eventually reunited with you again on the front porch of the daycare, approaching just in time to see you bidding a goodbye to one of the kids you were caring for.

"Can I get a one? And a two! A three? How about a four? Now a five! And a high five!" The little girl in front of you laughed wholeheartedly as she gave you a high-five. Derek's chest constricted at the sight. "Good job, Bee! Now, go to your mother. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay!" Bee exclaimed, throwing herself into your arms to give you one last hug. "I love you, Ms. (Y/L/N)."

"I love you, too, honey."

Your eyes never strayed from Bee as the little girl dashed towards her mother. You looked up to see Derek staring at you from across the porch, the tilt of your lips stretching even wider when you caught sight of his face.

"Hey, you."

"Hi, beautiful." Derek smiled before taking your hand in his. "Are you ready to go? C'mon, let's get you home."

"Wait, you're taking me? But you're on the job!"

"The team can survive a couple of hours without me. 'Sides, there's no way I'm letting you take the bus all by yourself after what happened here."

Your insides melted into a goo at Derek's statement. You wanted so desperately to kiss the living daylights out of him at that moment, but knowing that there were so many prying eyes around—including those belonging to his team—you decided to settle for a quick peck on his knuckles instead.

Ten minutes later, you found yourself sitting inside a standard FBI SUV with Derek driving next to you. The two of you arrived at your building in no time, where Derek insisted on walking you all the way up to your front door before offering to stay with you for the rest of the afternoon.

"I'm telling you, Derek, I'm fine! You should get back to your team."

"But, what if—"

"No what ifs, Mister. I'm okay. Besides, if anything happens, I will call you immediately."

"You promise?"

"Promise. You have nothing to worry about," you assured. "Now, go! Before I kick your sexy butt out of here."

Derek's eyes twinkled mischievously. "You think my butt is sexy?"

"Go, Derek!"

"Fine, fine! I'm going!"

You turned towards the apartment door to unlock it, but just as you were about to step inside, the sound of your name stopped you in your tracks.

"Forgot something."

You yelped in surprise when Derek pressed his lips to yours without warning. The kiss was over too soon before you could react, but the ferocity alone was still enough to send you soaring high towards the stratosphere.

"D-Derek?"

The man grinned after seeing your dumbfounded expression. "I'm going, sweetheart. I'll see you soon, 'aight?"

And just like that, Derek Morgan was gone, leaving your entire world whirling over the remaining taste of his lips on yours.

#criminal minds #derek morgan #derek morgan x fem!reader #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan imagine #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #shemar moore #shemar moore x reader #zara's birthday bash and road to 1k

[doromoni]

Initial Start | CL16

Charles Leclerc x PR! reader

warnings: implied intention of cheating

requested : yes/no

masterlist

Summary: the collision and a bracelet that started it all for Charles Leclerc

2019, French GP

~'Y/N"~

The sound of engines roaring was deafening , but it couldn't beat the thumping of my heart as I felt it in my chest. Interning for a world class race team did that to you, nerves bouncing off every circuit turn as I watched our team's drivers speed at an average of 220 mph, the constant droning of instructions from engineers and driver radios filled the room. I could only pray that no accidents were to happen, the team cannot handle another media roar; no, not after last season. I was stationed at the very back of the garage, along with Melanie, Mclaren's PR executive who was violently tapping her foot waiting for both cars to cross the chequered flag. A sigh of relief escaped both our mouths as Carlos zoomed past the line, and then Lando moments after. The team clapped and cheered as both drivers finished, and even managed to earn points.

Melanie gave me a nod and signalled for us to head to the front of the garage and meet and brief both drivers for their media schedule. Seidl, gave us a small smile as we walked past him and the group of engineers who were still doing final checks and ecstatic mechanics who's jobs are made easier as both cars have not faced major damages in this race.

My lips bloomed into a grin as I spotted in the distance, both Mclaren drivers who I've become very fond of, making their way towards the garage. Giddy and distracted with joy, not being able to contain my elation to congratulate both with a hug, I bounced into a jog , not noticing the flash of red moving by my peripherals.

"Ow" I muttered as I rubbed my shoulder, rolling and twisting at the joint to ease the pain. A hand was then at my face, forcing me to look up, then I saw him. The greenest of eyes, yellow circled its center, sparkling in the sun and the deepest sets of dimples I have seen and a set of furrowed eyebrows, as worry spread all over your face. Lips moving but nothing registers in my head, only a name . Charles Leclerc.

Shaking out of my stupor, realizing that he was offering his hand for me to stand, only now comprehending that I was at the floor while he was bent down and was asking if I were okay.

"Hey, I'm so sorry, are you alright? " he muttered , hand still extended. Quickly nodding and accepting his offered hand, I stood up and dusted my pants.

Noticing that people were staring, "Thank you , and I'm so sorry... uh goodbye" I said, red from embarrassment  and offered a quick bow as I proceeded towards the Mclaren drivers – who now sported  the same worried expression as the ferrari driver. Making an im ok face and pulling both drivers away from the scene, making an effort not to look back and search for the most angelic eyes i've ever witnessed up close.

~'Charles"~

"And that is P3, Charles! Congratulations" the radio buzzed as Jock, my engineer cheered. A smile spread through my face as the adrenaline pumped through my veins as I passed through the chequered flag. Another frequency followed  "Let's bring it back safely, well done" , schooling my voice, and clicking the radio button I quickly replied " Copy guys, Thank you everybody! Merci! "

Parking my car in the P3 space, another grin plastered on my face as I witnessed my team jumping and cheering for me behind the barrier. Quickly removing my helmet and balaclava, I sprinted and jumped towards the awaiting arms of the ferrari crew. Several congratulations from all over showered me, some being muffled by the loudness of the cheer from the crowd.

After race interviews are always a blur of congratulations and questions, But nevertheless  part of the contract. I took time to talk to the drivers who were on the podium with me, sharing our congrats and a few laughs. And before I knew it , we were sent to our garage to prepare for the podium ceremony.

A bit drunk from ecstasy and the gradual disappearance of adrenaline, I did not notice the body barreling towards my side with speed, until I felt a slight pain on my arm and heard a small "Oof" below. Only to realise that I had bumped into somebody, feeling immediately sorry,  as the pain is worse for them than me. The person was obviously smaller and weaker than me as they were on the floor whilst I kept standing.

A girl clothed in orange, black and blue, the colors of Mclaren – with a distinct straight dark chestnut brown hair cropped to her chin; hair covering her face as she rubbed and rolled her shoulder muttering a small "Ow" . Feeling even worse, I quickly bent down and offered my hand and apology. At the sight of my hand she finally raised her head and I was stunned at the sight.

Big doe eyes, slightly slanting on both sides, the color of ink at first glance but the hue of the richest caramel and toffee when lit by the sun – now glazed with unshed tears. The most adorable of noses, small as a button tinged red from pain and the sun. Lips slightly parted , a plump pair with the upper lip slightly fuller than the bottom – remnants of gloss leftover and a small puncture wound on the bottom left; I could only assume it is a nervous habit of hers, as she briefly bit her lip before parting. Beautiful...

Shaking my thoughts, I quickly spoke "Hey, I'm so sorry, are you alright? " hand still offered. She nodded and took my hand, soft but a few calluses on areas that littered areas most of my friends have... golf perhaps?. Pulling both of us up , she dusted off her pants. Head shooting up, her widened eyes meeting mine again for a second . She then quickly uttered a soft thanks and apology.

"Thank you , and I'm so sorry... uh goodbye". Her voice was smooth and sweet  with a tinge of rasp, a unique blend of accents that I could not pinpoint. Before I could even reply, she made a short bow and walked towards the two mclaren drivers, I only now noticed. As fast as she appeared , she left, not once looking back . 

Sighing, I proceeded to walk towards Ferrari's garage, but abruptly stopped when I spotted a simple gold bracelet on the floor . Picking it up and giving it a glance – when my name was called from the Ferrari garage, I shouted a quick acknowledgement and jogged towards the open steel door. Looking back at the bracelet, engraved on it are small initials, y/n l/n . Was this bracelet hers? I should probably give this back, it looks sentimental. Another shout told me to move quicker , not wanting to be late for the podium. I pocketed the bracelet and made a mental note to find her in Mclaren and return the bracelet , surely we'll see each other again . I know that I could ask my PR manager to give it back , but I personally wanted to return it and possibly even talk with the captivating stranger.

2022, Bahrain GP

~'Charles'~

"Shit, shit, shit...." I fumbled and flipped my driver room upside down trying to find it. Where the hell did I place it?! Not giving up, I continued to search every corner trying to find my lucky charm. I cannot drive without it on me, "MERDE!" I cannot help but shout as my annoyance started to get the better of me. How could I even misplace something so important? Running my hand through my hair exasperated , a huff of disbelief escaped my mouth.

Spiralling thoughts were cut short as I heard several quick knocks come at my door. Still annoyed , A gruff and agitated "what" broke my silence. The door opened revealing my now teammate, the Spanish native driver, Carlos Sainz .

"Are you ok? You sounded angry"  He muttered , his eyes widening as he took in the state of my room. A tense sigh was all I could muster. "Clearly not .... " he trailed quietly as he stepped into the room and quietly closed the door making sure no camera was near.

"What happened ... was it, you know? " He said softly, he did not ask because he already knew my answer. I nodded, my long term relationship with my girlfriend is falling into ruins and it is tearing me to shreds, not many know this,  only my closest friends and family are aware, and I intend to keep it that way.

"No, there is more, " The Spaniard  pressed. A smile passed my lips as it amazes me how our bond has grown in the span of a year alone in Ferrari, he already knew my telltale signs .

"I cannot find the lucky bracelet , it's not in my pocket" I said defeated as I sat at the chair near me. This will be the very first race that I will not have near me, the bracelet that reminded me of the year that I got my first podium under Ferrari, the only reminder that the girl with Toffee eyes and chestnut short hair was not a part of my imagination, but reality.

It was after the podium celebration of the 2019 French GP , that I was able to find myself walking towards the Mclaren motorhome to return the bracelet that sat securely in my pocket. Only to find the majority of the motorhome empty, spare few who are still at the front desk. I was informed that an emergency meeting was called upon the Mclaren headquarters and most have already left the circuit. Saying my thanks, leaving the building with a reminder to go back to the next race . Time was fast and it was already the Austrian GP, having the bracelet again in my pocket,  yet she was not there . Not a hair of chestnut could be seen, not in the next race , or the next , or the next, till it had been a year and a sight of her was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless , the bracelet had been a permanent resident in my pocket , as I had hoped to return it one day. Then another year passed, still no luck , and at this point the gold bracelet with the initials y/n l/n had become my lucky charm that accompanied me in every race, stored safely in my right pocket.

"You mean the bracelet that you thought that you had lost during Monaco last year?" Carlos replied confused. Again, I only nodded, in fact it was not lost then I just placed it in the wrong pocket , and when I reached for it in its usual spot, finding it not there made me panic and lose control. Letting out yet another heavy sigh and running a hand on my face, looking up at Carlos – who was giving me the weirdest look.

"What's that look for?" I asked tiredly. A few seconds after, confusion was replaced with a smirk .

"The bracelet that you insisted be found at all costs and asked to be made into a necklace, because you didn't want to lose it again? " Realisation dawned on me like a  bucket of cold water . Quickly reaching for my neck a wave of relief washed over me as I felt the cold burn of the metal on my fingertips as I fiddled on it , making sure that it was real. A quiet curse left my lips as the Spaniard only laughed at me. Giving a playful glare at my teammate as I hid the bracelet – now necklace, back into my fireproof shirt.

Shaking my head after the initial scare, I remembered that Carlos was shouting something at the door before he entered. "So , what do I owe you the pleasure of you knockin on my door" I asked as I started to fix the damage i had done to the room

"I said that I need you to come out and meet somebody" He says as he leaned on the closed door. "Now? Who? You do realise that we are expected to be in our cars in like 20 minutes" I said looking at the clock on the wall. He rolled his eyes and nodded yes.

"Yes, right now! We found a PR executive to replace Felicity ... well for the mean time" I gave him a "really" look, couldn't we meet after the race?  Sensing my thoughts, He answered "Yes you could meet later, but No. Look, this person is actually really important to me so please meet her now, she's already outside talking to the engineers"  Seeing the sincerity of the Spaniard, I gave up and nodded my head. A huge smile spread on his face, as he pulled me by the arm towards the female whose back was towards us talking with one of Carlos' engineers.

"Y/N!" Carlos suddenly shouted, making the woman turn towards the voice that called her name, a smile plastered on her face.

Stopping in my tracks , as shock and disbelief covered my face. It's her ... 

The glowing smile only grew on her face as the Spanish driver pulled me further towards her.

She looked the same, yet different , more mature,  an air of elegance radiating off her — hair is still short, but now styled perfectly as one side fell longer on her face. But her eyes ... still the same, big and doe. The hue of caramel and toffee, disguised as ink by the absence of light. The color that I searched for years.

The cold metal hanging on my neck now feels heavier and even burning further, the initials branding my skin.

"Charles, meet Y/N L/N, our new PR executive"

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #ferrari #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #cl16 imagine #cl16 x y/n #cl16 #cl16 x you #cl16 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fic

[paradoxgavel]

Pit Stop - Sun/Reader

Oh hey I wrote a thing! Just some stress-related fluff.

You are currently running around the Pizzaplex with all the fervor and grace of an over-caffeinated emu.

The Pizzaplex has been understandably busy lately - it's Summer and all the kids are out of school and piling into the Plex instead. It's something you foresaw, but not necessarily something you were prepared for. Because more patrons means more messes to clean, more damages to repair, more potential animatronic-related accidents to prevent. (People REALLY don't like being told not to use flash photography on the animatronics.) And so, for the past few... weeks? Has it been weeks now? The days are blurring together. For the last few fuckin' whatevers, it's just been go go go go from the second you clock in to the second you clock out.

It's... not gone unnoticed. Freddy's been awful worried for you lately, always checking in with you whenever he and you get a free moment together - an increasing rarity. But he's always got a big ol' bear hug waiting for you when you need it.

Chica's always sneaking snacks into your supplies. One time you found a little pack of cookies she'd somehow managed to sleight-of-hand into hiding in your uniform's hood in passing.

Roxy's invited you to come hang out in her room with her for a bit. She says she needs someone to listen to some new keytar riffs she's been working on and "you'll have to do", but... you can tell she really just wants to hang with you for a bit.

Even Monty's eased off picking on you lately. He tried busting your chops one day recently, and you're pretty sure you gave him a cold death glare that could turn even an animatronic to stone. He's been giving you an easier time since then. Even offered to take you golfing with him in case you needed to get some of that stress out.

And when your job brings you to the arcade after hours, you can't help but notice a certain giant DJ playing some nice lo-fi beats for you while you work. You'd be lying if you said it didn't help chill you out after a day of unrelenting frazzlement. If that's even a word.

And then... there's Sun and Moon. Your best friends in the Plex. When it comes to Moon, he's noticed how bone-tired you are at the end of each day, because he's quite literally hard-wired to notice such things. And so, if you want to have any hope of getting any work done during the night, you have to keep an eye out for a certain mechanical jester who wants to scoop you up, have you stop what you're doing, and tuck you in - pillow, blanket, plushies, good night head pats... the works. He's managed it a few times now. The fiend. The blackheart. The dastard. (Buuut... you do always wind up waking up feeling a lot better. And your work always seems to be finished up where you left off - shout out to the STAFF bots, heh...)

And Sun. Sun, who is currently watching you hustle and bustle around like that aforementioned caffeinated emu through the transparent panes around the daycare. You've got a million things you need to do today - so many messes to clean and repairs to do and customers to deal with and bots to supervise and--

"Hoooold it!!"

A familiar yellow mechanical arm lowering down into your path through the open daycare doors as you begin to hurry past them interrupts your frenzied train of thought and blocks your path - like a barrier gate in front of a toll booth. One with jingling bells attached.

You stop in your tracks in front of the arm, glancing up at its owner - your solar-themed robotic jester buddy, grinning down at you, bouncing a bit in place. "Attention, citizen! I'm afraid your weary travels have led you to the Superstar Turnpike! You've gotta stop and pay the toll if you wanna keep going!" He says with a chuckle.

You blink, processing this for a moment, before your tensed up body relaxes just a smidgen, putting your rush on hold for a moment, though you can still feel it buzzing in your chest - like a big electric ball of anxiety forcing you to stay on high alert. You give Sun a small, weary smile, and one of your eyebrows raises as you play along with him. "Oh, yeah? And what's the toll, then?"

Sun giggles at that, pleased as punch by you giving his antics a moment. He holds a finger up in the air like he's making a grand declaration. "The toll is, of course, one great big snuggly hug with yours truly!" He answers proudly... before more meekly tagging on, "I-If you'd like one. No worries if not."

You look him over for a moment, then sigh, a fond, grateful smile coming to your lips. Your arms raise outward in invitation. "... Bring it in, big guy." A quiet chuckle leaves you, soft and warm even in the weary sound of it.

Sun's rays spin around a quick moment, his hands taking a second to flap, getting the excitement out, before you're scooped up off the ground effortlessly. You're pulled in to be gently tucked against his mechanical shoulder, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you securely aloft, holding you safe and steady and warm. One hand smooths up and down your back, in a slow, comforting rhythm, as your head rests against his neck ruffle. "Theeere we go, friend." Sun hums, his voice quieter, gentler than usual - toned down for your sake. "Is that good? Are we comfy?"

You nod, giving a little hum in the affirmative - that buzzing in your chest a little quieter, and that racing train of thought in your head slowing down for a pit stop. "Mhm..."

Sun's chin rests itself on your head, nuzzling against you just a smidge as he rocks side-to-side, slow and easy. "Glad to hear it! Now... I need you to take a biiig, deep breath for me. Okay? Can we do that?"

You nod once more, then draw a deep, slow breath in through your nose, feeling the air fill your chest up... And then you let it out just as slowly, feeling the air leave you, like it's carrying your tension, your rush, your anxiety with it. When you've finished that breath out, your shoulders slump, calm and at ease. Maybe not entirely relaxed, but... certainly much more than you were just a minute ago. You're okay. Everything's okay. Everything's still going to be there waiting for you when you're done taking a breather. And it's going to be easier to handle after you've given yourself a moment of rest.

You close your eyes and snuggle into the hug a bit more, focussing on your breathing.

After a few moments of that, Sun holding you and rocking you back and forth, quiet for a moment while he lets you sort things out in your head, you pull back a bit. And he pulls back as well, holding you in front of him so that his bright, grinning face can look you over.

"Well, gosh, buddy, you're looking better already!" The hand that was petting your back comes up to lightly brush some hair out of your face. "Now let's see here... Hug, check. Deep breaths, check. Oh, something's missing here, I just can't think of what!"

He makes a big show tapping his chin in thought, his rays retracting and extending again around his head in a wave, making him look like some kind of loading screen symbol. That earns a little giggle from you at his goofiness, which, in turn, immediately makes him brighten up.

"Oh, oh, oh! That's it, friend! There's that wonderful little smile of yours! And my favorite laugh in the whole wide world! Of course that's what was missing, silly me!" He laughs, turning around on his heels with you in his arms to give you a gentle spin, earning another laugh from you, before he sets you down on your own two feet, a little boop on your nose for good measure. "Sooo. What's the verdict, friend? Are we ready to get back out there?"

You nod, still with a little trace of your giggle fit not having quite left you.

"Are we absolutely, positively certain, friend?" He rocks back and forth on his heels a bit, letting his arms swing back at fourth at his sides in a steady, bouncy rhythm.

"Sunny," You put your hand on your hips playfully. "We are absolutely, positively, one million percent certain. I... I got this now." You say, and... you do really mean it now. Everything feels a bit more manageable. You can make it through today at least. Just... one day at a time, one thing at a time. You can handle that, you think. You'll try, at least. And, well... you know you don't have to go it alone. Yeah. You've got this.

Sun gasps dramatically. "One million percent?! Well, goodness gracious, friend, you really mean business! All your tasks oughta be shaking in their boots!" He gives you a big, goofy salute. "Go give the rest of this day what for, then! Godspeed!"

With that, he gives you that salute and closes the door with a grand flourish.

... Only for it to open back up a few seconds later.

"... also hi do you think we can hang out later? I really wanna hang out." He pokes his head back out, fingers tapping together bashfully.

You can't help but chuckle again at that, nor can you help the warm, genuine smile that spreads across your face. "Yeah. I'd like that, Sunny." He gives a giggle of excitement, his rays twirling. "Now... you and I both have jobs to get back to, yeah? Let's get it done, big guy. And I'll see you again when we're done." You give him a nod, picking your forgotten supplies up once more. "... Love ya, Sun Bun. And thanks. For being here for me."

"Aww, love you too, bestest buddy. I'll always be here for you. Always and always! Now... I'll see you tonight!" And with a big, excited wave, the door closes once more, for real this time, your friend skipping away to get back to work.

You watch him go with a smile. Then you look back down at the supplies in your arms.

One more deep breath. In... and out.

Okay.

Let's do this.

#sun x reader #sundrop x reader #paradoxdrabble #fnaf daycare attendant

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Hi! As the Tumblr expert of the Flashfam, would you say that they're capable of solo-ing other members of the Justice League if they wanted to? I mean, from reading the Flash War, Superman couldn't even keep up with the Flashes because they're too fast. Doesn't that mean they could beat Superman and other heroes easily?

Hey! Thanks for the question!

To start this off I first want to say that there is a meta answer to this and a in-universe answer to this.

The meta answer is: it depends on the series. For example, it is extremely unlikely that a series dedicated to a specific hero or team would have said team losing to a speedster, solely because heroes are supposed to win. It doesn't make sense for, let's say Superman, to lose a fight against Eobard Thawne in a Superman book. Even though Eobard would be capable of taking Superman out, it's Superman's story, and the hero always wins. But if it's a Flash story? Hell yeah, definitely. Also in crises/crossover series you can generally see speedsters being used to their full potential. (For example, Eobard demolishing Batman)

But that's no fun so let's look at the odds in-universe.

Because there are so many different Leaguers I'm going to separate them into categories to make it easier:

The Non-Powered Heroes:

The Non-Powered Hero is always a fan favorite. In a world full of gods it is fun to see the average human being the smartest and most capable person in the room. People like to root for the underdog. Unfortunately for them, they are extremely unlikely to win against a speedster in a fight. They would need Dues Ex Machina levels of gadgets specifically tailored to speedsters to even have a shot. Like I said before, Batman went toe-to-toe with Eobard in the batcave (where all of his gadgets are) and the man was decimated. Being smart and having gear and skills doesn't do much when you look like a frozen statue to the person you are fighting.

The 'I Got One Thing' Heroes:

These heroes are really interesting and cool. Their ranks are filled out by heroes like Black Canary, Black Lightning, Beast Boy, Signal, ect. However, even if their powers would hinder a speedster they are A) extremely unlikely to use their powers fast enough and B) extremely unlikely to actually hit a speedster. Speedsters also have a lot of experience fighting people with just one really strong power and they typically fight 6-20 of those guys at the same time and win. Even super strong heroes like Black Lightning are out of luck because speedsters feed on electricity.

The Strong and Invulnerable Heroes:

Honestly? If I am being completely real here? The Strong and Invulnerable Heroes don't have a chance in hell. I'm sorry but heroes like Wonder Woman and Superman are built to be tanks. They excel at fighting physical threats. They can't do anything against reality bending. That is even how speedsters have historically dealt with Kryptonians in the past. They teleport them into another dimension with no yellow sun and just leave them there. A skilled speedster would have them in a pocket dimension or 20 thousand years in the past before Supes could even blink.

The Lanterns:

Speedster and Lantern relations demand that Lanterns get their own category. First of all, the location of the fight would matter. Speedsters would have an extremely hard time winning against a Lantern in their natural element of space. The Lanterns, however, would have an extremely hard time winning against a Speedster on a planet. Speedsters can phase through and break constructs so there isn't a lot that can be done. So it's entirely dependent on location in my opinion.

Additionally, the Lanterns and Speedsters know A LOT of shit about each other so this would be an interesting fight. The Speedsters know the Lantern's color weaknesses and they know about the battery life of their rings (which they might be able to drain tbh, Barry's worked with the energy in Hal's ring multiple times before and has manipulated it). But, conversely, the Lanterns know that Speedsters don't do well in the cold and that the more energy they expend the more unstable they get. So, it would be a wild fight, especially because the Lanterns can fly so there's a possibility that a Speedster couldn't reach them to take them out immediately.

Psychics:

Speedsters do have a little bit of an advantage against Psychics. In the past Speedsters have sped up their minds so fast that their speeding thoughts actually injured people in their minds. But to be frank they have no skill or expertise in this area and, historically, strong and skilled Psychics can easily grab control of Speedsters. For example, Gorilla Grodd. When fighting Gorilla Grodd the main tactic of the Speedsters is to take him out before he has time to think, ie moving faster than the speed of thought. That doesn't always succeed. So a very strong Psychic would have a pretty good shot against a Speedster.

Magic Users:

It REALLY depends on how strong the Magic User is. Raven, Zatanna and Dr. Fate would all have a 50/50 shot against a Speedster in my opinion. Any magic user that can bend reality and do super strong spells would have a really good fighting chance because they are the exact same brand of fucked up as the Speedsters. Also Speedsters don't really have a counter against curses or spells. They have zero magical expertise. So it's really just a matter of if the Speedster can knock them out (or gag them in Zatanna's case) before they can get a spell out.

So when it comes down to it Speedsters are the experts of fighting large groups of people at the same time. They know how to prioritize and they are fast enough to take out the heavy hitters before they can even react. I think it would largely depend on the Justice League roster at the time (for example, the JL cartoon roster of Bats, Supes, WW, Hawkgirl, GL and MMH wouldn't stand a chance as only MMH would be a threat but a team consisting of MMH, Miss M, Zatanna, Dr. Fate, Raven and Deadman would probably take a Speedster out fairly quickly.)

Their main weaknesses are extreme cold, magic and mental attacks, so a team entirely filled with heavy hitting Magic Users and Psychics would excel at fighting a Speedster. So to answer your question, yes a Flash could probably take out a typical Justice League roster solo (unless the roster was tailor made to exploit their weaknesses).

#dc #dc comics #the flash #kid flash #impulse #flash fam #flash family #speedsters #i debated putting Billy in because he IS magic #but the kid doesn't really do offensive spellcasting besides his lightning #and.... speedsters absorb lightning for energy... so he would just make them more powerful....