#i was kind of getting into horror movies more lately

[morallyinept]

Shoot: So It Goes Magazine, published online 28th September 2016

Photographer: Victoria Stevens

Interviewer: David Benioff

Grooming: KC Fee

Full interview, behind the scenes, outtakes & shoot photographs below. 👇🏻

Jett's Pedro Shoots Masterlist

• Shoot photographs & outtakes

• BTS video clips via stylist Ashley Pruitt

• Full Interview

We jumped at the chance to listen in as Game of Thrones co-creator David Benioff got the low-down from actor Pedro Pascal ahead of the launch of Season 2 of Narcos on Netflix.

The pair let us in on how Pascal ended up on Game of Thrones, walking the line between reality and fiction in Narcos and working on upcoming Chinese epic The Great Wall.

DAVID: Hi Pedro. So what’s the best way for us to destroy your career once and for all?

PEDRO: I figured you would know, that’s why I asked you to do this interview.

DAVID: I feel like some good anti-semitic commentary could do it.

PEDRO: I’ll leave that to you.

DAVID: I can’t do it, I’m Jewish! Shall we begin at the beginning, Pedro? Tell me - how did you escape from Orange County?

PEDRO: Well we moved there in ’86 or’ 87, I was turning 12 and I had to attend Corona del Mar High School from 7th to 12th grade. I don’t know how else to tell it other than the 7th and 8th grade being truly dark years in sunny Orange County - which inspired a blossoming drama nerd. After the 8th grade, I just didn’t fit in. My sister did though.

DAVID: I know your sister, she’s really fun and cool.

PEDRO: I wasn’t fun and cool. Or I just didn’t know how to fake it yet.

DAVID: I’m picturing one of those California schools where everyone’s beautiful, and everyone’s tanned and you - were you a punk rocker back then?

PEDRO: No, I was just the kid crying because, like, Empire of The Sun didn’t get nominated for Best Picture… everyone was like, ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

DAVID: Which is a crime, by the way, it’s one of Spielberg’s best movies.

PEDRO: I was the one buying the soundtrack, and people would catch me on my walkman listening to that weird Danish song from Empire of The Sun. So my mom found out about a performing arts programme - Orange County School of the Arts - that you had to audition to get in. I ended up going to high school in Long Beach and commuting like 40 minutes every day and essentially spending four years outside of Newport Beach in a more middle-class kind of environment. I got into NYU - I begged my parents to let me go, and I won that fight so I ended up in New York in ’93 and sort of got stuck here.

DAVID: So what happened in ’93? You started getting jobs, did you get an agent quickly? What was the path?

PEDRO: I started auditioning right away and I signed with some representation while I was in school. I graduated and I didn’t get hired for anything at all – I was a waiter, I was getting fired left and right. Despite not fitting in in Orange County, it had definitely made me quite sheltered. Seriously, I got fired from maybe 17 places in about a year and a half.

DAVID: All restaurants?

PEDRO: Restaurants, cafés, coffee shops…

DAVID: Was it incompetence, or being rude to management, or showing up late? What got you canned?

PEDRO: All of the above. Incompetence mostly.

DAVID: And was it around this time that you met Sarah Paulson [American Horror Story]?

PEDRO: Yeah, she was one of my first friends in New York. That’s where I was really lucky, in New York I made a sort of family of friends right away. It definitely built a great foundation in New York City and they’re still my friends to this day.

DAVID: So, aside from Christian Bale in Empire, who were the people you were watching and thinking, ‘Fuck, I wanna be like that guy?’

PEDRO: I was watching everything. I started to consume voraciously very early as a viewer and a reader. It’s funny, as an actor, once you get some exposure people ask you what are your interests? What do you do? And you feel like such a loser, because you’re like I don’t do anything! I’m not athletic, I haven’t developed any intense interest in, like, scuba diving, or spelunking - I still just watch TV and read books and that’s how I was as a kid. When I couldn’t make friends in Orange County, I started reading and renting videos voraciously. And I got into the classics, I had an early obsession with Marlon Brando, James Dean, and reading American and English playwrights, like Pinter. Which, come on, I didn’t understand at all. But it was still very entertaining to imagine myself as one of the characters on the stage. So Empire of the Sun was only one of a basket of Spielberg movies that totally shaped my imagination.

DAVID: Are you campaigning for a job with Stephen Spielberg right now, or…?

PEDRO: (laughs) Definitely

DAVID: Nah, after he hears the anti-Jewish stuff, it’s over. Not gonna happen dude.

PEDRO: Just keep trying to force anti-semitism on me.

DAVID: So now, you’re in New York, getting fired from 17 different restaurants. What was your first big acting break?

PEDRO: That’s what’s funny, I never got a big acting break I guess, in the way that that seems to be understood by the general public. I stuck it out in the theatre and wanted to follow in the footsteps of the people I was inspired by. I was attached to the idea of someone who came from New York theatre - Al Pacino, Meryl Streep, Robert DeNiro, that whole crew. Unfortunately that romanticism kept me in New York, killing myself trying to pay rent. Finally I got an off Broadway play at Theatre Club - where your wife, Amanda Peet, had her play introduced. I’d say that I stopped waiting tables by the time I was 30? Kept things going, did all the Law & Orders, all the cop shows, The Good Wife, and managed with cheap rent to keep the theatre thing going.

Listen, David, I become very inarticulate talking to you because I know you’re smarter than me. It was a big mistake to have this interview. In fact I’d like to cancel it right now and get someone else. Can we get Dan [Weiss, Game of Thrones]? Wait no, get me one of the kids. (laughs)

DAVID: Anyway, as this is happening… do you have some friends who are starting to succeed or fall by the wayside?

PEDRO: Well, Sarah [Paulson] was one. She got her first job and she never really stopped. She got a guest spot on Law & Order which amazed all of us - we couldn’t believe it. To me that was a very early success that I envied and that inspired me, but I bet if you talked to her she’d say things are finally coming together this year. Which is insane, but I bet that’s how it feels. My first off Broadway play in New York was with Oscar Isaac, freshly out of Juilliard. He seemed like a comet to me, totally leaving me behind. Shooting with Leo DiCaprio, Ridley Scott, then you talk to him now as well and he’s like, ‘Yeah, this year things are coming together.’ This is going to sound so corny but it’s extremely comforting when people you care about are successful. Whether it’s happening to you or not, it feels good when it’s happening for someone you love and respect.

DAVID: Gore Vidal said, ‘A little part of me dies every time a friend succeeds.’

PEDRO: Yeah, but not the two friends I mentioned. (laughs)

DAVID: Did you ever have doubts? Did you think about going and doing something else?

PEDRO: I think it came down to a very simple thing - realising that I’d stuck at something for so long, I’d made the grind and the uncertainty into a familiar thing and it wasn’t too scary any more. The desire to do it started to shape my identity at such an early age, starting with that childhood fantasy of wanting to be in a Spielberg movie - literally lying and telling people that I was the silhouette of Christian Bale in the Empire of the Sun poster. Which is part of why I didn’t make friends.

I started to realise that I didn’t know how to do anything else… That I was fated to be that 73-year-old in the Law & Order casting room furiously trying to remember the words for a 4-line role. That still very well could be me.

DAVID: How did this Game of Thrones thing come about? The people want to know. It’s an interesting story.

PEDRO: I was helping this kid that I was mentoring, and he put himself on tape for this amazing part on your show, which I was already watching. I was initially curious because the script contained one of the most important spoilers for most of us. Some of us kept punishing ourselves by watching your show to see if something terrible would happen to Joffrey. But I had that satisfaction ripped away from me when I was helping this kid tape and reading for Oberyn. As I kept reading, it’s embarrassing to admit, but I connected to it so completely that it lit this crazy fire in me. I felt instantly attached to the character so I was totally focussed on my representatives getting me the material and taping an audition. I was pretty convinced that because I wasn’t known and didn’t have a European passport, that there was no chance. So I called the first friend I made when I moved to New York and was 18-years-old, Sarah Paulson, one of my closest friends, who is best friends with your wife Amanda. I called her and told her that I’d just put myself on tape for this part that no one’s gonna see. She didn’t even let me finish asking - she insisted that I send her the audition and she and Amanda showed it to you that night.

DAVID: Even after we hired you, you didn’t believe you had the part? I kept hearing back from Sarah [Paulson] - ‘He doesn’t think he has the part.’ We were flying you to Belfast for a costume fitting and you still didn’t believe it.

PEDRO: This is great because it backs up my story… no one had told me! Maybe my agents were nervous, I obviously was nervous and I found it a little hard to believe. Having been in the game as long as I have, there have been a lot of close calls and I could tell the good ones from the bad. And the kind of parts that could change things. It obviously had so much to do with how popular the show is, but it was such a good part – thrilling and terrifying at the same time to be able to get a part that good. They don’t come around very often.

DAVID: There’s no one like Oberyn on the show and he does his own thing. That was something you brought beautifully to it. When you came to that first meeting, you still didn’t think you had the part and I guess we hadn’t signed the deal yet but you would’ve had to get up, pull your pants down, and shit on the desk not to get that part because the audition was so strong. I was still hearing through Sarah that you didn’t think you had it…

PEDRO: Come to think of it, I did pull down my pants and shit on the desk.

DAVID: We weren’t going to tell that story though…

PEDRO: When you sent me to London and were pouring goop on my head and making a cast of my shoulders, head, face, I still didn’t believe 100% that I had gotten the part.

DAVID: You did get the part. What was your first scene?

PEDRO: My first scene was with Peter [Dinklage]…

DAVID: I remember we were shooting abroad and I was watching the dailies so I emailed you and you were like, ‘Thank god, I thought I totally blew it.’ Maybe that’s your secret - if you ever realise how good you are, it’ll ruin you.

PEDRO: I still don’t believe you and it’s an illness - a psychological illness. I remember panicking a bit on my first day because there wasn’t any way I could fulfill the potential of that scene having come to it so early and then you emailed me. You didn’t say ‘great job’ but I’d say you’re a pretty busy man with a pretty large cast and complicated locations and you took the time to write me a very generous note that settled me into the whole experience. I’m very grateful.

DAVID: Well I know it can be intimidating working with Peter. People don’t know about his violent side…

PEDRO: It’s tough when he throws benches at you and stuff like that.

DAVID: So moving on into the real life drama of Narcos. How did that come about? Did Eric Newman just see Game of Thrones and think, ‘Shit, I need that guy,’ or did you audition?

PEDRO: I think someone at Netflix saw the scene that we just talked about. Eric, our executive producer on Narcos, was initially extremely disappointed that I was available. He, anticipating the big fight with the Mountain while trying to cast his show, was extremely upset that I was available to play Javier Peña. A bit of a spoiler. It came at me very fast and it was the first time I’d been offered something without having to audition for it. There was only about 12 hours to decide whether to do it.

DAVID: How closely does your character adhere to the real life person [DEA Agent, Javier] Peña?

PEDRO: I think he actively keeps his real experience there secret - whether that’s because he did more than what we’re telling? Or less? I want to be able to interpret a character that was actually there on my own terms as much as possible. The things that are the most interesting to me, and the audience, are ways to move through [the story] with more ambiguity; without seeing things in black and white. More than good guys fighting bad buys. With the show, they’re making a very authentic visual experience. In the playing of it, you’re very much a piece in this visual landscape and I think you would stand out if you tried to control it.

DAVID: Have you ever gotten feedback from him and he’s like, ‘Oh, I’d never smoke with my left hand,’ or something like that? Or is he hands-off?

PEDRO: He’s totally hands-off. We call each other and he’ll be like, ‘This cute girl at the Mac store asked me if I could give you her number when she found out you were playing me in Narcos‘, ‘This cute girl at Starbucks asked…’

DAVID: He’s just telling all the girls that he’s been immortalised on Netflix.

PEDRO: He’s been very supportive and available at any given moment to talk about it - he’s so chilled. I think we could take it in any direction with the character - put him in a wheelchair, make him a serial killer, and he’d be like, ‘Yo man, it’s just TV.’ Cause he knows no one really knows what happened.

DAVID: So now bring us to China and another director you were very excited about working with. Tell us the story of The Great Wall.

PEDRO: So, as we’ve covered so extensively in my movie nerd-dom, I was introduced to Zhang Yimou pretty young. I saw Raise The Red Lantern and The Story of Qui Ju and Shanghai Triad in the movie theatre. So I didn’t take my agents very seriously when they brought up the project that was me, starring alongside Matt Damon in this huge Hollywood and Chinese cinema collaboration. I was wrong - it turned out to be true and they offered me the part. I went to China for nearly five months and shot the movie with Zhang Yimou, Matt Damon, Willem Dafoe, and Andy Lau.

DAVID: Was that terrifying? To be directed by one of your idols?

PEDRO: I was really nervous at first but I wrote him an email. I felt like I had to confess - it felt stupid to play down that I’d never imagined I could work with someone I admired to that degree. I think I saw Shanghai Triad like, four times in the movie theatre - I took my mom, I took my friends. He was a filmmaker that I really studied and prided myself on knowing. It was the 90s and he was making some of the best independent films that are out there. Then suddenly everyone was like, ‘Have you seen Hero?’ and I was like ‘DUDE, I’ve seen SEVEN movies before Hero!’, you know? So I wrote to him and told him, and when I got to China, one of the producers gave me an envelope - this beautiful envelope and I pull out a response from Zhang Yimou that he had hand written in Chinese characters on this elegant paper. It was like a piece of art. I have it framed, actually. It was him thanking me for my note and for being involved in the movie. The guy’s a class act. He’s as kind as he is talented. So he beat you and your email…

DAVID: I was going to send it to you in Chinese characters but then I realised I didn’t know Chinese and it would have just been gibberish.

PEDRO: The only way you could’ve won is by sending a singing telegram.

DAVID: So five months in China sounds almost as good as three months in Belfast. Not quite, but any adventures there you can tell us about?

PEDRO: I travelled around like a tourist whenever I got the opportunity. We spent so much time shooting and I got to pal around with Matt Damon because as everyone knows, he’s a real jerk (laughs).

DAVID: Yeah, famously terrible.

PEDRO: A notorious bad guy in the industry. He and his wife adopted me into their family and took me through the experience and I had the time of my life. We were tourists together whenever we got the chance - we went to Hong Kong and I went to see some friends in Bangkok. I can’t tell you about that weekend.

DAVID: When you’re talking to Matt Damon, are you ever not thinking, ‘Here I am, having a conversation with Matt Damon.’

PEDRO: It took a while. Initially, in getting to know him, the jet lag helped - I was so out of it. Matt came to say hi, and we were doing all these scenes together so he just said, ‘Hey man, let’s be friends,’ and I was just like… Okay sure! Whatever you say!

DAVID: Is it fair to say you’ve supplanted Ben Affleck as Matt Damon’s best friend?

PEDRO: Yeah. I’ll make room for Ben, I guess.

DAVID: You and Matt need to write an Oscar winning script to really make Ben jealous.

PEDRO: That would be the next thing… To end my career instead of anti-semitism.

DAVID: So when is The Great Wall out?

PEDRO: February!

DAVID: Originally when you were cast as Oberyn, there was controversy that you weren’t Latino enough. What do you make of the controversy around Matt Damon in this film? Is it about him being a white guy?

PEDRO: Yeah, him being a white guy is very…

DAVID: Incontrovertible? No one can deny that Matt Damon is a white guy.

PEDRO: No one can deny that. It’s not an issue of him not being Latino enough, that’s for sure. But his being white has very specific context in terms of the plot. I think that the arguments should be made after the movie comes out, instead of a one minute and 20 second trailer. I’m sure very good arguments can still be made from both sides in terms of ethnic representation but this is a Hollywood creature feature combined with epic Chinese cinema and it’s ultimately helmed by this visionary director who is Chinese.

DAVID: One of the greatest living directors.

PEDRO: Shall we say, the Spielberg of China?

DAVID: And if he wants to work with the whitest guy in Hollywood, who’s to say no?

PEDRO: Exactly! (laughs) This is a Chinese crew, and there are big Chinese stars and newcomers playing heroic roles in this movie. What people are given is just a film that’s called The Great Wall with Matt Damon, and basing the argument on that. But the movie needs to be seen.

DAVID: Yes, that sounds like good reasoning to me. I do think it’s hard to deny that you’re not Latino enough though. So you’re born in Chile and your parents had to flee after the CIA-sponsored coup - if the coup hadn’t happened, you would just be Chilean. It’s almost like the CIA fucked everything up. What do you think about that?

PEDRO: Are we actually giving credit to the CIA?

DAVID: Maybe you would’ve never become an actor and all the things that led to Game of Thrones may never have happened.

PEDRO: I would have made it happen. I would have crawled from Santiago, Chile all the way to you, to knock on your office door and be like, ‘I will be your champion.’

DAVID: Where is your character from in The Great Wall?

PEDRO: España. Which is exactly where my ancestors were from.

DAVID: No one can argue with that. Where’s Matt’s character from?

PEDRO: He’s English.

DAVID: Does he have an accent? Is he speaking Chinese in the movie?

PEDRO: No, he’s not speaking Chinese. He is English – it’s 1100 AD so whatever that accent is.

DAVID: He has an Old English accent? This is sounding pretty awesome. I don’t think anyone would know how that would sound. Probably it sounds just like Matt Damon, that’s what I think. So, have we covered all the bases? Have I left anything out that you want to talk about? Your political stance - does everyone know about your pro-Trump agenda? What’s it like being one of the few Hollywood actors who supports Mr. Trump, can you tell us about that?

PEDRO: (laughs) My combover is very much modelled on the earlier part of Trump’s hair career. What are you going to do, David? Are you going to move if Trump-

DAVID: This is a Pedro Pascal interview! No one’s interviewing me here, buddy. So I’ll be asking the questions.

PEDRO: Do you really think it’s not going to happen?

DAVID: I really think it’s not going to happen.

PEDRO: I just got into an argument with a stranger literally five minutes before you called. I was getting coffee and they asked my name so they could put it on the cup and call my name when it was ready. And he was like, ‘Oh, vote for Pedro,’ - first time I’ve heard that. Then he was like, ‘Yo, I’d rather vote for you than either of the two candidates that we’ve got.’ I was like, ‘Dude, really?’ - this was a mixed race guy making the coffee - I was like, ‘Do you really believe that? Do you dislike Hillary so much that you would consider voting for Trump?!’ And that sort of reignited my terror. It feels like such a no-brainer, but here’s this hard-working mixed race guy at Starbucks who is undecided! That scares the shit out of me.

DAVID: Well I hope you talked some sense into him.

PEDRO: He just kept saying, ‘I don’t know about Hillary,’ and I said, ‘What don’t you know?’ ‘Oh, I just don’t trust her,’ but he didn’t have any real answers about what makes her different from other politicians that you do believe in and do trust.

DAVID: That feels pretty good, I think we covered everything.

PEDRO: I think we covered too much.

Jett's Pedro Shoots Masterlist

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal magazine #pedro pascal photoshoot #pedro pascal interview #pedro pascal shoot #pedro pascal words

[arcanespillo]

9 People You’d Like to Get to Know Better

tagged by @saltbind

last song = so real by jeff buckley

currently watching = supernatural rewatch/i'm on season 14, the borgias rewatch/season 2 i think, dark angel, the bear/season 2

currently reading = a bug book lol, it's not particular or anything it's just a standard book on basic bug info it was a present lol

current obsession = i was so busy working this month that i didn't have time to nerd out about anything at all, spn stays one of my main obsessions, i kind of want to get into twilight again? but in a supernatural lover kind of way.. do you understand.. like as a bella swan sam winchester gender swap twins believer kind of way.. i do wonder what my next obsession will be i usually can't predict them but i'm sure it will be some random show i watched when i was i kid and will rewatch now just 4 giggles just 4 funsies

#funsies that turn into obsession #i was kind of getting into horror movies more lately #spn #tag thingy #@ people tagged sorry if you've already been tagged before #op thank you for tagging me lol #also i really want to get into arthuriana again i really do ughh but not now. in a colder month. #random

[konakoro]

Late Night with the Devil feels like a V/H/S segment that escaped captivity

#dumb stuff #horror movies #late night with the devil #yes i saw it. it was at a cult movie showing so i felt a little better knowing i was at least giving money to the theater #they do a bunch of cool special events and show movies that are hard to see #also they have booze 😎👍 #still stewing on this. take the v/h/s comment however you like #i love the v/h/s movies but they usually get reeeally weird or nasty or both and that's why i like them #lnwtd gets surreal and weird by the end but the costuming and effects kind of make it feel corny #and you think with a concept like this that the gore would be crazy too. not really? there's a face melt but it's hard to see and kinda bad #also it just. stops. it starts with a documentary introduction but drops it immediately - no follow-up whatsoever #at least Dastmalchian was great. put him in more horror movies (and anything honestly) immediately

[callmephighter]

I'm still not entirely sure what it's about but before I knew anything about the gearmelt au I clicked on a fic about it with boombox and was promptly traumatized forever(hyperbole) as him and skateboard melted together in a horrific fashion

#i dont have twitter so i cant like. look at its origins #maybe it was just late at night but i was like WHAAAATTT THE FUCK #body horror is always scary to me but more in like a horror movie way than like something i actively avoid #like if i see a horror fic with that honestly I'm probably more likely to read kt #does that make sense??? #body horror #jic #since i did kind of describe it in the post #honestly im a sucker for infection aus im SORRY ik theyre everywhere and constant but theyre good for angst #and also you can get creative with it doesnt have to be normal zombies #i saw someone else with a crystal infection au #I just like watches characters suffer/hj #watching*

[cheesey-rice]

Hmmm the drama I'm watching is losing me a little bit.

#personal #at the start I really liked it bc FL has a lot of protagonist qualities I like. its kind of like a loser meets high spec ML and somehow #gets the impression that hes more of a loser than her. which was fun because you get to see ML who is an asshole get dunked on constantly. #but the dunkage has sadly reduced as of late. there was a part where FL had to play therapist for ML that i was like yelling at her not to #do. bc i talk to people on the TV. but it resolved in the funny way of like. she fixed his emotional problems and it just made him more #capable of accomplishing the evil things he was going to do instead of stopping him from doing them all together. #which was hilarious obviously. but now theres kind of been this long arc where theyre trying to set up another couple and honestly #the narrative does like. not have me convinced that she has a reason to like him anymore. he has to do more. i want her to marry the other #guy. like. tired. this is how I felt while reading the straight love triangle manhwa about makeup too. #like I feel like authors of love triangles always come up with like two guys and the first guy is always the worst but by narrative #convention hes the one you expect the protagonist to be with bc one true love or whatever. #no. divorce. please. you dont have to just date one person. if he sucks hit the bricks. #has turned into that thing straight romance does where its more like a horror movie tbh. like girl noooo dont be nice to him #if you do then the narrative will try to make us think he should be forgiven 😫😫😫

[unproduciblesmackdown]

remembering a fun marble hornets trans wrights element throwback where i managed to show up for one of their first convention features & while this was ofc already [serious "hmm...Not Cis: me??"] occasions i wasn't yet out or anything like well time to suffer being known & perceived thusly....while i Was out by the same occasion the next year like well here i am again, different name, binder, no plans to give anyone any rundown about this thing, hope it goes smoothly anyways and/or i'm effectively giving a reintroduction anyhow even though i May have been up to more memorable things that last time....no conversations needed to be had, i think i had the impression i was recalled as the same person but it was an entirely chill time, just this as like an early and pretty unique Occasion of like, here's people who know me from In Person (and ig Kind of online, i also don't recall ever like distinctly linking said in person appearance to onlineness lol. it just may also have not been an unsolveable mystery or a mystery at all. but mostly in person, and that's the element i was focusing on anyways) and my showing up transly in person with a whole other name this time as the major difference really lol. like well hope this goes swimmingly....And It Did. and at some point not eons later ya boy tim with some cringe comp sincerety like oh let me make this post somewhere about how an epic element of being a known internet creator is meeting new & various people including explicitly the [mh fans are like exclusively The Gays. and then some unfiction posters] factor & i'm like lol well you're welcome. just doing my part. but fr that was neat like i'm glad to get chill indirect & direct trans validation from internet horror series contributors in that immediate period of coming out & having to sweat it like damn wasn't at this point last time around

#lot of highlights that first time around at said expo.... #loved being present for this like. Season One Dvd Live Commentary as this like late event put on some non ground floor room.... #like it wasn't Huge but an impressive number of ppl showed up waiting outside & then the space was pretty packed #& it was just a fun and spontaneous time lol #also like going ''hmm autistic: me??'' as seriously & framed thusly consideration came years later #& relatively recent posting from ya boy tim (twitter) abt like adhd / autistic: me?? are throwbacks lmao like #hey pal as a [yes to both: me] party i can say that like anyone who's chosen to have multiple relatively extensive exchanges w/myself.... #it's kind of its own ''hmm. you sure you're nt'' occasion lol #i would be Unsurprised thusly just like i'm Unsurprised abt the [practically no one is cis/het] factor.... #anyways i have no idea what's going on w/the fact mh has these organic like popularity resurgences especially including Now apparently #but who tf is ever tuned in? cool when people are having fun and being themselves. #sort of distantly interesting to see what material people come up with in organic novel [entire new groups of ppl / popularity wave] #and mh i guess does that more often than maybe other things do #as they say it's a) just There online for perusal b) accessible in other ways. there's handy playlists & it's basically a few movies. #and c) there's always some hot new online homemade horror material & people can get into That & then into others ig. like mh sitting there #it's a like ''huh. i guess'' surprise even when mutuals / followers from Completely Different Things i indirectly find also watch/ed mh #like well. i don't really have a frame of reference for all this stuff lmao. i Guess it's unsurprising but to me feels like a weird overlap #just wasn't that niche? Isn't that niche? if you're like. Online to a sufficient degree. strongly narrative; a drama; shelved w/queer media #and that following along while it released was fun but now the advantage is: Not having to do that. it all just sits there #my fucking pet peeve as things Were released & people were like. oh plotlines progressed in this thing? smh filler #there were moments when people are walking to a location? filler. there were moments when it wasn't just sloober standing there? filler. #like would you shut tf up lmfao....crash courses in ''even when an online fanbase is small. ya don't wanna talk to Everyone'' #which for me was part of a learning process like i don't wanna talk to practically Anyone thanks lmao. but the posts could be fun at least #let's have some appreciation along the lines of uhh smthing talking abt season one first house visit entry and how like #yeah it's fun how In Essence yes nothing happens but it's the creation of a very suspenseful experience anyways like thank you #having to explain things like Pacing [if Action & Intensity were Nonstop they'd stop being Effective or at all Interesting] #cue explaining this re: even Drama also like. deh's Drama is served by the interludes for ppl ''interrupting'' w/ ''lol? &/or tf?'' moments #mh the musical...

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 3 - Dreams And...

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE) - PLEASE REMEMBER TO CHECK, THIS CHAPTER IS DARKER IN TONE!

PREV - NEXT

Your hands are pruned. It’s quiet in the extravagant bathroom, other than the sound of the tap’s running water and your own shaky breathing. This was all a bit much. Your hands are more than clean now, but you absolutely do not want to go back out there.

You kind of just want to go back into one of the stalls and cry. A core girlhood experience, except you were an adult with a job and taxes. Or, you were. You think you’re some rich scion or something in this dream. Which like, cool, who wants to slave under capitalism anyways?

…You wonder if anyone would notice if you slipped out the window. You’d been gone for a while and nobody had come looking for you, since you’d totally gotten lost trying to find the bathroom. Sure, you were on the third floor, but at this point you were willing to risk it. Even if you couldn’t walk in a straight line right now, much less climb the trellises. For some reason, you could not handle your liquor today like you usually could. But once again, this was all just a very vivid dream, so it wasn’t like you could die.

To punctuate that thought, you hear someone scream.

It cuts off instantly, and then there’s quiet again. You pause, then turn off the tap, listening for any more sound. Drip, drip, drip… you press the tap down again and properly turn it off. Still no noise. Immediately, you realise you are standing directly in a horror film. You live in Gotham for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t an unlikely occurrence. You’d gotten mugged just a few days ago.

And you were alone in the bathrooms. So unbelievably drunk, and alone in the bathrooms. You were actually so dead, it was crazy. A dream, a dream…!

Your head bows, staring into the white porcelain of the sink as you focus hard on your hearing. You don’t think you could hear the party before, but you’re not sure. It’s definitely not there now. You swallow the dry pain in your throat, trying to summon a modicum of courage. Your vision spins.

You slap your wet hands to your face and then blink through your fingers. God. Okay, okay, okay. You can do this. You survived a mugging just last week with only minimal bruising. To convince yourself of your badassery, you dig your fingers into the blemishes, hoping to wake yourself up with the pain. It’s a bad habit but you have lots of those.

…Where’s the pain? Oh god, where’s the pain? Wait, don’t panic, it’s a dream! Of course, you wouldn’t have your bruises in a dream. That made total sense. And you definitely weren’t panicking.

You splash more water on your face. Time to face the music, you drunken moron. If you were going to be in a horror movie, you’d be the final girl of all final girls.

One hand on the sink, you take your heels off. They’re going to get in the way, and the sound of them clicking against the marble will give away your location. Massaging your sore ankles, you try and come up with a game plan. You don’t know what’s going on, and it really could all just be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry and all that. It’s a gala full of some of the richest people on earth, and you’re pretty sure you saw a swat team of security guards at the entrance.

So this was probably a hostage situation or a villain attack. You’d hear more noise if it was a supervillain fighting a superhero downstairs. Then you’ll bet on a hostage situation for now. Depending on who had taken you all hostage, that could be a totally fine situation where you all just end up leaving with lighter purses, or it could be the Scarecrow’s shown up and he’s about to mentally traumatise you. Like you needed any more of that.

Of course, this was all probably still a dream. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll actually believe it. You’ll just plan ahead in case this is real (which it definitely isn’t). Plus you’d proven you could feel pain in this dream anyway, with all the times you’d slapped yourself. You hoped the fucking Tim Drake didn’t think you were too weird. Because he definitely thought you were weird.

It’s cool. You’re cool. You could handle this. You were a Gotham native after all. Totally cool. You have to force yourself not to gag on your own fear. Totally, absolutely, terrifically cool.

A few deep, calming breaths later, and you’re cracking the door of the lavatory open just an inch. You peer through the crevice, taking another deep breath when you don’t see anyone in the hallway. You push the door open a bit wider, peek your head around it to look the other way. Still empty. Another deep breath, you feel your chest rise and fall, and then you take the first step out onto the wooden floors. You wince at the slight noise the bare sole of your foot makes and hurry over to the long Persian rug to snuffle any more sounds.

And then you’re standing in the middle of the hallway in your ballgown, head swivelling back and forth as you try and catch any minuscule sounds, shoulders bunched up to your ears.

The first thing you need to check is the exits. Since you are on the third floor, and the banquet was on the first, you can assume that they’re well-guarded, but probably far away from you. Still, this is the Wayne Enterprises Tower, and there wasn’t just the party happening tonight. It was mostly empty as you’d seen but there’d been a few people you’d wandered past. They’d all seemed like late-night office workers, and the female janitor you’d bumped into was the one who had told you where the toilet was.

Was the janitor okay? Was that her scream you’d heard? Concentrate, dumbass. On airplanes, they tell you to put your mask on first before you do it for anyone else. The idea was the same here. Save yourself before you can hope to save anyone else.

That was… that was if you even needed saving. This could all still just be your own paranoia. Someone hit their knee on a ridiculously fancy side table or something. Like that scream wasn’t of pure terror. Like it didn’t sound like someone on death’s door.

Concentrate! Okay, check the stairs first. Don’t take the elevator, because you’re not an idiot. Maybe. Hopefully. Slowly but surely you creep your way back towards the entrance to the third level, where both the elevator and the stairs were. There was a map, too. You hadn’t been able to figure it out earlier, but you had a bit more incentive this time.

You make sure to place your feet carefully, aiming for the carpets and rugs. Even if your drunken steps miss half the time, you’re still mostly quiet. Every time you have to walk across a crossing you spend a minute listening, and then peer around every corner too. You’re not sure if you should be running, or if you really should try one of the windows.

Deep breaths. Keep moving. That’s the best course of action. Don’t get caught, but don’t just hide either.

It’s when you’re almost at the third-floor foyer when you hear something. There’s a crash, the sound of something breaking. No voices, though. Still, you can’t convince your body to move for a full minute. There’s a part of you that wants to go hide in an abandoned cubicle and wait, but there’s another part of you that is very aware of the rates of fires in this city. You keep going, taking a longer route to avoid the source of the crashing.

Another noise. A scream. Laughter. Spine-chilling laughter.

Shit, motherfucker. Why the hell did you get smashed at a fucking Wayne gala? Everybody knew the rogues of this city were totally obsessively in love with Bruce Wayne. Especially your own personal worst nightmare. You don’t dare even think his name, lest you summon the bastard.

Was he in Arkham right now? He should be. Like you should be at home in the Narrows getting a good night’s rest. Like you should be wearing dorky Flash pyjamas, not a dress more expensive than your rent.

He should be. It’s not nearly enough.

You realise, suddenly, that you have to make a choice here. You can walk away, pretend you didn’t hear anything, that you can’t hear anything. A woman’s cries, you think. You could leave her, save yourself. Hideaway and let whatever fate she’s facing befall her. Could you do that? Could you even stomach the idea?

In the end, the universe makes the decision for you.

“And who do we have here? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing wandering around?”

You hear your doom in his slimy voice, even though you didn’t hear him sneak up on you. Shaking, you raise your hands into the air, and slowly turn around. You see your doom in the twisted clown mask’s grin. For a second you think it’s really him, but then you notice his dark brown hair and the tanned skin under the mask. God, god, god. It’s a Joker goon. Your literal worst nightmare, given flesh. Is he here? No, no, no- You swallow down the urge to scream, to run, and do your best to keep thinking like a person and not a prey animal.

You feel like one. You think he knows that. You hope he doesn’t.

“Hey Travis, I found another one!” the man calls out, raising his gun to point at you. He jerks it, moving forward, and you turn back around obediently. The gun presses against the back of your head, and you move forward, obediently.

“Shithead, don’t say my name out loud!” another voice replies. You get to see its owner when you come around the corner and find the foyer.

There are five other people here, all tied up. Four seem to be exhausted office worker bees, who just stayed too late on the wrong day, and the last is the janitor who helped you. The kind lady gives you terrified eyes, but she’s the only one not crying among the hostages.

“Man, you worry too much. Like there aren’t hundreds of Travis’s in the city.”

“Just shut up, my god! If we leak info and it gets traced back to us, he’s docking our pay.”

Who’s he? Who’s fucking he?! He can’t be here, right? He fucking can’t be. You can’t, you can’t. God, you're going to vomit right here and now.

“Whatever. Anyway, this is the last person on this floor.”

“Check the feed again, dickhead,” the second one commands, obviously the leader between the two.

The one who caught you groans, and then you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. Is he looking at his phone? You wish you could turn around and look. You don’t dare with the barrel against you.

Your teeth dig into the side of your mouth. So did they have the security feeds? That meant you were doomed from the start. The only other option would’ve been to actually jump out one of the windows. They would’ve probably found you anyway. Hunted you down to meet their quota.

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is looking like a big deal. And everybody knew Joker never left out on his big deal jobs, he enjoyed them too much. He’s probably downstairs demanding the Batman come meet him and have tea or something. Shit.

All of a sudden these goons seem like the much better end of the deal.

“Checked, checked, double-checked, triple-checked… There’s nobody else here,” the man behind you grumbles, and the one in front of you sighs.

“Alright, alright. Bring her over, I’ll tie her up, and then we can blow this joint,” the man says, and you really, really hope he’s not being serious about blowing this place. You’d had enough of explosions, thank you very much. Especially ones organised by the Joker.

The gun digs harshly into your skull, “Well, go on.”

Swallow, swallow down your fear. Don’t let it stop you. You walk forward to the other man, arms in the air shaking. When you’re in reaching distance, the second goon roughly grabs you and shoves you to your knees. He pushes your hands in front of you, not bothering to tie them behind you. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

The rope cuts into your skin. It’s going to leave marks, and bruises. The man finishes tying the knot and then pulls you back to your feet. Then he shoves you towards the elevator and turns to start picking up the other hostages. You turn so your back is toward the wall, not willing to have your eyes off the monsters for even a second.

It’s when he’s pushing one of the office workers towards you, that the second man speaks again.

“Hey, the boss said we had to kill one of ‘em.”

What? What did he say?

“Oh yeah, oops.”

The gunshot goes off before you can process the words. Before you can process the gunshot, the janitor’s body is crumpling to the floor. Before you can process her fall, blood is starting to seep from the wound in her chest. Before you can process any of that, the man behind you laughs.

He laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs.

The janitor lies on the floor, blood seeping into her hair and uniform. You squeeze your eyes tight, tears slipping over the lids. You refuse to look at the wound. At the gaping hole in her chest. And despite yourself, you know why they shot her, not you. Not any of the workers either.

Because she wasn’t worth the cash.

Yesterday, that would’ve been you on the floor. You were a fake wearing a fancy dress, who didn’t belong here at all. Still, they didn’t know that. You didn’t think anybody knew that. Not anyone but you, who had woken up in a world a little to the left.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Trav. I wanna play with this one for a bit,” the shooter says, and all of a sudden you’re thrown back into your body, into your frail mortality. You’re cold, your spine gives a shiver, and your horrified eyes find the wretched clown mask.

Like you said, your doom. You wish you weren’t right all the time.

“No way. She’s one of the high-profilers, we need her,” his leader replies, and you’re desperate to stick by his side. You didn’t think a Joker goon would be your saviour, but here you were.

“I’ll give you five K of my split,” he offers, not willing to let go of it. Of you.

The other one pauses, glances at you assessingly. There’s a glint of something in his eyes, something that tells you you’re not making it out of here unscathed. It’s something you recognise, something you even recognise inside yourself.

It’s greed. And it’s going to kill you. You always knew it would, you just didn’t think it’d be like this.

“Make it seven,” he finally announces, the deal for your soul made without any fuss or fanfare.

“You’re such a hardass. Fine, fine, seven it is.”

“Alright, and only thirty minutes, tops. Not a hair on her head, you understand me?” he says over his shoulder, waggling a finger at his coworker.

The group leaves through the elevator. It dings, and you watch in mute, stunned horror as the other hostages refuse to meet your gaze. As they abandon you to save their own asses. You couldn’t really blame them, as much as you wanted to. You were ready to do the same earlier.

“I think not even a hair is pushing it, right?” the creep says, finger reaching out for said hair. You jerk back out of his reach, an instinctual flinch. He grins, and lets his hand fall back to his side. You take a shaky step backward.

You’re trembling with fear. With the need to get away from this terror, this situation.

He gestures with his gun, pointing back in the direction of the branching hallways.

“Well, go on. Run.”

And God help you, you do.

Spinning on your heel, you flee to the echoing sound of his laughter. Your feet fall rhythmically against the marble floors, the sound of your bare soles far too loud. You can’t even do anything about it. There’s no option for stealth here, only the sort of hunt you’d expect to find in the woods.

Not here in civilised mankind’s territory. But this was Gotham, and the monsters often looked human.

You dart into a large room filled with tiny square cubicles. A call centre or something, a maze of low walls that are too small to hide behind. You keep going, teeth-gritting when his laughter cuts off. He’s taking this seriously, hunting you down. You think he’s done this before. ‘Played’ with people.

You can’t worry about those other poor victims, lest you become his next one.

Another crash, this time to your left. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, but when you look there’s only a broken lamp on the floor. You have to swallow down the urge to cry. He is. He’s playing with you. He’s having fun with it.

You keep running, passing by halls and offices and don’t stop running till you can’t. Out of breath. You’re out of breath. You bend over, the stitch in your side too much for you to stand. Why are you out of breath? You can run more than this. You often run more than this when you’re late for your morning train.

What’s going on? What’s happening to you?

A bang, behind you. You spin around. Don’t see anything.

He’s nearby. Right under your nose. You need to keep running, you have to. Through your panting you hear his laughter again, and that’s enough fear to get you moving again. Maybe you were in Arkham, arms strapped to your side and screams wailing down the halls.

You didn’t believe it. No, not in this moment. Not right now, as you run for your life. If you lived through this, you’d probably go back to thinking it was all a dream or a delusion.

But with that monster nearby, there’s nothing this could be but real. With sweat dripping down your neck, smearing your makeup. With the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest, in your ears. With the blind, all-consuming panic you’re in.

He’s real. And he’s coming for you.

You lift your tied hands and press them to your lips, muffling the sound of your harsh breathing and soft sobs. Heart beating out of your ribcage, you push your body even as it screams for you to stop. You’re flagging. Vision’s swimming, and you can feel bile creeping up your throat. You can’t keep doing this. You need to keep doing this.

For a moment, you stop to catch your breath. And he catches you too.

You scream, tugging at the rough grip on him. He swings you around into a wall, and again, you cry out. Side throbbing with pain, singing with it. Still, you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not safe, not safe, not safe. You push back against him, and he pushes back against you. Your drunken state is no match, and you tumble down onto the carpet. When he laughs, you look up at him, and he down at you.

The goon’s plastic mask merges with the Joker’s mutilated face, until you can’t tell the difference.

You aren’t the type to fight back. It’s just not instinctual to you. But when you hear his belt buckle clack, your foot kicks out before you can even think. You hit him squarely in the stomach, knocking him backward, and then you scramble away from underneath him.

“You bitch!”

He grabs you by the nape of your neck, yanking you backwards. You choke, hands grasping desperately at the grip around your throat, but he offers no relent. You’ve pissed him off. That doesn’t mean you can stop, can give up. You can’t stop fighting. Can’t stop struggling. Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop-

The gun clicks. You freeze.

“Yeah, figured you’d be more obedient if I did that. Now, get up,” his voice is breathy, from the high of the chase or the hit you delivered, you’re not sure.

You hope it’s the latter. You hope this fucker drops and dies, right on the spot. You’re not that lucky, though.

Ah, your hands are hurting again. Not just the one, but both. Maybe you touched something. An allergic reaction of some sort. It shouldn’t be distracting you, it shouldn’t even be noticeable in the situation you’re in but god. The itchy heat is nearly as unbearable as the evil cretin in front of you.

“You think you’re gonna get away with that? I’m so fucking sick and tired of you whores who think you matter anything. You don’t, and I’m going to help you realise that,” he rants. His eyes are red through the tiny slits in the mask. Angry, dangerous, on the edge.

“Please, look I’m sorry,” you stutter out, stinging hands in the air. You want to run, but you think he’ll shoot if you do.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuck corpses.”

No, that doesn’t sound very lucky at all, actually. No, this seems like maybe it might turn out to be the new worst moment of your life. You don’t think it can get much worse than this, than the next moments that will pass. And it’s too much. It’s too, too much. Your palms are itchy and there’s a gun pointed between your eyes and the goon’s licking his lips and oh my god you’re going to die from an allergy before the bullet and-

And you just want it all to stop. You want it so desperately. You want the man in front of you to disappear, to never exist again, to go right down to hell where he belongs. You just want him gone.

Your hands stop hurting. The burning heat disappears. It’s quiet again. You can’t hear him laughing, the awful slick sound of him licking his lips. You can’t feel the cool iron on your forehead, the heat from his body so close. You can’t smell his sweaty stench. Your eyes open.

…There’s no gun. There’s no man.

You crumple to the ground with a relieved sob. Fisted hands lift to your eyes, as big blubbery tears stream down your face. Your shoulders shake with your cries. Your heart is screaming in your chest, trying to beat out of it. He’s gone, somehow. You’re alive, somehow. You’re not dead with a bullet in your brain, somehow. Somehow, somehow, somehow.

An impossibility. It’s an impossibility, and you’re so goddamn grateful for it.

As always, you don’t give yourself long to cry. Even as your tears still fall, even as you lick them off your mouth, tasting salt and lipstick and fear, you push to your feet shakily. You almost fall over with your hands still tied, shouldering the wall next to you for balance. You don’t have time to cry. No time to process what just happened. You need to get to safety.

You creep back into the main area, heart pounding in your ears, breath hiccuping. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get there. Ten minutes, thirty, maybe even an hour. When you try the staircase door, it doesn’t open. You yank on the handle, grab a chair and try and smash it in, but it stands strong. Fuck. You try the elevator as a last-ditch effort, but the buttons don’t respond.

You press your overheated forehead to the cool metal. Okay. Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You turn around and storm back into the cubicle space, find one at the edge of the room with a clear view of all the doors, and tuck yourself under the desk. Pulling your knees to your chest, you resist the urge to rock yourself like a baby.

And you sit there, and you watch, and you wait. It doesn’t matter how many hours pass, you are not moving from this spot. It doesn’t matter how heavy your lids feel, how the adrenaline leaving your body has you sagging.

You’re not going to sleep. It’s not safe, and you’re not dying today. You’re simply not.\

You’re not allowed to.

-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you snap awake. Your fist slings out at the would-be attacker, but they dodge it smoothly. When you rear up for another, they move back, hands in the air in a show of surrender. Panting, you don’t lower the fist, your vision swimming.

It’s the Joker. But the Joker wouldn’t back up, right? And the Joker isn’t red, he’s green and purple.

It takes a while for the Joker’s pale, laughing face to disappear. But when you blink and he’s gone, you find someone else underneath. A red mask, a man you think you recognise from TV. A vigilante. God, you hated the vigilantes in Gotham.

Not more than the Joker. Not more than him.

The man stays a safe distance away, gloved hands firmly in the air. He’s tall, really tall. Broad-shouldered, scary. But he’s a vigilante, right?

Is he here to save you? Someone should've by now. The bastard's late then.

He says your name, you think. You can’t hear him properly. Wait no, it’s a nickname, one you haven’t heard in years. You could barely remember your mother calling you that as she tucked you in, as she told you she loved you over the phone, as she disappeared from the world entirely.

You hadn’t let anyone call you that since.

How does he know that name? How does this bastard know your name?

“-hurt? Hey, hey. Listen to me, are you hurt anywhere?” his voice is deep and warbled through the red metal mask, his eyes peering down at you through his domino. You just stare at him, eyes wide, barely breathing.

You need to know how he knows. Unconsciously, your hand reaches up to him, and after a moment, he takes it in his own firm grip. It’s awkward, as you’re still sitting half under the desk and he’s trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Still, his hand is warm through the leather, grounding, keeping you from drifting off into panic and fear. Into your worst nightmares come to life.

Because this was real. It didn’t matter that it was impossible, it was real. You simply couldn’t deny it any longer, this was all real.

You stare at this stranger’s gloved hand like it holds the answers to the universe. It might, in the end. It really just might. It wasn’t like the universe was making much sense at the moment.

“She seems fine. Uninjured, if a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion. Hardly responding anyway,” Red Hood speaks, but not to you. An earbud, you think. Superheroes used wiretaps and things like that all the time, right?

If you could even consider Red Hood a superhero. Everybody knew he had his own gang. Of course, even as your very life is being saved, it’s by a morally grey hero who runs around with crowbars and guns. Ah, you’re crying again.

You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t let yourself cry anymore. And you’d managed it, mostly. You think you’ll give yourself a pass for today, just a little one. You hold this stranger’s hand, and you cry.

You just cry. You cry, and you hold the hand of some stranger you hate, because you have to.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

[sundrop-writes]

if Mike fell asleep with you...

Word Count: 750

Horror Characters Masterlist

Warnings: this is mostly pure fluff - Mike and the reader are in an established relationship, the reader's gender is not described in any way (the main pronouns used are you/yours), Mike calls the reader angel, the reader takes on a caregiver role for Abby, mostly just short and fluffy. This is set before the main events of the movie, when Mike is working as a security guard at the mall.

A/N: So, I've seen so many people in the tags going 'just let him sleep!!! that man is so exhausted!!' and saying that he's too tired to fuck in the way that people are writing fanfics about him. And as much as I love super horny fics, I do thought this up, because I agree - the man should be allowed to sleep. This is largely inspired by that scene in Grey's Anatomy where Meredith walked in and Owen was asleep on Cristina's chest while she was reading a book (I think it was when she was reading through Mer's mom's diaries?) - anyway. I love that scene so much because it shows how easily he sleeps around her because he's so comfortable around her. And that's why it deeply inspired this. Let him sleep.

...

Mike was exhausted when he came in the door. 

He heaved out a sigh as he closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes - pure, stiff tiredness radiating through his whole body in the worst way. 

You knew that sound anywhere. 

“Long day?” You inquired gently from your position on the couch, lightly craning your neck to look at him. 

He shuffled further into the house in an almost zombie-like fashion, only giving you a solitary grunt in response. 

You felt kind of bad that he had been stuck at work late when you had been lucky enough to have a morning shift and been treated to a relaxing evening with Abby. She was a relatively easy kid to take care of, and generally fun to be around. 

And after you had put her to bed, you laid out on the couch, relaxing and reading a novel that your friend had recommended. Generally, you were having a nice evening. And it seemed that Mike was not. 

As you kept an eye on Mike, you folded over the page of your book to mark it and put it on the coffee table for later. 

“Dinner’s on the counter.” You told him. “I made lasagna. I can heat it up for you if you want.” 

You hated that before he started dating you, all he knew was freezer burnt crap - but you were slowly showing him how to cook, and a world of vegetables that didn't come in a can. 

Mike took off his jacket and the heavy belt he had to wear for work (his large walkie talkie and his taser were in his locker at work, as mandated, but the thing was still damn uncomfortable) and he hung them both up. 

He didn’t respond to your queries about dinner as he walked around the couch. Instead of speaking, seeing you laying there so relaxed - the sight was all too inviting, and he eased himself to lay on top of you in a form of very natural intimacy before he grunted a few words into your neck. 

“Did Abby eat?” He asked softly as he laid on top of you. 

It was oddly comforting to have the bulk of his weight on top of you, especially as he melted against you, letting out a small moan as the tension melted out of his bones. He adjusted himself to get more comfortable and his face rested against the softness of your chest - you glanced down to see that his eyes were drifting closed. 

“She ate two platefuls, and had some peas.” You assured him. “Did her homework, had a bath, and she practiced her spelling words before she went to bed.” 

Mike grunted again - a more positive pitch to this one. He couldn't ask for anyone better than you. Sometimes he worried about her - all the time. But when Abby was with you, that worry lessened a lot. 

“You’re an angel.” He hummed against your chest. “I don’t-” He let out a gentle yawn. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.” 

“You look hot in a uniform and my job at the bookstore gets boring.” You replied, half-joking about the circumstances of how your relationship with Mike had formed. 

You reached out to him and began running your fingers through his hair, soothing him even further into the realm of sleep with the comforting touch. 

He let out another tired moan in reply - something that almost stretched into a rolling sound with the gentle pleasure of your hand in his hair. With the way his body was so slack against yours, his breathing even and quiet, you knew this was only leading one place. 

“You wanna go get ready for bed?” You asked gently. 

“In a minute.” He answered softly, barely parting his lips to get the words out. 

You glanced over to the table and reached out, picking your book back up as his breathing deepened and his body went even more slack. You were preparing to get comfortable for the next few hours. You weren’t all that tired yourself, and you still had a few chapters left to go. When you got to the next chapter, he began to snore lightly and you felt drool dripping down your neck - which didn’t bother you all that much. You found it cute, in fact. 

You were comforted by the fact that he relaxed enough around you to get such a good sleep. You knew that he needed it. 

...

A/N: also, this is my first time posting a fic completely from mobile by copy/pasting something from google docs on my phone. So hopefully the formatting isn't too messed up and hopefully this goes well! And I hope you guys enjoy this short fluffy fic 💖

#sundrop writes #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fanfiction

[ssahotchnerr]

I saw your request for aaron hotchner valentine’s day! maybe an aaron hotchner x bau wife reader and they are all away on a case and they’re still there on valentine’s day and it’s been a rough case and y/n has been extremely stressed but Aaron makes sure she still feels special and treats her to a nice dinner and surprises her with flowers

too married

happy vday pt 2!!! cw; fem!reader, your usual cm case descriptions, mentions of food/alcohol, fluff <333

"it's disheartening, isn't it?"

aaron hummed from in front of you, fiddling with the key to grant the two of you access into your hotel room. "hm?"

"that we're here. on valentine's day." you could laugh if pushed, your voice sharp and inches away from wavering.

no matter how little the inflect, and even if you hadn't shown it at all, aaron still noticed it. he paused and turned back to you, a forlorn expression on his face. "sweetheart-"

"it's fine." you brought your hands to your face, frustratedly and tiredly rubbing your eyes for a moment. "sorry, i'm just looking for something to complain about. it's been a long day."

"a hard day." aaron added in your regard, reaching out to touch your arm soothingly.

your current unsub clearly hadn't felt the universal love within the air; he's been most brutal the bau had endured in a while. full of mutilation, a sickening signature, devolving by the minute.

truthfully it had gotten to you; you were finding it extremely difficult to compartmentalize, and spending most of the day staring at the graphic crime scene photos didn't help. at one point you couldn't bring yourself to look at the pictures, lowering your head down to the table and wanting nothing but to cry into aaron's shoulder.

but he was nowhere to be found, you've barely seen him. he had spent a good portion of the day conducting interviews, off following leads that only resulted in dead ends.

you did see him at lunch, but ignored his occasional, concerned glances. if you were to make eye contact with him, and despite how tempting that was, you would have lost it. in addition, the fact it was valentine's day, made it kind of worse.

sure, it was partly a hallmark, commercial holiday, but you couldn't help but yearn to be out to dinner with aaron - eating ridiculously priced food in a restaurant you could barely see him in, giggly and warm from the wine, serial killers being the least of your concerns.

and rather than going to bed to continue the night, you were going to bed to get a few hours of shut-eye if you were lucky - given the late hour and horrors of the day to keep your mind awake. before it was right back to where you had left off.

"besides, we're also too married to do anything too special, right?" you forced a laugh, the sound sounding foreign in the empty hallway. aaron internally winced, the strain and exhaustion in your voice tugging sadly at his heart.

you continued, "and if we were home, it'd be a quiet night-in wouldn't it? maybe we'd get take-out, watch a movie, go to sleep early."

a lie, but anything to make yourself feel better.

but, that's where aaron, without fail, always stepped in.

"well," he started, but didn't finish his thought - finally managing to get the room key to cooperate and pushing the door open, entering with you at his footsteps.

his back constructed your view, but once he sidestepped towards the bathroom to your right, he revealed a bouquet of red roses, chocolate covered strawberries, accompanied by a card waiting on the desk.

"i know it's not much." aaron explained as you froze, his hand finding the small of your back. "and it's not everything either, i do have more planned for once we're home but-"

maybe it was the near delirious exhaustion, the day you had, him, or all the above, but you only had one means of responding.

you grasped onto the lapels of his suit jacket, bringing him to you and kissing him so forcefully he nearly tripped up against the wall. aaron laughed gently in your mouth, but the kiss was long and deep, the two of you melting into each other.

not enough? it was everything, and the kiss alone silently proved that.

"thank you." you whispered once the two of you separated. your palms were resting on his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft under your fingers.

aaron smiled, the kind that caused the ends of his eyes to crinkle happily. "i love you. and although today wasn't how it should've been, and i would've loved to have spoiled you endlessly, and jack would've definitely been staying at jessica's for the night." his lips turned upwards into a light smirk, a wicked glint in his eyes before turning to their softness. "just like any day, i'm reminded how lucky i am you're my wife. whenever i'm with you, wherever we are, i'm home."

you blinked at him, in utter bafflement and awe. "how do you always know just what i need to hear?"

"because you're my beautiful wife, and like you said, we're too married." he teased, but his playful demeanor sobered, his voice lowering to a whisper. "i'm sorry you had a bad day."

"it's okay. it's better now," you answered just as softly as you looked into his eyes, stroking your thumb along his cheek before turning back to your surprise, "and when did you manage to do all this?"

"i can't reveal all my secrets, can i?" aaron quipped with a smile, pulling you in for another kiss. you reciprocated, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"happy valentine's day darling. and to many, many more."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

[bruisedleftknee]

I need to talk about what it's like when you and Noah live together. You're both open to trying new stuff, right?? You have some friends over for a movie night, and you're watching a horror movie that is kind of erotic??? Oh, you know that is going to lead to *things* and I'm gonna tell you all about it.

Tags & Warnings: Fingering?, Oral Sex (Both Receiving), P in V, Slight power play, After care.

Word count: 2.6K

(I don't think it's anything crazy, but if it needs more tags and warnings, please let me know.)

✦✦✦

It's a typical Saturday night at your place, you and Noah have friends over, and you're watching some old horror movie together.

It's late. The coffee table is covered with empty pizza boxes and paper cups. Everyone's watching the movie, and the house is quiet.

You're sure you've seen this movie before, the woman is handcuffed to the bed and the man dies of a heart attack or something, but you're tired and a little too sleepy to remember any other details.

You're thinking about the ending of the movie, trying to remember how exactly it happens, so you tilt your head to Noah to ask him if he remembers it or not, but you see that he's looking at you. He has his hands up, his fingers locked together, and he looks like he's been staring at you in the same position for a few minutes now. He's resting his head on his shoulder, and you can see he's sleepy too.

You smile at him. "Wanna go to bed?" you ask him. "Yeah, I think I'm getting old for these late nights," he answers as he gets up from the couch. He reaches for your hand to help you get up, says good night to everyone, and you both start walking to your bedroom upstairs.

"Guys, you know where the pillows and blankets are." You tell your friends, and you're walking behind Noah, holding his hand. "Yeah, g-night" your friend Jolly says as he scrolls his phone.

***

You're upstairs. Noah's already in bed, looking at some cat videos on his phone, wearing only his black boxers, with the blanket only covering one of his legs.

You finish your skincare routine, change into your comfy pajamas, and crawl under the heavy blanket.

When you get in bed, Noah puts away his phone and opens his arms for you, He always does this because he loves falling asleep spooning you.

You get comfy in his arms and leave a soft kiss on his bicep. He kisses the back of your head and wraps his other hand around you.

"We've watched that movie before, haven't we?" You ask him. "Yeah, we have," he answers in his low, sleepy voice.

"I don't remember the ending,"

"She gets herself out of the handcuffs and finally faces her fears."

"Oh, you're right; I remember now." You say, "Don't you dare die if you ever handcuff me to the bed.".

He stays silent for a few seconds. "Can I handcuff you to the bed?" He asks in a playful and curious tone, moving his hand and placing it gently on your breast.

"Wait, were you thinking about this when we were watching the movie??" You ask, surprised.

"Hmmm, maybe." He answers, "So, can I?"

"Hmmm, maybe," you say, mocking him, but you're wondering if you want that or not.

"Can I do it now?" Noah asks; his voice doesn't sound sleepy anymore.

"What? Like right now?" You're even more surprised now.

"Why not? I promise not to die," he says, laughing at his own joke.

"You have handcuffs?" You ask curiously.

"No, but we can use other stuff." He kisses your neck and plays with your nipple that is now hard from thinking about the things the two of you can do if you say yes.

"Baby, it's okay if you don't want to; you know that, right?" He assures you between kisses. "Actually, I think I'd like to try." You answer with a little doubt in your tone, you're not sure if you'll like it or not.

"Are you sure?" Noah asks you again, "Yeah," you say, this time with less doubt in your voice.

Noah starts kissing you, and soon you lose count of the number of times he's pressed his lips on your skin.

Noah is lying on his left side; his left arm is under your head. You're lying on your back, your right leg is on his thighs, and your legs are wide open. He has his right hand in your panties, gently playing with your clit.

Between the kisses he leaves on your neck, you hold his face with one hand so you can kiss him.

You try to keep quiet; you know your friends are still up cause the TV is on, but you also know if you make too much noise, they can hear you.

It's quiet in your bedroom; the only noises you can hear are the sound of you and Noah's breaths and the noises your wet pussy makes when Noah slowly fingers you.

All this time, you've been thinking, When is he going to tie your hand? What is he gonna use to do it? Is he gonna tie both of your hands to the bed frame or just one? What is he gonna do after that?

"Do it," you say to Noah after moments of making out in silence.

"What?" he asks.

"Tie me up," you say between kisses. "Don't keep me waiting."

He smiles, kisses your forehead, and goes to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he's back with his Jujitsu belt in his hand.

"You're going to use that?" You ask, you never thought he might use that to tie your hands some day.

"We don't have to if you don't like it," he assures you. But you do like it, you didn't know if you would, but now every fiber in your body tingles to feel the things he's gonna do to you sooner.

"No, I do," you say as you start undressing and lay closer to the bed frame. Noah comes to the bed, holds your hands, and starts leaving kisses on each one of your fingers, then starts tying your hands with the belt.

Now your wrists are pressed together slightly above your head.

"Tell me if it's too tight, baby," he asks you.

"It's good." Your heart is starting to beat faster every second.

You're lying in the center of the bed, and your hands are tied to the bed frame above your head.

Noah sits in front of you on the bed, opens your legs, and caresses your inner thighs with his soft hands.

You don't know why your legs are shaking; you're not afraid, you're curious and excited.

He leans in and starts kissing a line from your glistening core to your lips, inch by inch, he leaves kisses on your skin.

He goes to your nipples and starts licking them. With every lick, you close your legs a little; it's involuntarily.

"Keep them open for me," he tells you, and you try to do exactly that.

He touches your core with four fingers, and you stop yourself before a moan comes out of you, but when he spreads your arousal on your folds and sticks two fingers inside you, your moan isn't something you can control anymore.

"Better keep it down," he tells you, but you're still moaning; you'd cover your mouth with your hands if they were free, but they're not.

When your moans get more frequent, he puts his big hand on your mouth; his hand covers almost all of your face.

When you're finally quiet, he moves his face towards your navel, kisses it a few times, and then goes where his fingers are—your hole.

How long can you really last if he's playing with every sensitive part of your body? Your hole is stuffed with his fingers, his tongue is on your clit and he's moved his hand to your breast and is playing with it like it's his toy. And this has been going on for minutes now, so how long will you last?

You try to pull your hands out of the knot to do something, to control the pace, to grab his head and tell him to stop cause he's making you crazy and you need a pause to breathe, but you realize that there's no escaping this, and it's so exciting.

You shut your eyes, and your mouth opens as he circles your clit fast. Your back arches, and you feel so close to orgasm. "M'gonna.." you tell him, and immediately he pulls out his fingers and lets go of you.

"Not yet, baby." He's not touching you anymore, you open your eyes to see him sitting between your open legs looking at you.

"Whyyy did youuu stop?" You whine and try to stop the vibration that you're feeling inside you by closing your legs and pressing them against each other, but he stops you from doing that.

You turn your face to your side and try to bury it in the space between your shoulder and neck. He holds your face with one hand, says, "Eyes on me, baby, we're just starting," and puts his thumb in your mouth.

He takes off his boxers and sits on top of you; his thighs are on both sides of your shoulders; he strokes his dick, and you can see a drop of precum hanging from its tip.

"Open," he tells you, and brings his cock closer to your mouth, and you listen. "You know that's not enough; open more for me." He waits, and when your mouth is wide open and you have your tongue out, he puts the tip on your tongue. You taste his precum and try to lick it, but he stops you by taking away his cock. "You want it, don't you?"

You bring your head close to him so you can reach his cock, but he pulls away. "Tell me what you want, Y/N."

"You. Please, I want you." You say looking up at his tall figure.

You open your mouth again, and he pushes his hard cock into your mouth. Its tip hits the back of your throat, and you gag a little. Your head is pinned against the mattress, and you can't control the movements; the harder he fucks your mouth, the more you drool. Your saliva is all over your chin, and with every harder thrust in your mouth, more tears run down your cheeks.

"You take me so well, baby. A little more.." He says in between his breaths in a low voice.

He holds the bed frame and fucks your face harder and faster. Your face is covered with your tears and saliva. You feel like you can't breathe right, and he's going faster and faster, then suddenly he stops. His dick pulses and twitches inside your mouth. His eyes are closed, and he's breathing heavily.

He slowly pulls out his cock and comes down to kiss your mouth, His tongue brushes on your lips, and he licks the saliva off you lips.

"You're wonderful, you know that?" He tells you as he wipes your tears with his fingers and smiles at you.

You smile back. "Do you want me to continue?" he asks. "Yes," you tell him.

His dick is covered in your saliva. You can taste his precum on your tongue.

He strokes his dick and sits where he was sitting before; this time he comes closer, close enough that your butt cheeks touche his thighs, he rests your legs on his shoulders. His touch makes you legs legs shake, he kisses them, "Relax baby," he tells you as he slides the tip of his cock between your folds. He doesn't give you all of it, you whine and moan, you want all of him.

"Dies this feel good?" He asks you with a smirk on his face.

"Noa.. h.. I need more," Your tears are running down your face again.

"I asked you a question." He goes a little more in.

"Yes, yes, it's so good."

"Is this all you can take?"

"No please.. Give me all of it, baby, please." You beg him; your voice is a little louder than it should be.

"Shhhhh.." he says as he presses himself into you.

You have him now, all of him. You feel your walls adjusting to him with every thrust. His hands are on your knees, keeping you closer to him.

He starts to circle your clit with his thumb. Your tears haven't stopped, so you have closed your eyes to stop them.

"Open your eyes, baby, look at me," Noah tells you. "Look at me; I want to see how you take my cock."

When you look at him, his head is tilted backwards, and he's hissing in pleasure, trying to keep quiet.

Looking at him, watching his cock and how he thrusts into you and how he's enjoying it brings you close to your orgasm; you feel it in your stomach, and if your friends weren't home, you would scream so loudly, but you don't say anything. If you tell Noah that you're close, he will stop, so you don't say anything, and when he pinches your clit your mouth opens wide and your eyes roll back. He's pounding his cock inside you and playing with your clit. You're seeing stars and trying your best to keep your body still, and seconds later, without saying a word, you come.

"I.. I came," you say quietly between his thrusts.

He looks at you surprised and confused, "No baby you didn't," and slams himself into you harder.

"Noah, p- please" Your pussy feels even wetter than before, your release is all over your cheeks and his thighs and you feel like you don't have the energy to go on another second.

"You're gonna cum for me." He presses his finger on your clit, grabs your neck and slightly presses his fingers on the sides and fucks you harder. "Come on baby, show me you can do it."

As he goes harder, you feel your second orgasm building, your legs are shaking and your back arches, "I'm gonn-" your toes curl, and when you let out a silent scream as you feel the release.

He stops and pulls out quickly. "You did great, baby. Can you give me a little more?" He kisses your belly.

"Mhmm" You nod cause you're too fucked out to talk.

Noah grabs you by the waist and helps you turn your back to him. Your hands are still tied to the bed frame, but you have a little room to change your position.

You get on your knees, rest your head on the mattress, and he puts a pillow under your head.

You haven't said a word since you came for the second time cause you're still swimming in pleasure, but Noah has been praising you for how good you were.

When he's inside you again, he has both hands on your back. You close your eyes and try to focus on the pleasure you feel when he moves inside you.

He's been going for a long time now, and before you know it, his rhythm gets messy, he reasts his head on your shoulders and puts both hands on your sides, and he fucks into you faster. He hisses in pleasure when he comes, empties himself inside you and stays there for while.

He kisses your shoulders and your back and slowly pulls out. His cum drips out of your hole, and you gasp at the sight you're seeing from between your legs.

Noah gently helps you sit on your knees. He opens your hands and kisses the red marks around your waists, then he kisses you and sits you on the bed.

He rushes to the bathroom and comes back with towels and a glass of water.

He hands you the water and kisses your head. "Was that fun?" He asks and starts to clean you with a warm damp towel.

"Yes," you sip your water, "more than I thought, actually. Was it fun for you?"

"Of course, baby. It was amazing. Thank you."

Noah sits on the bed beside you, kisses your head again, and you hug each other.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bruisedleftknee #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian smut #bad omens cult #noah sebastian bad omens #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian davis #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic #my fic

[literaila]

hey

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you're both drunk and (not) in love

warnings: alcohol mentions, angst if you're me, fluff, nonsensical conversation

a/n: i will be messing with this later but if i have to think about it for any longer i'll cry (also listen to be (acoustic) because i said so)

last part | next part

*

year four.

the house is almost silent, tonight. 

usually, at close to midnight, it's quiet. the house will buzz as the furnace works, the house settling itself into the earth, but there's none of the laughter that echoes throughout the hallways like it does during the day. no names being yelled across a threshold, much too loud for the size of the house itself. 

the kids are always in bed this late, and usually you and satoru are too--besides the nights where you stay up talking or arguing, speaking with soft voices for so long that your throat is sore by morning.

those are the nights when you fall asleep on the couch together, or you migrate to one of your rooms, speaking nothing of the broken rules in your relationship. 

satoru's bed is a lot more comfy than yours, anyway. his blankets are heavier and his pillows are fluffier. 

or that's what you usually think to yourself in the morning when you wake up there once again. it's an excuse, sure, but at least it's more reasonable than reality. 

but tonight is quiet because the kids aren't home. and it's almost midnight, and the two of you are just walking in through the door. 

and, admittedly, you're a little bit drunk. 

"don't--" you say, laughing languidly, tripping over satoru's legs as he pushes the door open. it took him five tries to unlock it, but you don't say anything, because everything looks a bit uneven. "don't forget to shut it all the way."

satoru ignores you. "why are all of the lights off?" 

you step over the tiny shoes left by your front door, almost tripping on air, and flick on the lights. you squint at the brightness, groaning.

but the lights do nothing to ease the eerieness of the hallway. 

you can't remember the last time you came home this late. the last time you had a night without the kids. 

it's probably why the two of you went a little overboard at the bar. but it's hard to keep up with shoko anyway, so it's not really your fault. 

satoru hiccups. "why don't we have night vision?" 

"humans suck," you answer, trying to kneel to take off your shoes, which are pinching at your feet. 

"true," he says, kicking his own sneakers against the wall. his jacket is already off, and on a normal night you would chastise him for not hanging it up, but at the moment you've kind of forgotten about the coat rack. 

and how to think properly. 

"did you--" you shake your head, looking at satoru, who seems to be upside down. "did you lock the door?" 

"of course i did, i'm not a heathen." 

but you see him rattle the doorknob, clumsily, and that must satisfy you because you walk out of the hallway, into the living room, which is just as dark as the rest of the house. 

it's strange that no one else is home. strange that there's no one to tuck in, no room to peek your head in before you pass out. 

"how late is it?" you ask satoru, who's following so closely behind you that you almost fall back into him when you stop. 

"dunno." 

"is there someone here? i feel like i'm in a horror movie," you turn to satoru, who's squinting around like he'll be able to see something in the dark room. "where are your glasses?" 

"dunno," he says, with a grin. and then hiccups again. 

you roll your eyes, but grab his hand as you pull him along the house, trailing to one of your rooms--you can't remember which--and forcing yourself to take off your socks before you climb into bed. 

it's a good thing that both of the kids are gone because neither of you are exactly quiet as you walk through the house. satoru is tripping every step, and you're holding onto all of the walls trying not to do the same. 

seriously, neither of you ever get out. 

and, in the blink of an eye, you're in someone's bed--hopefully yours--nuzzling yourself under the blankets. your head is swirling, and you can't see anything, but satoru is there, you think, because you can feel him. 

like a buzz on your skin as his hand trails up your arm, and he pulls you into him, probably. it's all fuzzy. and you don't care what he's doing anyway--you trust him, even drunk. 

"i'm never drinking again," you mumble as you turn, wiping something off of your face.

satoru laughs. his breath on the side of your cheek makes you blink. "you said that last time, i think." 

"i was right." 

"lightweight," he teases like he isn't slurring the word. 

he's so very close, and yet, you curl your leg around his, trying to get yourself even closer. 

satoru doesn't complain as you move, as fast a dream, and then you're lying on top of him. 

maybe it's not his bed. maybe he's the comfortable one. 

you blink hazily at his smile and press a chaste kiss on his jaw like it's an appropriate thing to do. 

you can't think of anything to say, so you just hum into his skin as you settle in. you kinda want to lick him.

"why're you so cold?" he asks you, rubbing your arms. 

you don't respond. 

being with him is like walking on top of everything else. walking on nothing at all, actually. 

his hands wrap around your waist, secure and sure, like he's never hesitated a day in his life. and you think, just for a moment, that you've never been warm like this.

that maybe you've been living in a tundra. maybe that feeling in your core has been frozen for so long, and satoru is the only thing warm enough to defrost it. 

but it takes a long time. that hurt, that fear eased in the edges of your soul cannot be cleared out with a single burst of flame. 

though satoru is not one single thing. 

but, nonetheless, his hands on you, holding you to him, are enough for now. 

his eyes--with nothing to stop them from reaching you, like a blindfold or lens--have always been far more than you wanted. 

but he's looking at you, so you can't think about any of it.

you want to tell him something, but you’re not sure what. there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out. but it stays hidden, a secret you’re keeping from even yourself.

his eyes are on yours, focused and sure, pupils blown.

you kind of want to laugh at him, because inhibitions make you giddy. and satoru has always been something that excites you. 

his face echoes with the memories of two children, two foolish kids who never understood just how good they had it. 

have it. 

"do you think i'm strong?" satoru asks you, still slurring, and he's joking. he's been quiet for a while, so you don't know where this is coming from. on a normal night, you'd probably be concerned about the question. 

but tonight you just giggle against him, tracing the slope of his eyebrow, which makes his face twitch. 

with your other hand, you pretend to feel around his arm like you'll find anything but muscle. "hmm," you pinch his bicep, giddy when he flinches from your touch. "i guess. might wanna hit the gym, though." 

you think you might die from just the way he's looking at you. 

"you're a bad liar," satoru grins at you. he's breathing heavily through his mouth like you've exhausted him. 

"so are you," you tell him. 

"says who?" he asks, and he's lying to you right now. 

"me. remember when you tried to convince me that you painted that portrait in the hallway?"  

"i did," satoru swears, but he shakes his head as he says it, looking away. 

a bit of reprieve for you, but you still tilt his chin back. you want his eyes.

"see? bad liar." 

"i get it from you." 

you grin at him, not sure what it means. 

"if you died, would you come back to haunt me?" satoru asks you, suddenly. like the question is significant, in some way. 

"if i die you'll already be a ghost," you say to him, "because you're dying first." 

"no, i'm not." 

"do you want me to die?" 

he pretends to think about it. "well, no, i guess. but if you did, would you haunt me?" 

"definitely. i'd throw things around the house for you to clean up. and mess with your conditioners." 

"so you're an evil ghost." 

"just a bit of karma for letting me die." 

"i'd avenge you," satoru argues. 

"i don't want to be avenged," you roll your eyes. "just keep me alive."

"oh, yeah. guess i could do that." 

"you guess?" 

"i mean... it's a lot of work. i'll have to look at my schedule." 

"next time i go on a mission i'm going to come back hurt just to see you freak out. maybe i'll lose a limb. or some brain damage? which is worse?" 

satoru, who squirms around a paper cut, gives you a plagued look. "i'm going to tell yaga about the threats you're making." 

"like he'd believe you." 

"i'll lock you in the basement. you'll never go on another mission again. there, i solved our problem. you never leave the house and i don't have to worry about keeping you alive." 

"we don't have a basement." 

"oh. right," he frowns. then he blinks, and the smile is back. 

"also, i keep you alive every day. you can't return the favor?” you sigh. “i'm being exploited." 

he raises a brow. 

"who do you think hides all of the sweets?" you ask him. "the kids aren't eating all of those." 

"where'd you put my pocky?" 

"you'll never know." 

"i'll torture you for information. i know where you're ticklish." 

you squirm away from his seeking hands, but don't move. you grasp one, stopping him from touching any further than your side. "i'm not scared of the man who won't even remove his hair from the drain after he showers." 

satoru makes a face. "but it's all slimy and weird." 

"it's your hair! stop making megumi do it." 

"i feed him. he can help out." 

you have to keep yourself from giggling again, like a foolish girl who’s in love with her best friend.

you roll your eyes and fall flat against him, letting go of his hand, even though it's very soft, and you relax on his chest. there's a moment where satoru settles into this--into you--and then his hands begin to roam the expanse of your back.

"if i was a ghost," satoru whispers, "i would lay on top of you in the morning so you couldn't get out of bed." 

"like a sleep paralysis demon?" 

"yup." 

"dont you already do that?" 

he licks his lips. "it'd be scarier if i was invisible." 

"can ghosts touch people? i don't think they're tactile." 

"i'm not like a normal ghost." 

"not like normal anything." 

satoru nudges his nose against your forehead in retaliation, but he doesn't argue. it's not like he can, anyway. 

"hey," you whisper, after a moment. you're looking up at him, admiring the slopes and concaves of his face at this angle. his eyes almost make his face glow, his own personal light. 

"hey." 

"do you think the kids are awake right now?" 

"no," satoru sighs. "nanami probably put them to bed at six. after feeding them straight broccoli." 

"i told him their routine..." you mumble. "i think." 

"d'ya think megumi'll haunt us?" 

"he'll never die," you tell him, "just out of spite." 

"true." 

"you can't haunt him, okay?" you say, very seriously, giving him a flat look, which he laughs at. "when you die he deserves some peace." 

"no promises." 

you poke his chest but have no answer. actually... you're not even really sure what you're talking about. or that it matters. 

there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out.

but satoru is still warm. he smells like bitter alcohol and bubblegum. 

"hey," you whisper, again, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. you’re not sure what you’re doing.

he is blurry this close, but you can still see all of him. you'd know his face if you went blind, behind a mask. you could black out--you probably will--and he'd still be there. 

"hey," he murmurs back. his voice is like a punch to the throat. but his smile is effortless.

"you're pretty," you whisper, as you think it. "and sweaty." 

satoru's looking down at you, and his smile stays the same. his breath is on your face, sugary sweet. "so are you." 

"i know." 

satoru laughs, his knuckles running across your cheekbone. it almost makes you shiver. "pretty," he whispers like it's a joke. 

"why're your eyes so blue?" 

"wavelengths, or something. didn't you pay attention in school?" 

you laugh, shaking your head at him. it's funnier than it should be. 

"don't you like my eyes?" he asks, suddenly pouting. 

"yeah. they're like a nightlight. 's never dark." 

his eyes are probably your favorite thing in the world, you don't say, 'cause you can't think. his eyes are unimaginable, and so close to you.

satoru swallows, shaking his head. "that's all i am to you?" 

"and a teddy bear. you're comfy." 

satoru hiccups, but holds you closer, smiling against your forehead. "good." 

there's a couple of minutes where the two of you bask in the silence. the quiet is a nice break from it all. and you're both so drunk that the usual fears can't seem to make their way in. 

not the way they usually doing, plaguing your body. fear is just something that is, right now. nothing to be afraid of.

but, even so, you've never felt so safe. or so sleepy.

and this time, it's satoru who whispers, "hey." 

"hey," you say, back. you smile at him. his fingers trace circles on your back. or maybe he's writing something. you can't tell. 

it feels nice, though. 

"i like you," he says. and you're not sure if he means in general, or here, in his bed with him. maybe it's a question. 

it doesn't matter. 

"i like you too. hey?" 

satoru just hums this time. you can tell that he's about to fall asleep, because his eyelashes flutter shut, and his breathing has begun to even out. 

"satoru," you say, again, because you want to see his eyes just one more time before you fall asleep on top of him. 

you have to say something. it could be the alcohol, but it might be just you.

"yeah?" 

"i think i'm in love with you," you say, and you mean it but it's not what you meant to say. but you're half-asleep, about to drool on his chest, so you can't even contemplate the words. 

is it drunk and in love? or drunk on love? 

you can't remember. 

you could probably kiss him right now. he’s close enough, and you’ve always wanted to. but, even this version of you knows that it would be a bad idea. so you don’t. and you don’t think about what you’ve just admitted.

satoru's smile is vicious, as it begins to blur. you can feel his heart beating against your fingertips. "yeah?" he whispers, and you're not sure why he sounds breathless.

you nod against him. 

"me too," he murmurs, and you can't think about what it means. he whispers something else that you don't hear.

because the two of you fall asleep just then, and the words don't really mean anything. 

just, you know, everything. 

*

in the morning, your head pounds. 

one of you left the blinds open last night, so the sun wakes you up, shining through the trees outside. your mouth is dry, and your throat burns, like you swallowed knives. 

and you're still on top of satoru, and you remember exactly how you got there. 

he's groaning when you begin to move, holding you closer. and this isn't all that unusual. 

but when he opens his eyes, there's a daze in them. some secret he's thinking about as he looks at you. 

and you both forget to mention that you remember the night before. and everything that was said. 

you probably shouldn't talk about it with a hangover, anyway. 

*

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk texts #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo saturo #gojo fluff #a typical family #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujustsu kaisen x reader

[soapsbaby]

Friends with Benefits

Kinktober IV

Summary: How a friends with benefits relationship would go with them. Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” Mactavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John Price, König, Alejandro Vargas, Rudy Vargas, Valeria Garza, all x gn!reader Rating: NSFW (mdni) Word Count: 1200ish

Ghost

In the beginning it was a lot more “benefits” than it was “friends”. He had a lot of issues to let you in any further than just sleeping with you. 

You were an outlet for frustration and he was entirely honest about that and made sure you didn't feel used or led on.

It took a while but eventually you were able to spend the night, he started calling you when he needed company and eventually he even opened up to you a little and you finally got to understand why he acts the way he does.

He’s a very attentive lover and now that he has a closer bond with you, also an incredible friend. He is always there to listen, even if he often doesn’t know what advice to give you.

Often calls you over late at night or right after returning from missions, just needing a way to blow off steam. He tends to be a little rough with you, but only with your consent.

He isn’t interested in any relationship or attachments so he is quite happy with your arrangement. 

Soap

You and Johnny had been friends for super long before you eventually got closer to him. It was just supposed to be a sleepover so you could binge some horror movies together, but at some point his hand had ended up on your thighs, then you had ended up in his lap and the moment you started kissing you both knew it was over. 

Except for having sex not much has changed between the two of you, most of your hookups still happen during movie nights or other friendship hangouts that you would have had before starting to sleep together.

It’s becoming a problem when people start asking questions since neither of you pay any attention to the movies you’re supposed to be watching. “Oh, you watched (...) on the weekend, right?? How was it?” “Uh… Good… I think.” 

You are so casual and comfortable with each other that there was never really a phase of awkwardness between you two, it just felt natural. 

He honestly doesn't care if anyone finds out, is the type to pull you into a supply closet for a quickie.

Price

You are both very happy with the arrangement, even though except for missing full commitment you are basically in a relationship. 

He will always make sure you know you are taken care of and that you know how much he appreciates you, take you out for dinner or cook for you, get you gifts. 

Compared to the others, your relationship is a little more mature and less impulsive, you had been friends for a long while, tried to date but didn’t quite work out. Still, you both had to admit you enjoyed having sex with one another, so you just decided to go back to that part. 

He’ll check in with you often to make sure you are still happy with the situation and it is understood that if either of you ever find a serious relationship you’ll have to stop.

He likes to make sure he has his time with you, whenever you have a "date" he wants to have the whole day off.

Gaz

It was supposed to be just a friends with benefits situation but failed almost immediately. You both tried so hard to keep it casual but it was a lost cause from the first time. 

Gaz used to have hookups quite often when off duty, but now that he has you, he doesn’t really want or need that anymore. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, let alone you, but he’s kind of obsessed with you.

At this point you are spending so much time at each other’s places that you might as well move in, but both of you are afraid to suggest taking the next step because that is not what we agreed on.

He is so sweet, always taking his time with you, making sure you are the priority and that you feel well taken care of.

So good at giving oral.

König

You’re one of the few people from his past that he is still in contact with and though you don’t get to see him often, it’s a good time whenever you do.

It’s good for him to have someone from his childhood that can give him a reality check and make sure he doesn’t forget where he came from when he needs it.

He isn’t the best at communicating, which your situation requires a lot of, so you run into problems at times. You don’t see each other often, most of the time there is a lot of distance dividing you, plus the time zones, so there is a lot to be navigated.

He likes and appreciates you a lot though, so you make it work somehow.

Most of the time he is super gentle with you and will do whatever it takes to make sure you finish first, however there have been situations where he just needed to use you to get some negative emotions out of his system after a failed mission.

Alejandro 

He always said he wasn’t one for casual sex, that he was made for relationships, but he had to learn that that just isn’t fully true. Once you and him started sleeping together he had to realize how convenient it was to have someone to help him have his needs met without the responsibilities that come with actual relationships.

He’s a great lover, extremely attentive, very loving, and skillful at what he does. He’d never be selfish and only get himself off.

Rudy

You have been friends with benefits for as long as you can remember, so the communication between the two of you is great since you just know each other so well.

It started when you were joking around with him after a bad date how dating around wasn't worth it just to have mediocre sex with people you barey liked and he got competetive about it.

"Bet I could do better." (He in fact could and did do better)

You don’t sleep with each other that often, just once every few months when you both feel like it. Most of the time when you hang out, things stay strictly platonic, that is just the way things work out for you.

Valeria

She doesn’t have many friends that she can actually trust, so she was terrified to push your relationship any further than a friendship. She didn’t want to risk losing you, one of the few people who knew her before the army, before the cartel. 

Still, one thing led to another and she’d never want to go back to before. She knows you might not fully support her work in the cartel, but that you still feel nothing but loyalty for her.

She doesn’t have time for an actual relationship and also wouldn’t want to put someone in danger of getting caught up in the crossfire of cartel dealings, so you being fairly low-commitment for her is ideal.

She can be a bit of a selfish lover, but you adore pleasuring her, so it all works out in the end.

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cod fanfic #cod headcanon #ari writes #alejandro vargas x reader #valeria garza x reader #rudy parras x reader #i think i might just do kinktober like this it is much more fun than actual fic writing #I will probably post the fics at some point though #most of them i've started writing already anyways so it'd be a waste otherwise #sorry for the chaos :((

[ichorai]

airbag ; steve rogers.

track one of OK COMPUTER.

pairing ; steve rogers x reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; five time steve tries to propose to you, and one time he actually does.

words ; 4.3k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, kind of avengers tower au?

warnings / includes ; mentions/descriptions of injury, alcohol, lots of lovesick fluff, rest of avengers are mentioned, natasha and tony Meddling, reference to spider-man & sandman :)

main masterlist.

Steve considered himself a romantic of sorts. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked bringing you flowers, he liked taking you to the theater, and he liked walking you home—all the way up to your door and listening for the lock, so he knew you’d be safe in there. 

It was only fitting how cliché it felt when he realized he was in love with you. Firework-igniting kisses and butterfly-filled tummies and face-splitting grins. Everything described in those movies you enjoyed watching—but so much more.

Steve Rogers wasn’t a man to waste time. After all—enough of that had been done while he was frozen in the ice. If he was going to start something, then he was most definitely going to go all the way and finish it, too. 

Almost immediately after your first anniversary, he bought a ring. It was simple and classic, maybe a bit out of style but hey, you seemed to be into that. You were dating a century-year-old. 

It was December then, soft snow lining the streets and piling upon naked tree branches. During the drive to the fancy restaurant he’d found (courtesy of Tony), there were children building snowmen and sledding down shallow hills. You smiled watching them, eyes rife with fond warmth, and Steve knew then that he had to do it. He had to propose to you tonight. 

Inside, you wouldn’t stop telling him how underdressed you felt, but Steve reassured you by saying a simple, “You look perfect, I promise.”

And he wasn’t lying. You did look perfect to him.

Dinner consisted of several decadent courses, with the waiters serving platters the two of you could barely even pronounce. It was delicious, nonetheless, and the chef had even come by to shake the hand of the Captain America.

During the last course—a silken slice of chocolate cake for dessert—Steve slipped his hand into his suit’s pocket, the velvet box smooth beneath his fingers. He replayed the question over and over again in his head, rehearsed a million times prior to the dinner.

Will you marry me?

And just as he was about to pull the ring box out, another diner pushed his chair back just far enough to accidentally knock into a waiter passing by, holding a plate of spaghetti. Completely sauced, to top.

To Steve’s horror, the plate tipped, almost in slow motion, and fell with a wet, splattering noise all over your outfit. You’d let out a small yelp of surprise, the spaghetti was hot, but not enough to burn. Steve stood up a second too late, hand falling away from his pocket as he rounded the table and placed it on your shoulder, asking if you were okay. 

“I’m okay,” you told him gently, reaching over to grab a few napkins at the center of your table.

You didn’t get mad, of course you didn’t—it was part of the reason Steve loved you so much—instead, you were kind and patient, reassuring the flustered waiter that it was alright. “Mistakes happen,” you said. Another waiter came by a few minutes later with a few damp cloths so you could wipe the rest of the spaghetti sauce off.

Needless to say, the chef insisted that the meal was on the house that night, much to Steve’s chagrin.

The drive back home smelled of marinara sauce and oregano, but the heavy weight in his chest at the failed proposal seemed to lighten when you joked about how the five course meal ended up being six.

Natasha knew about the ring. Steve wasn’t quite sure how—he’d never explicitly told her—but then again, he wasn’t surprised. Nat seemed to always just know things from the smallest of details. It was why she made such a brilliant spy.

“So,” she’d said once she stumbled across from Steve in the Avenger Tower’s lavish gym, a sly grin stretching over her lips, “when are you popping the question?”

There was a pause to his movements—the dumbbell he’d been curling hovered in the air, his muscles tensing. He thought about it for a little longer, considering asking her how she knew but—he seemed to sense that Natasha would wave it away with a laugh and a light, “A magician never reveals her secrets.”

Instead, he told the red-head, “I’m working on it.” 

Natasha leaned against a treadmill, arms crossing over her chest. The smile on her face seemed to grow even wider. “Uh-huh. How long have you had the ring?”

Steve resumed doing his reps. The burn felt nice, even if it was only barely there. “Long enough.”

There was a soft tenderness to Natasha’s eyes, and she bumped a fist into his bicep. “Take Y/N hiking. Far away from the city, where it’s quiet.”

Again, Steve paused his exercise. Slow, he put the weights down, thinking over her words. 

“That’s actually—that’s a good idea, Nat.”

“Of course it is.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Thanks, really. I just want things to be perfect.”

She dipped her head once, before climbing onto the treadmill. “Send pictures. I’ve got a bet going on—Clint would want proof.”

Steve spared her an amused roll of his eyes. With a wave and a hurried goodbye, Steve rushed out of the gym to take a quick shower. The weather app on his phone (that he took an embarrassingly long time to find) told him the skies were going to be clear that afternoon—perfect for hiking.

Maybe, hopefully, perfect for proposals.

Half an hour later, you were ready to go, too, bouncing on the balls of your feet excitedly.

“I packed us sandwiches.”

“Did you? Oh, great—thanks, honey. We could have them as an early dinner.” He rubbed your shoulder and nudged you into the car. 

“I packed a bunch of snacks, too.”

Steve arched a brow. “Like?”

“Gummy worms, popcorn, chips, cookies. Oh, and Wanda actually made something for us, I’m not really sure what it is, but it smelled nice—”

Your words died away when Steve laughed, loud and chesty. Of course you’d pack just about the entire pantry. How you managed to stuff all of that into your travel backpack with room to spare was beyond him. You couldn’t help but break out into an infectious smile when he leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead. 

The drive out of the city to the hiking trail was long, and you nearly dozed off if not for the road getting progressively bumpier the closer you got. 

The sun was high in the sky by the time you arrived. You slipped out of the car with a pleased hum and stretched out your limbs, ready to get the hike over and done with. You might’ve been dating a superhuman, but you had no powers of your own. The pressure to keep up was something always in the back of your mind.

And that’s how the hike went—you were determined to stay on par with Steve, no matter how grueling the terrain became. Even when he suggested a break to have some of the many snacks you’d packed, you tossed him your bag and kept trekking on—you were worried that if you stopped, you would never get back up again. 

Really, you shouldn’t have overexerted yourself this quickly—the two of you were barely halfway done with the trail. Your feet were starting to drag, and your pace grew staggered. Just as you turned around to face your boyfriend and ask for a breather, your foot caught on a tree root that poked up above the trail’s surface, and you stumbled forward. 

Thankfully, Steve’s quick reflexes came in handy, and he darted forward to grab you before you could go rolling down the steep hills. 

He tugged you close into his chest, not yet registering your wince of pain. “Are you okay? That was a close one!”

When you pulled away, you gingerly tried to test your wait on the foot, but quickly lifted it back up with a grimace. “Oh, God. I think I’ve rolled my ankle.”

Steve stiffened, glancing further up the trail. It was maybe another two hours, but that was only with two fully-functioning pairs of legs. 

The proposal would have to wait another day, then.

He cupped your face, soft and gentle. “Wrap your arms around my neck from behind. I’ll carry you down to the car.”

“You sure, Stevie? I can try hopping down on one foot.” You tried to demonstrate, but nearly lost your balance again. All the jostling sent bolts of pain down your foot, which surely wasn’t a good sign, either.

He snorted, huff-laughing, other hand slipping over your waist to keep you still. “I’m sure. Come on.” He leaned down expectantly.

Relenting, you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and hooked the inside of your thighs over his waist, careful to keep your injured foot extended so it wouldn’t bump into him. It was beginning to throb.

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled, resting your cheek over his shoulder, one of your hands lifting to toy with his short, blonde hair. He began to walk down, and you tried your best to ignore the pain in your ankle. “Ruined our hiking trip. I was so excited.”

“It’s okay, honey. It was an accident! We can always go another time. Maybe a different trail, though.”

You apologized again, the whole way down, in fact, despite his assurances that he wasn’t at all tired. He really wasn’t—barely broke a sweat during the descent. Besides, he quite liked the feeling of your holding so tight onto him, your nose pressed into the side of his neck, your soft laughter brushing over his skin in one moment, your slight winces in the next. 

“I love you,” you whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

He felt a shiver traverse down his back, and briefly wondered if you felt it, too.

“I love you, too. That tickles, though.”

Your laugh was abrupt and ever so heart-warming. “Sorry.”

The movie, you’d told him, was a cult classic from the seventies. Steve couldn’t really remember what it was called. Callie? Cassie? It was an awful lot of blood. The arm he had wound over your shoulder squeezed you every time someone screamed in the film—which was… startlingly often. 

Proposing in the middle of a gorey movie wasn’t exactly the romantic vision Steve had in mind, but since the previous attempts really didn’t work in his favor, he wondered if keeping it casual was the best way to go. So when you asked if he could come over for an abrupt movie night, he readily agreed—and brought the small, velvet ring box with him.

It was tucked safely in the pocket of his slacks, on the side you weren’t pressed up against. The weight was a constant reminder of what he wanted to ask you—occupying his mind away from the movie he should’ve been paying attention to.

He’d propose once the credits started rolling. Yes, that’d be best, right? Wouldn’t want a horrified scream interrupting his profession of undying love to you.

And so he watched. He watched and watched, absentmindedly wondering what on earth the movie was even about. He dragged his knuckles up and down your arm. When a particularly gruesome scene unfolded, Steve glanced over at you. 

To his surprise, your features were softened with sleep, only barely illuminated by the crimson glow from the television, your lips slightly parted and eyes shut. 

With gentle movements, Steve reached over to guide your head onto his shoulder. Your hair tickled his cheek, and he let out a soft puff of a sigh before smiling. He kissed your temple, nose resting over your forehead. 

The proposal would have to wait another day.

Tony’s parties were always an affair that Steve looked forward to. He wasn’t a party-goer by any means, but he found that the grand events were a great way for him to catch up with all his colleagues, acquaintances, and work associates he otherwise wouldn’t have spoken to for months to come. 

And, of course, your excitement always seemed to rub off on him. You were buzzing about the room with what looked like twenty different outfits hanging off of your arms, holding them between you and the mirror with a scrutinizing look.

“Tucked or untucked?” you asked, more to yourself than him. He wasn’t given the chance to respond, anyway, since you chucked the shirt somewhere behind you and promptly started looking for another.

When you’d finally settled for appropriately formal attire, and Steve slipped into a button-up dress shirt (which was his one and only option, much to your envy), the two of you set off for Tony’s.

The party was already in full swing by the time you got there. Steve wasn’t entirely sure what the event was for—an anniversary or birthday, maybe? Fundraising gala? A celebration of some sort of scientific breakthrough Steve couldn’t even begin to comprehend? It was always a toss-up with Tony.

You were greeting people here and there, stopping to chatter amicably about what you’ve been up to, how work was going, the latest shows you’ve been catching up with…

And then you kissed his cheek and told him you were going to go grab some drinks. Steve watched you go with fond eyes. You looked incredible tonight. 

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie, and Tony Stark’s smug face came into view. 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, sly and knowing. What did he know?

“Hey, Tony. We only just got here. What’s all this for, by the way?” Steve crossed his arms and glanced around for any telltale signs.

A smirk flitted across his expression. “Just thought we all needed a bit of social activity pumped into the team. It’s a great place to… get your courage up, hm?” Tony smiled, and Steve narrowed his eyes.

“Did Natasha tell you?”

Tony snorted. “We all know.”

“Great.” Steve slid his hand into his pocket and traced the smooth grooves of the ring box. “Is everyone expecting me to propose tonight?”

“No, pfft—we don’t want to pressure you or anything…” Tony pointedly glanced at a stage conveniently placed front and center of the room. “But if you need some, what should I call it… assistance, the stage is all yours to use.”

Steve balked. Proposing at a party was one thing, but proposing on a stage in front of hundreds of people was completely out of the question. 

Or was it? 

“I’m not going to propose on a stage. That’s more your style.”

With a shrug, Tony rolled his eyes. “I mean, Pepper hasn’t left me yet, has she?”

Steve chose not to grace him with a response, but frown-smiled when Tony grabbed a flute of champagne and shoved it into his hands. He was gone the next second, off to greet a new round of guests. 

Thirty seconds later, you appeared by his side, positively beaming, but slightly out of breath. There were two chilled glasses clutched in your hands, almost sloshing over with how quickly you bounded to him.

“Oh, you already got a drink?” you asked, grinning. You clinked both glasses against his, chiming, “Cheers!”

And as you were downing the sugary alcohol in your right hand, Steve ran a finger along the ring box again. 

Maybe… maybe it really wasn’t a bad idea. He looked back at the stage. There was a microphone stand on there. Has it been there since the beginning?

He turned his head back to you, and you told him about Banner inviting the two of you over for dinner some time. Just as he was about to reply, his phone started buzzing in his other pocket. Deftly, Steve slipped his hand away from the box and went to pick up the phone—Sam’s caller ID staring up at him.

His friend’s voice sounded strained through the phone, and Steve gripped your hand and led you to a more quiet hallway, away from the crowd and the thrum of music. 

Sam hurriedly told him that there was trouble downtown—something about Spider-Man and a very sandy guy. 

“Sandy?” 

“Yeah. Dude’s made of sand.”

“Oh.” Steve paused, brows furrowing. “I’ll be there in twenty. Can you keep it together till then?”

“Don’t have another choice, do I, Cap?” 

With that, Sam hung up. Steve looked to you, crestfallen.

“Honey, I gotta go.” 

Your voice was light and airy, despite your slightly crestfallen and confused countenance. “Sam’s in trouble?”

“Yeah. I’ll—” There was an uncertain pause. Steve leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

Your brows pulled together. “I love you, too. Stay safe, Steve.”

It was something you just had to accustom yourself to—when your boyfriend was a superhero, his priorities encompassed far more than you. But you understood, as you always did, and let him hurry away with a stiff lip. 

The hospital was packed. Claustrophobically dense. You hurriedly wove through the crowd of anxious people hovering around the information desk, having already gotten the text which room Steve was in.

A few twisting hallways later, you pushed through a door and just about collapsed with relief when your eyes landed on Steve. 

He was badly bruised. Hues of deep purple and faint blues were blossomed all over his face. One of his eyes was swollen, his sandy-blonde hair was tousled, and his bottom lip was split. He was wearing a hospital gown, and you felt nauseated wondering just what other injuries he was hiding beneath the fabric. 

But he was alive. That was the least you’d hoped for.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you only then registered that Bucky was there, standing by the bed, expression grim and steeled. His blue eyes darted away from his best friend’s face to meet yours.

“I’ll give you two some space,” he murmured with a tight edge to his voice. Bucky patted your shoulder and whisked off before you could say anything. 

“Steve?” you croaked, drawing nearer to the bed. Your throat felt tight. “Oh, God…”

Despite his entire face aching, Steve managed to tug one of the corners of his lips up into a meager smile. “Hey, honey.”

His voice sounded hoarse and overused, but was still utter music to your ears. You just about collapsed onto the side of the bed, reaching out to gently brush the back of your shaking knuckles over what little of his face wasn’t bruised.

“I heard what happened on the news,” came your tearful whisper. “I was so worried you…”

Something softened within the blue of his eyes. “I’m still here.”

You dipped forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and his tired eyes slid shut. 

“Has a doctor checked on you yet? Any permanent damage I have to look out for?” You pulled away so you could roam your eyes over his form once more.

“Just a few bruises. Bone fractures. Nothing I can’t recover from,” he replied, though he winced when he tried to shift and sit more upright. You placed a hand on his back and helped him move, cautiously slow.

“Take it easy, old man,” you warned. “Don’t want you to pop a hip.”

Steve wheezed out what seemed like a laugh. Then, his eyes darted to the bedside table, where some spare clothes were neatly packed in a bag. Bucky had brought them, making sure to hide the ring box safely underneath a few layers.

Should he? Now, when he had the chance?

“I have something to ask you…” he began, tentative, dragging his eyes back onto you. You tilted your head pointedly, beckoning for him to go on. 

Just as he was about to say the words, there were three rapid knocks to the hospital room’s doors and they creaked open immediately after, two nurses shuffling in, clipboards in hand.

“Hello, just here to run a few more check-ups!” one of them chirped. “It’s not often we get a super admitted in here.”

Steve just about physically deflated. Your brows kinked, and you patted his cheek fondly.

“I’ll come by later—gonna go see if Sam is okay. You should rest, Stevie. Love you.” With one final kiss to his cheek, you got up from his bed and made space for the bustling nurses. He barely managed to lift his hand to wave you goodbye before you hurried out of the room, back into the packed hallways.

A month had drifted by since he wound up in the hospital (and discharged the very next day). It was pleasantly breezy that day—gusts of wind tousling his now-overgrown hair and whistling sweetly in your ears. 

Steve bent at the waist to place the bouquet of flowers down in front of the headstone. If it were any windier, he was sure it would’ve blown away. But it stayed put, the petals only barely swaying to and fro, and he righted himself back up.

“Sarah Rogers,” you whispered, eyes trailing across the smooth grooves of her name indented into the slab, voice thick with fondness. “What did she look like?”

Your arm wounded over the small of his waist. The two of you had visited the cemetery a few months prior, where you helped him scrub all the moss and dirt from her headstone. He told you about many of his adventures with Bucky before his time frozen in the ice, but very little about his mother. 

A wistful smile touched the corner of his face. Now fully healed, much to your relief. 

“She was blonde. Blue eyes. Crow lines, I think. Really faint, but they appeared every time she laughed.” There was a nostalgic warmth to his tone. 

“Took after her, then.” You beamed down at the grave. “She must’ve been beautiful.”

Steve leaned into your grasp and kissed the very top of your head. “She was. She would’ve loved you, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“She would’ve thought you were perfect. She saw a lot of terrible things in her lifetime, but you—you would’ve made her laugh a lot.” A pause. The wind hummed a disjointed tune. “She always believed in me, even though she was terrified for me all the time. Worried herself sick. If only she knew I’d end up here…”

Your head landed on his bicep. “She knows. She knew from the very beginning.”

The blonde smiled at you again, and you couldn’t help but notice his crow lines, too. It was comforting to know that there was so much of his mother in him.

“You ready for lunch?”

“I’m starving.” you told him, before blowing a chaste kiss to the headstone. “See you soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

Steve began to lead you away, and he couldn’t seem to scratch the smile from his lips. The two of you started walking back home, taking your sweet time. You were saying something—something about a nice lasagna you had frozen in the fridge—

But Steve could barely hear any of it. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. He had to tell you now.

“I love you,” he interrupted. The words died on your tongue and you regarded him curiously, as if he’d grown a second head. 

Apparently, there was a near manic look to his eye that prompted you to worriedly query, “Is something wrong, Steve—?”

Instead of answering, Steve stopped walking. He dropped down onto one knee, brandishing the ring box from his pocket, flicking it open. The realization broke across your features just a second later. Your eyes widened, and you reared back in shock.

And the words—the words just came tumbling out. Not at all what he’d scripted for months on end, but something entirely different. Something raw and unfiltered—purely from his heart. “I love you, more than I can ever put into words. You’re just—amazing, perfect in every goddamn way. I don’t want to go another day without calling you mine. I want to be yours, honey. All of me, every single bit of me, with all of you. It’s been an honor being your boyfriend. Really, it has, but I’m… I’m ready to be your husband, if you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”

There were tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You were only but a streak of color before you were yanking him forward, practically burying his face against your chest. He didn’t care that there was a rock digging into his knee. Barely even felt it. 

The next moment, you were pulling away to yank him back up, kissing him like he was the very air you needed to breathe. 

“Is that a yes?” he asked against your lips, slightly muffled. He was smiling, because he already knew your answer.

You nodded into the kiss, refusing to pull away. “I’d marry you a million times over, Steve. Again and again and again, until you get sick of me.”

“Could never get sick of you,” he whispered, forehead leaning over yours. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The two of you broke apart minutes later, reluctantly, though you had permanent smiles etched across your faces the entire way back home. The ring fit you perfectly.

When the news broke to the rest of the Avengers, they all erupted into an array of groans and cheers, and multiple wads of cash were passed around. Natasha sent the two of you a pleased wink. You two just landed her a combined total of a hundred bucks, but some secrets were simply better left unsaid.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers drabbles #steve rogers ff #steve rogers x you

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

Hey! So I really liked your child + overlords, and I’ve been watching too many horror movies lately, so I was thinking; what if a kid like Samhain (Sam from “Trick r Treat”) was the kid.

He’s not even an overlord but how would they be with him when he clearly likes them, he shares candy with them, follows them around, and likes to cozy up with them. (especially since he’s as old as hallow’s eve itself and still kinda acts like a child, but never had a caretaker or someone to consider family) But when someone tries to hurt them, Sam does something super horrific to their attacker that would even creep Alastor out? But then he goes back to the lovable Sam that they know but what’s their reactions?

A/n: I haven’t watched Trick or Treat, so I based off a few clips I watched. Also by attacked them, I assume you mean the overlord? I’m so sorry if not!!! :( 

!!!not proofread!!!

Alastor: Very intrigued by you. Which, knowing Alastor is the reason he was nice to you in the first place, which spiraled into friendship. You were unnaturally cuddly. Which Alastor would usually hate, but, for some reason, he didn’t mind with you. Also, you kept giving candy? He wasn't entirely sure where you kept getting it because the hotel didn’t have any, but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless. One day both of you were going for an evening stroll. Until some, to put it frankly, idiot, attacked Alastor. Well tried to at least. Most people couldn’t get a scratch on him and this was no exception. What was different this time was that it was him who drew screams out of the sinner.  Instead, you, sweet, kind, you, were the one responsible.  You ended up disturbing Alastor, which is hard to do, so good job!  But after you were done you reverted back into your innocent self. Has a new reason for why he likes you after that day.

Rosie: I mentioned this in my overlord post but, mother figure. She will give you candy as well! (Just don't eat it if you're not a cannibal) She’ll make sure she always has time for you. And even when she is spending time with others she is not opposed to you tagging along. You and she had just bought some candy and were on your way back to cannibal town. You and Rosie were having a lovely conversation before someone tackled Rosie to the ground. She was able to push them off rather fast before you jumped in. Rosie was kinda shell-shocked. But despite how eldritch horror-esque the scene was, she was used to this because of Alastor. She was more surprised that it was you of all sinners. After you were done you turned back into your nice self. Tbh she doesn’t really care, she treats you the same. 

Vox: I’m going to be honest with you bestie he doesn’t like you at first. He didn’t hate you or anything, just didn’t particularly care for you. That being said, you do grow on him. He doesn’t eat the candy you give him (weirdly enough he can though. We see him eat popcorn in the final.) I don’t know bro just isn’t going to eat candy some random kid gave him from who knows where. Also, you're always in the ads. it wasn’t on purpose at first but soon he would just casually hold you in the ads, he never mentions it though. One day he’s going to film an ad and you are tagging along as you always do. When somebody tries to attack Vox with a bat, but they were stopped in their tracks by you. Vox just stared at horror and amazement as you made the sinner pay. After the horror wears off the dude is amazed. If you weren’t friends before you are now. Despite the fact that you’re, y’know, a child, he kind of uses you for scary dog privileges.

Velvette: Surprisingly accepting of you. Would probably post pics with your candy and cuddling with you. She does just straight up like you even without social media. Velvette is the youngest overlord which makes her a pretty easy target. So while it wasn't a surprise for her to get attacked how you responded was. Out of instinct, she starts recording not just to post it, I mean yes that too, but also to make sure what she was seeing was real. Which was especially needed after you went back to your cutesy self. Despite how unbelievable it was she was pretty indifferent at the end of the day. Will ask you if you can do that more for photos though.

Carmila: New mother part 2. Though admittedly she isn't one for cuddles or candy. She does take it and cuddle to make you happy. Very protective of you. You are kind and she doesn't want you to get hurt, thankfully she doesn't have to worry about you. Someone attacking the overlord who makes weapons isn't wise, but as you’ve probably learned by now, messing with someone you care about is even more stupid. She wants to stop you but also doesn't want to hurt you or get herself in the crossfire. But hey now she knows you can protect yourself. Maybe even against an exorcist without angelic metal because holy fuck. Anyway, now she trains with you.

  (A/n: Bro Tumblr fucking deleted this when I was ¾ done with it.)

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #carmilla x reader #rosie x reader #vox x reader #velvette x reader #child reader #platonic

[maplesturniolo]

Shower~C.S

Warning- SMUTT, “just friends”, shower sex, nicknames (ma), nothing else really (my first story, also not proofread)

Summary- your sleepover gets a little spicy when Chris finds out your secret. (Sorry this is so short)

Almost every weekend me and the triplets find time to have a sleepover, but this week only Chris and nick could make it. That’s because Matt was really sick and didn’t want to get anyone else sick as well. Particularly because Matt is sick we are sleeping over at my house. And don’t get me wrong I love these boys so much, but I kind of have a small crush on Chris. I hope he doesn’t know and now I’m worried because I only have one small ish bed in my room and one spear room that Nick usually likes to sleep in, so that means Chris would have to be with me…

~

“Hey we should watch a movie, I seen an ad on TikTok for it” nick said looking up from his phone a split second before reaching for the remote. We were all sitting on the large couch I had in my house. Nick and I sat beside each other and Chris was looking in the fridge for food. Once nick got the movie ready to play I readjusted my self to be laying my head on his thigh and had my legs spread to the other side of the couch. “Chris you coming” nick shouted at Chris who was still looking through my kitchen. I looked over at him, leaned against the side of the fridge his veiny hands grasping a can of Pepsi.

I wonder what those long slender fingers would feel like inside me?

“Hey you good?” I snapped out of my thoughts when Nick asked “yea no I’m fine” I say shaking my head and giving him a slight smile in reply. “Cmon guys let’s just start the movie already” I say trying ti keep my mind off of how hot Chris looked right now.

~

Half way through the movie, I sat in between Chris and nick still laying my head on nick except now it’s on his shoulder. Nick had picked a horror movie, I was completely fine with it but Chris on the other hand, not so much. At every single jumps scare he flinched, and sometimes screamed.

Man I wonder if he would make those noises if I jerked him off?

More of the movie has passed and I got tired, “hey guys you can keep watching I’m just a bit tired I’m going to go lay down” they nodded their heads and I walked up the stairs to my room and closed the door behind me. I got undressed and put on a pair of tight shorts over my black lace underwear. I removed my bra and put on one of nicks shirts that he lets me borrow. Just then I hear a knock on my door.

“Hey sweetie make sure you guys don’t stay up too late tonight okay” my mom said coming in to give me a hug goodnight. “Yup, love you!” I say in response walking over to my bed.

As I was scrolling on my phone Chris barged in “I spilled my Pepsi all over me now I’m all sticky” you giggled in response seeing the huge puddle of Pepsi on his shirt. “You could just take a shower if you want” you said looking over to the bathroom door. “Thank you” Chris sarcastically put his hands together and looked at you before grabbing his change of clothes and walking into your bathroom.

Chris was already in the shower and you realized that you needed to brush your teeth. “Hey Chris! Can I come in for a sec?” You said knocking on the door a few times, “yup” he yelled back in response. You grabbed your toothbrush and started to apply the toothpaste when you heard a knock on the door of your bathroom “hey the boys are in the spare room right?” “Uhh, yes ya they are!” You say in response knowing Chris was naked behind you. “Okay! I’m coming in to grab something real quick!” You didn’t know what to do do you quickly got undressed and jumped in the shower with Chris.

“Hey! What th-“ you put your hand over Chris’s mouth. “Okay thanks sweetie! Goodnight!” Your mom closed the door and left, leaving you completely exposed Infront of Chris, and him exposed infront of you. “Holy fuck” Chris says staring you up and down. “Chris!” You shout at him and turn around. “Whattt? You are the one who jumped in here”

I mean he isn’t wrong, “shut it Christopher” you snapped back at him. As you were lifting your feet up to get out Chris’s hands attached to your waist.

“Where do you think you’re going” you could feel his rock hard dick on your back “anywhere but here” you say turning around to face him.

Just then Chris pulls you in for a passionate hungry kiss, his tongue immediately exploring your mouth. You start grinding forwards into his dick, getting groans from Chris.

“Now if we’re are going to do this you better be fucking quiet” Chris said grabbing your jaw, you let out a moan “I need words ma” “yes oh my god just fuck me already” you moaned out.

Quickly Chris turns you around and pushed your back down to create an arch, you could feel the arousal dripping from your pussy.

“You’re so wet for me” Chris said as he swiped his eager tip through your folds. You moaned at the feeling, “I told you to be fucking quiet” he pounded into giving you no time to adjust to his 8 inch dick.

He waisted no time, fucking into you harder and harder, very few moans escaped your mouth. “I’m gonna-“ you say trying not to scream at the pleasure. “Not yet ma, cum with me” he said slightly adjusting his position, now repetativly hitting your g-spot.

“Oh fuck Chris” you moaned, releasing all over his cock. “Oh shitt” he says right after you, releasing his own cum deep into your pussy. “What the fuck just happened” he said as he pulled out of you slowly, “I don’t fucking know”

~

You and Chris were laying in your bed, your head in his chest talking when you got a text, it was from Nick.

“Did yall just fuck”

You and Chris look at eachother and giggle. What’s gonna happen now?

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolos #smut #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #wet and needy

[en-hazed]

collect my pages

PAIRING: slenderman!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE / CW: this is kinda like scary? reader is alone in the woods so you can def guess what’s going on

WARNING: sunghoon doesn’t have some kind of age, so let’s say he’s like 100 years olds lmao, reader is 19, psychological horror (?) kinda, smut, dub-con, sunghoon is fucking big like in all meanings, tentacles, creampie, kissing, angst (?), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), petnames, praising, begging, dacriphilia, size kink, if i missed something i’ll edit this later. MINORS DNI.

A/N: this is purely based on the game and theories about slenderman (not on the movie), so i’m really sorry if there’s something that doesn’t really match the storyline :( also im not rlly good at writing smut

There was something that you found interesting and endearing about walking alone in the woods as a relief. You weren’t the kind of girl to spend much time with friends since you enjoyed more your alone time, even though you’ve heard some rumors about you in college that you were weird for such thing, but it’s not like you really cared, at all.

You never feared the dark as a little child, your mom did think there was something wrong with it since all of the kids usually are scared of it, but for you, it was different. You find comfort in it –somehow– but it wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

Today was one of those days where school ended a little late, and you decided to take a late walk to the woods that was near to where you lived. The feeling of the cold breeze hitting you felt like a kiss, even wearing your big puffy coat, you still could feel it.

Being by yourself had some advantages, such as spending as much time as you want to exploring the deep parts of the woods, looking at little details and also observing the pretty dark blue color in the sky. You always thought that there was something so beautiful about the woods, you didn’t know if it was the pretty trees, the fallen leaves on the ground or everything about it.

Roaming around, you found some weird looking note that was glued to the tree, as you were getting closer, you got goosebumps. You usually didn’t find things in the woods since no one really came here because it’s been kinda abandoned, so it made you feel really curious if somebody came before you and put things just for fun to scare people off.

But the note was really weird looking. Why did the note say “HELP ME” in such a creepy writing? Was there someone here following you all along pranking you?

You definitely felt followed, but that didn’t change the growing curiosity that you had wondering if there were more notes. Walking faster and careful looking through all the trees weren’t sufficient, you definitely needed some kind of flashlight, and lucky for you, you always carry one in your backpack.

Getting the flashlight, turning it on, you started looking for more information. You definitely thought that you looked kinda crazy running around the woods if somebody came by, but there was something so interesting about this that you just couldn’t let it go.

In the distance, you could see a new note attached to another tree, you rapidly went and took it, this one saying “CAN’T RUN”. Adrenaline was hell, you felt like you could explode, were all these notes some kind of puzzle that you needed to complete? How many of them are? Such thoughts were in your mind as you were trying to calm yourself while looking at the piece of paper with the word that has been written.

Taking both notes, you did not wanna lose them, so you put them both in your pocket, and resumed roaming around. You noticed there was some kind of strange road that led you to an ever bigger part of the woods, and also, to some new pages.

This time, there was some kind of tall, really tall man drawn on with some words, such as saying “NO” and “FOLLOWS”. Is this some kind of prank? You just couldn’t step out, you were kinda lost, you’ve never been this deep inside and now, it was kinda scaring you. Your phone didn’t have any kind of connection or signal around, so you were definitely fucked.

Taking this situation lightly wasn’t a great idea at all, you knew your mom was worried since you don’t last that much time outside that much. Anxiety was killing you at this point, what the hell was going on? Also, it was also getting really late, you took a little peak of you clock, and it was almost past midnight.

Running around was simply not helping, you felt like you were stuck in some fucked up maze that didn’t have any kind of exit. You wanted to scream, you really did, but you didn’t want people thinking that you were getting murdered or something. Starting to feel dizzy, everything was looping, feeling like you couldn’t get out was one of, if not, your biggest fear. Without noticing, you fell to the ground, your strength was gone, and your head was pounding.

More than 10 minutes passed since you were still in the ground, until you felt some kind of presence, the goosebumps coming back again. You were too far gone to even try to open your eyes, so if someone tried to kill right there, you didn’t care at that point.

The breeze was getting colder, creaking was louder, and there was something there with you, but you didn’t dare to look. Some steps were getting closer to you, and you almost started praying to God to help you out if he was even hearing your pleads.

Now you were crying, you were the one that started following all of those stupid notes going nowhere, and now you were stuck in the deep zone of the woods. After some minutes of thinking, you had the guts to speak up.

— Is somebody here? Anyone? Please, I swear I’m a good person, I won’t do anything to you, but please, I need a reply. — You stated, trying to look around in the dark, since you forgot where you put your flashlight and also, you lost your glasses.

Nothing, you did not receive some kind of reply, so now you were thinking if everything that’s happening is some kind of hallucination from your mind.

From the distance, you swear you saw something, like some big thing standing there, but you couldn’t even seem to confirm that since your poor eyesight wasn’t helping you at all. But that weird creature looking thing was getting closer this time, and you didn’t have that much space to move, so you had to act fast and start walking from there.

Looking back wasn’t something that you wanted to do, if you did that it was gonna be really scary knowing something was chasing you in the dark. But what you didn’t know, that tall white man could teleport if he wanted to, and now, he was right in front of you.

You froze, what was that? You starting looking up and down trying to figure out if it was human or not. He was wearing some kind of suit, his hands were so pale and white, his fingers were so long and his face, you couldn’t really recognize it. He did have some prominent facial features, such as his nose and eyebrows, and also his hair.

— Are you lost, little thing? Have you collected my pages? — He finally spoke, his voice was… something. Not really deep nor sharp, it was just unexplainable.

— I’m sorry, what? — You asked, pages? Why is that his first thought?

— My pages. They’re all attached to different trees. Have you collected them? — He added, getting a little more closer to you.

Oh, so the notes you were looking for, that now you know they aren’t pages, he was the one who attached them to the trees? Is he crazy or something?

— I lost them. I got lost here and when I ran, they kinda flew away from my pockets. I’m sorry, if you’re gonna kill me, go ahead. — You hung down your head, you were definitely cooked and also getting killed in the woods. How nice!

— Game over then. — He spoke lastly, you looked at him with now, more tears in your eyes. He gave you a smile, his fangs were now shown.

His cold hand went to your chin, making you look up to where his eyes were supposed to be, but you were looking at some faceless man. You got caught in his tentacles, putting you in the air and almost choking you by how tight he was taking you.

— Pl.. please don’t do a-anything.. I swear, I’ll do whatever you w..want! — You tried speaking, but your chest felt so heavy that it was almost impossible to.

— Well, actually I do want something from you, if you don’t wanna get killed. — He spoke, his voice was now kinda deeper than before and it was scarier. You could feel his gaze up and down around your body, as if it was scanning you.

— W-what is it? Please! Tell me! — You replied rapidly, gulping. You were in a situation that defined between you being alive or dead, so you were willing to do anything at this point.

You were feeling already anxious until you felt his could touch in your body, closing hard your eyes, you were psyching yourself up that everything that was happening it was all in your imagination. Tears were staining your face, your cheeks turning red and your makeup all messed up.

His cold tentacles were groping you, touching you everywhere while you were just crying. You couldn’t get out of his grip since he was way too strong and taller than you. He started undressing you, retiring your skirt and leaving your tights on. Was this some kind of kink he had?

— I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, looking like a scaredy cat, crying and without any kind of escape from me. — He said, smiling proudly, giggling. His big hands were taking your head, making you look at him. Somehow, he changed your position, using his tentacles to tie your feet, and also your hands together, that were now resting behind your back.

You felt how something cold was poking your now dampened panties, you were definitely scared but your body wasn’t feeling like that. You closed your eyes harshly, not wanting to see what was about to happen. The cold breeze was now feeling like if death was coming near you, not feeling like something safe.

With no further preparation, he pushed himself inside of you, feeling like your guts and tight cunt were being rearranged by his big member. You couldn’t stop yourself from whining and screaming out loud, you weren’t a virgin sure, but his cock felt like dying.

— Don’t be t-too harsh! P-please! — Trying to speak while he was pounding deeper and deeper inside you was tough and more like a challenge.

He tsked his long tongue in response, not really caring about you and going harder on you. One of his tentacles groping your boobs mercilessly, while the other ones were simply roaming around your body.

Changing your position, now in doggy style, he was going harshly and harder, your body was hurting and your were being treated like nothing but a sex doll. You felt your vision going blurry, your hearing going off and feeling extremely numb. You closed your eyes and that’s where you forgot about everything.

Waking up felt like a nightmare, your whole body felt sore, you were covered in cum and definitely felt how the hot liquid was slipping from your thighs. Trying to look for your glasses or any kind of clothing (since you were naked) looking around. That’s when you saw some random guy, weirdly dressed with a suit and also using some glasses, he was tall and pale.

— Are you okay? Do you need help? — That anonymous guy spoke, looking at you and then your whole body, smirking.

You couldn’t even speak at all, so you just nodded. He helped you get up, he somehow carried things in his pockets such as tissues, that he used on you, trying to get you clean.

Finishing by putting on your clothes, you patted all of your body, as if there were some kind of dirt (there was, everything was all covered in it). You looked again at that weird guy that happened to find you in such condition, what was he doing here?

— I’m Sunghoon, and I definitely can read your mind, I just happened to be here when I found you here all alone, covered in… Whatever that was, no need to thank me. — He finished saying, still smirking and looking at you as if he was scanning your whole body.

As a blink, he disappeared, nowhere to be found. There was some weird vibe coming from that guy that you couldn’t explain, but you felt like you already knew him.

What the fuck just happened to you? You for sure were having some kind of fucking overdose of some fucked up vivid dream, you will never be the same after this.

#enhypen smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon smut #smut #enhypen hard thoughts #x reader