#❖ these things take time and patience

[touchedbydestiny]

hello hello :)

[szczekaczz]

what do i even do with this free time... i want to take a long walk and maybe queue some dog paintings here tomorrow

[kalims]

he's a ten but he...

premise. sometimes certain bad habits of theirs make their overall rating just a tad bit lower—besides the fact that they keep doing it.

characters. dorm leaders

content. gender neutral reader

malleus (doesn't have a sense of space)

"look beastie, that flower is a native of ours,"

"I agree mal, but I didn't think you taking up the entirety of my seat will make me see it better,"

he blinks, then shrugs.

like i said, has NO sense of space.

if an average person would make an excuse to constantly be in physical contact with who they admire, then malleus is the complete opposite. well, not entirely but he doesn't even bother to construct an explanation as to why he's literally sat over your seat when you coincidentally get put in a table together.

if you start questioning him about it the most you'll get in a very outright 'because he wanted to.' it's not even one of those sarcastic replies he's 100% serious!

cause he believes there's no use in lying about things to be honest.. to further emphasize that, if he ever acts like he does hold fondness for you that surpasses the platonic meter but doesn't mention it he probably hasn't realized yet.

if he did he'd already walk over and bluntly tell you about it.

(I wish I could be that unbothered.)

lilia thinks it's the cutest thing though. you swear you see flashes of light for a split second from the ceiling but when you look up there's only a suspicious swinging chandelier.

^ totally has his own album full of pictures.

if malleus ever discovers it he won't even be disturbed, probably would ask for a copy 💯

since human lives, and their bodies are so fragile he'd taken it upon himself to protect you from harm. even if it means trailing behind you everywhere way too close for comfort, or standing a bees wing away.

while he is respectful most of the time, he's encouraged if you don't comment. if anything, he seems pleased you dont seem to be bothered! (and it'll get harder to tell him to stop when he's so happy the more you let it happen..)

"child of man, have you slept?"

*starts leaning his body forward, to squint at your eyes.* practically right in front of your face.

"WTF."

not even a warning or anything! but atleast he's concerned?

idia (won't even show up for anything and insists a 'virtual' date is better.')

user: where tf r u??

ghoul666: WDYM? at the dorm?

user: IVE BEEN WAITING HERE FOR 20 MINUTES

unintentionally stood you up 💀

you literally have to tell him that you're waiting for him to arrive at the specified area you discussed where your date would take place but would end up vastly irritated when he questions if you guys even did.

ghoul666: we do??

user: I'm taking my minecraft bed away from urs.

ghoul666: NO PLS

ghoul666: HELLO????

next time you log in minecraft it's probably because he begged you to play, you WILL end up seeing some kind of structure that probably took days to make. that's not even the entire thing cause the inside is entirely decorated to your taste.

in short: he constructed some kind of venue for a wedding.. even changed his skin to wear a tuxedo 😭

though he has sparked your pettiness, hence the ignoring him period. even you have got to admit that it's freaking adorable...

big sign, emphasis on please: Im sorry pls put ur minecraft bed back I can't sleep w/o u and I have to wait entire days for it to turn into morning :(

with what he's built you're sure it's 65% true.

if you do end up forgiving him, few weeks later attempting to schedule another date will only end up in naught.

ghoul666: can we not go there

user: 😐

user: you are testing my patience love

ghoul666: 😓 (he is screeching about the term of endearment part btw KABSJAJSAJA ortho would enter his room very concerned.)

ghoul666: how abt

ghoul666: mimic together? call

user: sighs

user: I'm only agreeing cause I want to spend time with you

queue more screeching from his end that you're completely oblivious to.

the only screeching you're gonna hear though is when you guys do get into call as you play, and it's mainly out of terror when his soul gets sent to the void ascending when the entity pops out of a corner and starts chasing him.

"I GOT THIS. ILL CARRY U THIS IS FINE" *screams again* but really wants to impress you so he pushes through.

unsurprisingly does carry you.

asks to match avatars right after (idia love languange)

vil (frets over you way too much.)

"vil, did you see the chocolate in the freezer?"

"oh, that? I noticed that you've already gone through the ideal number of bars this week so I took it upon myself to make sure you don't go sick on me,"

"I love you but please give it back—"

"I love you too, and no."

disclaimer: he does this for your own good 😜 (average mom excuse.)

looks out for you more than he does for his own dorm residents. everyone is wondering where he ran off to after class, especially since he's the one that scheduled the pomefiore meeting every fridays!

and to think he was the one getting irritated over the more newer first years for being late..

*shows up literally half an hour in*

why you ask? you simply shouldn't have texted him about abandoning your daily walk together through the gardens in favor of catching sleep since you called in sick (you're suspicious if crewel really did go in to check for proof, and not concern.)

vil's really feeling the absolute regret of not checking his phone during classes.. well, he only saw the message which was coincidentally sent like somehow ONE minute after the lecture started and he's only seeing it 59 minutes later.

oh you poor thing!! though the lunch break is short, he has about 5 minutes for a trip to the mirror chamber..

you'd think the 'seen' icon below your message was a weird omen for something you're not sure but it must be doom cause vil is right at the front porch of your crappy dorm. at his own expense?! looking more disheveled than you've seen him before.

if a few stray hairs was disheveled at all. more importantly, he still looked drop dead gorgeous!

you probably looked quite terrible with the blanket draped around your shoulders looking like you just crawled out of your grave, because he looked absolutely mortified at your state.

"oh great sevens.." he looked like he was faint, huffing and fanning himself with his hand. "look at you, why didn't you tell me sooner, darling?"

you blink, swallowing to make your throat less dry but your voice still comes out raspy. "I did, like an hour ago—" without your invitation whatsoever, he steps in. promptly shutting the door behind him (which surprisingly still stands sturdy.)

vil takes a hold of your shoulders before reaching his hands upwards to tilt your face around. "you should have sent earlier," he says. you keep in the comment that you were sleeping during it, and you told him about it during second period so.. "your face is so pale."

you sigh.

"yeah, I just saw. I know, I look hideous right now."

vil frowns at you, stopping to angle your face at him. "don't ever say that. I always find you beautiful even if you are.." he glances at you from face to toe, then back up. "sickly."

"... I feel offended."

"hmph, shush now. let me draw you a bath then I know something that will boost your system."

after much coaxing in his end, you reluctantly take a warm bath in the hopefully hygienic bathroom. true to his word, vil did... concoct something. though it looked pretty the random steam that flew from it was really suspicious.

the residents don't dare to question, except rook of course. who already knew what transpired! :)

epel: 😃 (atleast vil wasn't around.)

"roi du poison~ tell me, tell me! is the trickster well? have you cured them with your love?"

"rook, you have 5 seconds to get out of my face."

rook giggles away.

kalim (thinks money will buy anything, including your forgiveness.)

"here!" there's a suspiciously bright smile on his face as he hands you.. some keys?

you deadpan, jingling it in your hands. it weighs heavy than the average, probably because of the fact that it's literally made of gold. "... kalim what is this?" you emit a sigh, from suspicion and concern.

"a gift!"

"wait why does it say lot 111--"

as you can already, that was an actual, literal house. which you imagine would probably be a lots more grand, and new compared to your old baby ramshackle.

but you do love it despite it's love for falling apart at the most inconvenient of times..

fighting with kalim was rare but it was hard to even argue with him because the notion of disagreements are so bizarre to him that he unintentionally doesn't treat you seriously with your concerns, accidentally downplaying them aaaand now you're upset.

after the ranting to jamil about how you must be busy with a lot, since you haven't even talked to him in the past 2 days. all it took was a side glance to his friend in denial and jamil immediately knew.

"what do you mean they're mad!? D:"

"just.. go apologize, I don't want to get caught up in this."

if his definition of an apology is buying you an entire house...

( ^ it is btw.)

kalim really doesn't mean any harm. he just really wants to sate whatever anger you held for him <- maybe he's overthinking it but it's kalim so he's 99% sure it's his fault! even though it hasn't even been confirmed from your end he'd probably accept it whole heartedly.

he wanted you to talk to him again so badly that he wouldn’t mind showering you with houses... since your living situation doesn't live up to your kindness (sorry ramshackle love u xx)

you know what. he wouldn't even notice he's the reason you're upset at first even though he's been asking around on who put you in that mood. despite himself being the perpetrator but he didn't really know that did he?

the only reason he does is because he assumed you were just because you avoided him like some sort of.. cockroach! (he dislikes those.) and he couldn't take it anymore.

was probably 1 sec away from barging into your dorm which wouldn't take a lot of effort since one ram to the door would probably break it.

bless jamil for jailing all the carpets so kalim doesn't find them.

even if said carpets fling him off when he's riding them.

"kalim, why would you buy a literal house... and you also got a rare address paid--"

"for them! ;D"

"... you do know they'd be more offended by the fact that you'd try to replace that.., ahem. dorm, right?"

"oh... should I buy them a vehicle then?"

you only promise to forgive him once he takes back the keys, and the house entirely...

(grim begged you to keep it, 'house for him apparently.')

azul (keeps trying to offer you discounts thinking it's a good excuse to have you over.)

"I assure you. you'll find no deal better than this."

"I'm not even that hungry for sea food, actually I'm craving some--"

"you're in luck then! ahem, it's 26% off due to a special event for today."

pro tip: keep insisting to eat at other places cause he's gonna keep increasing the discount by 2% until you eventually relent. once, you made him go to the point of 75% off, it's almost hilarious if not for the fact it only worked once.

now he won't go last 50!

ahem. if you look closely you can almost spot tiny cracks accumulating with each denial you respond with, and each increase of his discount. he's grown to be wary about the bullshit 'lucky' promos you just happen to stumble on.

last time you did he practically lost a week's worth of the presumed income he's predicted cause you actually went around and told your first year friends about it... who.. in turn told some, other friends of theirs about it and you could guess.

love must hurt.. and unfortunately it's his wallet wailing.

but azul is not so easily swayed by this! for you have swayed him first! *wink wonk*

but azul has another trick up his sleeve... keeping on roping jade and floyd into it; whom are far too enthusiastic cause finally— something fun to do! someone to bother! not only have you got the most stubborn octopus having frequent suspicious 'deals' but here are his equally suspicious lackeys.

who keeps.. talking about fried octopus..

yeah, you're not sure if preaching about azul’s species is the job they were assigned.

they're fairly easy to point in the right direction anyways. the tweels have always associated you with the word 'fun' so just a little, friendly suggestion from and they were off to their merry way. mortifying every single person you come across with their sudden attachment.

one of their tricks? following you around. and just somehow, every single place you enter is just mysteriously full even though you peered inside and there was like 7 tables empty. what are they hosting? ghosts? spirits?

...

they do look like they've seen some though..

jade rn: "a shame indeed, you must be hungry. why don't we escort you back to monstro lounge?" :)

long story short you can't even reply cause the sleek eel is already guiding you around by the use of his hands on your shoulders. just to make sure you don't stray away from the destination, he says.

"didn't you say that yesterday's promo was like, a one day thing?" you quirk a brow, and you almost fool yourself into thinking he flinched.

azul clears his throat. "well—today is.. the month before you've graced octavinelle with your assistance—"

he praises himself for his quick thinking.

COME ON! it doesn't matter if you're sick of eating stir fried shrimp, or the butter one, or every single dish they serve that includes shrimp! (also do not mention that you ate somewhere else before you just decide to visit his dorm because that establishment just mysteriously got filed a non-legal business report.)

then you've got floyd chasing you around with a fork. which is more terrifying because he's holding it in a notion that would seem like he'd just stab down at you when he catches up with your little goose chase.

it's just.. you're not sure if your stomach could take another bite of the poor food he stabbed into, and is now chasing you around with.

you screech. "JADE PLEASE."

the man shrugs. "it's a free taste."

"AZUL."

"... only on a condition of course."

frankly. it took all the balls he had to actually sputter out the most simplest sentence ever, cause during the time he rehearsed that in front of his mirror it just plagued him with embarrassment but he's getting desperate.

'I'd like to take you out to dinner, somewhere else of course.'

actually, maybe obliterating any possible craving for the food of his lounge just might've been part of his plans to ask you out..?

leona (prevents you from actually being productive via dragging you down to 'nap' every. single. time.)

"I will literally fail if you don't let go of me right now."

"hmph. so what? it's not like failing a grade killed anyone."

"leona just because you've lived through a lot of fails doesn't mean I have to, we're not all rich enough to not finish school."

to which he'd retaliate that all you'd need is to marry him and you'd be set for life.

there is no winning an argument with leona when it comes to his naps. if he states that you're to be next to him as he sleeps, its final. no buts, no retaliations, cause apparently they're all invalid according to him even if you drag him to court.

rhetorically of course, that if its a comical court scene his only statements are; 'well you're wrong', 'who cares', and 'i dont care'. one way or another he's still gonna win you over and now you're fit snugly in his arms, lamenting.

and if crowley chastises you for not doing the errands (via leona's common interference.) the only thing you need to honestly do is to complain to leona about it and suddenly crowley has the kindness to forgive you for your 'laziness' then says something about enjoying your time together?

leona's work no doubt.

you suppose he does has its perks. even if most of it isn't exactly ideal.

if you're being smart then you should give him an ultimatum or something, or bribe him. but... that really has no guarantee to work either cause you're ending up defeated, or just defeated and flustered since he's somehow unconsciously flirty.

at the end of the day you can't really hate him cause the following day you find out he sent an already sleep deprived ruggie to do your work. 'so you can shut your fussing up and let me enjoy you.' he says, and you quote.

it goes something like;

"if i finish my work i'll stick by you all day."

a stready flow of confidence keeps your voice firm as you glower down at the blank-faced leona sat on the grass. he merely tilts his head, raising a brow at you and seemingly pondering from the way his eyes fly to the sky.

you'd think that maybe your plan actually worked but he merely grunts and flops backwards, holding the back of his head with his palms as he laid. and! he ignores you.

...this little greedy man... "why should i care whether or not you finish your work?" he huffs, like the evil, arrogant spawn he is but you can't really defend yourself cause said evil spawn bewitched you so much that you actually still like him.

"because you care about me?"

"...fine," he scowls, releasing a breath you'd mistake for irritation. "then, do you really think i need you to finish your work when i can just keep you right here?"

you sulk. "i'll do anything you want?"

he deadpans as if you said something stupid. "i don't need you to anything else but sit still and be pretty."

...

...

see what i mean about him eventually winning you over? yeah.

next morning there's a rebellion in savanaclaw about overworked residents and ruggie is the head of them.

"he said that he doesn't need you today." <- ruggie, steering you away.

"really?" <- you, confused

riddle (overthinks TOO HARD.)

“I'm just a little busy.”

“I understand,” riddle says.

“I'm just a little busy.” he understands.

“a little busy.” its just… a small thought…

“I'm just busy.” his mind is a hazard at this point. 

for someone as supposedly maintained as riddle—you'd think his mind is as composed as it is organized. like the pens you'd perfectly align in correlation to order of colors, or the neat pile of clothing folded neatly, tucked in some corner in your closet that is farther in since it's used less.

that's just how he is, or at least seems to be. a bundle of organized thoughts, every thought connected to another. a mind too clean to be going on haywire (when he isn't in a particular mood, that is.)

you're just busy. he thinks. you said it yourself, with that agonizingly nice smile that must be sprinkled with some kind of spell from the way it just eradicated all the protests in his throat upon sight. he isn't one to question it, he wants to help but not if you don't ask.

he can only stare with resigned acceptance at your insomnia induced eyes.

but when the curtain of darkness befalls night raven college, even in the comfort of heartslabyul is he still thinking about that thought–and he can’t help but wonder; why exactly are you busy? its not that he’s suddenly hyper aware of your lack of presence since you’ve been attached to the hip the previous week and now you’re just.

…busy…

riddle likes to think of himself as a level-headed, private person. like the boy he raised himself to be and therefore proud of. but its way past 10AM. which is usually the time he sleeps, and let me tell you that he’s never once broke the cycle for years. yet here he is, a frown of frustration present on his face as he wills his mind to sleep.

somehow closing his eyes felt forced, he immediately snapped them open once his mind decides to conjure an image of you even in the darkness his lids offers.

“THIS IS ABSURD.”

and the yell promptly woke up the entire dorm from the ferocity of his scream. (and of course gave them the flashback of their year.)

that night was one of the worst he’s ever had because he woke up with red rimmed eyes and a pounding headache that ensured his bad mood the rest of the day.

everyone noted to steer clear.

and he unknowingly steered clear of yours since you were ‘busy.’

“why are you sulking?” a voice queried, spoken as though they were eating something as they asked. a reprimand rises in his throat, but it all just dies down once his sharp eyes settle on you, slipping into the seat in front of him then raising a brow and the traces of irritation practically evaporates from his eyes.

he feels the need to cough–so he does. “i’m– i’m not.” he clears his throat, avoiding your eyes but still sneaking in glances, something he notes is that you’re still looking everytime he does. (and boring an unimpressed face because he knows you don’t believe him at all.)

guilt rises in his mind, because he feels a slither of annoyance and its the presence of pettiness that bothers him. riddle knows you’re not at fault, just his mind at convincing that you just somehow decided in the span of a day that you might not like him anymore–so he can’t help the bite. 

“why are you here?” a glance not intended to look mean.

“i thought you were busy.” he adds.

your brows raise, he spots your teeth holding your lips back from showing your grin and he feels warm. “what?” he hisses defensively, despite you not even having replied to him yet.

he leans backwards, straightening up in his seat when your chin leans forward, resting on your intertwined fingers. you flash him a smile. 

“mr. rosehearts, are you perhaps… sulking because i’m busy?”

“no!”

silence.

“no.” he repeats, weaker.

“well,” you continue, beaming. “i heard from ace that you were awake the entire night, and that you kept him awake too. are you alright?” 

he sputters. “it wasn’t because of you!”

you snort. “i didn’t even say anything about me.”

so you incline to following riddle around, poking fun at him and still trailing after the seemingly enraged red head because despite his angry protests, demanding you to go away because you’re annoying he keeps glancing back to see if you’ll follow,

so cute…….

[deerspherestudios]

General Updates! 🎮

Hello hello, fireflies! After a week, poll results have decided I'll open my inbox permanently (oh boy) and will add more sprite variety for Day 3!

I'll keep things short, so some quick things:

First and foremost, unfortunately I have to postpone the Spanish translation for the game. It was too big a scope for me to manage being so new to game development. I'm sorry to those looking forward to it, but I promise I'll come back to it in the future when I'm much more prepared!

My Patreon will resume charging after the temporary pause, so heads up to those who became (or would like to become) a patron! I'm planning to change some tier rewards for Fawn, so members can get more content instead of just early access. Deer also has 2 more slots available! Please note I'll be posting on my Patreon on a minimum twice a month, so keep that in mind before you decide if it's worth it! I'll update more as progress continues, but if I haven't been able to, two updates is the best I can provide on a monthly basis.

I'll be reducing daily blog posts to 2 instead of 4. This way the blog is more likely to remain active as I queue posts and have an easier time managing it. Which helps since the inbox will always be open!

I'm halfway done listing assets for Day 3, so expect a progression post soon! I've been chipping away at it since there's a sizeable range of expressions, so it's taking a while.

It's funny that I somehow got busier after college, but between my wedding coming up next month and starting a part-time job today on top of daily things, I really have to find time to focus on Mushroom Oasis now ;v; I can only assure this project is still being worked on! <3 Thank you for your support and patience!

Thanks for reading! 🍄❤️

[darlingdarkly]

Negotiations with the Devil

Danny Johnson x f!reader smut

14k words

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Look at me. 👁️👁️ I need you to heed the tags. I am going to tag the hell out of this thing and if you don’t read the tags then you’re throwing yourself into a mixed bag of whatever the hell and that’s on you. The tags are there for your benefit. Not mine. You have been warned.

CW: noncon!elements, dubcon!elements (honestly this things a consent rollercoaster, strap in), stalking, obsessive behavior, home invasion, death threats, bondage, knifeplay, violence, minor bodily harm, blood, blood consumption, coercion, consumption of drugs (weed), breathplay, fingering, unprotected pnv climactic intercourse, spanking, praise, drug consumption (without consent), Danny is a whole warning of his own lmao

He can tell by the way you mime along to the lyrics, the rhythmic pattern of your head bangs alone that you listen to the same playlist everyday while you sweat it out on the treadmill. People tend to be pretty ritualistic as it is, even if they don’t know it, but this was just too concentric to be coincidence. He was right though, in the end. It didn’t take much, slipping into your room at night while you’d been sleeping and unplugging your phone from the charger on your nightstand beside your bed. Stopping to look down at your sleeping form, brush an errant strand of hair away from the frame of your face, watch you twitch in your sleep. He wonders what you dream of. Peaceful, listless, little dreams while you believe no one’s watching.

He airdrops your playlist from your phone to his, technology is such a fickle thing, making our lives easier, making our info easier to steal. He won’t be malicious with it, no, not much. Just invasive enough to strengthen the bond between you, now he can listen along while he watches you run, queue up your playlist at the same time you do, watch you up the speed and take your first steps while the first notes begin to sound through your ears and his.

It makes the subtle rhythm of your hips make sense, the timing of your poses and moves fall into place. You kind of half-dance-half-run. Fucking adorable by the way, he’s got more than one snap of you striking that same cute little pose for that half second between steps every time your favorite song comes around. He knows it’s your favorite by the way you disrupt the normal flow of songs in order to play it over again, a luxury you don’t afford any other song in the mix.

Scrambling to keep up with the tread as you snatch your phone from the cup holder where it sits while you run to start it over. You don’t even have the patience to slow it down so you don’t damn near trip every time. It’s a precaution you skip, one among many others that’s led him to be able to keep as close of tabs on you as he’s able. You really should be more careful, it's another lesson, one among many others that he’ll have to teach you.

He doesn’t mind, it’s a bit of an honor really, though he doubts you’ll see it that way. It’s a miracle you hadn’t been singled out before now with the way you so carelessly choose to lead your life. Prancing around your house half naked, windows drawn but not quite closed, tease. The ADT sign you planted in the turf of your lawn was a nice touch, too bad a sign was all it was, those security plans sure are expensive. He wonders, if you knew now what you’ll know then, would you have forked it over.

You come home with a migraine, it developed somewhere between the stoplight outside of work and the small traffic jam in front of a four car pile up two blocks from your house. You took some excedrin when you were finally able to get in the house. But not before pulling the trash can up from the edge of the road, gathering your mail from the box and going back to the car three times to look for your purse which you set down in the bathroom for some reason, god only knows why.

While they normally kick in within the hour, by the time three had come and gone you’d given up hope. It was a ‘lay on the couch, watch shitty tv and pray to whatever deity is listening to please stop tightening the invisible vice around my head’ kind of evening. All fore-planned events and activities had been canceled in lieu of lounging around like a sloth. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open half the time anyway, it’s how you knew when you called it an early night that you’d need the little, black silk, travel mask you bought precisely for occasions such as these.

Light is evil, light is the enemy, only darkness is your friend. You climb into bed after double checking the locks on the doors and windows. You've heard about “Roseville’s Ghost”. It was all over the news and in the papers. Better safe than sorry, though you didn’t worry much about those things. It could never happen to you, of course.

Settled into bed with your brain still under a full frontal assault you promptly pulled the soft black material over your eyes and felt just an inkling of immediate relief. It was both minuscule and monumental. It wasn’t long before you fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

“Wake up.” Your eyes spring open only to be met with the same resolute blackness you’d been familiar with before opening them. You are certain you’d heard someone. At least fairly certain, you don't have any dreams staining the backs of your eyelids to have heard that voice from but you’re certain you’d heard it. You go to lift the mask from over your eyes, light a match in the darkness of your uncertainty and quell your fears but your arms won't move, neither your right nor your left. The first thing to spring to mind is sleep paralysis, you’d dealt with it a few times prior but never after a migraine, never with you unable to open your eyes. You’re unsure if that makes it better or worse.

But you are sure it’s sleep paralysis. You know because there’s that tell-tale heavy, immovable weight on your chest. The only difference being you cannot see the terror that preys upon you, suspending you in this half-asleep-half-awake nightmare spell. You wonder how long you’ll have to endure it. You don’t get to ruminate on it long before that voice speaks again.

It absolutely has to be coming from the thing on top of you, although when he does speak again you can feel it as well as hear it and that’s new. Perhaps, with one of your senses removed, your others have grown more keen. Or your sleep paralysis demon is becoming more evolved, feeding off your fear and manifesting into something more physical. Your terrified mind gets so lost in its own demented circles you don’t hear what it says the first time.

“W-what?” Your eyes widen behind the mask, you’re fairly certain you’re supposed to be unable to speak in these situations, complete paralysis. It’s in this split second, with this single, small epiphany that you realize this isn’t a dream, or a nightmare, or something in between, but real. Actually happening to you in real time, with a real man sitting on your chest whom you can’t see.

“I said, I’m going to take off your mask. Don’t scream.” You’re sure that won’t be much of an issue, since you've realized this is in fact not a nightmare but indeed a real ongoing situation your vocal chords have locked up tighter than a drum. You’re unsure you could have spoken even if your life depended on it, even if your screams were to be your only saving grace, you’re fairly certain you’re currently incapable of sound, bound to compliance by sheer terror, obedient against your will.

You feel fingers at your temples and your eyes automatically shut as the silken mask is removed. You should keep them that way, resist whatever sick curiosity tempts your lids to lift but you can’t, you have to know, you have to see.

You wish you hadn’t. The man striding your lower half is large, dressed in black he appears as a solid block that blends his outline with the shadows. The one thing you can distinguish is his face. Pale white and elongated into an unending scream. Sunken eyes and missing a nose, it seems to mock you with something akin to pity, though the man behind the mask seems anything but sorry to inconvenience you.

“Good.” He praises as you stare up into his lifeless face, wondering how in the hell you could possibly have let yourself fall into a situation such as this.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. When I say, you’re going to get up and walk over to that chair over there.” He motions to your computer chair, pulled front and center into the middle of the room. “And you’re going to sit nice and still for me and if you move I’m going to make you wish you hadn’t.” He pauses like he’s waiting for a response. “Do you understand?” Surely you’re dreaming, this absolutely can NOT be happening right now.

The answer to your internal question is answered promptly as you feel him lean down over you and press something sharp, sinister and cold against your neck, you don’t dare shiver against its chill. His next words are a whisper, the overwhelming stench of cheap plastic clogging your nostrils as he leans down close. “I said, do you understand?”

You nearly choke on the dried strip of leather that’s become your tongue trying to say yes, not daring to nod. It comes out a ghost of the word, a breathy pathetic excuse for speech but it must be good enough for him as you feel him pull the blade off your neck and you begin to feel like you can breathe again, at least momentarily.

He lifts off you and your brain insists that you should take some sort of initiative, be brave, strike back. But one look at the man before you once he’d risen to his full stature abated all thoughts of bravery. Tall and lean, his choice of attire did a good job of masking much of anything else discernible of his appearance and of course the mask completely covered his face, the hood pulled up over the edges of it even made it impossible to see any of his hair either. For all you could tell the man was literally a ghost, though one with weight and presence and deadly intentions.

You realize he’s watching you analyze him, racking your eyes up his body and trying to size him up. Normally, in movies and such, the bad guys are always trying to get you to hurry, get what they want and get out of there. Not him, there’s an odd quality about him, the absence of rush, almost prodding his way through this, like it’s more of a game than a strategic offense. But that’s not to say he seemed amateurish in any aspect, quite the opposite. It was clear he was fully in control, so much so in fact that he could afford the leisure of toying with you a little.

“Like what you see, doll?” You can hear the cocky smirk in his tone, feel him oozing with it as he goads you in jest. He watches your expression shift from confusion to alarm and then one of hastily tacked on offense. “What? No fucking way you-!” Your sentence falls away, left hung in the air unfinished as you realize you’ve momentarily forgotten you’re in a home invasion scenario and not dealing with some normal asshole from off the street and any snarkiness you may have been ready to serve back to him dissipates as you switch back into survival mode. “Please I-“

“Get up.” He cuts you off, firm and authoritative. Fear fills your legs like lead and makes them uncooperative but it only takes a flash of the blade at his side, the promise of pain in the glint of the steel to make you pull back the covers and try. He’s patient with you as you amble out of bed slow and jerkily. Even though you only make it to sitting up, legs thrown over the edge and eyeing up the computer chair he’d centered in the room like it’s rigged to carry electric voltage. You knew once you were tied to it it’d be your final destination.

A wave of his blade recaptures your attention, with two flicks of the tip he motions you to rise. You did as he bid, without much other choice. Standing across from him that instinctive fight or flight urge rises from the marrow of your bones and makes your legs twitch with action’s potential but ultimately you end up meandering to the chair and sitting, resting your hands in your lap pliantly as you await further instruction.

When you still he comes to life, moving around behind you and gently pulling your hands from your lap and around the back of the backrest. With this time you have nothing else to do but observe, honing in on his individual boot falls, glancing down to register his combat boot clad feet, as blacked out as the rest of his fit.

Forced to pay attention to the way his hands move over your skin, the heat radiating off of his body warming to your back. The even, repetitive, lulling quality of his breaths in your immediate space. Even the faint sting of cheap cologne burns the hairs in your nostrils, making you lightheaded in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant.

There’s the shift of fabric and the sound of him unfastening something you can’t see from beyond your peripherie. You feel his gloved hands glide over your skin before the cord wraps around your wrists, binding them. He’s surprisingly slow and methodical; not overly rough until he has to be, the knots require a certain use of force that leaves you wincing.

He stands and moves about the room, silently adjusting it to his liking. Closing your bedroom door, drawing the curtains tight, pushing open your bathroom door to throw a little more light into the room. While he completes these menial tasks you pick up on something unsettling.

Just the ease with which he traverses the room. This house has a runner seam, a raised board that rides the centerline of its entire length. After moving in it took you months to stop tripping over it, to mentally identify the mapping of this new space in your brain that allows for an extra inch of clearance automatically. Over the span of your occupancy you’d had a few boyfriends and none of them lasted long enough to get used to that seam. Not even your parents who’d been over the most, helping you unpack and make a few minor repairs had ever gotten used to it. Everyone you’d ever had over has tripped over that runner seam, but not him, not once.

He pulls one of your kitchen chairs up from out of the shadows, the legs squalling against your hardwood floor until he sets it in place right in front of yours and sits. Scooching up nice and close to you, your knees bumping against each other as he settles in. You try to avoid touching him but his legs are long and he spreads them out wide so both your knees are bracketed by his, his plastic face regarding yours with that same mock-pity expression as the cold fingers of fear rustle up your spine, making you shiver.

You need to get this man out of your house in any way you can. Your first instinct is to try and scare him away, maybe you are no real threat but perhaps the idea that there will be more people added to the equation will be enough to get him to reconsider.

“Please!! Please just go! My roommate’s gonna be home soon a-and she.. she’ll see you and scream and- and-“

His head cocks just so, like he’s staring at a picture frame that’s askew, off in a way he knows just at a glance is wrong. “Let’s skip over the bullshit, shall we? I already know everything there is to know about you, babygirl.”

“She works late but she’s gonna be back any minute now!!” You reaffirm, trampling over his unsettling comment.

“You don’t have a roommate. You’ve lived in this house by yourself since your last roommate moved out some… hmmm..” he pauses, you can almost see the numbers fly past the whites of his eyes as he, no doubt, flips through the calendar in his head. “14 months ago.”

Horror floods your veins but you push past it, insistent. “My parents, they’re coming over first thing tomorrow morning.” He chuckles, a knowing sound filled with humor like you’ve just made some kind of inside joke, but it leaves you nothing but bloated with dread.

“On a couples retreat to Acapulco. Left a month ago, won’t be home for another two.” Your throat tightens, it makes your next try come out less confident and more shriekish.

“My brother-“ You rebuff.

“Lives in Michigan.” He interjects.

“Sister!” You scramble to refute.

“Don’t have one.” He adds confidently.

“My boyfriend!” A last ditch effort, even you can hear the desperation leaking into disbelief as you say it.

“Oh, sweetheart. Stop. You’ve been chronically single for how long now? Nine? Ten months?”

Your mouth plops open like a fish out of water. Your eyes the size of saucers as he expertly thwarts every attempt to deter the inevitable. How could he possibly know? Oh my god! Who cares! You’ve got to get this guy the fuck out of your house and now! Fucking think! You’ve seen this stuff on the news over and over. What do they always say? Don’t fight. Just give them what they want. Give them what they want and they’ll go away. Now you’ve just got to figure out what it is he wants.

“I-I- I’ve got money. Y-you can have it. All of it. It’s-“

“Nine hundred and forty five dollars even in the little black Sentry fireproof safe. Hidden under your floor, under the board that creaks in front of the closet.” He says matter of factly and there’s a hidden smile in his tone, like he’s waiting for the praise that comes posthaste with answering a problem promptly and correctly. When he doesn't get his immediate gratification he antes up.

“It’s even because any change you have you save up in a jar for the end of the month when you carry it up to the bank and exchange it for bills, which you add to the safe after you pull out the board and put in your passcode. 974703.” Your mouth hangs open in speechless horror. How could he know that? You always go to the bank at the end of the month, you figure he could deduce that but your passcode? You’ve never even written that down. How would he know your passcode? “Ohhhuuhhhghh my god.”

The floor feels like it’s dropped out from beneath you. He’s speaking but you’re not really registering the words, lost in your own spiral towards insanity. This man knows you, he knows things about you, approximate information about your life, your relationships, your schedule. And yet you don’t have any idea who he is.

His voice is not familiar to you. He has no accent nor any unique qualities or lilts that you can discern or recognize. He’s well spoken and intelligent, cocky and in a way you won’t admit outside the safety of your own thoughts, oddly charming. He doesn’t want money, can’t be bartered or bought. There seems to be no clear motivator for this man’s actions. You’re running out of bargaining chips with which to trade for your life.

If you can’t tempt him then maybe you can reason with him. Perhaps it’s not too late to get him to change his mind. Part of you reasons that if he’s wearing a mask it’s because he wants to keep his identity from you, which must mean he plans to leave you alive. There’s all kinds of potholes and washouts in your theory but under the influence of fear the mind can bridge gaps in logic that rival the Mariana Trench. That’s when it comes to you and you’re almost giddy with the realization. Your reaction is animated, making you nearly jump up in your words’ enthusiasm to escape your lips. You laugh at the simplicity of it, a nervous little sound that’s half relief, half insanity. God why hadn’t you thought of that sooner!

“I haven’t seen your face! I have no earthly idea what you even look like! You can just go! Like for real, just leave! And we don’t have to do this.” There’s a rumble from his chest. A deep, dark laugh like a resounding rock slide from above and it means one thing and one thing only, danger. To your horror, one gloved hand begins to rise to the cusp of his mask and you wrench your eyes closed, titling your head back until your neck is jacked and your face lifts to the ceiling above, screaming all the while. “No! No, no, no, no, NO!” You feel one hand reach up to grasp your chin, pulling it down. You fight, but he ultimately wins, his leather clad fingers anchoring your chin to your chest. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

You chant no like a mantra. Like if you say it a certain amount of times fast enough, if you try and believe hard enough he will disappear from existence, like some kind of reverse childhood mirror game. You can not see him, therefore he cannot see you, therefore poof! Begone intruder! You shake your head back and forth, yelling it louder and louder all the while. He can drag your head down to his heart's content but he can’t possibly open your eyes for you. That’s impossible.

You feel the knife before you ever see it, slipping along the curved flank of your bare thigh. It’s steely edge biting just ever so slightly into the plush flesh, as if sampling an offered morsel of meat to determine its rarity.

Your eyes fly open of their own accord in reaction to the pain and stare right into his own dark, dark, brown orbs. There’s a sick warmth in them, something sinister masquerading as compassion, as if they don’t belong to the same man who’s digging a knife into your leg as your eyes lock, but rather to a man feasting his eyes upon his bride for the first time dressed in chiffon white. “There she is.”

You don’t maintain eye contact for long, yours sliding off his to register the huge knife he’s casually dragging the edge of along your exposed thigh, your first good look at it up close. It sports a wicked tip, glimmering dangerously in the diffused light shifting in from the bathroom.

He eases his downward pressure but your leg still stings like hell. His thumb finds the wound in the dark and laves over it soothingly, though it has no soothing effects, just leaving a dimmer, muted burn in its wake.

“Is it all falling into place yet, sweets?” He leans forward into your personal space, like the answer is just on the tip of his nose and you’re somehow still missing it, like this revelation should have been obvious from the start.

You can’t think, mind drawing blank after blank. You try to rationalize this crazy man’s actions in your mind. Why would he do this? Why me? Have I wronged him? Have you wronged anyone at all in the last week? Month? Year? How far back should you be retracing your every step? How long would a person sit on a grudge before exacting this level of revenge? What could you have possibly done to make this man angry with you?

But is that true? Your mind glosses over the fact that he seems anything but angry with you. Menacing? Yes. Threatening? Demanding? Absolutely. But angry? No. Not in the slightest, though you’re so worked up it leaves you blind to these facts.

It dawns on you then. How could you be so stupid? The killer. This is the guy behind all the murders. Your sleep clouded brain shouldn’t have been any excuse for you to oversee what was right in front of you all along. Your face instantly falls as you come to the second realization sitting just behind the first. You’re going to die, this is it.

You switch gears and immediately begin to plead with him, the individual words streaming out of your mouth so quickly they’re stumbling over each other. He watches you like that, watches as you crumple into a desperate subhuman right before his very eyes. You peer up at him from below, done attempting to form coherent sentences as your brain is unable to handle them, now reduced to the simplistic but hopefully moving enough, “Please.” Though repeated over and over and over in rapid succession.

You’re hoping to appeal to this mystery man’s better nature, if there’s one inside of him to speak of. But the next words out of his mouth make you really doubt it. “As much as I love the sound of hearing you beg, I need you to stop so I can speak.”

You’re unable to. It just keeps falling from your lips like someone left a faucet on in your throat and it’s starting to overflow, filling up the swell of your cheeks and beginning to leak out as hot, briny tears from the waterline of your over blinking lashes. He starts shushing you, oh so gently, until your tears begin to ebb and your sobs begin to hitch. You look up into his deep brown eyes, your chin trembling with the might of your fear as your hands wriggle against the cordage wound tight around them behind your back.

“Please.” It’s your last plea, begging him one last time not to do this. His head tilts as silence fills the space between you. “Please!! I don’t understand why you’re doing this!!”

“You want the truth, doll? Want me to just come out and say it?” No, not really. What you really want is for him to just disappear or better yet for you to simply wake up from this living nightmare to find you’d never even made it to bed, just fell asleep in front of the tv and the awkward position you’d fell out in on your lumpy couch plus the remnants of this terrible headache had given you night terrors so real they were beyond anything you’d ever experienced prior, vivid beyond your wildest imaginations.

But it’s not a nightmare because no matter how hard you try, you can’t wake up and he’s still here sitting in front of you and it just keeps on going. “I came here to kill you. But I couldn’t…” Now this is a turn. Did he just say he couldn’t?

“I’ll be honest, babygirl. I can’t decide.” He begins to explain it to you but as he goes on it becomes less and less apparent he’s even talking to you at all. “I watch all my intended targets before I make my design, it’s standard procedure. But the longer I watched you the more invested I became. And then three months came and went and I knew your schedules, your routines, your patterns.. you.” His tone begins to lighten as his eyes lift to meet yours, like something out of some twisted romantic comedy. At least you’re hoping for a comedy, anything other than a tragedy at this point would be just fine with you.

“But I was oddly conflicted.” He continues, dropping your eyes again. “Typically I get visions, increasing in intensity. It starts out mild. Breaking in when they’re isolated, sneaking up to them while they sleep, plunging my knife into their chests, watching their eyes spring open to meet mine before death consumes them. Then, as I watch them more and more, they get more violent in scale, more visceral in nature. The longer I watch, the stronger the blood lust gets, until I’m slicing them open by their stomachs and dragging their intestines out to hang from the ceiling.”

His fists clench and you catch a glimmer, just a passing glimpse of what this man is capable of. His whole body tenses as he’s briefly consumed by his afflictions as he recounts them. His shoulders tense and you can hear the squeaky protest of his leather gloves as he balls his hands into fists ever tighter. The fabric around his forearms bunches and tightens against the muscles straining beneath.

“Sometimes I think about really taking my time with it. Maybe I don’t go straight for the heart, maybe the first strike is less than lethal. Leave them alive a little longer so I can play around a bit. When their lungs start to fill with blood they become less and less capable of screaming and I do love a good scream.”

He smiles up at you with a sharp, toothy grin. The whites of his eyes burning into yours as you try not to look as horrified as you feel. Try and hide the disgust germinating in your gut. But as his eyes meet yours his expression changes. His smile remains but shifts from one filled with humor to one shy and adoration filled, almost bashful in its softening. Your ears perk as he starts to go into more detail regarding his experience with you.

“It was the same with you at first.” His eyes lose contact with yours as he appears to be diving headfirst into another daydream.

“Imagining myself slipping into your bedroom in the dead of night. Finding you deep asleep as I stand over your bed. Burying my knife into your chest.” The way he so casually describes to you his fantasies regarding your murder at his hand makes you short of breath and you wonder just how out of touch he has to be for him to not consider this to be, at the very least, extremely uncomfortable for you.

“But then it changed. Things took a more provocative turn.” Your veins flood with alarm and your eyes widen but he doesn’t look back up at you to catch it, too enthralled with the memories of it. “I saw myself walking up to the side of your bed and climbing over top of you, telling myself it was for a more intimate, close-up kill. Or maybe a better angle in which to plunge the knife into your chest.”

He looks distant, troubled as he speaks. “But that never happens. Now when I enter your room and climb up over you.. you always wake up and look up at me and it’s like I’m frozen. It’s like you see right through me, right through the mask. I know what I should do, I know what I have to do, but I can’t. So instead I always envision myself slipping off the mask and leaning down to kiss you.”

Your cheeks flare with heat at what he’s describing, it only gets worse as he continues. “And I thought it was a fluke and over time everything would go back to normal and I’d dream about killing you again. Except it never did, it just got worse. All I could think of, all I’d dream about was climbing over top of you and grabbing fistfuls of your comforter and ripping back your sheets. Running my hands through your hair and yanking your head back just so I can lean down and place my lips against your neck, finally getting a taste of your skin.”

Your wrists had begun to ache in your binds and it’s only then do you realize it’s because you’re restless in them, pulling at the cordage to distract yourself from the impossible. Your thighs squeezing together against the familiar yet unwelcome sensation of arousal. It’s not real, not a genuine reaction, this means nothing. It's the bizarre circumstances, the adrenaline, the way he’s vividly describing these incredibly intimate actions in such close proximity to you. It doesn’t make you some kind of degenerate, it could happen to anyone in similar circumstances. If anyone was to blame it was him, he’s sick, he’s obscene.

He stops living in his mind for a moment and comes back to you and for once you’re grateful for the distraction. It’s easier to fear him than process your body's reactions. He notices, because of the deliberate way he’d centered the chair so that the light from the bathroom would be cast upon your face, that your eyes are now slightly dilated. And while he knows, through research and personal experience, that the human eye certainly will dilate in response to fear, he also knows that the same reaction occurs when aroused. But the key difference between the two responses is that only one typically makes an individual rub their thighs together and now you won’t meet his gaze.

The thought thrills him, but he lets you keep your secrets a little longer as he continues. “I can’t kill you… but I can’t let you go…” Your brows furrow and you seem to be becoming increasingly distressed. “Why?”

“Well for one, you’ve seen me now. That part was all you. It wasn’t my initial plan but you tempted me and I couldn’t resist. But you see my dilemma, cupcake? You make me do things that are not in my best interest and I never act out of my own interest. Everything I do is planned, methodical, purposeful. But not with you, ever since I singled you out things have changed and they must go back to normal, do you understand?”

You don’t. None of this makes any kind of rational sense. You’ve already begged him to go, begged him not to do this. What does he want from you? Some kind of essay on why he shouldn’t kill you? Two pages front and back double spaced with standard margins? “No.” His eyes bore into yours as he imparts the task with which you’re responsible.

“I need you to convince me not to act within my best interest.” He flashes you a smile that’s meant to be winning as your ears try and fail to process what he's just told you. He wants you to convince him… not to kill you. He can tell it’s not setting well with you.

“You need to relax.” He says nonchalantly, like it’s as simple as taking one big breath and counting to three. Like he didn’t just dump this huge yet vague responsibility onto your shoulders. “Well excuse me if I’m a little riled by a fucking psychopath in my bedroom at three in the fucking morning!!!”

His mouth twists in an annoyed grimace. And for the first time you feel as though your foot has been lodged firmly in your throat. You’ve angered him and now you’re fucked. Way to go, in three seconds flat you’ve made his mind up for him.

“Firstly, I’m a sociopath, not a psychopath. Psychopaths are unable to form emotional bonds or even struggle to feel real, human emotion at all, and I think we both know that’s not true with me. Secondly, it’s midnight, not three a.m, silly. And lastly, this is exactly what I’m talking about, honeybun. You’re stressed out, high strung. I can fix that.”

You lean back as far as you can in your computer chair, the shittily constructed plastic and screws squalling in protest of your weight as he reaches for something your petrified mind can only conjure up worse and worse images of being.

You instinctively recoil and then dumbly relax as the flick of a lighter sparks to life a tiny flame in the otherwise dark of your room. It illuminates him for a moment, the whites of his eyes focusing on something other than you for a change. The dim light throws irregular shadows across the planes of his face. It’s the first really good look you get at him, though you know you shouldn’t. You should be taking every opportunity to forget you ever saw him, only a vague shadow in the dark if you ever wish to make it out of this nightmarish situation alive but you can’t help yourself. He’s just a few feet away and the lighter keeps drawing your eyes like moths, fluttering over his features in passing flight.

He’s got that smoldering, troubled look. Dark eyes, dark hair. Angular jaw, strong chin. There’s a fat joint precariously clenched between his plush lips that he brings the flame up to the end of, taking two quick puffs to light as the end blooms a cherry head and smoke begins to voluminously rise from.

He’s pretty, you begrudgingly have to admit. Naturally attractive in a way that unsettles you to say, the fact worms under the skin at your nape and stands the thin wisps of hair growing there on edge. Especially now that he’s imparted his great secret with you. It would be easier if he were revolting, but he’s not.

It makes you wonder how different the situation would be if he’d just approached you naturally. How easily you’d have fallen under the spell of this man’s witty charm had he had the good sense to try and court you normally. It horrifies you to think how easily you could imagine yourself falling in love with a man holding back a secret as dark as this, a man capable of this level of debauchery. He speaks and snaps you back to the present.

“I won’t untie you. You seem like the tricky type, my love. You’ll have to get your fix another way.” You glower at him to hide your disappointment. As much as you hate to admit it, you’d love a hit right about now. If you’re to die, there’s no better way than high.

“Don’t pout. You’ll get yours.” You instinctively pull your arm towards it for a pass but you’re stopped short by your binds. He must notice, letting out a dark chuckle you hate to admit sends chills down the column of your spine.

“Oh that’s fucking adorable. Hold still.” Before you can move he snaps up a camera you hadn’t noticed dangling from his neck and the bright flare of a flash momentarily blinds you.

When you can see again, he’s staring down into the screen of his, suffice to say, really nice ass looking camera, though you’re no tech expert by any means. His smile widens, flashing a toothy grin down at the image of your face and then up to your real and present one.

Satisfied with capturing the moment, he drops the camera back down to hang from his neck as he eyes you precariously before taking a long, slow drag from the joint. He pulls away and motions you forward with two fingers. You hesitate and get to watch his eyes darken in real time, watch him shift from being personable to something much less tolerant in an instant.

He exhales and a plume of smoke permeates the air in your vicinity, saturating it with the funky, pungent odor of bud. The space between you is noticeably thicker and not just from the smoke. His voice drops that cheerful quality and you suddenly understand that this whole time he’s been being nice to you. He drops your gaze and scoffs to his lap. “I lit this just for you. If you don’t at least indulge me you’ll hurt my feelings.”

When his eyes take hold of yours again they’re anything but friendly. “And you wouldn’t wanna hurt my feelings, now would you doll?” There’s an unspoken threat, an underlying message left unuttered but nevertheless fully understood by both parties.

You are now at a crossroads, humor him or face the alternative and the choice is yours, for him it seems, it wouldn't really be a bother either way. Ultimately you lean in, you’re not exactly in any kind of position to refuse.

He takes another hit, larger than the first, a punishment perhaps for your inhibitions the first go around. Though you know what you’re doing, he still takes a moment prior to coach you, a single word that sends a surge of need shooting down your spine, making you shiver in what you tell yourself is disgust. Without choking or sounding even remotely bothered he orders you around a lungful of smoke.

“Suck.” It’s all you get before his lips push up against yours. They're soft and warm and you feel his hand lift up to cradle your cheek. Intimate, sweet, in a way one could call almost gentlemanly, though you know better. It helps steady you in place before you feel his lips part slightly and blow warm, thick smoke into your mouth that you suck down deep into your lungs. His lips linger long after the smoke is gone, ghosting over yours in casual chase, almost like a lover’s would.

With the hit exchanged, he pulls back from you suddenly and lifts his hand to cover your mouth and nose, his thumb wrapping under the curve of your chin, the pad digging into the soft underbelly and locking your jaw shut.

Your mind can’t help but register the way he easily covers the bottom half of your face with the breadth of one gloved hand. A move that makes your eyes widen and gaze up into his own as he stares you down intensely. “Hold it.” He instructs as your lungs burn, it’s been a hot minute since you’d smoked and the hit is warm and stinging to your fresh, unabused lungs.

A moment passes.. and then two.. and you begin to internally panic. It’s then you realize he means to kill you like this, there’s no other explanation for such cruelty. He intends to asphyxiate you with one hand, force you to choke on the poisoned last breath he’d personally fed into your lungs. You hitch and nearly sputter behind the suction of his gloved palm but his eyes hold yours hostage as he watches you struggle through it, relishing in it.

You had angered him with your earlier comment, it seems. Made up his mind for him and now he’s going to end his issues single-handedly. You’d always heard the old adage “I wanna watch the life drain out of your eyes as you take your last breath.” You’d understood it before at face value, a thing said to provoke, to strike fear, to rattle. You’d never dreamed of the moment it’d happen to you, to experience it first hand, to stare into the eyes of your unmaker.

You’d imagined, in your last fleeting moments, the space behind your eyes would be filled with memories. Life’s intrinsic moments. People, places, family, friends. That’s what people always say. But it wasn’t like that. In those moments you believed were to be your last, all your brain could fixate on, all you could think about with the last of its magnificent power, in all its infinite wisdom was his eyes.

The deep sedentary shade of his twin orbs, the flecks and streaks of paler and deeper hues. A spectrum of browns infinitesimal in the pools of his irises. These are the eyes who’ll witness your last moments, the transfer of your consciousness from the here and now to wherever it is we go after this. These are the eyes of the reaper.

Just when you believe you’re on the cusp of passing out; your focus doubling and then tripling and then beginning to recede all together, to be followed close behind by the cold embrace of death, he releases and your lungs follow suit. Purging themselves in a last ditch effort for survival. The residual smoke puffs up from both your nose and mouth simultaneously, as you fight to expel it and drag in fresh, cool air.

It sends you into a coughing fit that doubles you over as far as your binds will allow. He catches your chin with his gloved hand and pulls you upright by it, keeping your head above your shoulders and shushing you through it as you are violently pulled away from the brink of death and after a minute, begin to quiet down. “That’s it. Breathe, doll.”

Your vision blurs around the edges, shadows drawing into shadows as you recover and there’s spittle on your lower lip from nearly coughing up a lung. He notices and swipes his thumb across the expanse of your lower lip, dragging the pliable flesh clean. You go to express your gratitude, for his chivalry, for his restraint, for your life. It seems there’s perhaps some humanity in him after all.

“Thank yo-“ It dies in your throat as you watch him, without even skipping a beat, bring that same thumb up to his lips and suck your saliva off his digit, a devious glint in his dark, guile-filled eyes. “So sweet.”

You’re dizzy, whether it be from the hit, or lack of oxygen or just him, you’re unsure. You’re at a loss for what to say next but it seems he isn’t finished. “I could fill a million SD cards with just your expressions, babygirl. You’re awfully photogenic, has anyone ever told you that?”

You’re unsure what to say, you’ve never been good with compliments in the best of situations, let alone one given under duress and you’re still reeling from, well, everything that’s happening to you.

It seems he still hasn’t decided what to do with you after all. Your head spins from the whiplash, it’s impossible, after all, to try and make heads or tails of the hairbrained decisions of the mentally ill and if there’s one thing this man sitting across from you is, it’s mentally ill. Though you have the comfort of saying so in the safety of your thoughts you won’t dare tempt him by saying it aloud again, unpredictable as he is.

“I love all your little marks and moles, birth or stretch, they’re all perfect.” You give him a look of violated disgust, you believe at this point you’re beyond surprised at anything he could say to you, it’s clear he meant what he said when he told you he’d been watching you.

“Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t like, strip you bare and thoroughly examine you with a magnifying glass or something. You just toss and turn a lot in your sleep.” And he says it like simply ‘watching you sleep’ is somehow kind of tamer, more justified, noble even.

“At least.. not yet.”Just when you believe you’d collected your thoughts you feel the tip of the knife grazing your skin again, riding the curve of your thigh upwards towards their apex, not hard enough to cut, but just rough enough to keep your attention fixated upon its ascent.

You stiffen, taking all of the relaxed lean he’d cultivated out of your posture and pressing back into the cushion of the rigid computer chair. He skips up your abdomen, passing over the skin of your navel. The sharpened point catches momentarily on the silky hem of your nightshirt before tension meets drag and then it’s cutting, a brand new part ripping right down the center rising ever higher up towards your sternum.

For a moment, both of your focuses eclipse on the tip of the knife, yours erratically panicked, his lasciviously engrossed. The roaring purr of the fabric shearing apart is loud in the otherwise quiet room, the only other sound the backdrop mix of your combined, labored breathing.

When the sea parts, the thin straps of your nightshirt slip from the slumps of your shoulders as the fabric, now separated, falls away from your chest and comes to rest as a useless bunch around your waist. His eyes fixate on your newly exposed flesh, locking acutely on the swell of your breasts, your nipples pebbling at the weight of his heated gaze upon them.

You instinctively hunch forward, your shoulders and back contorting their best to cover as much of you as humanly possible. Without so much as tearing his eyes away, he brings the tip of his blade forth and presses it into the valley of your chest. “Don’t hide yourself from me.” The stabbing pain of it becomes too much and you bow back reflexively, effectively revealing yourself to him again.

When he pulls back, a dark red spot forms in the knife’s wake, lengthening into a slow, smooth trickle into the valley of your breasts. His mouth parts and as he leans in you lean back, until your back is straining against the chair, until you can’t possibly back away any more.

And then you feel it, the hot, stiff, flat of his tongue, trailing up your crimson streaked skin. He feels you stiffen and hears you whimper in what you want him to think is terror, but at the same time he feels the full body shudder that quakes through you, feels the way your back arches off the chair, bucking back into him, chasing the sensation. You want him to believe you’re opposed to this, but he knows better than that, he knows you better than that. It’s just about getting you to give into your urges and stop leaning on your morals. He shed himself of the burden of his a long, long time ago.

He hardly pulls away, speaking into your skin as your lungs heave air and you squeeze your eyes shut at the restraint you’re exerting, straining against the questions swirling in your head you can’t bear to answer. Why is this affecting you so greatly?

“I don’t want to kill you, sweetheart. I will if I have to but I’ll be honest, it’d be a real bummer.” He pulls back and your eyes crack open, hoping against hope that maybe he’s done. With an audience he makes a spectacle of pulling off a glove, slipping the tip of one leather finger in between his teeth to pull his hand free of it. While his eyes never leave yours, you watch as it closes the distance between you to finally make contact with the exposed swell of your hip.

“Give me a reason, babygirl.” A spark of something like electricity runs through you upon your first skin to skin contact and you inhale sharply at the sensation. He drags it up your body, mapping your curves and planes like he’s setting it into memory.

Up the lattice of your rib cage and over the swell of one exposed breast, your nipples harden under his palm as it glides ever higher. He passes over the expanse of your heart to feel it beat in real time, just as fast and as forceful as hummingbird wings under the surface of your skin. He continues over the structure of your collarbones and stradles the column of your throat, his fingers conforming to the contours and dips along your jawline. All the way up til his palm cups your cheek, his thumb resting softly overtop the pucker of your lips, brushing along their part and lathing over the soft, thin skin. When it stills your eyes flick to his again and there’s a searching, hopeful quality to them that makes your stomach twist up into knots. “Give me a sign.”

Your eyes read his lips as they mold and form around his words, soft and cooing. Your mind races, you don’t want to die, don’t really want these to be your last moments. Would it be so bad? One night stands aren’t a new concept to you, men the likes of whom you wake up next to without an inkling of their identities or even the circumstances behind your acquaintance. Is this really all that different?

As he leans forward you decide that it is and turn your head away at the last possible moment. He stops and his head drops, a little disappointed sigh sounding from between his lips and your eyes close as your insistence on survival quarrels voraciously against your rigid moral upbringing. Like he’s somehow read your thoughts he speaks them.

“Is that what’s holding you back? Cause I know you want this. But it’d be too… improper. too.. unladylike to let a stranger break into your cute little home, tie you to your cute little computer chair and be forced to admit to me that I’ve got you flustered, wouldn’t it? It’d be just downright shameful if I slipped a hand into these cute little sleep shorts..”

His words narrate his actions, as one bare finger slips the last few inches left between him and the heat of your sex, shifting past the hem of your crotch on one side and sliding against the soaked gusset of your cotton panties in a firm, exploratory sweep. You have to bite your cheek against the moan it threatens to elicit. Bucking against his hand, it’s unintentional but damning all the same. And the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips is predatory in its victory, prideful in your defeat.

“and found you absolutely fucking soaked for me.” The last of his sentence comes out in a growl, ground between the grit of his teeth and spat out in a rumble that does nothing to ease the burn between your legs, burning brighter as he pulls away and brings his hand up to the light, both of your eyes drawn to the way it glistens in the lowlight.

“I don't mind playing the bad guy, babygirl.” His voice coils around you like liquid smoke, wrapping warm around the base of your spine and pooling low in your belly as his head dips into the crook of your neck, breathing in the heady scent of your fear and sweat. “If that’s what you need from me.” You feel his lips grazing ever so lightly over your pulse point, feel him grinning wicked at the way your heart quickens just for him. “If that’s what it takes for you to keep that moral, good girl image that’s so, so precious to you in your pretty little head.”

He whispers against the shell of your ear and you have to squeeze your eyes shut against the heavy, lascivious weight of him. You fear you’ve read this one before and you’re fairly certain you know how it ends. Eve and the snake in the garden all over again, just a taste is all it takes, indulging sin.

“Does it make it easier for you if I force you into it?” He brings the knife to your neck where he just was, planting the blade firmly up against the soft, soft flesh of your jugular, less than an inch from your carotid artery. You stiffen against him, keeping stark still, not even daring to breathe.

His tone falls into a hush, words whispered closely against your thrumming flesh. “If I take away the illusion of choice?” You can feel the heat radiating off his skin even through the glove, the roiling coals in the palm of his hand as it rides further and further up your thigh, leaving trials of fire in its wake, closing in on where you weep for him. “If I just choose to make you mine?”

He’s leaned in so far he’s standing above you and with your back against the wall and his knife to your neck there’s little else for you to do when his lips close over yours than to just take it. It’s intense, no warm up, no gentility or ceremony, just overwhelming, sweeping desire that you feel in your bones. He’s done waiting, done giving you choices, he’s had enough of the games.

You move with him as best you can in fear of his control over the blade slipping. His tongue wants to lick past your lips but your jaw refuses to budge. He lets out a sound of displeasure against you before you feel the hand that had been resting against your thigh push forward again to rub roughly right over top of your clit and you gasp inwardly in response. An opportunity he takes full advantage of as his tongue breaches your mouth to gain dominion over yours, the knife slips in lieu of his desperation, much more eager to roam your skin than keep up the threat. You feel the blade pull free only to be replaced by his ungloved hand a moment later.

His palm wraps around the expanse of your neck and squeezes, just enough to make you lightheaded and pliant as he ravages you, not that you could do much to resist him tied to the chair as you were. His hand between your thighs grows bolder, slipping down to where you’re wettest and pressing inwards with the pads of two of his fingers as far as the fabric would stretch, pushing into your entrance. The sensation had you groaning into the kiss, a surrender he rewarded with a nip to your lip as he continued his onslaught against your senses.

He pulls away from you, leaving you flustered and short of breath as he drops to his knees before you, coming up level with your chest. You hardly have time to register his change in position before you feel his lips ghosting over one of your nipples, planting them over one of your stiffened peaks and pulling it into his mouth. You arch up into the sensation, hardly stifling the sharp cry in the back of your throat. With you distracted, he pulls his blade from his sheath once more and makes two quick cuts, sliding his knife between you and the fabric of your panties to cut them away from your body where they cling like a second skin without so much as nicking you.

It’s only when you feel the cool air, chilly against your warm sex that you realize you’re now completely naked in front of him, this stranger, this invader. He lives up to his namesake as you feel his fingers at your entrance and he wastes little time as you feel him sinking in with two up to the first knuckle. You can’t stifle your moan this time, it bubbles from your throat and out of your mouth like sweet siren song.

He’s cocky about it too, boisterous in his boasting. You can feel his smirk against your skin as he licks up your chest to tease your breasts once more, reveling in the way he can feel you tightening around him in response. “Mmm.. So fucking wet for me, doll.” He moves the fingers inside you slowly as he stretches you open for him bit by bit, gentle and coaxing. “I don’t know, baby. From where I’m sitting, I’d have to say it seems like you’re enjoying yourself a little.”

Your head tips back and your eyes squeeze shut as your thoughts reel, unsuccessful in forming a shred of any kind of coherent thought. No rebuttals or quick witty quips to refute his claims. His fingers are thick and he keeps nudging something inside of you with each inward thrust that scrambles your brain and leaves you blank. You see, even through the opaque veils of your eyelids, the telltale momentary glare of his camera flash. Taking full advantage of the opportunity to capture your fall from grace, searing it into palpable visual proof he’d left his mark on you. “Please.”

And worse yet, without any context he defaults to your original opposition and stops which you find is actually the opposite of what you were begging for. With the last of your resolve you smother the whine that threatens to spill from your lips.

Without the mind numbing distraction of his ministrations you finally have a moment to breathe. “Wh-wh-“ You squeeze your eyes closed, the only way you can manage to pull your thoughts into some semblance of order in such close proximity to him and after a shallow, shaky breath, begin again.

“What do you want from me?” When your eyes reopen his bore into yours, pupils blown from more than just the weed. “I want you to give in to me.” He dips below your line of sight as he brings the knife up to your throat again, preventing you from following his lower descent. You feel him where you can’t see, pressed up close and personal with your neck, speaking his words against your flesh.

“I want to feel your little.” Kiss.

“Fragile.” Kiss.

“Sense of reality.” Kiss.

“Fucking shatter.” Kiss.

“As I make you come.” Kiss.

“All over my cock.” Kiss.

He wages war on your holy shores with his sordid tides. Corrodes your resolve with his sulfuric touch and it’s working, you’re beginning to slip. Can feel yourself losing this long, drawn-out battle of wills he’d pushed upon you. You’d been on a downward slope since the start and you’re nearing your wits end when it comes to fighting him. A victory he’s pulling from you one kiss at a time. “I wanna fuck you til you scream.”

You gasp inwardly as he sucks hard against your pulse point, teeth nipping into your supple skin, staking a claim you’ll no doubt be able to see in the morning, if you live to see it. You have to stifle the moan that follows, pushing at the cusp of your throat like a bird bound to fly the coop. He moves you then, no longer content with your quaint little cat and mouse game. Taking the reins for himself and pulling away from you, it’s like an oppressing weight has lifted from your shoulders but by that time it’s much too late.

He’s already moved around behind you, strategically cutting away the section of rope anchoring you to the chair, making you able to move but keeping your wrists bound at the small of your back. He tugs on your wrists and forces you to rise, coming back around your body and towering over you as you’re helpless but to move as he directs you. His legs bump yours, bullying you back until your calves hit the bed and you fall backwards onto the plush surface.

You catch one last glimpse of his eyes, possessed by lust before he’s flipping you over onto your stomach and pulling you back by your hips until your ass is perched at the edge of the bed. Panic begins to set in, like a buzzing in the back of your brain you realize you’re nearing a point from which there is no return.

You squirm and writhe, trying to flip yourself back over or slide off the bed until you feel him socket himself between your legs and plant a knee into the cleft of your ass, stopping your struggles. He applies downward pressure and your legs are forced to spread to accommodate the girth of his still clothed knee, grinding your heated sex up the length of his thigh as yours part, until his knee meets the bed.

“Still resisting me, doll? After the show you were putting on for me earlier, I can’t say I’m convinced.” He talks but all you can focus on is the jingle of his belt as he undoes it as he speaks. You feel him pull his leg away followed by the rustle of fabric and you know he’s undressing behind you.

“Wait! No, no! Wait!” But it’s too late, you feel the head of him pressing against your lips, sliding the blunt head of his cock up your slick seam, getting it nice and wet. Your body betrays you, salivating at the thought of finally getting fucked after such a long and unforgiving dry spell.

“I don’t think you really want me to.” And with that he pushes forward, sinking in inch by slow agonizing inch. He’s thick and any quarrels, any kind of protests or reservations you may have had dissipate with each newly fed inch. Unfortunately for you, you’re coming to terms with the fact that he may be right.

“Goddamn, babygirl.” You take in a sucking breath just to immediately expel it as a broken moan. When he’s buried to the hilt he stills there for a moment, enjoying the feel of your walls twitching around him, silently begging him for more.

He obliges, pulling out halfway only to plunge back in, his hips slapping against your ass, driving his cock deep in one fluid thrust. He picks up a steady pace like that, slow methodical thrusts while you both adjust to the stretch. “For all the fuss you made for us to get to this point you sure are gripping me awful tight, sunshine.”

You bury your face into the sheets to try and save some last shred of dignity, he may have invaded your walls but he will not hear your cries. That is, until he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls, hauling your head back and forcing your moans to be heard by the heavens. With each thrust he pulls a noise from you, punched out of your lungs by the force of his cock alone. “And all these sweet little noises, all this for me, doll?”

You whimper and whine but it’s true. He’s fucking you so god damn good, so toe-curlingly thorough that you’re barely holding on. You told yourself that while he was busying himself inside of you, you’d come up with some sort of a plan, some kind of brilliant plot to get loose or get away or just get back at him. Twist and writhe in your binds until they’d have enough wiggle room to maybe save yourself but since he’d penetrated you all thoughts of escape plans or revenge plots had been put on hold. It had been so long since you’d had a real man in your bed that you lost yourself to it a bit.

He was handsome and confident and he knew what he was doing and on top of all that he’d made it his personal mission to see to it that you succumb to this. You’d fought, and fought as hard as you believed you could have and still gotten away with your life, and you were tired of fighting.

He lets go of your hair to get a better purchase on your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and yanking you back into him on every thrust, forcing you to take every inch of him as he splits you open from behind. Your back is forced to arch for him like this, pushing your head back into the sheets, lucky for you because you nearly start to wail with the devastating pleasure this new angle provides him, to your chagrin. Though little it matters, you’re beyond the ability to hold back anything from him.

You groan out a low and defeat-addled “Fuck.” into the sheets and he knows he’s got you. He speeds up a bit as you feel a dark, victorious chuckle quake out of him and into you. “Yeah, doll? Just like that, hmm?” He pounds you into the mattress, the frame of it knocking loudly against the wall and you can’t comprehend how he’s still so damn cocky, how he’s even still coherent when in two seconds flat of being buried inside you he’s rendered you stupid.

If he’d meant for you to answer he’d be sorely disappointed, as all you could manage were a range of moans, whimpers and whines. It seemed to suit him though as he continued on without any response, taunting you while laying waste to you from above. “Just think, babygirl. We could’ve been doing this so much sooner if you’d have just given into me from the start.”

“All that resistance, all the fight and for what, doll? Just to end up cockdrunk beneath me in the end just like I knew you’d be.” You feel him lean down over you, dwarfing your hunched frame with his as his mouth hovers just behind the shell of your ear to whisper.

“I told you from the start, I know you. I know everything about you, I know the things you never tell anyone, things you’re too embarrassed to speak of. I know about the things you won’t even admit to yourself. Every filthy, depraved thought you’ve ever had. All your darkest fantasies, all your most shameful desires. And you know what else?”

There’s gooseflesh rising on your skin and you can feel it building, pooling low in your belly. His steady thrusts, the weight of him overtop of you, his silky deviant voice in your ear. He’s driving you insane and closer, ever closer to your impending climax.

He’s got you held raptly on the edge. Clinging to his every word, his every move, his every whim. He nips at the shell of your ear as he continues to fuck you while fucking with your head. “I can tell by the way your breathing is picking up, the way you’ve gone almost totally silent, the way you’re clenching down on me...” He groans in response to your body's immediate reaction, seemingly tightening on command as he speaks so obscenely of you, his voice dropping into a low, strained growl. “…that you’re getting so close for me, aren’t you, doll?”

You feel one of his hands sliding off your hip and snaking down your body into the crook of your thighs, your eyes widen as you feel the pads of his index and middle finger make contact with your swollen clit and start to make slow, tight circles. The contact has your already sensitive nerves sparking and you seize up beneath him as you careen violently towards coming, your eyes squeezing shut as you completely surrender yourself to him. Release the last of your resolve and give into the potent, raw euphoria that threatens to envelope you and swallow you whole. “Fuck, yes!!”

You arch up into him from below, pressing your hips up into his as you race towards the tidal wave of pleasure rushing towards you. “That’s it, babe, just like that. Fucking come for me, come all over my cock.” Your orgasm crashes through you, drowning in its intensity. Your hands tighten into fists, nails digging into the palms of your hands as your toes curl where they rest overtop of his combat boots. He fucks you through it, dragging it out and grinding into the hot, tight clutch of your spasming walls.

You vaguely feel him shifting behind you through the fog of pleasure. Your eyes open when he nestles in just beside you, one arm outstretched, his camera clutched in his grasp. You hardly have a second to register it before it blinds you with its flash. You turn your head to the side only to be met with the dark endless pits that are the eyes of his mask. At some point or another he’d slipped it back on, leaving you the only identifiable person in your impromptu little photo shoot.

“This one’s gonna be the best of the lot. When baby finally broke.” Humiliation swells within you, sobering the high you’d just climbed down from. The horror of what you’ve just committed to falls over you like a dark cloud and you begin to squirm in place beneath him, but still sheathed fully inside you as he is, there’s little you can do.

His arms clamp down on either side of you, restricting your range of motion as he pipes up confidently in your ear. “I never took you for a selfish lover, babe. You got yours, now it’s my turn.” He pulls off of you and you take the opportunity to flip around, it takes you a few tries before you’re facing him again.

The mask stares down at you with its sympathetic gaze, his shirt is rucked up and his pants and boxers are pulled down low, revealing his chiseled abdomen and toned waist. He looks deliciously devilish above you, the mask adding an all new element to the allure that you hate to admit stirs the remnants of your arousal, especially when you recall how hard he’d just made you come. No matter how hot you must admit he looks, you’re done playing nice with him, readying yourself for a fight as he looms overhead.

He drinks in the sight of you. He must have angered you, whether from his words or his actions or a combination of the two, somewhere between your sweet surrender and the flash of the camera you’d flipped the script on him. It seems to matter little as you glare up at him from your place on the bed, your arms still tied uselessly behind your back, your legs pulled up in a semi-fetal position, feet poised and ready to strike and kick and block him at a moments notice, from below he still gets peeks of your glistening pussy, still wet and glossy from your very intense orgasm only moments prior. But he can tell by the way you’re eyeing him up you’re not entirely offput.

He laughs cruelly from above and it shakes your spirits a bit but serves to only ground you in your defiance. You wanted nothing more than to claw his eyes out of his head. “Oh doll stop, I can only get so hard.” And he is, the hardened length of him, coated in a sheen of your arousal is still held in one hand, stroking it idly as he peers down at you from behind the mask. You bare your teeth up at him in anger.

“That’s the way you wanna play it then? Fine by me.” He strikes, grabbing onto your ankles with both hands and pushing them up towards your chest. You push back with all the strength in your legs, calves and thighs straining against his weight and there’s a moment where you do counter him, where you’re able to hold off his advances but it’s only momentary as he doubles his efforts and you’re forcibly rolled back until you’re laid flat on the bed and your knees are smushed into your chest. His mask leers down at you, sad as ever just inches away.

He’d bested you again, and it wasn’t much of a struggle, despite the might of your anger. You feel him at your entrance again, cold from the time you’d spent separated. “NO!” You yelled up at him from below, still intent on fighting a battle long lost.

And then he’s pushing inside you again, driving the air out of your lungs in one fluid thrust and just like that he’s balls deep in you again. Hovering over you, buried deep and still just to stare down at you as you adjust to the girth of him again, just to watch you keen around him as the light of your defiance burning in the flames of your eyes begins to dim. He starts to move, planting an arm along either side of you as he pushes you down into the mattress.

He watches your internal struggles play across the features of your face. Your lips part and your brow furrows as you fight to stave off the treacherous part of you that already wants to turn cheek and submit to him again. With your eyes scrunched shut you only realize he’s shed himself of the mask again when his lips crash back to yours, ruthless in their reclamation of you.

You know from experience this is how he’d pulled you under the first time. So this time you fight it, pulling back your lips from his in order to bite into them. He’s quicker though, pulling away just a split second before you’re able to sink your teeth in. But your actions have consequences and, still supporting himself with one hand, he lifts the other and smacks it down firmly on one of your conveniently exposed flanks hard with a firm, open palm, making you cry out.

“If you wanted it rough doll, all you had to do was ask.”

He does it again and then one more time for good measure all in the same spot, until you’re wriggling underneath him and letting out sweet little sorrowful pleas.

His lips find yours again and you don’t dare lash out a second time, letting him have his way with you. You’d imagine, after making such a show of force to keep you in line he’d be domineering in his control over you, brutish in his kiss. But he’s actually rather gentle, almost playful and coaxing with his teeth and tongue. A stark contrast to the nature of his thrusts, eager and unrelenting in the snap of his hips to yours. He’s once more driven all coherent thought away, reduced to nothing more than a passive pile of dough below him, able to be kneaded and shaped in his image.

He lifts up and pulls your knees apart, peering down into the newly made gap, his eyes glued to the spot where the two of you are joined. Watching himself pull out and then drive back home into your soaking wet heat, mesmerized by it. Your head tips back as his dips down, capturing a perky nipple in between his teeth and suckling it as he feels you clench down around him in response. He knows just how to touch you, months spent watching you do it to yourself to know just what you like and now he’s intent to use this litany of knowledge, his area of expertise, to break you into submission.

Your arms begin to ache where they’re pinned beneath you and you squirm and shift to try and ease some of the pain. He takes notice and trails kisses up from your breast to your neckline where he speaks softly. “If you promise to be good, I’ll untie you.”

Any thought of being good in any sense of the word has refusals gathering on your tongue but the thought of being let loose is rather enticing on its own, your arms and shoulder shriek at you to jump at the chance but you hold your tongue and twist away from him.

“Oh come on now, you can’t stay mad at me forever, doll.” You feel one hand slip down over your navel and press, applying pressure to both the bulge of him nestled deep inside you and the bulk of your wrists tied behind you. You groan low at the mix of discomfort and shooting pleasure that has your already fractured mind splitting at the seams.

Your mouth cracks open but reluctance keeps you quiet. “Say it with me. ‘I swear I’ll be good.’ Just five little words and I’ll make the pain go away.”

“I s-swear.” It’s a start, but not exactly what he’s looking for. He pushes down just ever so harder, rutting into you and making you howl out. “All of it, babygirl.”

“I swear! I swear I’ll be good! Please!” He ceases before wrapping one arm around you and lifts, pulling you up and against him. You’re pushed up into the warmth of his chest, your chin jutting out over the cliff of one broad shoulder, leaving you neck to neck. You can feel the heat of his skin against yours, the scent of his sweat mixing with his cologne fills your sinuses, pungent and stinging and intoxicating all the same, you find yourself breathing it in as he makes quick work of slicing through your binds.

With a final tug your arms are free and you immediately pull them back around towards the front of your body to alleviate the ache but somehow they wind up wrapping around him, almost clinging to him as he lets you down gently to fall back to the bed. You go, reluctantly and before you can come back to your wits to come up with what to do with your hands, he’s grabbed them, one in each of his. He presses them down into the bed as he resumes fucking you.

The pleasure starts to build again but as much as you detest it, there is no stopping it. You can feel him losing himself to it too. He becomes less watchful, less coherent as his head dips down next to yours and he plants kisses like flags, marking over the territory of your skin. He starts talking into your skin. Rumbling out sweet, nonsensical, outlandish declarations between kisses as he draws closer to his release. Promises made into the sacred altar of your flesh as he fucks you both senseless.

You hear scraps and bits, torn between being lost to the euphoria and coherent enough to make out his pleasure drunk ramblings. You hear him promise to never let you go, never to make that same mistake again, never to stray from the path if he’s granted just this one thing. It becomes increasingly clear he’s talking to someone or something, holding a conversation you can’t keep up with as you’re privy to only half of it, and only bits and pieces of that half are discernible in your present state.

You feel him pick up speed with a renewed vigor, thrusting in and out of you at a frenzied pace as you both near your release. You feel one of his hands slip from yours and the next time you’re aware of its presence it’s holding a knife to your neck for the umpteenth time of the night. No matter how many times you find yourself in this position you can’t get used to the shock of the blade, the feel of the edge of it so very close to the soft skin of your neck, that little leap your heart does in your chest.

“My name’s Danny. And I wanna hear you say it when you come, or you won’t live to come down from it, do you understand?” Your eyes squeeze shut as you draw closer to the edge, even despite the threat of death. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” He feels you buck up into him, chasing his thrusts at his praise and doubles down on it. “Such a good fucking girl for me.” Your head tips back away from the blade but also inadvertently exposing your throat to him in the process, a sight that only spurs him on. Like a sacrificial lamb you give yourself to him willingly and it’s almost too perfect for him to bear.

“Fuck me.” He growls, feeling his balls tighten as you start to clamp down around him. “Come with me, doll. I wanna feel you come again.” You do, his command pushes you over the edge and he follows right behind, just as soon as his name falls from your lips in a desperate, pleasure drunk whine. His hips stutter against yours as his climax rocks through him. Your eyes open in time to see his head tip back and his eyes glow a deep, ominous, crimson shade. Your mouth drops open as you feel his seed fill you to the brim, hot and heavy and deep in your belly.

You blink and it’s gone, his eyes are the same brown they’d always been, they fall to yours abruptly and a smirk as wicked as sin tugs at one corner of his lips. You blink again and then once more trying to replicate what you’d seen but you can’t. He bends down, still sheathed inside you but softening by the moment and recaptures your lips in a searing kiss.

One you give into, at this point you figure whatever hell you’d woken up to, whatever ill will you’d stumbled upon must be almost over, best to end it on good terms and leave this horrible nightmare scenario with your life intact. The sooner you get him out of the house the sooner you can get up and get dressed and run to the store. It’s unclear in his haste to have you if he’d stopped long enough to consider protection but you really doubt it.

He doesn’t make it hard to enjoy, the way his lips graze passionately over yours, his tongue slipping along the line of your lower lip teasingly before sucking it in between his lips. You get lost like that, intertwined and still falling from two of the best orgasms you’d had in well over a year.

You come to terms with that as he pulls out and climbs off of you, his knife still held in one hand. “You thirsty?” He asks politely and you find that you are, indeed, very thirsty. You nod at him and he points the tip of the knife in your direction. “Don’t move.” You nod cutely, hoping to stay in his good graces as he turns and heads into the bathroom. You hear the tap and after a moment he returns, glass in hand.

He hands it over as you slide to the edge of the bed, sitting up to accept it. You drink eagerly, it isn’t until the last drops slide down the back of your throat that you register the bitter aftertaste. Your eyes snap to his immediately, untrusting. “Sorry, doll. I couldn’t just leave you as is. It’s not something I wanted to do, especially after all the fun we’ve had, but it’s a necessary step to ensure our future.”

You drop the glass and it shatters on the hardwood, fragments of glass spreading far and wide in all directions and he quickly moves forward to catch you as you begin to fall. You fight him at first, intent on making good on your desire to see his eyeballs ripped from his head in your last breaths but your limbs soon lose their prowess as your body loses its strength.

You try to speak but only slurs come out, the room spins and tilts wildly. He shushes you and slides you into bed and under the covers. “Shhh, it’s ok. It’s just to help you sleep. We’ll figure everything out in the morning. I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

As you drift off you feel him pulling the soft, silk mask back over your eyes just as he’d found you and hear the distant, dreamy call of him saying. “Sleep tight, babygirl.”

[wholoveseggs]

hiiii can you maybe do an smut and fluff elijah mikaelson where the reader has daddy issues and oral fixation? 🥺🥺🥺

Pop Quiz

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

How can you possibly pay attention in history class when your professor is that hot? Let's hope you don't fail your exam...

~Thanks for the request anon(s) ♡♡ I hope you don't mind me combining the two ideas!~ ~I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS ONE~

~I've gotten sooo many requests in the queue - I love them all, but it will take me some time to catch up ♡♡ thanks for your patience~

7k words - Warnings: smut, blow jobs, oral sex, daddy!kink, Elijah being bossy, tenth century history...

{Part Two}

You looked up at Mr. Mikaelson, with wide, doe eyes, as you knelt before him. His hand gently caressed your face, his thumb grazing across your plump bottom lip. You let out a soft moan, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable, begging to be touched.

Your eyes followed his every movement as he unzipped his trousers, pulling his hard cock from his boxers. His hand moved to the back of your head, his fingers running through your hair as his eyes met yours, giving you a firm nod, allowing you to take the first taste of him.

Slowly, you took him into your mouth, letting out a sigh at the perfect weight of his cock on your tongue. His fingers tightened around your locks as he gave you a sharp tug, pulling you towards him, causing his length to hit the back of your throat. You closed your eyes as you focused on pleasuring him, sucking and licking at his shaft.

"Good girl, so good for me" He growled, his hips slowly thrusting into your mouth, "Such a pretty little thing on her knees for me".

You moaned in response, the praise he gave you spurring you on, making you move faster, wanting to please him more, wanting him to feel good.

You felt yourself growing wetter as he took control of the movements of your head, his grip on you becoming harsher. You opened your eyes once more, looking up at him as his hips stuttered, and his eyes fluttered shut.

"I'm going to cum," he growled, as his thrusts became sloppy.

"Cum for me daddy," you moaned, then a flicker of confusion crossed your face as the sound of an alarm echoed in your ears.

Your eyes opened, and you shot up out of bed. You rolled over and grabbed your phone, "Fuck!" you screamed, it was 8:30 am.

"Shit shit shit shit" you repeated as you quickly threw on some clothes and grabbed your things.

You raced out the door and began to run to campus, knowing full well that you wouldn't make it on time.

When you arrived at the exam room, you were already 30 minutes late. You wanted to cry, knowing that Mr. Mikaelson would not let you take it. You slowly entered the room, hoping that he would show you mercy, but to no avail.

He sat there, looking just as handsome as he did in your dreams, grading papers as the rest of the class worked in hushed silence.

"Miss Y/L/N," He said, not looking up from his papers, "see me after class".

Your heart sunk as you shuffled towards your seat, dropping your bag next to your desk. You looked up to find the eyes of your classmates looking at you.

"Eyes on your own exams," Mr. Mikaelson warned the class, his tone icy.

The rest of the hour seemed to drag on, with nothing to do, your mind wandered back to your dream, a familiar heat settling between your legs. You had a crush on him since the first day, but lately everything seemed to be escalating. You could barely pay attention in his class, so distracted by your fantasy of having him in your mouth.

When the bell finally rang, you sat frozen in your seat. The rest of the students slowly shuffled out of the room, casting sympathetic glances in your direction as they did.

When the room was empty, Mr. Mikaelson stepped in front of your desk, eyes darkened, waiting for you to look up at him.

"My office. 4:00 pm. You will take the exam. No excuses." He stated matter-of-factly.

Your stomach twisted, and your breath hitched, as you looked up at him through your lashes. He looked stunning. His hands clasped behind his back as he towered above you. He was always dressed with a suit and tie. His hair was slightly messy, probably from running his fingers through his hair and a pair of reading glasses sat low on his nose.

"If you are late, you will not have the opportunity to retake it. Do I make myself clear Miss. Y/L/N?" He looked over your appearance, as you sat there helplessly, his eyes lingering on your lips.

"Yes, sir" you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Good." He turned on his heels, walking back to his desk to collect his things, and preparing to leave. "Now be a good girl and go to your next class."

That was it? That's all he wanted to say? Wait, good girl, you thought. You bit your lip, he definitely said 'good girl'. The sudden image of your mouth wrapped around his cock flashed across your mind, and you could feel yourself getting wetter.

Your cheeks flushed red, and you quickly left the room, embarrassed by your own thoughts.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. You barely paid attention in any of your classes, too distracted by the idea of being alone with Mr. Mikaelson. By the time the last bell had rung, you made your way to his office. Your hands were shaking, and your heart was racing in anticipation.

"Mr. Mikaelson?" You asked as you knocked gently on the door, peaking your head inside. "Can I come in?"

"Yes, Miss Y/L/N. Right on time. Good." He smiled, a small, pleasant smile. But it only made you more nervous.

You slipped into the room, slowly closing the door behind you, watching him as he slid the exam across the table, toward you.

"You may begin".

You looked down at the paper before you, it was on the tenth century, a time period you were well versed in. You glanced up at Mr. Mikaelson and shot him a little smirk, pleased that you knew your stuff.

When you finished you slid your paper over to him, with a graceful flick of his wrist he put on his glasses as he looked it over, eyebrow raised, impressed with the way you had answered.

"Do you drink? Wine, bourbon?" He asked as he stood from his desk and walked over to the small bar he had in his office.

"I'll have whatever you are having" you replied, the feeling of your stomach tightening and knotting as he closed the space between you.

"Wine, then," he said, pouring two glasses and handing one to you. "Salute" he clinked his glass with yours as you brought it to your lips.

He moved to the front side of his desk, leaning against it and looking down at you. His face was stoic, but there was something in his eyes, a fire that hadn't been there earlier.

"So," he said, bringing his glass to his lips, "you are a bit of an anomaly to me, Miss Y/L/N" he said as his eyes trailed over you, drinking you in, a familiar flush began tinting your cheeks.

You laughed, a tiny giggle, and smiled, "How so?"

He shook his head and laughed softly. "Well, you test incredibly well, yet you never seem to be paying attention in my class."

Your smile faded, your face burned with embarrassment. You couldn't possibly admit to why you were so distracted.

"Did I say something to upset you?" he asked as he set down his glass of wine, turning his body to face you.

"No, of course not" you stammered, not meeting his eyes.

What could you say? 'You're just really attractive and I can't concentrate in class because I'm too busy thinking about your dick in my mouth'?

"If you don't tell me what's wrong, I can't help you" he replied in a soft tone.

You didn't know if it was the wine, or the strange almost subconscious influence of the dream you had that morning, but you felt brave. You lifted your head and looked him dead in the eye, trying to sound confident.

"I've been having these dreams, constantly lately..." you said, "and they have been interfering with my attention" you paused, studying his face for any reaction, and you continued, a whisper, barely audible "They have all involved you"

The look on his face was enough to send shockwaves through your core. His eyebrows shot up and he moved a little closer, now right in front of you, towering over you, making you feel small. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his arms, the button-up shirt pulled tight, his muscles flexing. This had to be a dream.

"What are they about? If I might ask" he spoke, drawing your attention back up to his face, your cheeks blazing as you gaped at him like a fish out of water.

You blinked rapidly as the realization that this was, in fact, happening, struck you. What could you say? The truth? Surely, he wouldn't take kindly to your mind producing nightly fantasies that starred him? Would he laugh at you? Tell you to get the hell out of his office and go home, never to return? Would he ever be able to look at you again without thinking of you as the pathetic, horny college kid that had a pathetic, horny crush on him? Probably not. But also, you knew that look in his eye, it was the kind all men had when they wanted to fuck you.

Your mind did some quick calculations on how badly this could go, but it seemed like your pussy was in control right now because it was the voice speaking, and it said, "Can I show you? Sir?" as your eyes trailed downward to his crotch.

There, right before you, was the evidence that maybe, just maybe, you weren't the only one in here all hot and bothered by the other. You looked up at him, feeling a little bit smug, as you saw his eyes follow your line of sight before flashing back up to yours.

You didn't wait for his response, instead you moved off the chair and on to your knees, your hands slowly skimming up his thighs, stopping just short of the proof you were sure you'd find in a moment.

"Can I?" you asked, in the most innocent voice you could, which wasn't all that convincing. You were in over your head, and you knew it, a hint of confusion shadowing his face at your words.

"I should be the one asking permission, miss" he responded before he placed his hand on your head, brushing your hair from your face in a gentle caress.

You couldn't believe this was really happening, and you sublty pinched your thigh, hard, and while it did sting a bit, you didn't wake up.

Your eyes met his once more, your hand darting forward and over the crotch of his pants, and yes, just as you hoped, he was rock solid.

Before you had much time to revel in your delight though he gently grabbed your wrist and paused your movements before you could get carried away with yourself.

"We can't do this" his words didn't convince you as you looked up at his face and saw the same emotions he'd displayed since the beginning flash across it.

He wanted this just as much as you did, why was he stopping you?

Feeling bold, you stood, taking his hand and leading him to the plush armchair in the corner of the room, you pushed him lightly, but playfully, causing him to gently fall into the seat

For a split second you enjoyed the image before you, Mr. Mikaelson looked slightly dazed with his glasses askew, as he gazed up at you in the chair.

Then you slowly kneeled between his legs, resting your hands on his thighs. Looking up at him from where you were, you could appreciate his physique, his broad shoulders and strong arms. Even in his suit, you could see the muscle definition in his chest and abdomen, the hard planes visible underneath. He leaned forward and stroked your hair, tucking it behind your ear. You met his gaze and he looked deep into your eyes, his thumb brushing over your lips, bringing them to part slightly.

"Mr. Mikaelson.. Sir" you could hear the neediness in your voice as you melted under his touch. "You don't know how badly I’ve wanted this"

He looked quite flushed, probably just as eager as you were. His brown eyes were almost black. You couldn't think, only focused on the throbbing sensation that was pooling low in your belly.

You grasped the button on his trousers and deftly popped it open. You carefully unzipped him, your stomach fluttering in excitement. You glanced up again and watched his face as you pulled his pants down his thighs. He breathed deeply, eyes closed, looking tense but ready to receive pleasure.

The black boxers he was wearing strained over his erect cock. The shape bulged as you nuzzled against him. You placed small kisses along his shaft, teasing him through the thin material. You lifted his shirt to give yourself a better view, then began tugging his boxers down.

His dick sprung out from under the fabric, and you caught your breath in surprise. It was large, not overly large, just bigger than what you expected. You stroked him gently, becoming accustomed to his size. Your hands followed his length from base to tip, your grip tightening, causing him to groan.

You gave the head soft kitten licks, looking up at him to gauge his reactions. His fingers in your hair slowly pushed your face closer, signaling for you to take more of him into your mouth. You opened your mouth and welcomed the weight of his cock on your tongue.

He tasted so delicious. It was the perfect mix of sweat, musk and pure man. You wanted to make him feel good, to make him lose control. To feel him holding onto you as he tried to contain himself. You bobbed your head and took more of his length with every pass. His breathing became labored and you looked up to see his eyes on you, watching as you sucked him. He looked intensely focused, biting his lower lip.

You slowly pulled off of him, sucking on the tip before letting go with a lewd pop. His cock was slick with your spit, glistening in the lamplight. You licked his length, kissing and sucking along the sides.

"Do you like that daddy?" The words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"What did you just call me?" he breathed, moving your head back so you were face to face again.

Your face flushed in embarrassment, as you avoided his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I was caught up in the moment... I.." Your eyes flickered up to his, and you could see that a smirk had begun to spread on his face.

Your thoughts were racing, had you really just called your professor 'Daddy'? And, more importantly, he liked it?

"Sir..." you breathed as he leaned back in his chair, a confident look settling on his face as he rubbed his scruff.

"Interesting" he said as he looked at you, licking his lips as he studied your face, which was now resembling a ripe tomato.

This was it, he would never be able to look at you with out laughing at the way you had acted. Shame burned hot on your cheeks and you hung your head in embarrassment.

"Look at me," he said softly, when you didn't he placed his finger under your chin, pulling your face towards him.

His eyes searched yours for a moment before he whispered a barely audible "do it again"

"Daddy" you repeated, watching as his cock twitch as you said it.

"Good girl" he praised, lightly pressing on your shoulders.

His hand returned to your hair, drawing you toward him, leading you back down his length. You ran the tip of your tongue around the head of his cock before teasing the slit, gathering precum on your tongue and swallowing it down eagerly.

His hips bucked forward involuntarily and he let out a throaty moan. You smiled and took him back into your mouth, swallowing his cock to the base. You held him there for a moment before bobbing your head rapidly.

"Just like that," he moaned.

You could tell he was close from the way his breathing changed and gripped your hair tighter. "So fucking good," he said roughly, tugging on the strands and angling you where he liked best.

He stilled your movements suddenly, making it so you couldn't do anything but sit still with his dick in your mouth. His cock rested on your tongue, the sensitive head leaking precum. You bobbed your head and continued to suck him, lapping up all of his fluid. His breathing grew ragged as his release approached.

He tugged on your hair, pulling your head off of him so only the tip remained inside your mouth. His eyes were closed, and you took the opportunity to kiss the head of his cock, toying with it between your lips.

"Will you cum in my mouth daddy?"

A loud groan left his throat, his breath coming in huffs. "Jesus, yes."

He held you in place and began thrusting shallowly into your throat, all while you stared up at him from where you knelt. You couldn't break his gaze.

He watched your throat contract as you swallowed him down. He seemed to appreciate the amount of saliva that leaked from the corners of your mouth, tracing a glistening path down to his balls.

You hollowed your cheeks and gave a long, drawn-out suck.

"Oh my sweet girl, do that again." His breathing was labored, his tone deep and raspy. His body jerked slightly, thrusting deeper, struggling to hold back. He cupped your face and brushed his thumb against your cheek, wiping away a tear that escaped.

You did as he asked, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes. He kept his gaze on yours. You opened your mouth wider, relaxing your throat, and let out a soft hum. It sent the most delicious sensation through his dick, sending him over the edge.

You swallowed down everything he gave you, never once breaking eye contact. Your mouth was warm and wet, and you gave little swallows to pull more from him.

He shuddered and you couldn't help but moan around him at how wrecked he looked. His hair was messed up and there was a wild look in his eyes. He was gazing down at you with a possessive, determined expression, like he was seeing you for the very first time.

He slowly withdrew his cock, watching it slide past your swollen lips. You gently hummed and gave the tip a few soft kisses before leaning back.

You could see the satisfied smirk on his face. He released your hair and pushed his cock back inside his boxers. He tucked his shirt back in and straightened up, then tugged you by the arm to help you off the ground.

He was quiet as he looked down at your completely ravished appearance. Your eyes looked heavy and hooded, and your lips were red and puffy from being stretched open. There was a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin and he could see how turned on you were.

He beckoned you to sit on his lap, which you gladly did, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands found their way around your waist, pulling you closer. He kissed your lips tenderly, then trailed his lips along the column of your throat.

You sighed, melting against him, he felt so nice and warm. His stubble tickled your skin, bringing you out of your haze. The closeness of him, the way he held you, was surprisingly intimate. You hadn't expected to be so affected by something so simple.

"That was unexpected," he said softly, as his hands moved slowly along the lines of your sides, the action wasn't provocative, rather it was in the comforting, sensual kind of way. It allowed him to explore your body, to familiarize himself.

As the lust faded, you felt a deep sense of uncertainty about what would happen. You also had no idea where this might lead, or how quickly. It wasn't smart to get involved with your teacher, and it definitely wasn't smart to have his cum in your mouth.You usually knew better than to put yourself in situations like this with people you didn't know. You knew nothing about the man, save for what you learned in his class. But the logical part of your brain seemed to have checked out for the night.

You moved off of him, causing him to loosen his grip on you, his eyes following your movements.

"Thank you for letting me take my exam late, I really appreciate it," you said awkwardly, leaning in to peck him on the cheek.

He gave you a puzzled look and nodded, reaching out to take your hand before you got too far.

"Are you alright?" he asked, gently squeezing your hand, concern etched in his features.

"Yeah, I.. have some assignments due and some studying to do. I should go, I've taken up too much of your time already," you brushed his hand off and swiftly headed out the door before he could respond.

From the moment you woke up the next day, you were dreading going to your history class. Not only had you embarrassingly called one of the hottest men you'd ever met, 'daddy', but then you had given him head and actually liked it.

You'd never acted like that before, it was completely out of character and despite his positive reaction, it did nothing to ease your anxiety around him.

He was such an enigma and it didn't make any sense to you. He looked and acted for all the world like the perfect gentlemen, but there had been an edge to him, when he'd looked down at you while you'd...well, done what you had. Like he was just holding himself back, and you wanted to see what would happen when he finally let go.

Even though it was such a bad idea.

Maybe you should just skip today, maybe the rest of the year, you knew that you would probably spend the entire class thinking about how you sucked his cock. You let out a long sigh, and headed to class anyway, you didn't want to skip your lecture, even though your mind was a muddled mess.

Class began the usual way, and you went about taking notes while he lectured, ignoring the way your face burned when you glanced up and saw him looking at you. At some point he began talking about the vikings and you mind began to wander. Daydreaming about the way his cock had throbbed in your mouth as he came.

You were lost in a daze of desire, subconsciously sucking on the end of your pen, you were unaware of the heated look he was giving you. How he was transfixed by the sight of the pen disappearing between your lips, followed by a flick of your tongue as you glanced up, looking directly at him as you gave it an obscene suck. His eyes narrowed at the sight, you weren't the only one who was distracted.

His lecturing halted momentarily and everyone noticed he looked more flustered than usual. The classroom was quiet, as they all watched in confusion. His eyes met yours and he quickly cleared his throat, shaking his head as if he was coming back to reality.

"Miss Y/L/N, please see me after class" he directed at you before abruptly continuing to lecture.

You looked away, feeling tense, maybe skipping class hadn't been such a bad idea.

You stood there, watching the room empty, and waiting for the last of your classmates to leave. When the room was empty, you approached his desk, where he was gathering his belongings, preparing to leave.

"Is everything ok, professor?" You asked, as he finished putting his books away and turned to face you.

"That's not the term I was hoping to hear, especially considering our encounter yesterday," he said, a smirk spreading on his face.

"Sorry, I..I mean Mr. Mikaelson," you replied, looking down, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"It's Elijah, and I believe that you were referring to me as something else" he teased, his dark eyes searching yours, the corner of his mouth lifted into a sly grin.

Your face flushed, as you remembered how you'd called him 'daddy', and how much he had liked it.

"So, why did you want to see me?" You asked, hoping that you could steer the conversation away from the previous day's events.

"How do you feel about Italian? Tonight, seven o'clock, my place?" He gave you a handsome smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Tonight?" you echoed.

"At seven," he repeated.

"You want me to have dinner at your place?" you clarified.

"Yes," he nodded.

"With you?" you asked.

"Unless you are busy," he teased.

"No, no I'm not. I'd love to. I mean..." You didn't want to accept the date too quickly, like you were over eager to spend time with him.

"Good, it's settled then."

When Elijah arrived to pick you up, you were surprised that he actually came to your door. The typical nervous excitement bubbled in your belly as you opened it for him. He looked so good, wearing a black button-down shirt without his usual blazer. He had no tie tonight and his top buttons were undone.

He seemed to enjoy your outfit choice. Your dress was long enough that it had an innocent feel, but the deep V at the front could not be ignored. It was bold and eye-catching. He took your hand and brushed his lips across your knuckles.

"Shall we?" His brown eyes twinkled.

It was a short drive to his place. He led you through the building and into the elevator, then used a key to access the penthouse. The doors slid open into a massive room, the entire wall facing the city was a huge window, offering a spectacular view.

The floors were a light oak, and the walls a crisp white. Modern art was hung on the walls, and a large, leather couch was situated in the middle of the room. A fire was crackling in the fireplace, and a coffee table was filled with candles, making it cozy. And of course, books. There were books everywhere, on every surface and neatly lined up on the floor.

You walked to the window, amazed by the view. You could see the whole city and the mountains beyond.

"Do you live here alone?"

"I have a brother who stays here sometimes," he replied.

"This place is incredible. The view is stunning."

"I'm glad you like it," he smiled, moving towards the kitchen.

You sat on his kitchen counter, drinking wine as you watched him cook, chatting casually. He was so interesting and passionate, and you enjoyed the stories he told. You found yourself becoming more comfortable around him. The longer you spent in his presence, the better you felt. You were hooked.

"Can I ask you something?," you started, after swirling the wine around your glass, then taking a drink.

"Of course." Elijah looked over at you.

"How are you still single? You're incredibly hot, smart and charming," You blushed, hoping you weren't sounding desperate. He laughed, turning his attention back to the food.

"I don't really have time for dating. I spend all my free time on my research,"

"And sex," You added, a teasing smirk appearing on your lips.

"Is that what you think? That I'm one of those professors?" He smirked, looking amused.

"Are you saying you don't have sex with students?" You asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Not yet," he replied.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you shifted slightly on the counter. His words had the desired effect on you. He chuckled and began plating the food.

"Let's eat while our food is still hot."

Dinner with Elijah was surprisingly pleasant, the conversation was entertaining and he asked you lots of questions about your personal interests, family and passions. You were falling hard for the man, he was just so easy to get along with. By the time he had cleaned everything up and washed the dishes, you were well over your initial awkwardness and laughing more freely.

You walked around his place, admiring the art on the walls. There were beautiful paintings, some that were probably very old and expensive. You noticed a piano in the corner of the living room, and wondered if he played.

The fire was still going and it made the room warm and cozy. You kicked off your shoes and curled up on the sofa.

Elijah walked in with a fresh bottle of wine and two glasses.

"You have an amazing collection of paintings," you remarked, as he sat beside you.

"Thank you, I've collected them for years," he said, handing you a glass.

You smiled as you brought the glass to your lips, taking a sip. You felt his eyes on you and glanced up to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable, and you suddenly felt self conscious.

"You passed your exam, by the way." He finally spoke.

"I'm sorry I left so quickly. I know that was weird," you looked down, avoiding his eyes.

"I wasn't sure if I had upset you," his hand was warm on your thigh, rubbing gently.

"You didn't, I was just..." You looked up at him, seeing his eyes searching yours, the question was there, and he deserved an honest answer. "I have a confession."

"Oh?" he leaned forward, placing his wine on the coffee table, giving you his full attention.

"I've wanted you since the first day of class," you admitted.

"Hmmm.." He smirked, looking you up and down. The look in his eyes was hungry. "Speaking of class, I have some extra credit work for you," he leaned over, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you onto his lap.

Your body was pressed against his, and his hand was holding you in place by your ass. Your nipples hardened as you moved against him.

"What do I have to do, professor?" Your lips parted and he met you, giving you a passionate kiss. You moaned as you twisted his shirt in your fists, responding eagerly. 

"Take this off." he tugged at your dress, signaling for you to lift your arms. You pulled away so that he could take the garment off. His brown eyes glowed as he took in your appearance.

You were wearing your favorite lingerie, dark red lace that formed to your figure perfectly. Your nipples pebbled through the material, a noticeable wet patch appeared on your panties.

"Spread your legs." Elijah's voice sent tingles along your skin, commanding yet soft. You obeyed his command, pushing your thighs open.

"Pop quiz, Miss Y/L/N." He teased, tracing his fingertips along the edge of your panties.

"Who was the ruler of the Holy Roman Empire during the tenth century?" He asked, his fingers slowly circling your clit over the fabric. You whimpered, your breath hitching.

"Otto the great." you said, and the moment the words left your lips, he hooked his finger around the thin strap of your thong and snapped it against your hip. You gasped, and the sting made your clit ache.

"Good girl, you're learning" He hummed, rubbing the sting away.

"What significant event took place in 987 AD that marked the beginning of the Capetian dynasty in France?" His finger slipped under your panties and he ran his fingertips through your wetness.

"Hugh Capet was crowned King of the Franks."

"That's my good girl, very smart," his thumb began to rub lazy circles on your clit, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Which Islamic caliphate was at its height during the tenth century and played a crucial role in preserving and advancing knowledge?" He asked, his fingers stroking along your slit, and then circling your entrance.

"The A-abbasids." You moaned as he slipped a finger inside you.

"So you have been paying attention in my class," He chuckled, slipping his finger out of you.

"Yes, Professor Mikaelson," you groaned, rocking against his hand, desperate for more friction.

"Which Chinese dynasty ruled during the tenth century and is often considered a high point in Chinese civilization, known for its advances in arts, science, and technology?" He asked, his breath ghosting across your lips.

"T-the Sung dynasty," You whispered, and he plunged two fingers deep inside you, causing you to cry out.

"Very good, such a clever girl," his mouth covered yours, swallowing your moans.

"Last question," he teased, and you groaned in frustration, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, but he wouldn't let you move.

"In the tenth century, what Viking explorer is believed to have reached North America, making him one of the earliest known Europeans to do so?" He asked, his thumb grazing over your clit as his fingers curled inside you.

"Leif Erikson," you cried, your hips jerking.

"That's right, such a clever, clever girl," he praised, thrusting his fingers faster, his tongue exploring your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, grinding against him.

You felt a rush of arousal, your pussy clenching around his fingers.

"Do you want to cum for me?" He asked, breaking the kiss.

"Y-yes, please." You stammered.

"Such a polite, obedient girl. What was it you called me yesterday? Daddy? Do you want daddy's cock, baby?"

"Y-yes, I want your cock, daddy."

He withdrew his fingers from you, and you watched as he licked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Get on the floor."

You slipped off his lap and knelt between his legs. He reached down and unbuckled his belt, his erection straining against his pants. He pulled his cock free and stroked it a few times, looking down at you.

You opened your mouth and leaned forward, pressing his cock between your lips. You looked up at him, sucking eagerly. He let out a deep groan, his hand threading through your hair.

He guided you up and down his shaft, his hips rolling slightly. You loved the feeling of his hard cock sliding over your tongue. He began to move you faster, and you swallowed around him. He moaned, gripping your hair. You tried to take more of him into your mouth, bobbing up and down eagerly.

You could feel him getting close, his fingers digging into your scalp. You sucked harder, trying to bring him over the edge.

Before you could, he pulled you off of him, and you let out a soft cry of disappointment. “Come here," he said, pulling you into his lap.

You straddled his hips, his hands gliding over your body, finding the back clasp on your bra and unhooking it. He peeled the lace away from your body, his eyes blazing with desire as they roamed over you.

He cupped your breasts and leaned forward, capturing nipple between his lips. You moaned, your fingers pulling on his hair as he gently bit down.

You whimpered, arching your back, offering yourself to him. He lavished attention on your breasts, his mouth sucking and licking and biting until your nipples were swollen and aching.

You leaned in and kissed him, your tongues meeting in a slow dance. His hands tangled in your hair as he took control, tasting every part of your mouth, devouring your lips.

You moved your hips, desperately seeking contact. He halted you, a dark look in his eye, he had a dangerous edge about him, which somehow excited you even more.

"On my bed, now," he commanded, his voice thick with desire.

You scrambled off of his lap, and practically ran to his bedroom. He stood and followed you, his predatory gaze making your pussy throb.

He caught up to you and pulled you into him, his hands gripping your hips, pulling your ass against him. His cock was hard against you, and you ground back into him, the friction making you moan.

"Get on the bed and show me what a good girl you are."

"Yes, daddy," you breathed, climbing onto the huge bed.

You got on all fours and presented your ass to him, arching your back.

"Spread your legs," he commanded. You reached behind and pulled the strings on the thong, exposing your wet pussy to him. You could hear him growling with lust, his hands grabbing at your ass, spreading you wider.

You could feel the heat of him hovering over your pussy, his hands gripping your thighs. You let out a low moan, and then his tongue was pressing against you, tracing patterns on your already swollen clit. You gasped, your head dropping to the bed.

"Ohh, daddy, yes," You panted as he licked and lapped at you, sucking on your clit. Your fingers twisted in the comforter. His hands gripped your hips as his tongue swirled around your entrance.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

You whined, rocking your hips back, your pussy clenching around his tongue as he drove it into you. You moaned and rolled your hips, chasing the pleasure, your entire body tightening in anticipation.

"Oh, god, yes. Please, don't stop," you begged, one of his hands trailing along your spine.

The warmth grew until you felt like you were aflame, your whole body shuddering. You came with a cry, his mouth moving with you, continuing to push you through the overwhelming waves.

His hands were on your hips, holding you in place, as his lips ghosted over your ass, pressing open mouth kisses to each of your cheeks. The stubble on his face created a delicious friction against your soft flesh, making you shiver.

The wet head of his cock slid over your pussy, dragging through your slick and bumping over your clit. You whimpered, grinding back against him. He chuckled and delivered a sharp slap to your backside.

"On your back."

You turned over, your chest heaving. He bent down, grasping your thighs and pushing your knees up against your chest. He leaned over you, his lips brushing over yours, his eyes dark.

"I'm not usually this demanding in bed, but you have this effect on me," he rasped, his hands gripping your thighs as he rubbed his cock against you.

"What are you usually like?" You asked breathlessly, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down so his body was pressed against yours.

"I like to savor things. Women. Food. Wine," He explained, his voice thick with desire. "I like to take my time," his lips brushed over yours as he spoke.

"I'm not usually like this either," You admitted.

He smirked, and then captured your mouth, kissing you deeply. You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance, and slowly eased inside you. You gasped, breaking the kiss. You closed your eyes, your back arching as he pushed deeper, stretching you open.

"Fuck," he breathed, his forehead resting against yours.

All you could do was moan in response, as his hips began to move, setting a slow and steady pace. Your hands moved down to his ass, pulling him closer, needing him deeper. He groaned, his lips finding yours once more.

He thrust harder, and you moaned into the kiss. You were completely consumed by him, by his scent, his taste, his touch. He felt so good, his cock filling you perfectly. His hands were planted on the bed beside your head, caging you in. Your pussy was clenching around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps.

You looked up into his eyes, and you were drawn into their dark pools of lust. He smiled, leaning in to kiss you hungrily, swallowing your moans.

"Listen to the sounds you make, sweetheart. You were made for me," He growled, the filthy wet sound of your bodies meeting filled the room as he pounded into you.

You were losing your mind, his cock stroking in and out of you perfectly, his face hovering over yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair, desperate to be closer to him. Your toes were curling and your whole body was tingling, every nerve firing.

Your hands moved to his back, fingers digging into his shoulders as he fucked you, his body pressed against yours. His breathing was ragged, his muscles tensing. You could feel the warmth building again, the pressure mounting.

"Cum for me, sweetheart." He rasped.

His mouth was hot against you, his tongue tangling with yours. Your head fell back, his name falling from your lips as your orgasm crashed over you.

He was whispering to you, filthy words, promises and praise all mixed together. The weight of his body pressed you deeper into the mattress, his cock still hitting every sensitive spot. You whimpered and gasped, burying your face in his chest.

"That's it," He encouraged, his hips rocking against yours.

He began panting and you could feel him losing control, his thrusts becoming erratic. You clenched around him and he let out a deep groan, his cock throbbing. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he came inside you.

He leaned in, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss. He kissed you with so much passion, you swore you saw stars. Your hearts beating in sync.

You were both breathing hard, your bodies glistening with sweat. He rolled onto his side, taking you with him. You rested your head on his chest, his arm wrapping around you, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on your back.

"Will you stay the night?" Elijah asked, his lips brushing against yours.

"Yes, please, sir" You sighed.

He chuckled, pulling you tightly against him. You laid tangled up in one another, sharing soft kisses and lingering touches.

You didn't expect to get caught up with your professor, but here you were. Wrapped in his sheets, in his arms. It was probably wrong, but you didn't care. He was completely irresistible, and you were hopelessly drawn to him.

This was definitely going to be an interesting semester.

♡ Do you guys want a part two?? cause I could definitely make this a whole series.. ♡

[imaginedanvrs]

caught in a snare

masterlist

dark!wandanat x reader

word count: 4k

warnings: alcohol consumption, intoxication, mind reading, degrading, forced entry, mind control, bondage, non-con turned dub-con, oral (r giving), gun play, knife play, choking, threats of violence, inflicted violence, fingering (r receiving), strap on sex (r receiving), double penetration, anal

You were blissfully unaware of the forest green eyes that followed your every drunken move as you danced with your friends. If you were sober, maybe you would have caught on to the feeling of being watched by the redhead whose gaze was laid thick on you while you seemed oblivious to the world around you.

  “Come on,” a brunette said to your observer as she returned to the bar. “This place is a dump and I'm not feeling it tonight,” she continued with disdain, her accent peaking through so briefly it would have been missed by anyone in the club listening in. “Nat,” she huffed when she noticed her girlfriend wasn't listening, too focused on the mass of bodies dancing in the barely lit room.

  “Remember when you gave me shit for not getting you an anniversary present?” The redhead asked as she stared at the peak of skin between your jeans and shirt.

  The brunette didn't answer, instead following Natasha’s gaze and swiftly finding the object of her attention. She hummed in acknowledgement, instantly becoming just as curious by you as they watched you blatantly ignore a stranger's advances so that you wouldn't miss a second of the song that was making the walls vibrate.

  “The two in dresses are going to go to the toilets to fuck and the other one’s going to dance with the guy with the snake tattoo,” Natasha assessed.

  “Well I'm sure she won't want to stay any longer by then,” Wanda mused as she took in your giddy smile.

  As if on queue, one of your friends took the other by the hand with haste and dragged her through the club without a word to you. Meanwhile, your other friend began guiding her pursuer's hands to her hips, becoming quickly immersed in his touch. A few moments passed without you noticing your friends' engagements and Natasha tutted. Once it clicked, you looked like a deer caught in headlights. 

  You scanned the room as you stopped moving, wondering where best to situate yourself as you got your bearings and felt all the alcohol you had consumed that night hit you at once. You were clearly disorientated as you stumbled through the crowd.

  “Reckless thing, who knows who would snatch her up if we weren't here,” Natasha chided.

  “Come on, маленький, come to us,” Wanda encouraged. You couldn't hear them several metres away, nor did Wanda use her telepathic aid, yet it was the bar you found yourself clinging to a minute later.

  “Water please,” you asked the bartender, your speech slightly slurred. The pair advanced.

  “You alright, honey?” Wanda enquired with a concerned smile. It was exactly what you needed to see at that moment.

  “Yeah,” you replied, entirely unconvincing as you smiled anxiously at the pair.

  “You look ready to go home,” Wanda continued.

  “My friends are here,” you informed quickly. The older woman was right, you did want to go, but you needed to wait for them.

  “But they're not here,” Natasha noted. You bit your lip as you searched the crowd for them, missing the glass of water placed in front of you. It vanished a second later.

  “Let us help get you home, sweetie, it's not safe to be out on your own,” Wanda said. It was hard to deny her and perhaps if the pair weren't wearing their widow veils and you knew they were Avengers, you wouldn't have objected.

  “I'm not on my own,” you insisted even though your friends were nowhere to be found. “Thank you but-” Wanda didn't have the patience to spend anymore time convincing you. It wasn't conversation the pair wanted from you. 

  “We're taking you home,” she stated, eyes flashing red so briefly that you passed it off as the strobe lights. Just like that, everything seemed to fall into place and a stress free, though still intoxicated, beam appeared on your lips 

  “Thank you,” you said sincerely. 

  “You're something else,” Natasha muttered to her partner as she got up to lead the way. Wanda placed a gentle yet assertive hand on your waist and guided you to follow Natasha while she followed behind, her hand becoming firmer the more bodies you had to get through.

  The fresh air that soon hit you did nothing to sober you up and only made you more disorientated, so much so that you were oblivious to the fact you three had left through a previously locked fire exit. You leaned back on Wanda when the alleyway you found yourself in started to spin. 

  “Woah,” you muttered. The two women shared a look as they helped you into their car. You didn't know you were in a flashy stingray, but when Natasha turned the car on you noticed the expensive interior and began to panic that you would throw up in it.

  “Are you getting her address or shall I?” The brunette besides you asked. You frowned.

  “It's twenty-”

  “Shh,” Wanda assured, suddenly guiding your head into her lap. You were about to protest until you were struck with a sudden sense of peace, oblivious to the red whispered that danced around your head. You gave a contented sigh and simultaneously felt your drunken haze being lifted.

  “I don't know your names,” you spoke out without alarm.

  “I'm Wanda and that's Nat,” Wanda said sweetly. You really liked her.

  “Like the Avengers?” You asked in awe and almost missed Nat's chuckle. “That's cool,” you muttered. The pair glanced at each other in the mirror with knowing smirks. “I'm y/n.”

  “Pretty name,” Wanda commented as she tucked the hair behind your ear. “Pretty face,” she added. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at the attention and squirmed under her gaze. Wanda returned her firm hand to your hip and you stilled.

  Pretty anniversary present, Natasha input.

  Belated anniversary present, Wanda corrected.

  Tell me she's not worth it.

  Depends how well she takes the red one, Wanda mused. She felt Natasha's excitement at the concept but kept quiet to not distract from the Friday night streets.

  Once they pulled up by your apartment, Wanda prompted for you to sit up and you thankfully did so without a wave of nausea hitting you. You weren't expecting the pair to follow you inside but simply put it down to two women helping another out, even if you were considerably less drunk than when they found you.

  “Lifts broken and I'm on the third floor. You don't have to follow me up,” you informed the pair as you almost tripped on a step. Wanda gave you a look that told you they weren't going so you led the way, unaware of the eyes that flickered to your ass.

  It was only once you were turning the keys in the lock and thanking the pair that your sense of caution returned. You, somehow, weren't drunk anymore and yet these women you didn't know were still lingering outside of your apartment. 

  “Really, I'd hate to keep you from continuing your night,” you said as you stood in the open doorway that you wanted closed.

  “It's barely begun,” Wanda mumbled as she brought her hand to your temple. You made to step away from her touch but your entire body was suddenly trapped in a state of paralysis. “Go to your room and strip,” she whispered, the tenderness she had earlier possessed now gone. Another difference was when your body complied with the order, your mind screamed at you not to. You were overtaken with fear as you made your way through the small apartment and heard the door close as the pair wandered in behind you. 

  “Oh, malysh, you should really take better care of yourself,” Wanda commented in what you now knew to be a condescending tone. You felt your anger brew as you realised she was going through your belongings while you undressed for her.

  “We'll do that for you,” Natasha suddenly spoke right behind you. She undid your bra and grazed her lips over your shoulder, smirking at the goosebumps that arose. “Be a good toy for her and maybe I'll play nice,” she whispered and you could do nothing to push her away.

  “Oh, Nat, you're scaring the poor thing,” Wanda chuckled as they watched you obediently take your underwear off. The moment they were discarded, you were given a heavy shove that made you lean over the side of your bed while your knees hit the floor with a painful thud. You whimpered at the pain it ignited and heard a pitiful coo from one of the women as your chin was lifted. Your eyes widened at what you took in.

  The two Avengers stood before you, rid of their clothes and masks and instead holding weapons. Wanda’s eyes were glowing red as she stared at you while her magic flowed freely from her fingers. The whisps flickered momentarily as you felt an intense pressure keep you down before it was listed for you to roam freely. Yet you wouldn’t dare, not when you knew what she could do along with the sinister handgun held at the redhead’s side.

  “So you do have some smarts about you,” Wanda said, confirming the rumours that had circulated in the media months ago that she could read minds.

 “”Here’s the deal, приятная вещь, you can behave and do exactly what we say,” the brunette explained as she sat herself at the head of your bed while Natasha grabbed at the back of your neck and hoisted you up to the space between Wanda’s spread legs. “Or we can make you,” she said just as the unforgiving steel of Natasha’s gun pressed into your bare back. “Either way…” she snaked her hand around to the hair at the back of your head and forced you to gaze down at her wet cunt. You wondered at what point in that twisted scene she had become so aroused, and why there was a growing ache between your own legs at the sight. 

  You weren’t blind to the fact that god clearly hadn’t spared them any favours in looks and that you, like many, had been crushing on the female Avengers for some time, but the situation they had put you in wasn’t right, so why did Wanda look so goddamn tempting?

  It was wrong, it was immoral, it was altogether fucked up, but with a sharp tug to your hair, your mouth was on the brunette. The second you tasted her, you didn’t need the threat of repercussions to keep you in place. Your tongue delved between her pussy lips and the moan you heard in response sealed your place in their arrangement and your own fate.

  “Fuck, you always have a good eye for them,” Wanda gasped.

  “Anything for you, моя любовь,” Natasha winked back. “I know she’s your present, but I hope you don’t mind if I just…” You heard the redhead trail off but ignored the distant alarm bells in your mind to instead give all your attention to flicking your tongue across Wanda in an effort to savour and explore her. 

  You were pulled from your lustful trance when you felt a cold blade press against your hip. Your eyes snapped to Wanda in a silent plea only to see her features brighten with excitement.

  “Just don’t go too deep this time,” Wanda chuckled as she watched the scene unfold with anticipation and pulled you in close enough that you could no longer catch her dark eyes.

  At the first cut, you inevitably jumped and scrambled to get away from the glistening blade but you were held in place by one strong hand to your back. Kept still against the already stained bedsheets, you whimpered and cried pitifully as Natasha’s skilled hands littered cuts across you, leaving scarlet streaks in place. 

  “Don’t stop,” Natasha warned with a deeper strike. “I’m barely touching you,” she huffed disapprovingly, pausing to let you recover and continue. You did so tentatively, waiting for the next sting to be inflicted but several minutes passed with the redhead merely tracing your skin with the back of her knife and you soon became fixated on Wanda again. 

  The cuts stung, but so did your scalp every time the brunette tugged and eventually those sensations entwined in the turmoil and were pushed to the background as Wanda’s pulsing clit became centre stage. The muscles of her thighs clamped around your head as her breathy moans and curses filled the room.

  “Such a good fucking mouth she’s got on her,” the brunette spoke and though it wasn’t directed at you, you flushed with pride. 

  Wanda came with an ecstatic cry and you swore that the taste of her cum was worth every cut that had littered across you. You missed Natasha’s approving hum at the sight, too caught up in making sure you didn’t miss a drop of her girlfriend. You swirled your tongue everywhere you could reach until Wanda was pushing you away. You whined. 

  “Greedy thing,” Wanda tutted with amusement, gripping your chin. 

  “I can’t blame her,” Natasha muttered, suddenly leaning over your body to your raised chin where, instead of kissing you, she licked the wetness that had gathered just below your lips. 

  “Let me watch you, Nat,” Wanda said as she watched you shift uncomfortably. “Give me a show.” You frowned, not understanding what the younger Avenger meant but apparently Natasha did. She wrapped her hand around the front of your throat and pulled you back with her until your calves were by your sides and your back was flat against Natasha’s front. 

  “So fragile,” the redhead commented as her hand previously on your neck travelled down gradually. She nipped along your shoulder and neck as she explored your stomach and squeezed your tits. Your breath hitched and you tried to move your neck away from Natasha’s markings but she easily overpowered you. 

  “If you keep squirming like that you might make my finger slip,” Natasha tutted as she tapped her gun against your stomach, her finger ready on the trigger. 

  “Please,” you whimpered as the redhead trailed her gun across you, settling it under your chin. Your throat briefly skimmed it when you swallowed your nerves. 

  “Please what, malysh?” Wanda asked. You looked at her with a plea that got stuck in your mouth the moment you took in how she was touching herself. “Go on,” she encouraged as she rubbed her swollen clit. 

  “She wants to hear you beg,” Natasha whispered to you, her free hand settling between your legs where she found your cunt to be as wet as her partner’s. “Do it,” Natasha ordered with a firm press of her weapon, adamant on seeing her present perform as she was expected to. 

  “Please don’t kill me,” you rushed out. Both women chuckled, seemingly not taking your request seriously in the slightest. 

  “That’s not what you really want to beg for,” Wanda said, teasing her entrance with two fingers. Your own pussy throbbed as Natasha’s digits ghosted over your neglected clit. “Beg her to fuck you,” she said, eyes dangerously dark. 

  “I…I don’t- ah!” You exclaimed as Natasha pressed hard on your clit and rubbed tight circles. “Fuck,” you cursed as you fought against your desires, inevitably loosing when you heard the redhead cock her gun. “Please fuck me,” you whimpered. 

  “I didn’t catch that,” Wanda smirked. 

  “Please fuck me!” You begged as Natasha’s rough fingers were stripped away. 

  “Why?” She mused as she dragged her wet nails down your stomach.

  “Because-” you hissed. “Because I need it, please!” You cried out, unable to distinguish if it was a plea for your life or for your pleasure. 

  “There it is,” Natasha smirked to her partner as she pushed three fingers in without warning. You were wet enough to take them, but the ache of the stretch was still very much present. “Fuck, what a tight slut,” the redhead chuckled as she thrust her fingers into your depths with persistence. You whined at the sting as Natasha scissored her digits against your soft walls, thumbing at your clit as you squirmed. 

  “You’re driving the pretty whore crazy, Natty,” Wanda moaned as she fingered herself steadily at the sight. “Does that feel good, detka?”

  “So good!” You moaned without hesitation, resting your head back on Natasha’s shoulder. She tossed the gun to the side and picked up her knife as she thrust her fingers wildly, bringing the shining blade up to your neck. You could hardly register it. You were so intoxicated with the feeling of the woman behind you filling you up, but the hot sting across your neck was prominent. 

  Your hands pinned between your bodies struggled to free themselves and grab at the knife, no matter how futile, but Natasha’s body didn't budge and your hands remained trapped. Luckily, the redhead didn’t linger too long on your neck and planted small cuts back down your torso. Though at that time, they bothered you far less. 

  “She looks so good like that,” Wanda groaned when you winced amongst the pleasure. “More,” she demanded and suddenly the cuts were deeper. A sob was dragged from your throat and Natasha merely fingered you harder in response. 

  “I can feel you gripping my fingers,” Natasha husked. “Don’t you dare cum before her,” she warned as she placed her knife against your throat again. You whined desperately in protest, unsure if you were going to be able to hold off much longer, especially when the redhead deliberately pressed against the spot that made your world spin. 

  “I can’t…I need- please!” You exclaimed as you struggled, giving Wanda the most pleading look you could manage. 

  “Poor thing,” Wanda mused as she fucked herself knuckle deep, letting you glimpse how soaked she was everytime she pulled them out. “You want me to cum?” She asked with a pout. 

  “Please,” you sobbed. 

  “Please,” Natasha mocked, curling her fingers harder. 

  Wanda came again with a low moan, shuddering against your headboard as she thrust her digits steadily through her orgasm. You thought that you yourself were seconds away from your own relief but the sadistic redhead withdrew her fingers and forced you to continue to watch the pleasure you were deprived of. You almost protested when you saw Wanda’s blissed smile but wisely restricted it to a needy whine. 

  “What’s the matter, love? You wanted to cum too?” Wanda asked, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

  “Yeah,” you said, voice hoarse.

  “You think you can manage that?” Wanda questioned as her fingertips produced a red glow until a blood red dildo appeared between the Sokovian’s legs securely. Similarly, you felt something obnoxious prod into your back from Natasha. Your eyes widened as you took in the large toy, recognising that you had never taken anything nearly that big before. Most likely hearing your thoughts, Wanda stroked the toy several times, as though giving you a preview of how it was going to stretch.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll help that you’re fucking soaked,” Natasha chuckled. A red glow appeared again though that time Wanda wrapped her magic around your body as she lay on her back and draped you over her with only your ass in the air for Natasha to grab. 

  “Wait,” you stammered when the toy brushed past your clit and teased your hole. Feeling the wide head spread your lips apart, you looked to Wanda to plead for more preparation but you didn’t get the chance because the redhead was forcing you down. 

  The stretch was unforgiving in its pressure and burn, forcing your soft walls apart with every inch it took. It filled you up in its entirety as Wanda guided your open mouth to her nipples where your moans became muffled and your eyes fluttered closed dutifully. 

  “Almost in, you just need your slutty holes filled by us, don’t you?” Wanda asked as she stroked your hair, a stark contrast to her words and the actions of her girlfriend who was forcing her inside you. “You just have to lay pretty and take it,” she said as the rest of the toy was shoved into your cunt. 

  “There you go,” Natasha hummed. 

  “Hurts,” you wheezed before your mouth was forced back around the Sokovian’s nipples. 

  “But it feels so good too, doesn’t it?” Wanda cooed as she lifted you off of the strap on only to slam you back down as she began to thrust. In your position, she could only pull out half way but it meant that the stretch lingered for longer while the pleasure emerged. 

  Once you were all consumed in the bliss of Wanda fucking your throbbing pussy, you jumped as Natasha spit on your ass and let it dribble down until it reached your tightest hole. You whined when she grazed her thumb over your ass, letting it hover in the anticipation of what you knew she was about to do and didn’t quite want to stop. 

  Natasha pushed her thumb past your ring just as Wanda filled you up with her fake cock and you let her nipple go with a gasp, clawing at the bedsheets around you to help adjust to the intrusion. “Fuck!” You groaned as the redhead toyed with your ass. She flexed and pumped her thumb inside you several times before replacing it with two fingers that had you spinning. 

“So fucking tight,” Natasha grunted. “Feel it, Wand.” You didn’t understand what that meant and you missed the red hues covering Wanda’s iris as she peaked into her partner’s mind to experience what she felt, cursing at the ghost sensations around her fingers. 

  “Ruin her for me, Natty,” Wanda encouraged with twisted adoration and began fucking your cunt with a refreshed vigour you weren’t prepared for. In that same split second, Natasha pulled her fingers out and pushed her strap against your ass, gripping your hips harshly as her cock stretched you open. 

  “Too much,” you protested but the redhead merely pushed your face into the bed and used it as better means to fuck you with. Suddenly, you were more full than you ever could have imagined as both your cunt and your ass were stuffed with the older women’s cocks while you lay weak against them. 

  Natasha spit on her dildo as she dragged the toy out of you, stroking it several times before pushing it back in entirely. Tears soaked your bedsheets at what you could’ve sworn felt like being split open to accompany the redhead’s toy down to the base with her hips flush against you. 

  The moment they began thrusting together, you crumbled, unable to handle the force they used to fuck you or the fact that it felt so fucking good. Your moans were incoherent against the bed but no one seemed to care when the wet sounds from your cunt spoke loud enough for you. 

  “Such a good fucktoy,” Natasha groaned as she snapped her hips against you. “Happy anniversary, moya lyubov,” she grinned, pushing your head down further as she leant over you to embrace her girlfriend in a heated kiss you hardly registered. Their pace didn’t falter as they made out over you, continuing to pump themselves into your holes harder. 

  You couldn’t even move between the pair. You were trapped between their overpowering frames as they thrust as deep as they could each time and rubbed every nerve enough to make your body weaker by the second. You were consumed by them, all together entangled in the mess of twisted pleasure you only became more lost in until you reached the point of no return. You couldn’t communicate this to the pair but luckily one of them was already in your head. 

  “Cum, sweet thing,” Wanda coaxed. “Show us how much of a desperate slut you really are.” With that, you tripped and stumbled over the edge in a disorientated blur, falling blissfully through the air until you were slumped right back in that bed with the two Avengers who showed no signs of stopping. 

  “I can’t,” you tried to tell them, yet you did just moments later.

  “We’re going to have so much fun with you,” Wanda whispered against your ear as she slowed her pace for you to be able to process her words. “We’re just getting started,” she told you when an unrelenting pressure started around your neck once more.

[kagscore]

𝜗𝜚 playing games with the boys

feat. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin note. this is self indulgent because i wanna play league with nagi i fear ૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა i hope you enjoy ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing rocket league with 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 looks like . . .

the two of you sitting in his bedroom, you curled up in his lap as you hold the controller. he holds your hands with his, moving the controller and pressing the buttons for you so you can get a grasp of the movements you need to know. slowly but surely, he lets you take full control and quietly cheers for you as you score goals and block them in his favorite game—car soccer. he's almost brimming with excitement at the idea of teaching you all sorts of tricks—flip resets, [insert other terminology]—anything so that eventually the two of you can play duos together and dominate the game. shows you how to decorate your car, the types of cars you can get and laughing when you ask if you could just drive a vw beetle instead. gets himself a second remote to play on his xbox when he thinks you’re finally starting to get the game and trying to cheer you up when you lose your first game duo’d together.

“you sure you wanna keep playing? i know it isn’t the easiest thing in the world…” “i think it’s so cute you wanna get good at this game baby, of course we can play when you come over again.”

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing league of legends with 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 looks like . . .

nagi absolutely tossing you in headfirst into aram, knowing that you won’t get kills or assists and will die a lot but absolutely sweating his balls off so that he can still carry you to a win. you ask a lot of questions about who you’re playing, who you’re playing against, your abilities and ultimates and just generally what to do and him answering every single question you ask with patience and a soft explanation. sometimes you do questionable things in game, but he just laughs and says it’s okay. congratulates when you finally figure out who you want to main, celebrates when you get your first kill, and even buys you that skin you want as a gift for taking the time to play a game with him and spend time with him. always rerolls his character in aram, trying to find someone you like and getting a bit teary eyed when you recognize his favorite character to play once.

“it’s your favorite character, babe, swap me for them.” “i know you’re new, but please stop dying to tower. i’ll even take us out for dinner, i’m begging.”

⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing valorant with 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 looks like . . .

rin trying his hardest every game you play together to be the top frag to impress you subtly, and him avenging you every time you die because how could he let his person die without killing the person that killed you? drops you his gun skins and even switches them when you guys wait in queue to skins you prefer—if he doesn’t have the skin you like, he always gives it to you when he finds and kills the person with it in a game. goes into deathmatches to one v. one you to try and help you learn the mechanics of the game and the shooting. if anyone is rude to you in a game, he’s immediately cursing and hexing their family and generational lineage in his head/in chat. he doesn’t like talking in game, but will if it means defending you against everyone else being mean because you’re bottom fragging. buys you your first skin after you get your first kill and periodically logging into your account to buy you more and surprise you sometimes.

“you should try a duelist if you want to get more kills, my love.” “now we just need to get you an ace, and we can do something special.”

[back2bluesidex]

20 Years Late - KSJ

Pairing: Divorced, single dad!SeokjinX Best friend, Fem!Reader

Theme: Angst, Fluff, mutual pining, confessions, slice of life au, bf2l au.

Wordcount: 1.3k+

Summary: Seokjin could count on his fingers the things that haven't changed within these 20 years of his life, and one of those is you..

Warnings: mentions of unsuccessful marriage, divorce, mutual pining, quite angsty (Not like girl crush I promise), love confessions, crying, Seokjin is 40, reader is 39. SFW.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: Happy Seokjin day! Hope our baby is happy and healthy. 💜

And I hope you all like this short piece. I personally like the way it turned out. Tell me what you guys think.

“Appa, you know you have to do it today, right?” Seokhee’s voice sounds less like encouragement and more like a threat. Seokjin knows his daughter well. He knows she will make his life a living hell if he fails to complete his mission today. 

So, he has to do it. He has to do it today at any freaking cost. 

“Yes, Seokhee! Appa knows.” Seokjin tries to calm his daughter down but in reality, he fails to stay calm himself. 

He is nervous. There is a tremble in his hands, which he used to experience back in his rookie days. 

Now that he is thinking of those days, he realizes so many things have changed, have been altered even. He used to be youthful, used to throw dad jokes all around, used to hit the club twice a month but now.. All he has is back pain, impending migraine before each boring meeting, and a skin thicker than earth’s mantle. 

But he also has more experience, both professionally and personally, and patience. Certainly, a wrong marriage, fatherhood and a divorce has taught him enough about life and he is grateful for that. 

He could count on his fingers the things that haven't changed within these 20 years of his life, and one of those is you. 

You were with him when he used to be reckless and wild, you were with him when he took the vows he couldn’t keep, you were with him when he held Seokhee for the first time in his arms, you were with him when he signed those divorce papers and you still are with him. 

You took care of not only him but also his daughter selflessly. He is grateful to you for all of it, but he is even more apologetic. You kind of sacrificed your life for your best friend, him, and his daughter, Seokhee. And as a result, you are 39 and unmarried. 

What unsettles Seokjin even more is that he could have easily held your hands, looked into your eyes and told you that he loves you, he has been loving you for 20 years now… but he failed. 

He failed you again and again on several occasions for numerous times in these 20 years. However, that is not what he wants to think of today. He is finally giving himself a chance, giving his life another chance… and giving you an idea of what you and him could be... together. 

“Hey handsome, where are you so lost?” you appear out of nowhere and sit down beside him on the sand. Handing him the ice-cream cone, you take a lick from yours. 

Seokjin jolts at your sudden appearance. He tries to calculate for how long he has been zoning out. He looks at his phone only to find out Seokhee has cut the call and the screen went back to his wallpaper.. him, Seokhee and you, a happy family... only if it actually was. He puts the device in his pocket.

“Took you so long.” he comments softly as he tastes the vanilla-flavored goodness on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yeah. The queue was pretty long.” you point at the ice-cream shop residing a little far away from the place you two are sitting currently. “But it’s worth it. The ice-cream tastes really good. Seokhee would have liked it so much.”  

Seokjin scoffs. He sometimes feels jealous of his own daughter because these days all you talk about is her. Is Seokjin nothing more than Seokhee’s father? Are those 20 years long memories fading from your brain or something? Can’t you look at him as Kim Seokjin, the 40 years old businessman, who loves you?   

“You miss her, don’t you?” he turns his head to look at you. The mellow sea breeze has ruffled up your hair making it messy, you have a little bit of chocolate at the corner of your lips, your right elbow is covered with sand, your eyes are red and there are eyebags under those. But you are beautiful nonetheless. As beautiful as when he had seen you for the first time, when he was 20 and you were 19. 

“Of course I do. I know your ex-wife takes good care of her but I can’t help being a little worried, which makes me miss her even more.” you pout a little. Seokjin’s heart melts into a puddle. 

“And what about me? Do you miss me?” he adds a little suggestively, trying to find an answer or a question in your eyes. 

“You are practically right here, Jin. Why the fuck will I miss you?”  you giggle, nudging his shoulder with yours in the process. 

“Not that, Y/N. Don’t you miss your Jinnie? You best friend? The person I used to be before getting married, before having Seokhee?” If Seokjin's voice sounds a little desperate, he does nothing to mask it. It’s you after all. He can show you the real him, the desperate version of himself who craves you and your love. 

You smile a little, but there is a sadness in it that tugs at Seokjin’s heart strings. 

“Yes. Yes I do. But I can’t let that take me over. Otherwise I will start wishing for impossible, forbidden things that I buried long, long ago.”  

“What if those things are not forbidden? Not impossible? What if- what if the wishes are mutual?” Seokjin suggests. 

Your expression changes in a heartbeat. When you look at him, he perceives moisture in your eyes. And you look hurt, as if he has trespassed a territory you clearly asked him to stay away from. 

“You don’t know what you are saying, Seokjin.” Your voice trembles. 

“Don’t call me that. Call me Jinnie, just like you used to 12 years ago.” Seokjin scoots closer to your body. 

“I- I can’t-”

“Let’s start afresh. Both of us, you and me, together. Please?” Seokjin cuts you off. 

“What? What are you even.. Jin? Are you pitying me right now? Are you extending your kind hands seeing me approaching my 40s without a partner?” Fat trails of tears roll down your cheeks and break Seokjin’s heart.

“No- what the fuck! No-” Seokjin tries to establish his ground but you cut him off.

“Then why? Tell me why are you proposing something so unreasonable like this? Are you joking with me?” you spat at him. 

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? I love you! Are you happy now?” Seokjin shouts back, “do think it’s unreasonable to finally give my feelings a chance after debating for 20 fucking years?” 

“Jin-” 

“For god’s sake, Y/N. I have more gray hair than black these days! Do you think I will be joking about getting married with the woman I love at this age?” 

“Are you-”

“Yes! Yes I am serious. I have been loving you since when I was 20 and you were 19. Hell! I took my wedding vows imagining your face and you are now accusing me of pitying you!” Jin’s own face is smeared with tears now. He didn’t even realize when he started crying. 

“Was I the reason behind your unsuccessful marriage?” your voice sounds unsure as you address the elephant in the room. 

“No. It was a marriage of convenience, none of us were happy. It had to end at a point and it did. You have nothing to do with it.” Jin replies, wiping the tears off of his face. 

He finds you biting your lips as you stare at the sea ahead. 

“It’s okay if you-” Jin gets silenced as you whip your head at the speed of lightning and place a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“I love you too, Jinnie. I have always been in love with you, maybe even before you fell for me.” you murmur, connecting your forehead with his. 

Tears roll down Jin’s cheeks again, but this time due to happiness. You wipe those with your thumb. 

“Finally.. Finally you are mine.” Jin whispers as he leans in for another kiss. 

“Yeah, you are a little too 20 years late but we are finally there.” you place your lips on his. 

“I love you, Y/N” Jin mumbles in between the kiss, pulling you closer by your waist. 

“I love you too, Jinnie.” You reply, wrapping your hands around his neck. 

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie

[euovennia]

Okay hi hello I’ve just binged your platonic Simon x reader headcannons and as an aspec person I am absolutely EATING THIS SHIT UP - Simon deserves someone to lean on and seeing him be vulnerable and care for someone like that and who will do the same for him makes my heart melt.

however, I am also a hopeless romantic and an absolute sucker for pain and the thought of Ghost catching feelings and being completely unaware of them because he’s barely used to having a friend let alone a crush; only realising after y/n does something he’d usually find stupid only to find himself completely smitten over it and him just going “oh. oh nO” and queue the internal turmoil because he has no idea what tf to do with himself and god forbid if y/n actually likes him back-

This has been plaguing me all morning and I cannot act right so I had to share it :,)

this can be a read as part of the bff ghost series i have going on, but i see it more as a "what if" kinda thing bc i strongly believe this man just needs a good friend. thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: nothing comes to mind, but lmk if you see something that needs to be added and i'll do it asap!

summary: ghost panics when he realizes he likes you just a little too much.

anon you're so smart for this because i genuinely feel like friends to lovers is the the easiest way for simon to fall in love

like there's already a deep, established trust there (in terms of being on the battlefield)

i mean obviously because if there wasn't you wouldn't even be on the team in the first place

but the trust he places in you on the field paired with the trust he has in you off the field?

i think it's safe to say that while this man doesn't realize it yet, he's already a goner

the meals you share, the low-budget hollywood action films you hate watch, and the unbelievable amount of patience he has for your shenanigans

basically, you two have become two peas in a pod (despite him not wanting to be in the pod in the first place but who cares he's your friend and that's all that matters)

and i genuinely believe of he were to start falling for one of his friends (aka you) it would be a very slow process, one that neither of you realize is even taking place

it would be the little things like you willingly making making the same dish two days in a row for your little meal times because he just likes it that much

maybe even leaning your head on his shoulder while you two watch those bad action films because, deep down, he loves knowing you trust him enough to feel so comfortable with him (bonus points if you end up falling asleep)

ordering him his favorite brand of loose leaf tea that he can never seem to find anywhere on store shelves

god forbid you memorize the way he prepares his tea and randomly show up with a steaming mug of it at random times of the day

as i said before, it's the little things that do it for him

but imagine doing all of those things on the. same. day.

like

you know he woke up extra early to help price take care of some paperwork and while he's doing that you stroll in a mug of tea

then later on when you see him for lunch he finds you made two plates of bangers and mash (sausages and mashed potatoes, it's a british thing apparently) despite having it the day before and when he asks why you just say something like, "yesterday you said you wished you could have more, figured i'd make more"

then later in the evening when everyone's retired to their rooms, you walk into his with the all too familiar box of loose-leaf tea in your hands along with a blanket

you just kinda set the box on the bedside table before dragging him to sit on the floor in front of the tv the two of you snuck into his room one night after price banned them after soap broke his and he was the one who had to clean up the mess

he totally saw you two sneak it in but never bothered to say anything because he trusts you

anyway

you flick on the tv and put on the third installment of that god awful 'sharknado' movie series you two had found out was a thing not too long ago

and all is well

until you lay your head on his shoulder and grab onto his arm as you look over his tattoos

he'll probably give you a little glance before turning his attention back to the movie, it's not uncommon for you to do things like this

but then he'll feel something cold press up against his skin and he'll look down again just to see you holding a colored marker and scribbling inside the lines of his tattoo

and as much as he wants to pull away and throw that marker to the other end of the room

he just can't bring himself to do it

not when you're pressed up against his side with your hands cradling his arm as if he was worthy of such care in the first place

obviously this night wouldn't be complete without you falling asleep against his shoulder, so that's exactly what you do

he lays you to sleep on his bed while he makes himself cozy on the floor :)

anyway cue him getting up early for his morning shower and the complete and utter shock that hits him like a truck when the marker you used the night prior to color in his tattoos doesn't wash off

he makes a bee line for his room and immediately picks up the marker you used only to find out it's sharpie

and while he knows that this would be a perfectly acceptable time for him to wake you up and chastise you for doing such a thing, he doesn't

because when he looks down at his arm he can practically feel his chest bloom with a warm, fuzzy feeling because you did that

and it's after he's stared at the colorful markings that now grace his skin does he realize he's got a small smile etched onto his face

then it hits him like a truck

he likes it because of you

he likes you

it cannot be overstated how quickly he grabs his stuff and leaves the room, not caring in the slightest that you're still wrapped up in his sheets

he doesn't do much work that day

just a lot of aimless walking around base as he tries to, in his words, get his shit together

because, in his mind, this is probably just about the stupidest thing he can do

and it's not even because he's technically your superior, that's a mess all on its own

it's the fact that either one of you could quite literally die at any given point while on a mission

and that's not even bringing up his own mountain of trust issues and insecurities

it's a mess

he's a mess

and how does he deal with this mess?

by avoiding you like the damn plague

you thought it was bad when he was trying to duck out of your pre-friendship interactions when you seemed to always be trying to find a way to bug him? think again.

he becomes practically invisible to you

his callsign isn't 'ghost' for no reason

i can honestly see it getting so bad to the point where you start to really only see him on group missions

which isn't too horrible admittedly because you always manage to squeeze in some small talk, but it's not enough

but one day, price calls the two of you into his office with laswell patiently sat waiting on a video chat over his laptop

and it's revealed that you two are being sent on a mission to gather some intel about some new terrorist group that's popped up on laswell's radar

and he just kinda sits there and accepts the fact he'll have to be paired up with you because what's he gonna do? tell laswell and price no? absolutely not

anyway

i imagine the mission going off without a hitch

i'm talking real simple, just a quick in and out before ghosts is on comms requesting an evac

that's where things go wrong

because you'll get some bullshit response like, "oh no, bad weather, can't fly like this, looks like you'll have to wait! get cozy!!"

and while you are a bit disappointed when he breaks the news, you can't help but feel a little happy because now you actually get to see and interact with simon for more than five minutes

but while you're over in your head having a small celebration over the unforeseen circumstances, simon is pretty much dreading it

he knows you know he's been avoiding you and he's 100% sure you're going to make him sit through an awkward conversation about it

and what's worse, he's certain you won't stop until he tells you why

well it's a good thing he knows how to keep his mouth shut!

at least he thought he did

because after having you ask him for the reason of his sudden avoidance of you for what he swears has to be the hundredth time, he just spits it out in a small fit of anger and annoyance

and i highly doubt he'll realize what he just said until he looks over to you after not getting a response and seeing you there with your eyes wide and jaw open

he'll definitely try to backtrack with something like, "forget what i said. you didn't hear anything."

and then your brain will finally kick in after going haywire for an unnecessarily long amount of time and you'll just kinda ask him in a small voice, "did you mean it?"

and as tempted as he is to brush you off and say no, he can't bring himself to do that

but remember, simon is still a very hurt man underneath that mask and heavy duty gear, so i can imagine him just letting out a small sigh before saying something along the lines of

"i'm sorry."

and your heart just breaks because you can practically feel the shame radiating from him as he turns himself away from you and averts his gaze to the floor

simon riley, perhaps one of the most hardened and strongest men you'll ever come to know, apologizing for the way he feels

you can't help but shuffle closer to him until you're sitting by his side

and you'll sit in silence this way for a while as he tries to ignore just how close you are while you try to find a gentle way to approach this

you're stumped

but eventually, your eyes will fall onto the floor and simon's gloved hand will come into your vision

and there's not a single thought in your mind before you're reaching out and putting your hand on top of his

the man practically malfunctions

he's sitting there, thoughts going a mile a minute as he tries to decipher what this means

but then you'll lean your head on his shoulder and he's almost startled at the way all of the noise in his head seems to just disappear

but still, he can't resist asking

"what now?"

and you'll let out a small, wistful sigh as you nuzzle your head further into his shoulder

"whatever we want."

he'll look down at you with an almost shy gaze, "and if i want you?"

and you'll interlace your fingers and punctuate it with a squeeze, "then you can have me."

and that's good enough for the both of you

at least until you get back to base

:)

[touchedbydestiny]

@sanguis-addict commented for a starter ♥

         "i –" diana gulped and tried to ignore her racing heartbeat because this encounter was so unexpected and because she developed a bad feeling whenever she sensed a vampire. she just wanted to take out the garbage and usually, this was a quiet area, even though the center of new orleans was not far from here. nothing had ever been conspicuous here. so why now?

         "i didn’t see anything, just forget i was here."

[honeyhotteoks]

hey friends!! quick update — my job has gotten insane and kind of toxic recently, and i’ve been spending a lot of time trying to get a new one. plus i’ve been trying to incorporate things in my life that are good for my mental health (im going to the gym lmao who is she??? and scheduling like study and journal time for myself) but it’s leaving me with less hobby time / writing time.

i’m not taking a formal break again, but may be a little slow to respond to messages, post chapters or one-shots, etc.

i’m also making my twitter private for a while as i job hunt irl just to keep things a little buttoned up.

the queue will still post and i’ll still be around, but just wanted everyone to know what’s up and where i’m at.

i appreciate you all for your kindness and patience and please send me good job vibes 😌💛

[hoeforhao]

hi can i request for minghao and “Stop dancing like that or I’m going to cum right here” <3

jumped in queue because this minghao concept was eating my brains out

“Liking this Mr Xu? Or should i shift?” you move your hips slightly upwards to brush against the crotch of the town’s most feared assasin aka Mr Xu Minghao, giving him the sultriest lap dance your club has ever seen you doing while he holds down the urge to rip that black satin slip dress off of your glistening curves and take you then and there; infront of all your workmates because the last thing he cared about was a bunch of strangers watching him fuck his stress out into his favorite woman.

But he held it in as this time he wanted you all to himself, alone, away from all the excited and hungry eyes.Why? Because tonight he was about to ravish each and every corner of your skin, strip you down to your bare body and have you whimpering for more under him.

“I think just Ms Y/n’s moans would be enough entertainment for your party tonight. No need for visuals right?” Minghao looks at the leader of the squad dead in the eyes, notioning him take his minions out of his room right at this instant.

“Impatient enough Hao?” you quickly turn around on his lap as soon as your members leave the place, wrapping both of your arms around his neck as you now have complete access to tease the shit out of your secret lover’s patience. Bending your head down to minghao’s neck you place your dark wine lips against his sides,sensualy drawing them out on his spider lily tattoo, knowing quite well he never let anyone touch that part of him.

Minghao instantly pulls you back by your hair, your pale locks seeping out of his slender fingers, his dark eyes looking at you with something that would run down shivers against anyone else’s spine but not yours….cuz for you it meant you were successful in getting on his nerves and an invitation for you to keep testing him even more, so that later your face can be smothered down with ruined mascara and bleeding lipstick as he rails you without any mercy.

“I was away for one month and looks like my doll has already forgotten all the rules, hmm?” his hold on your hair tightens as he brings his mouth dangerously close to your throat, landing a sharp bite on your adam’s apple, making you move up his lap even more from the sudden pain,your bare cunt now resting perfectly atop his clothed dick.

“No panties!! Such a needy little whore for me, huh baby.” minghao throws his head back against the couch from the instant pleasure as you waste no time in being cocky again and start grinding on his boner, your hips sliding in and out against his thighs while you stare him down with luring eyes of a wolf, tempting him to break apart all the boundaries and get lost in your dom.

Minghao’s hands increase its grip on your loose hair as his other one starts travelling up your exposed back, around your belly and finally onto your barely covered tits. Not being able to contain the pleasure your erotic lap dance is giving him, his palms start massaging your soft mounds, pulling them out gently so that they slightly spill out of the lingerie, creating the perfectly erotic scene infront of him - his favourite woman seated on his lap, the moonlight shining through her hair, boobs lightly jiggling from the oh so slow action he bare pussy is giving is throbbing cock, while he keeps on pinching down on her already puffy nipples, earning the best alluringly soft moans from the lady. 

“Stop dancing like that or I’m going to cum right here” he finally speaks up, words barely audible amidst the lewd train of groans and moans his voice carries out with itself, as he harshly tugs onto your scalp once again to stop you from completely pushing him off the edge that very instant. Your eyes shift from mean to meanest, looking at that one drop of blood painted against his lips from him trying to hold his release in after your merciless teasings.

“Would definitely not want those precious juices to spill themselves out onto your favorite pants instead of this dripping cunt, am i right Mr Min?”

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

💻🍭🥰🤔- if you want to! hope your day is nice 😽

Donuts by the Bay - Sweet/Romantic Kurt Goreshter Headcanons

Warnings: Fluff Q//w//Q

Notes: You don't even know how happy I am that Kurt is next in my queue I love him so much 🥰 I tried to keep all my hc requests between 10-20 but then I keep just going to 20 so that's what I'm gunna keep doing lol I hope you enjoy and thank you for your patience~ I hope your day is nice too! 💗💗💗

the first time you see him, you think he might be the type to mug you in a dark alleyway, between his tattoos and his haircut and his outfit you end up sweating nervously as he gets closer to you, and you're so busy trying to avoid him that you don't even notice yourself get mugged by a completely different guy until he's grabbing the thief by the arm and getting your attention, giving you back your wallet with a thick accent

you run into him again as you're waiting in line for donuts to bring to work, and he has the same idea it turns out as you properly thank him, and when you end up asking for the same thing coincidentally he gives you such a big smile you don't know how you were ever afraid of him

you see him repeatedly as you both stop for morning treats, and you chat while you stand in line each time until he tells you about his job at a security business, a start-up he and his friend own, and when he gives you his card in case you ever need some home security his personal number is written on the back

the next time you see him (after chickening out of calling him repeatedly) you sum up all your courage and ask him out for coffee, and you learn that while the pastries aren't just for him he does have quite the sweet tooth, another thing to contrast your first impression of him, and you can't believe how incredibly wrong you were as you sit with him in the corner of the café without realizing you're actually swooning as he speaks

after you start dating he greets you with kisses to your temple when you meet up at the shop each morning, kisses to your cheek when he takes you out to lunch, and a kiss to your hand when you finally have dinner together

he's surprisingly affectionate despite his more or less stoic nature by default, not the type to climb onto the nearest table and sing your praises to the world, but more the type to casually have his hand on you in some way no matter if you're sitting or standing, needing to be close to you until it becomes so second nature you don't even realize you've started doing it back

he's smart, so much better at computers and tech than you, and he's always ready to help you with something no matter how small or silly, he never laughs when you think you're asking a dumb question, just listens to your problem and takes a look, and without fail he has yet to not fix whatever task you bring to him

his friends mean a lot to him, the only people who had his back when he was dealing with getting out of Folsom State Prison, and when he opens up enough to let you meet them not just in the 'come check out our business' way but the 'let's all get dinner together one night' way you see just how much they compliment him even though they're all so different

whenever they need to work on a new commercial for X-CON, since Luis loves to keep changing it up purely due to nerves, you're the one he offers up as their test audience, since he trusts your opinion so highly, and while he is unbearably cute as he reads off his cue cards and curses in Russian when he messes up, you're always ready to give them pointers and adjust their scripts so it flows more naturally, which they really appreciate

you end up deciding that you could use a bit of home security after you've been together a while, an unintentional paranoia arising in your stomach after spending so much time around them all and their stories of break ins, some caused by them back in the day ironically enough, but he just holds you close, presses kisses to your forehead and promises that he'll never let anything happen to you

when you do order some cameras to put outside he's the one to personally install them, and he sneaks in a few extra bonuses for you without the others knowing, just to make you feel safer

whenever he visits he always waves at the camera by your door, just because he knows you'll eventually see it, and you keep a small collection of each one because you can't imagine letting them be lost to time

he loves cooking old family recipes from back home, sharing things he was taught by his mother, grandmother, telling you all about what each one means to him as you sit on your counter and watch him, and when you eat together he always lets you try it first so he can see your reactions

as you lay together on the couch or in bed he loves to link his fingers with yours and tell you about his tattoos, where he got his ring and necklace from and how the latter's been passed down through the men of his family for generations, and he teaches you the words for them in Russian

when you're held close he'll whisper things to you that you don't understand, and when he translate them you get him to teach you how to say them too, and his eyes shine when you tell him you love him in his native tongue for the first time

on the nights where you're anxious and can't sleep he brings you hot cocoa in bed and holds you to his chest, softly singing lullabies from when he was a child until your heart calms and you relax into his arms

for your birthday you find out that he's been planning a surprise party for you for weeks, he needed to ask Scott and Cassie to help most of all since Luis and Dave have horrible ideas, and aside from a beautiful cake and dinner they all helped make he also gifts you a box of the pastries you always get with a little ribbon on top, and for some reason (you know why) they taste even sweeter than usual as you all share them together in your living room

for his birthday you also need to go to Scott and Cassie, but only because you have no idea what he wants, but they're also stumped and can't help, so when he shows up at your place you feel bad that you have nothing to give, but he's just happy to make his favourite foods together, just the two of you, and spend the night with you while he shows you a movie from his childhood, and he translates every single line as you watch without subtitles

you never talk about marriage, not even when you date long enough to move into a brand new place together that's big enough for the both of you, but you think he might want it as much as you do when you wake up one morning and find him already awake and looking at you in the dawn's light, his hand brushing gently against your cheek as he wishes you a good morning in Russian, and you don't even realize til later that you understood him and wished it right back, English not even crossing your mind as he then kissed you in response

when he proposes to you he uses his own ring, a stand in until he can afford the one you want, but you just say yes and kiss him and tell him that you want to keep his, he's never getting it back now

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

heeeeyy i saw that u write for steven…?

if you wanna- could u write a flustered/ blushing steven with a forward/ teasing reader. could be that they work together at the museum and are a couple on the dl cuz if donna found out she would fire one of you. but the reader keeps teasing steven and making it really hard for him to focus on his costumers. could end in him losing his patience and dragging the reader to the bathroom orr a broom closet? or maybe the reader corners him??👀 idk you can obvs decide how far this could go (fluff/ lime/ lemon) whatevs- entirely up to you👹✨

thanks so muuuuuch ur a really great writer💗💗

hiii!! I absolutely love this!? and anything like this tbh🤭 and omg stop it, thank you sm!! <33 🥹 thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

interrupted break

steven grant x fem!reader

wc || 655

warnings || a little suggestive, but no ‘vulgar’ words used, just making out

・₊✧ masterlist + taglist

You and Steven were in the early stages of your relationship, so things were still very new and exciting. As you worked together at the museum, you had to be wary and careful around one another. Donna had a strict 'no dating policy', so if she were to catch you together during a moment, one of you would be reprimanded or even fired.

Recently, you couldn't keep your hands off Steven. You found any possible opportunity to touch or stroke him. You'd always be sly when engaging in contact- a light brush on his arm as you walk by, lingering touches, eye contact from across the room, just anything you can do without being caught. 

Steven knew the game behind your constant teasing and flirting, and he was determined not to give in to your ways. He loves his job, as you do yours, so he had to carry the strength for both of you and resist the temptation, even though it was hard.

You were stocking shelves while Steven was on tills and attending to customers. You peek up at him, gazing at him over the stuffed hippos with a devilish glimmer in your eye. You place down the box of keyrings and pick up the new stock of pens and pencils before making your way to Steven. 

"Oh hey," you subtly smirk, pulling out a fistful of stationery. "Fancy seeing you here,"

"Yup," he nods, avoiding your gaze as he knows that he wouldn't be able to refuse your allure. "Gotta get back to my customers now," he says quietly, gesturing to the non-existent queue. 

"Oh really? It seems like you're avoiding me," you smile, furtively leaning over the counter to allow him a sneak peek down your top, inconspicuously showing him your cleavage. His eye line focuses on your breasts sitting perfectly in your bra, and you see his failed attempts to conceal a reaction.

"Yeah, nice try," Steven sighs, covering his crotch with his hands. "Good one,"

"Hm, seems like you're lying, Steven," you grin, resting your chin in your palm.

"Nope. I know your silly games,"

"Silly?"

"Mhm," he nods, making himself look busy as he flicks through items by the cash register. "I'm not a teenage boy anymore,"

"Okay, I'll drop it," you shrug, playing with a stray strand of hair. "What time do you get off?" you whisper, stroking his forearm, battering your lashes up at him.

"God," he exhales, visibly frustrated. "Come with me,"

You follow him towards the staff bathroom, leaving an unsuspicious gap as you walk after him. Steven checks the surroundings before yanking you into the stall, closing the door behind you, and immediately pushing you up against it. His lips brush over yours, and you instantly feel his pent-up frustrations melt away. 

His lips hungrily work over yours as his hands cup and guide you, holding your jaw to manoeuvre you in the way he wants, like he's desperately trying to regain control after all your teasing. A soft moan slips past your lips as he deepens the kiss, working over your mouth more urgently, pushing you back into the door behind. 

A harsh knock interrupts. "Stevie, what you doing in there?" Donna snaps, pounding on the door. "Taking forever— you have customers waiting,"

Steven pulls away, clearing his throat. "Yeah— yep, I know. Just a minute," he says with a slightly raised voice.

"What's taking so long? Having a poo or something?"

Your eyes instantly snap up to Steven's as you conceal a cackle, muffling your mouth with your palm.

"... yeah," he says reluctantly, an unamused expression on his face.

"Distugting, hurry up— and wash your hands,"

"Alright, yep— okay," he whispers, dropping his forehead into the crook of your neck. "That was so embarrassing,"

"For you, yeah— very," you snicker. 

"We'll finish this at mine," Steven smiles, adjusting himself. "... for payback." he merely brushes your lips before walking out.

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

steven taglist: @thewinterv @bubblezuku @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @queerponcho @selfryed @ugh09876554444

[dxndjxrin]

Seventeen, Performance Unit: how they’d eat you out

Hello I’m back with another set for this little :) been a minute, but I’m getting back in my writing groove. If you enjoyed, pls check out my AO3 linked in my masterlist, and the other versions of this series <3

Vocal unit ver.

NSFW under the cut. 18+ only!!

Hoshi: buckle in and get ready for the ride of your life. Soonyoung IS gonna worship the ground you walk on, therefore he IS worshiping your pussy. He’s not stopping if you just cum once (unless you want to ofc), but it’s a whole ordeal and he loves it like that. When he can have some uninterrupted time with you, he wants to really focus on you because he just loves you so fucking much (and is also obsessed with seeing you cum). Honestly sometimes you have to check in on him to see if he’s still down to earth, man gets lost in the sauce but he lives for it.

Jun: y’all see that clip from his drama where he’s like “I’m hungry, but I don’t want breakfast, I want to eat.” That’s what he’s gonna do. Man is a pussy eating fiend. It’s messy, he has to hold your hips down to keep you from writhing everywhere, and he just gets into this trance of you. Your scent and taste, the noises you make. Jun’s obsessed w/eating u out, one of his favorite things to do. At this point he can sense when you want it too. He sees you get antsy, touchy with him, squeezing your thighs together and he’ll just put a gentle hand on your thigh to part them and say “oh baby, all u have to do is ask.”

Minghao: bro is elegant, majestic, and somehow he eats pussy like it too? He likes to warm you up for it though. Starts just by touching and touching and kissing, and finally when you have your clothes off and you think he’s gonna just dive in, no. He’s got patience too, he’ll go as slow as he damn pleases to just watch you lose your mind over him. He knows you like his hands too, so they’ll wander; his fingers will play with your clit a little if he takes a second to talk to you, they’ll grab at your chest, waist, hips, anywhere, which just increases the stimulation and the way he’s got you drowning in him.

Dino: Dear Channie is so eager to please. The first few times he’s not all that experienced, and although you assure him that you still enjoyed it, he is DETERMINED to get better and make you lose your mind. He gets competitive with himself kinda; he listens to all of your queues and anything you verbally tell him as well. He even asks Soonyoung (a little embarrassingly) for any tips but his hyung is MORE than happy to provide his wealth of knowledge. Once he puts that to practice, and you react oh so well, he gets confident. When he gets confident, he starts to get mouthy with you. “Oh, you liked that didn’t you? There you go sweet baby.” Like DAMN.

Divider by @cafekitsune