#I CAN BARELY FEEL IT WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED

[caitlinsnicket]

sevika relationship headcanons

warnings: smut by the end, that's probably it

a/n: i sure hope this doesn't awaken anything in me

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

She would never tell you this—not in a million years—but something stirs inside her chest whenever she manages to tower over you in any way.

You might be resting against a wall, and she comes by your side to say something, her arm staying just a few inches above your head (and you pretend it doesn’t do something to you deep down). When she realizes how close you are, it’s like a punch to her gut, and she quickly makes some excuse to leave before you notice her dilated pupils.

After the two of you get together, she loves to tease you and make sure you’re aware of the difference between the two of you (pervert). If you ask her about it, she’ll just say she likes how strong it makes her feel. But it’s not just that: it’s how much cleavage she gets to see, how much of your scent she gets to breathe in, and how easy it would be to just throw you over her shoulder and carry you off wherever she pleases.

She won’t ask you outright, but she always pats her lap to invite you to sit on it—whether it’s during one of her games, at a party, or during a meeting to organize something. She wants to have her hands on you at all times, making sure you’re content and pretty.

There are also the quiet moments, when it’s just the two of you and nothing bad is going on. She’ll climb up until she’s almost on Piltover, your hand in hers. She’ll sit down against a pillar, pull you to her until you’re sitting between her knees, her chin resting on the top of your head, lighting up a joint if she feels like it.

She can feel your heart beating against her chest, nothing else happening, and she wonders if this is something she can actually do—something she can actually deserve. But the lights are shining, children are playing and laughing, and you’re almost purring in her arms, so it’s okay.

Even after she’s used to the relationship, she gets flustered when you hold her by her waist, run your hands over it, or simply rest them there. It’s not just the promise of further touches (God knows she loves those), but also the possessiveness she sees in your eyes. It’s different from what she’s used to—not just being needed, but also wanted.

She loves to watch you fuck yourself on her strap, smoking a joint with her mech arm while her other hand plays with your ass.

She’s an active participant as well, but there’s something so thrilling about your desperation and your need for her.

When she eats you out, she always goes overboard, and you end up pulling her hair really hard. She stops what she’s doing and glares at you before telling you to go harder, then dives right back in.

She likes to pull your lips apart just to watch you clench around nothing.

She loses it when you wear those short, skintight skirts that barely cover your ass in public, your eyes making it clear that whatever you’re doing, it’s on purpose.

She sits you down on the stool in front of her, spreads your legs, and fingers you right then and there until you’re clutching her arm for dear life, trying to suppress your moans.

She licks her hand clean before taking you home.

[mommynott]

Lights, Lust, and Leather

12 Days of Dickmas — Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Christmas break has you feeling lonesome, taking matters into your own hands you decide to decorate the common area when suddenly your…enemy? 👀 Stumbles in…and let’s just say he’d much rather decorate you.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, college au, ewb!theo, enemy!theo, dom!theo, blow job, throat fucking, restraints, rough sex, degrading, dirty talk, choking, slight slapping, spanking, slight brat taming, slight edging, PIV, creampie, dom&sub, enemy!theo going to fucking town

The Common Room felt deserted, almost empty in the absence of the other Slytherin students. It was the first day of Christmas break and the vast majority of the students were eager to head home for the holidays.

But you had stayed behind. You decided to take it upon yourself to decorate the usual brooding common room, turning it into a dark Christmas wonderland.

With a slick twirl of your wrist, you flicked your wand toward the speaker, ‘Santa Baby’ starting to coo ever so softly around the area. A gentle yet merry smile painted over your face as you rummaged through a box filled with string lights.

Singing softly along to the cheerful music, you felt content. Just a few classmates had stayed behind. But with one particular classmate…you weren’t sure how to feel. Would something even happen?

Wearing a tight verdant v-neck along with a form-fitting, black leather skirt. You felt completely enveloped in the cozy holiday feel. Climbing up on the ladder you had set up next to the fireplace, you carefully began to hang the twinkling lights, draping them with ease yet sophistication.

However, that damn skirt seemed determined to reveal more with each movement. You found yourself teetering precariously on the ladder diligently hanging the set of lights with one hand as the other tried to tug down the leather.

Even with the ladder, you couldn’t seem to reach certain areas across the fireplace. “What the fuck-“ Mumbling a groan to yourself, you messed with your skirt, trying to pull it down to cover the creek of your ass.

Maybe wearing a skirt this short wasn’t the brightest idea. Fuck it. No one was around anyway. You shrugged your shoulders with a sigh as you reached even higher, placing the lights as you could.

At this exact moment, Theo stumbled into the empty common room, his mind still occupied with the final grades yet to come and the fact Mattheo had taken off with some random girl for a week.

Unaware that he had even entered, you were heavily concentrated on the decor. Your tongue creeping from between your lips, your eyes squinting at the bulbous lighting.

As Theodore stepped deeper into the space he froze, his eyes falling on a sight that immediately banished all thoughts of finals and grades from his mind. There, amongst the twinkling lights and Christmas decorations, was you.

You struggled on the ladder. Your skirt having ridden up to reveal a tantalizing expanse of tempting and smooth skin. The skin he knew so fucking well.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed behind you. "Well, well, well…" Theo had walked in on your festive preparations, eyeing you down fully. His stare was searing into your juicy ass just as you turned your head with a smirk.

Playfully rolling your eyes to the Italian. “Nott…” With a soft giggle, you swore you felt your cheeks flush up. Fuck. How could he always get you this flustered? You hated him. Loathed him. In every aspect…besides sex.

Taking another stride toward you, Theo shoved one of his hands in his pocket. Slowly caressing his knuckles down your bare thigh with the other one.

His gaze now shifting up to meet with yours. “-Surprised you’re doing all of this.” In his usual taunting tone, you could feel your jaw clenching. Why do you have to be so annoying yet so fucking hot?

“You’d be surprised by a lot of things I can do, Nott”

Theo now palmed around your thigh, giving it a faded squeeze while a deep chuckle muttered from his lungs. “Hm…Would I be though?— I think I’ve seen all you can do, Bella.” For fucks sake. That damn Italian nickname. It drove you up a wall.

You could feel the heat already shooting down between your legs from not only his words but his touch too. The sexual tension already spilling over the edge. Something that happened quite often with the two of you.

“Actually, you haven’t.” Replying in a snippy manner, you slowly cocked your head to the side as you continued to hang the Christmas lights onto the mantle.

Trying to ignore Theodore, you shifted over, standing on your tiptoes. Your smooth skirt riding up more so. He could hardly hold it together at this point.

“Being a fuckin’ brat today aren’t we?”

Through a growl-like tone, Theo took a step back and you sighed. Your eyes rolled once more as you faced him. “Maybe I wouldn’t be if you weren’t such a dick.” Mumbling your words, you fully turned your back.

Putting your focus back on the decor. Theodore, walked to a nearby couch, plopping down as he placed his hands behind his head, manspreading as he observed you.

Engrossed in the twinkling lights, you began to think he had wandered off. But no— Theo was still there. His sight traced down your entire body. Admiring every single crook and curve. “Fuckin’ hell-“ Breathing his thoughts aloud, your head whipped around in surprise.

“If you’re still here, why don’t you get off your ass and help me?” The irritation radiated off of you, but fuck, Theo found you that much hotter when you were angry, annoyed, bratty. Liking the challenge of you.

“You see…I could help you…” he started, relaxing further into the couch with a sly shit-eating grin. “…But what fun would that be? I’m enjoying the view, Tesoro.”

Even through his annoying aura, Theodore held his charm. Something that always worked on the ladies. Even you. “God— You are so fucking annoying…” Sneering your words, you felt the rage bubbling inside of you.

The rage that would so easily turn into passion with him. Fuck me. Suddenly you realized what you had said. What you had done. But you weren’t upset about it in the least.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Theo stood up abruptly, making his way over to you on the ladder. Feeling your knees already start to go weak. You had pushed him over the edge like you always did. His aggression was going to be taken out on you like it always was.

“I— nothing. I said nothing.” Stifling back your flirty laugh, you gave Theodore a bratty yet knowing look. Coaxing him deeper into sexual frustration.

“Oh, you’re going to regret this, brat-“ Before you could even respond, he picked you up easily. Throwing you over his shoulder, his free hand yanking the string lights off of the mantel.

“Hey! Those took forever to put up!” With a whine, your body limped against his own. Feeling his strong hands holding tightly onto your thighs. “Don’t care.”

Practically spitting out his words, he stormed you both off to his dorm room, locking the door behind him before throwing you down on the bed. “I got under someone’s skin didn’t I?” You were only fueling the fire now, but fuck. You loved to see Theo so angry.

The way he’d dominate the fuck out of you. The way he’d pound into you like crazy. Angry sex with Theodore Nott? Top fucking tier.

“I’m going to fuck that bratty mouth of yours until you can no longer speak.”

Nothing but dominance danced in Theo’s eyes. He stalked over, plugging the string of lights into the outlet behind his bed before sitting you up on your knees. “Maybe that’s what I wanted…”

The excitement was coursing through your veins but all of a sudden he brought both of your hands behind your back. Tying your wrists together with the wired lights. Feeling the warmness of them against your delicate flesh.

“W-what are you doing?” Stuttering through a low laugh, you felt Theodore tighten them snuggly. However, he didn’t respond. He was in full Dom mode now. Throwing off his shirt before Unbuckling his belt, he tossed them both to the side.

His ocean gaze filled with an assertive winter storm now as he shuffled his jeans off, pulling out his massive hardened length. “Open up, marmocchia-“

The Italian pet name for brat slipped through his lips while he grabbed a fistful of your silky hair. Bringing you closer to his cock. “Needy for me hm-“ Cutting off your words, Theo took his free hand, using his thumb to part your lips open before ramming his blood-filled throbbing cock into your mouth.

“Fuck— Shut the fuck up and suck me, slut.” He groaned loudly, both of his hands wrapped throughout your locks now.

Thrusting his hips against your face, your once siren-like eyes turned to a doe-eyed stare. Taking him all in as your hands instinctively fought against the restraint of the lights.

—Gluck Gluck Gluck- the noises you were making while he fucked your throat was making Theo’s dick spasm with pleasure. Snaking his hands down quickly, he took the material of your shirt and tore it straight down the middle, your forest green lace bra popping out.

“Let’s get these perfect titties out, Tesoro.”

He growled, tugging your breasts right out of your skimpy bra, seeing those hardened nipples perk right up. Theo fought out a groan, mercilessly thrusting down your throat while his hands found their way back into your hair.

One gripping hard on the back as the other brushed through your strands gracefully. Pushing his length further down your throat, you gagged against him, tears now pricking the corners of your eyes.

A low and menacing laugh freed from Theodore as he fucked your face even harder. Taking one of his hands and lightly slapping the apple of your cheek. “Open up that throat, slut- I know you can do it…Open.” The assertiveness was prominent through his grunts.

You tried to loosen up your throat muscles, your mascara dripping down your face as you did. But when you heard an approved moan from Theo, you knew it was working.

“Ah— Good fuckin’ girl…Just like that”

Seeing him bite his lower lip through your blurry vision, you felt a sense of pride run through you. Knowing you were feeding Theo with nothing but pure bliss.

He started to cram further and further down your throat, seeing the outline of his cock down your esophagus. Fuck. Your binded wrist felt hot to the touch by now, whimpering through his intense plows.

This went on for a good few minutes until Theo felt like he could fucking bust a nut on the spot. Not only that but your throat had an intense beating. And he fucking knew that.

He slowly pulled out, drool falling from your mouth as you inhaled sharply. “Fuck—“ Your voice was burnt, sounding hoarse. He did in fact keep his promise.

“C’mere…Imma fuck that perfect pussy of yours now.” Your cunt throbbed with excitement as he spun you around. Not having access to your hands, your head fell directly onto his silk bedsheets.

Your ass flawlessly perked up for him. But that leather skirt? It remained on, he just made sure to carefully roll it up.

-Smack! Theo’s hard and heavy palm swatted across your bottom causing it to redden instantly.

“Gods— P-please fuck me…please.” You begged the Italian through a whimper, veering your head to the side so your submissive eyes could lock with his.

A cruel and ungodly smile of seduction plastered over his features before he gave another slap to your ass, watching as it rippled. “How can I say no when you beg like that?” With a smirk, he slammed his needy cock deep inside of you without warning.

“Cazzo— You’re so fuckin’ wet for me-“ Theo rasped through his rough slams, feeling your walls stretch out with ease. Tightly grabbing your restrained wrists with one hand, the other dug into your hip, surely breaking skin.

But fuck did you enjoy this. “I forgot how big you were!” Crying out from the swirling sensations of pain and pleasure, he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath.

“Yeah? I’ll have to fuck you more often, Cara Mia.” Thrusting into your soaked cunt even harder, he pulled back on your wrists, hovering you just above the bedding.

“-Yes—Yes…Fuck! I’m so close, baby—“Your moans only seemed to get louder with each passing second. The gushing sounds of your wetness and Theo’s skin slapping against your own echoed around you.

But suddenly, he quickly pulled out of you. Just as you were on the brink of climax. “-The fuck?!” Squeaking out, your brows furrowed up at him, seeing that taunting, edging look in his eyes.

“Not yet.” Firmly speaking, he swiftly untied your wrists, wincing from the blood pooling back to them. “On your back, slut.” With his demanding tone, he didn’t even give you a chance to respond.

Tossing you over on your back, a raspy yelp emitted from your lips, breathing heavily as Theo restrained your left wrist to the bed, using the sparkling lighting.

Your lips parted but no words seemed to come out. You simply watched as he moved over to your other wrist, tightly binding it to his bed frame. “But what if-“

A hint of concern tainted you. —what if something went wrong? But Theo could see the anxiety spiking within your mind. A small closed-mouth smile twitched on his lips.

“It won’t- I promise…I won’t let anything happen to you…alright, Tesoro?” He reassured smacking a sweeter kiss to your lips as he positioned himself between your legs.

That was the thing with Theodore Nott. As much of an asshole he could be with you, he would randomly show a more soft and affectionate side. Something you wanted to explore even deeper. “O-okay…” Bright red tinged your cheeks, Theo teased your leaky slit with his pre cum covered tip.

Lifting that black leather skirt so it bunched right around your midsection. “Fuck…you’re drenched.” Through a breathy rasp, he tilted his head back momentarily. And right when you’d least expect it, slipping right back between your clenched walls.

Twisting your own hands and gripping the bases of the string lights, you pulled them ever so slightly, feeling the burning bulbs dig further into your flesh. A burn you were slowly craving more and more of.

“You fuck me so good, Theo!— just like that!” Arching your back, you could feel the now warmed sheets shifting beneath your body, Theo only railing into you faster than before.

“That’s right, slut— No one else fucks you like this, hm?” His domineering tone croaked through his own deep moans. The sensations you were sending through Theodore were otherworldly. “N-no fuck!— Only you…only you, Theo…gods- I’m so close!”

Your moans now turning into screams that bounced off of the stone walls of his dorm room. He smirked, wrapping one hand around your throat, the other grabbing onto the top of his bed frame.

The pounding of the wooden oak ramming against the wall was hefty and loud, your eyes practically rolling into the back of your head.

“Yeah? My dirty little slut wants to cum? Release for me.” He husked, those dead eyes flickering between your own. Rolling his hips smoothly at great speed, he was hitting all your sweet spots.

However, as soon as you got the go-ahead, you didn’t wait any longer. Throwing your head back against the pillow, your eyes squeezed shut while your legs trembled. The rush of your juices squirting out all over Theo’s length, soaking it whole as you hit a sensational orgasm. “See…”

A ragged whisper strumbled through his lips, the Italian accent rolling off perfectly along with it. “…No one fucks you like I do…no one makes your body react the way I do…no one can make you feel as good as I do.” His raunchy words only made your heart flutter.

As fucked up as that was, it was true. You were catching your breath, your body fully limp after finally cumming. The pulsating feel of bruises forming shooting up to your wrists.

“You’re…right….”

You moaned through Theo’s plows, your gaze locking with his before you continued. “…But it goes the other way too, Theo…” bucking your hips forward, pushing him deeper inside of you. He smiled, sweat beading down his forehead from how hard he was fucking you.

“And you are also right, Bella.” His muscles flexed, both of his hands holding onto the headboard now as he let himself lose control within you. That perfect fucking pussy

“Fuckin,— God- you’re going to make me cum…Fuck—“ he tripped over his words, feeling his dick twitching within your warmed walls. His seed shooting deep inside of your cunt could have had you cumming again.

Just seeing the way he tensed up, his groans, the way he never took his hungry eyes off of you. Not even for a second. He kept his cock inside of you as he came to a full stop.

Both of your breaths matched each other, a comforting silence wrapping around both of you like a cozy winter blanket before he leaned down. Pressing a lingering soft kiss to your lips, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re too good, Tesoro.” He complimented, pulling out of you and watching his white load dripping out of you. Letting out a satisfied groan as he did. Theodore quickly grabbed a towel to clean you up before untying your wrist.

Massaging your now bruised arms, you hissed. Giving the Italian a cheeky smirk. “I suppose I should go finish hanging those up.” With a giggle you pulled your leather skirt down, throwing your bra back on.

But your shirt? It was a torn mess. Before you could even say something about it, Theo playfully tackled you back on the bed. “Nah- you’re not going anywhere…That can wait.”

The most sarcastic and egotistical grin spread across your face as you stifled back a loud laugh. “Oh? Thee Theodore Nott wants to hang out with me huh?” You teased him, feeling as he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you into a spooning position. “Oh shut it…don’t let your head get too big.”

Playfully rolling his eyes, he smacked a kiss to the crook of your neck as you both relaxed. Weirdly enough as much as you both loathed each other in a public setting, when it was just the two of you— and sex was involved- Theo wasn’t half bad. You could get used to this. Maybe Christmas break wouldn’t be as boring as you anticipated.

AHHHHH THE START OF DICKMAS !!! I hope everyone enjoyed the first of twelve 🎄🎁

If you haven’t already please go check out @nottsangel @nottswitch @slytherinslut0 as they’re also doing fun little Christmas works!❄️

Dividers linked in my masterlist 🌙

Love my naughty smut sluts 💋

[chandralia]

I’m just gonna paste what I said on my privs:

I’m crying like a baby over this I don’t give a fuck. if their little talk that “totally definitely happened” is satisfying then I’ll shut up and apologize for acting like this, but until we see it I’m so fucking upset that things turned out this way.

“it’s shonen what did you expect” I expected the writing to stay consistent. this story kept outdoing itself for almost 10 years, one-upping and surpassing expectations, then just… stopped. it’s really sad.

I never expected bkdk to be canon, but I did want to see a natural satisfying conclusion to their platonic dynamic. that’s all. and it feels like we can’t even have that.

how were things so good for so long, FOR LITERAL YEARS, then fell off so quickly what the fuck happened. how do you have a dynamic solely around the concept of a missed handhold then never give it to them.

how do you have a character repeatedly inspired by and saved by someone only for them to call SOMEONE ELSE their hero.

how can you wedge in an underdeveloped pairing and give them EVERYTHING we wanted/barely expected for ours. this is so fucking frustrating actually. I’m allowed to be severely upset and confused. I’ll accept this shit on my own time, until then I’m so fucking disappointed.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

You would hit BELIEVE how happy I am that you’re writing fics for Declan O’Hara he’s my new DILF obsession!!! Also it was so well-written and in-character, oh my goodness!

I was wondering if I could request a fic where Declan and female!reader are having an affair, and she’s super nervous because she’s Taggie’s best friend. She meets Declan one night in his car, and he calms her down and, obviously, they have car sex.

Ending this with a huge I LOVE YOUR WORK

Shut Up and Drive.

It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The one person who riles you up the most is also the only person that can calm you down.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. age gap. cheating. declan and his dirty mouth. one use of the c word. overuse of the nickname sweetheart.

word count - 3k

authors note - the minute he put that baby blue t shirt on… I was suddenly on my knees. funny how that happens. can’t and won’t stop with the fics for this man. I am riding the rivals train to the ends of the earth, baby. thanks for being so sweet, anon <3

masterlist. inbox.

The phone is shaking in your trembling hand, cord all tangled where you keep twisting it around your finger nervously.

“Hello?”

You almost drop the receiver at the sound of that familiar Irish accent, despite the fact that you were the one that rang him. It has your stomach churning, in a different way than usual.

“H-hi,” you barely whisper, before clearing your throat and trying again. “Hi. It’s me.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he breathes, as if it’s the first time he’s taken a lungful of air all day.

“I, um… I’m sorry to call you on the house phone. I know it’s not how we do things usually.”

“It’s alright. What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I just, uh… I called to say that I can’t do this anymore.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I would have told you in person, but I didn’t know when I was going to see you next, so.”

“Can we-” he begins, before lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, “-can we talk about this properly? Please?”

“We can’t. I can’t. We shouldn’t.”

“Sweetheart, I’m beggin’ ya. One conversation. You’re not ending this in a quick phone call on a Wednesday night, you hear me?”

You inhale deeply, biting at your lips. There’s pure anxiety radiating through your body, prickly and unrelenting.

“I hear you,” you murmur down the receiver. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he sighs in relief. “I’m gonna come and get ya - we’ll go for a drive, alright?”

“Sorry you have to lie,” you whisper, guilt colouring your tone.

“I’d lie for you a thousand times over.”

His words shouldn’t make you feel as giddy as they do, but alas. Here you are.

“I’ll put some shoes on.”

“And a coat. It’s cold as fuck tonight.”

You half laugh, half snort at him down the phone, dreamily imagining the grin he most likely has painted on his face listening to you.

“Yes sir,” you tease, giggling. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll drive up without my headlights on. Look out for me, yeah?”

“I will.”

I always do, you think to yourself. I always do.

The line goes dead abruptly, the buzzing vibrating straight into your temples. You slip your shoes on, quickly fixing your hair and touching up your makeup in the mirror in the hallway while you’re there. You shrug your arms into your coat at Declan’s orders, knowing he’d tell you off if you turned up without it on.

You’ve almost forgotten the entire reason you called in the first place was to break things off with him.

Almost.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

True to his word, Declan drives up your road without his headlights on, slowly and with practised precision.

You’re waiting at the window for him, patiently anticipating the sight of that stupid yellow car. You’re out of the door in seconds as soon as you see him, bounding towards the passenger side and slipping in before anyone notices. He drives off quickly, not taking any time to say hello before he’s taking off out of the town and towards the rolling countryside.

You drive for a good fifteen minutes, to a spot the two of you frequent on your drives. It’s a dirt track, leading to nothing but fields for miles on end. Declan pulls the car around the bend and out of sight from the busier road, knowing that it has more than enough privacy. You’ve never been caught here before, and you don’t plan to start.

Finally turning off the engine, he turns to face you, taking in how the moonlight illuminates your features in the lowlight of the car.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

You’re refusing to look at him, knowing that if you do, you’ll surge over and kiss him until you’re both dizzy. You can feel his gaze on you, though, intense and unwavering. As it always is.

His thumb and pointer finger hook under your chin, forcing you to stare straight into his determined brown eyes. You’re willing yourself not to crumble, but you can feel your resolve starting to slip already.

“I missed you,” he whispers, careful not to spook you.

“I missed you too,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Shit.”

He chuckles, and the low timbre of it settles right in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s all this about then, hmm? The phone call?”

“What did you tell Taggie? Where did you say you were going?”

It’s your least favourite part about all of this, the lying. Lying to Taggie, to Patrick, to Caitlin, to Rupert, to your friends, to your family. Coming up with excuses has become second nature - something you hate about yourself now. You hate how it comes so naturally to both of you these days.

“Told her I was going to meet someone about some potential research for a show. She had evening plans anyway, she’s off out to Lizzie’s.”

You’re fiddling with your fingers, picking at your nails in a nervous habit as you chew your bottom lip. If anxiety was personified, it’d be you.

“You avoided my question. We need to talk about what you said on the phone, sweetheart.”

Taking a deep breath, you turn in your seat to face him properly, going over the speech you’ve practised in your head dozens of times.

“Okay. I’m… I’m not sure we should do this anymore. I- I just… I feel guilty. For lying to Taggie, mainly. And because you’re technically still married, but mainly for lying to Tag. She’s the closest friend I have, and I’m sleeping with her father. It makes me a terrible person, Declan. I have to put a stop to it.”

He processes your words for a moment, looking at you intently.

“Do ya want to?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to? Put a stop to things? Or do you just feel like you should? For other people.”

You want to lie, tell him exactly what you had planned out, feed him what you know will work. But you can’t. You can lie to everyone… except Declan.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “But I should. We should.”

“Why now? Did something happen? Did someone say something?”

“No, no. I just… Taggie said something really sweet the other day about how she was glad that she had me, because making friends here hasn’t been easy for her. And it should have made me happy, and instead, it broke my heart.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Declan cradles your face in his rough hands, resting his forehead against yours. It’s like the whole world melts away for a moment, leaving just the two of you in the tiny yellow car.

“I’m a horrible person,” you mumble. “And a horrible friend.”

“You’re speaking as if it’s just you. And it’s not, you know. There’s two of us in this affair - I’m just as guilty as you are.”

“Fine then. We’re both horrible people.”

He chuckles, breath tickling your face, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. His lips are brushing yours every time he speaks, meaning you can practically taste the cigarette smoke and spearmint on his tongue.

“I never claimed otherwise,” he retorts, still smiling.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit as his thumbs sweep back and forth across your cheekbones. “It’s weighing down my conscience, and I don’t want to hurt Tag. But… I can’t give you up, Declan. I need you. I need you more than anything.”

“You make me crazy. God, I think about you night and day, sweetheart. My thoughts revolve around if I’ve seen you and when I’m going to see you next.”

“So what do we do? I can’t quit this. I can’t quit you, I can’t quit us. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. I wish I had the answers… I wish I could make all your worries go away. But I can’t.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just… I thought that I could do it in one clean sweep. Get it out the way, you know? Call you, end things, be done. And then the minute I heard your voice over the phone… I knew I couldn’t do it. Because deep down, I didn’t want to.”

He leans in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, desperate to be close to you.

“Declan.”

“If I could fix it all for you, I would,” he murmurs against your skin. “You know I would.”

You pull back to put some distance in between you, watching him carefully for his reaction to what you say next.

“You should break things off.”

He flinches as if you’ve punched him in the stomach.

“What?”

“You should. I clearly can’t, so you have to be the one to do it. Do it, Declan. End things with me right here, right now. Please.”

Your tone is weak and unconvincing, as if you can’t even bring yourself to say the words with any conviction.

“I can’t,” he confesses, voice breaking on the last word. “I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, exhaling it slowly as if he’s buying himself some time. You wait patiently for him to continue, nerves frayed at the edges.

“Because I love you.”

Now it’s your turn to flinch, his admission smacking you across the face violently.

“You-”

“Yes. I love you, sweetheart. It’s taken me a while to figure all of this out, but I know it now. That’s why I’ve never been able to end this. Because it’s not just incredible sex… it’s something more. Something real.”

There are tears welling in your eyes as you look at him, watching the way he lays his heart on his sleeve in the moonlight just for you.

“I’m scared,” you confess. “I love you too and it scares me.”

You don’t miss the way his face lights up as you say it, but he’s trying to keep a careful lid on his emotions for now.

“I’m not going to let anything bad happen to ya. You know that.”

All you can do is nod in response, digesting everything that has happened in the last five minutes. You do know that. He’s proven time and time again that you’re not just some fleeting fling to him.

“Declan?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Now he grins like an idiot, eyes alive with adrenaline and hope.

“That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard ya say.”

You tuck some hair behind his ear before leaning in to gently press your lips to his, wanting to seal the moment. He kisses you back sweetly at first, before taking control with more force, slipping his tongue into your mouth cheekily. You happily let him take the lead, sighing in contentment as you melt into him.

“C’mere.”

Climbing over onto his lap, you hinge your legs on either side of his in the drivers seat, straddling his hips. You try to straighten up but end up hitting your head on the roof of the car, which makes you both wheeze with laughter.

“This car is too fucking small,” you grumble, rubbing the spot that you smacked.

“Y’alright? Want me to kiss it better?”

You hate the way the teasing tone in his voice shoots right to your core, shaking your head in defiance.

“Fuck off,” you mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Patronising bastard.”

“I like it when you get your claws out,” he chuckles, tracing patterns on your thighs over your jeans. “S’hot.”

You kiss him again to shut him up, biting at his bottom lip in punishment. He groans all low and slow, which makes you grind your hips into his, despite the multiple layers of clothing separating you.

“Backseat,” he whispers, pushing you off of him gently. “More room.”

You splay yourself across the wide back seat, opening your legs so Declan can slot in between them.

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” he prompts as he shrugs off his own jacket and undoes his belt.

You can’t help but chuckle at his impatience, happily taking off your coat and jumper and unbuttoning your jeans. Your breath catches in your throat when you look back up at him - he’s wearing the Venturer t shirt that hugs his biceps just right, accentuating every delicious muscle he has to offer you.

“Wore it for you,” he mutters against your lips. “Know you like me in a t shirt.”

You roll your eyes but kiss him with determination anyway, all teeth and tongue and clashing bodies. You’re clawing at his clothed shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist to buck your hips into his.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he mumbles into the skin of your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “Lying awake at night thinking about your thighs, your tits, your cunt.”

All you can do is sigh, fingers digging into his biceps in desperation.

“Wish I could take my time with you like you deserve. These quick fucks just aren’t the same.”

He sounds almost upset about it, voice staying deep and low.

“Remember that time I stayed the night? And you couldn’t walk in the morning?”

You laugh breathily, thinking back fondly to that night a few months ago. You’d both orchestrated it so carefully, crafting cautious lies and fabricated stories to snatch a good sixteen hours of time together.

“Need that again soon. Might have to start sneaking ya into my house in the dark, make you climb the gutters like we’re in a film. Although, it is a bit hard to keep you quiet.”

You try valiantly to ignore the heat that flushes across your chest as he teases you, knowing that he’s right.

“Declan?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You grab his hand and shove it down your underwear, jeans trapped around your thighs. There’s very minimal room in this tiny car, but you’re both determined to make it work. He groans when he feels how wet you are, swiping through your core.

“Fuck me. Have you been like this the entire time?”

“Since this afternoon,” you whimper, trying to grind down onto his fingers. “Couldn’t stop thinking about when you ate me out on my kitchen worktop last week. My legs were shaking for two days afterwards.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, slipping a finger into you as he drops his head onto your shoulder. “I got myself off thinking about that yesterday. I swear if I concentrate, I can still taste you on my tongue.”

All you can do is whimper, desperate to have him in any way you can. The fact that you have the same effect on him that he does on you makes your head spin, dizzy with want.

“Don’t make me wait,” you beg, cradling his face so he has to look you in the eye. “Fuck me, please. Please, Declan.”

“Okay, pretty girl. I’ll give ya anything you want. Anything.”

He shuffles around so he’s sat back on his knees, pushing his jeans and underwear down just enough to free himself. You spread your legs as wide as you can, trying to give him as much room as possible. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself in this position in this car with him - and it won’t be the last.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss you, licking across your teeth with his tongue. “Most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

He slides into you with ease, both of you gasping at the familiar sensation. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as he holds your hips in a bruising grip, pads of his fingertips biting into your flesh.

Declan doesn’t waste any time, setting a relentless pace that has you bouncing across the seat. The car is shaking like crazy, all the windows fogged up - anyone who passes will know exactly what’s happening inside.

The man above you can read you like a book and play you like a fiddle. He knows the exact angles of his hips that’ll have you keening, the certain spots to focus on that’ll have you seeing stars. He knows you better than anyone, in more ways than one.

“That’s it,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Atta girl. Taking it like you were made for me.”

“Maybe I was,” you breathe, tipping your head back to give him access to your neck. “Just for you.”

He groans all melted and golden like molten honey, the vibrato of it rumbling through your bones. You’re holding onto him for dear life, as if he’s the only thing tethering you to this reality. When his thumb finds your clit to rub firm, slow circles, you’re convinced you’re floating on another plane of existence.

The only word you can seem to formulate is Declan, which only pushes him closer to the finish line. He’s determined to get you there first, angling his hips upward to hit that one spot that has you gasping. When he moves one hand to your throat and gently squeezes, you fall apart instantly, taking him with you.

“I love you,” he breathes as he comes, forehead resting on yours. “My girl.”

You’re shuddering and shaking as you lie underneath him, panting like you’ve just ran ten miles. Declan collapses on top of you, laying his head on your chest comfortably. Your fingers rake through his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp like you’ve done so many times before.

You both allow yourselves to close your eyes for a minute, recovering and attempting to catch your breath. You’re convinced, for a moment, that you’ll never feel more peaceful than you do right now. You breathe each other in, satiated and content.

You finally open your eyes, expecting to see nothing but fogged windows and starlit darkness. Instead, you see a man bending down, looking straight at you. Arguably the worst possible person that could see the two of you in the position you’re in.

Rupert Campbell Black.

He’s grinning like an idiot, shaking his head in disbelief.

You’re about to warn the man in your arms when Rupert opens the car door, slipping himself into the drivers seat and spinning so he’s facing you. Declan has jumped out of his skin, jolting upwards to cover you as best he can.

Rupert smirks all dirty and knowing, eyes dancing over your half naked forms.

“Well, well, well. Secrets out, lovers.”

@graceflorence @dionysus-drabbles

as aaaaaaaalways… reblogs are golden!! they’re the currency of tumblr, my loves. you reblog, and your favourite writers will write you more fics. simple as that. mwah. <3

[cosmicanakin]

quick lil thanksgiving SOLDIER BOY drabble 🍁

YAP SESH! there might be a few mistakes from how fast i was typing this while eating lol & some warnings i might've missed. so, do let me know if you see any <3

WARNING(S)! smut | oral sex (f!receiving) | strong language | table sex | pure filth | overstimulation | DOM!BEN | unprotected sex (stay safe out there yall) | ben throwing his F bombs. ୨ৎ EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT | minors do NOT interact.

୨ৎ JENSEN'S LIBRARY.

thanksgiving with ben was quiet, just the way he liked it. no family, no friends, no bullshit—just his girl and a bottle of bourbon on the table. he'd insisted on a small dinner, something simple, and you were happy to oblige. but as you're sitting across from him, laughing softly at one of his sarcastic remarks, you notice the way his gaze lingers on you a little too long, a little too hungry.

"what?" you ask, raising a brow, still mid-bite of your food.

he smirks, leaning back in his chair, his thick arms crossed over his chest. "just thinkin' how fuckin' pretty you look tonight. sittin' there in that little dress like you didn't know what was gonna happen."

you roll your eyes, but your heart skips a beat. "ben, it's thanksgiving. can't we just get through dinner for once without you—"

before you can finish, he's already on his feet, rounding the table. you barely have time to react before he grabs you, his large hands sliding under your thighs to lift you out of your chair.

"jesus christ, ben!" you gasp, laughing breathlessly as he sets you down on the dining table, plates clattering as he pushes them aside without a care.

"what?" he mocks you, his voice low, rough, and full of that cocky charm. "can't help it, doll. you're sittin' there lookin' like dessert." his hands are already sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher and higher until it's bunched around your waist.

"ben, the food—"

"fuck the food." his grip tightens as he yanks your panties down your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. "this is what i'm thankful for."

before you can argue, his mouth is on you, hot and wet as his tongue drags through your folds. you suck in a sharp breath, your hands flying to his hair, tugging at it as he buries his face between your thighs. he groans against you, the vibrations making your toes curl as he sucks on your clit, his beard scratching deliciously against your sensitive skin.

"goddamn," he mutters, pulling back just long enough to look up at you, his lips glistening. "you taste s'fuckin' good, baby."

you whimper, your head falling back as his tongue dives back in, licking and teasing until your legs are shaking around his head. but then he growls, low and frustrated, pulling away abruptly.

"fuck this," he mutters, standing up and fumbling with his belt. "these fuckin' pants—" he tugs them down impatiently, his cock springing free, thick and hard and already leaking.

"ben—" you start, but he's already lining himself up, grabbing your hips and pulling you to the edge of the table.

"you got somethin' t'say, sweetheart?" he taunts, his smirk widening as he thrusts into you in one smooth stroke, filling you completely. your gasp turns into a moan, your nails digging into his arms as he sets a bruising pace.

"fuck—you feel so good," he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tight you're sure they'll be bruises tomorrow morning. "been thinkin' about this all fuckin' day. you, laid out like this, takin' me so fuckin' well.”

you're a hot mess beneath him, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room alongside your moans. his thrusts are quick, steady, relentless, leaving you no room to catch your breath as he fucks you hard and deep.

"ben—fuck—too much—" you whimper, trying to push at his hips, but he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand.

"nah, baby," he growls, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. "you can take it, like the good girl you are. i know you can."

his free hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles that send you spiraling. you cry out, your back arching off the table as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around him.

"that's it," he groans, his pace faltering as he chases his own release. "fuckin' love watchin' you fall apart f'me."

he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself deep as he comes, his groan low and guttural. for a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing as he rests his forehead against yours, his grip on your wrists loosening.

"happy fuckin' thanksgiving, babydoll," he mutters, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he kisses you, slow and full of love for you.

you laugh breathlessly, shaking your head. "you're unbelievable."

"yeah," he smirks, pulling out of you and stepping back, "but you love me."

and as you lay there, still trembling from the intensity of it all, you can't exactly argue with that.

[xoxochb]

hey girlieee!! could you please do very pissed, angry and jealous Percy smut??? asking for a friend (i’m not 😇

ooooohhh anon u ate with this one

cw: rough ass sex, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected piv, orgasm denial (once), swearing

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you can’t breathe, you can’t think, you can’t move, you can’t do absolute jack shit like this.

your hair is disarrayed around you, your bare chest rising and falling at an abnormally rapid rate, the bedsheets soaked, tears streaming down your cheeks, clothes scattered throughout the cabin, and your poor boyfriend’s got his back scratched up, little trickles of blood falling from your nails.

percy continuously babbles about what you believe to be nonsense. bullshit like ‘you’re mine’ and ‘that other boy wouldn’t treat you as good as me’ or ‘this pussy’s only mine, isn’t it?’

you don’t dare disagree with him, not now, not when he’s like this. he’s upset you had spent the morning teaching a new camper archery instead of spending it with him doing whatever gods forsaken shit he wanted to do. angrily, you were taken to cabin three to get the life fucked out of you!

his fingers works inside of you mercilessly, pushed into a unhealthy spot in your body, while his thumb runs over your throbbing clit. and poor you, you’re an utter wreck, writhing and crying underneath him.

“please, I- I-” searching for the alphabet… “‘m all- all yours.”

“yeah?” percy cocks his head to the side and kisses your sternum. “all mine?”

you nod rapidly, with one hand pulling his hair harshly. he doesn’t like the lack of a verbal response.

“use your words, sweet girl, c’mon.”

“yes,” you pant. “all yours.”

he kisses your skin again. though when you feel your climax creeping upon you his finger slides out, letting an embarrassing whine slip past your lips.

“what- I- fuck you.”

“I’m doin’ jus’ that, pretty girl.”

you watch disoriented-ly as percy undresses himself. you’re in for the longest night of your life.

“perce, please.” ah, how you missed coherent sentences.

“I’m hurryin’, angel. gotta have patience.”

you close your eyes and wait. until finally, his cock urgently and without warning slides between your folds. asshole, you’ll get him back for that sometime. his name stick to your tongue like a leech to skin, it’s currently the only thing you can seem to say. or think. or feel.

you presume this is what he’s trying to do though so you let it happen.

your legs burn. in fact, your whole body burns. it’s like you’ve got a sadist for a boyfriend, because you know he won’t give you mercy, especially since your morning hadn’t been spent with him but with some other jackass.

you practically gag on your tears, strands of hair sticking over your face, and your moans growing progressively louder with each harsher thrust.

he’s probably trying to kill you.

you know you’re dripping by now, actually not even, pouring. his cock is filling you to the utter brim, leaving no room for the white-hot pleasure to roam but the sheets beneath you.

the world spins at a rapid pace, every time you open your eyes stars fill your line of vision, and you can barely feel yourself even existing. you call this overstimulation at its finest.

you know now, he was not lying about fucking all the life o it of you completely.

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘

⸝⸝⸝ ࿔ how the bats ( bruce and jason ) leave you ᵎᵎ

⸝⸝⸝ ࿔ disclaimer !! these are not accurate depictions of the characters. please do not let this influence your view on the selected characters written and/or mentioned.

BRUCE WAYNE ᵎᵎ

the newspaper rolled up at your feet gifted you a present you feared. the picture of bruce and selina walking out of a fancy restaurant made your swell up. but what was worse was the headline.

'POTENTIAL MRS. WAYNE ?!'

you drop the paper, gasping.

a tear slips through your water line, rolling down the apple of your cheek. the memories of bruce and you sharing intimate moments rolls in your mind as your body stands still in shock. the possibility that he could've been with her the day before and after baffles you. the sweet promises he whispered in your ears were now recycled and given to her.

that's why he kept you a secret...he didn't want any controversies.

maybe it was your fault. maybe you were at fault for thinking that bruce wayne, the prince of gotham would actually stoop to your level of notoriety and become a 'normal person'. someone of his stature shouldn't be caught dead with you, you told yourself.

for the next few days, you brainstormed your next move. you also took into consideration how you'd be in the aftermath. you'd be lying to yourself if you said bruce wasn't your love. you poured yourself into him. the detachment process would be a battle.

move from gotham? no, you're not that much of a loser to run away from your problems. but could you bare seeing his face everywhere after this? what if you got word that she was pregnant? or the extravagant wedding he hosted just for her. seeing her dolled up like a princess on the day you dreamed of with him.

you made your plan.

bruce was out doing his duties at Wayne Enterprises and wasn't expected to return back to the Manor for a few hours. you could buy plenty of time.

JASON TODD ᵎᵎ

"do you not understand how your words contradict the shit you do?" you argue, trying to get him to look at you. every time you moved into his line of sight, he turned away; like he was ashamed to see you.

his anger from being revived grew and grew. it was taking a toll on your relationship. the benign robin you knew from your teenage years was gone. his face was always contorted into a scowl at any given moment. he was never happy.

his eyes screwed shut as he heard the same words he heard every single time. yes, he did feel pain every time you cried due to his lack of compassion and his absence of love. but could he change? he didn’t know. nor did he try.

“you keep stay after it happens again and again. just fucking leave. you keep wasting your breath on the thing you don’t like knowing i won’t change. i’m not changing so you can experience your little fantasy you want with me.”

his blunt words make the crease in your brows relax. your jaws goes slack in…shock? pain? realization?

you didn’t know. but his words made your cheeks burn and your eyes gloss.

“it’s your fault that you keep staying. i don’t have to change.” he sneers, finally turning to you. for the first time since this conversation started again, his first look at you is in anger.

“that’s it?” you manage to choke out.

“that’s it.”

happy thanksgiving, y’all! my inbox is open for requests and i’m on a dc high rn ( especially for adrian chase! ) and if you want a follow up or add characters, ask! so send em ! request forum.

[robo-writing]

Okay, now I need a fic based on the session the reader and Logan has when he was slapped. Like the thought of her passing out and he still continued to fuck her? And her coming too and he’s just pumping her full of his come? Lord have mercy 😩🤤

me getting this anon while i was knee-deep in writing angst is something so funny to me, crying my eyes out then opening my inbox to see this gave me mental whiplash like you can’t believe He barely sounds human, more man than beast. The weight of him pins you into the bed, unable to move. The creaking of the bed, your weak cries, his downright animalistic grunts of pleasure as he thrusts into your tired, achy cunt—you two sound like a cheap porno, and not in a good way.

You have no one else to blame for the six foot wall of muscle that pins you to the bed, holds your hands behind your back and fucks you like he’s got something to prove. His hips meet your backside again, and again, and again—each thrust leaving your ass raw.

You don’t know how long it’s been since he’s put you on your stomach, and you don’t care to know; all you want is for him to keep going. Hell, you’re not sure Logan would stop even if you begged him.

Reduced to his animal instincts, if he’s not panting in your ear like a bitch in heat he’s mumbling the filthiest fucking words into your skin, tongue lapping at the salt that clings to it.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he groans, each word emphasized by the sound of skin slapping on skin. “My girl, mine to fuck, mine to breed.”

It genuinely hurts to breathe, but all you scratching at his arms does is spur him even further. Eventually you give up, lie back like a good little whore and let him fuck you until either you pass out or he runs out of energy.

Unsurprisingly, option A seems to happen first.

A few spots in your vision, a ringing in your ears, then nothing. An unknown time passes, and you wake up in the same spot as before, spread open and speared on Logan’s magnificent dick.

At least from what you can gather he’s a bit more put together now, still pumping himself inside your warm walls, but much less violent than he was before. You feel the familiar thrum of orgasm on the horizon, an odd sort of pleasure-pain that keeps you aware long enough to listen to your boyfriend speak.

“‘M sorry baby, fuck, just couldn’t stop,” he says, kissing up and down your spine in apology, still chasing after his own high with each word. “Feel too good, so, so good, goddamn—“

He’s stuttering, cutting himself off, unable to string together a full sentence. You chance a glance at him and fuck, he’s a goddamn mess. Sweat dripping from his brow, muscles flexing so hard you could count each vein, a rosey blush running from his face to his chest—he looks like he’s just came from hell and back. Damn near incoherent, whispering sweet nothings into your shoulder—

“Lemme come in you baby, just one more time, one more fuckin’ time—“

It’s a rhetorical question at this point; like you ever had a choice with the way his cum drips from your cunt. So full of him that each thrust pulls more out of you, only to be replaced. He’s had to have cum inside of you multiple times, the sloppy sound of it mixing with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

And yet, he keeps on going.

An urge to control, to keep, a need to stuff his cock inside of you and have you know exactly who it is that has your pussy creaming for him.

[angelltheninth]

Cursed Tea Party

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con, love potion, aphrodisiac, orgasm control, yandere behavior, rough sex, love confession, overstimulation, being cockdrunk

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: I don't remember when I wrote this or why but I did. And here it is for you all. A bit more dark than usual.

There was something wrong with you. You could tell ever since you left the tea party. Actually before then. It was the reason you left, you couldn't stand being there anymore, with your head spinning, body getting so hot you had to take off your uniform jacket and loosen up your bowtie to make breathing easier. It didn't help. Maybe a cold shower would do, if not, maybe one of the toys you had hidden away in your closet.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright? I could escort you back if you're sick." Riddle was the first one to notice how bad you were looking. It was his party so naturally he wanted to keep an eye on all the attendees.

"No, no!" The moment his voice reached your ears the throbbing and heat became nearly too much to handle. You had an urge to push him down, kiss him, tell him about every sinful fantasy you've ever had and beg for him to be the to fulfill them. "I swear I'm alright, I think I may have caught something. But I can make it back on my own."

None of the boys seemed to happy about that. You promised you'd call one of them when you're in your room and let them know you're fine. That was an hour ago. How could you get so lost in the labyrinth? Riddle didn't change it, as far as you knew. Every turn seemed to lead nowhere. Left, right, going back, nothing worked. You were simply lost. Lost and so painfully horny.

"Oh my, are you still here?" When did Riddle get behind you? Was he here to help you? "I thought I sensed someone here. What's the matter? Are you lost?" He walked up to you with the grace of a ruler, his crown perfectly in place, staff twirled in his hand and a very amused smile on his lips. So fucking sexy. "You're making a puddle. Hm, perhaps I put in a little too much." He frowned for a moment but then shrugged it off, like it didn't seem like vital information.

"Too much? What do you-" He took your hand in his, his touch and lips so hot they hurt your skin. It was nothing compared to the vines and thorns that crept up behind you and bound you up against the labyrinth wall. "Riddle? What's going on? What are you doing? Let me go!"

"Unfortunately I can't do that, my sweet rose. What you consumed in your tea was a very powerful aphrodisiac. I should have considered the dosage more carefully. I'm sorry for putting you through that, but it's alright, I'm here to help you now. I'll make it all better." His little chuckle sent a shiver down your spine, and not the nice kind. Your mind was torn, run or ask him to help?

Help? He just admitted he was the reason this was happening! But he was also the one offering to help. No, he was the one in the wrong here!

While you had your inner turmoil you didn't notice him undoing his pants and starting to stroke his cock, "I took some too you see. You're not alone, you'll never be alone again with me around. I'll take care of you, I'll be the best boyfriend you've ever had." Another sinister laugh left his mouth, his eyes blown wide, the crown now slightly on its side, "I've been waiting for this." Riddle used the top of his staff to spread your legs and move your panties to the side. The cold ruby pressed against your aching clit, the sound that left your body a cross between a moan and a pained whine. "Hurts right? I'll make you better love, I'll make it all better."

His cock came as sweet relief to your empty pussy, "Riddle..." You could barely think about anything, everything felt like it was too much, but his cock... it was perfect and just what you needed.

"Did you just come?" Riddle looked so happy with himself, his hips barely moving while he waited for your pussy to stop fluttering around his length. "I just put it in. You must have been suffering without my cock."

"I didn't. I didn't come." It was shameful to admit otherwise. This wasn't what you wanted to happen, how you wanted it to happen. "Not like this." You turned your face from him but your mouth still moaned when he thrust into you, "Don't... please stop moving... it's too much for me." Riddle never listened to anyone, you weren't about to change the King's mind either.

"I love you, I love dearest. Don't you see? I love you so much. After I saw you on my first party I had to get close to you, but you always hung around everyone else. You wouldn't even sit next to me!" You heard him yell before, a lot in fact, this was a different tone, broken, desperate, "Please understand. Understand how much I love you, I'm helping you realize it. Please."

What should have sounded like the unhinged ramblings of a madman wormed their way into your heard, warped your mind, made you finally look at him.

"Finally. You're looking, you're looking at me! Look down here too! See how well your pussy takes my cock? It's greedy! It wants this! You want this! You want me as much as I want you! Don't you?! Don't you, my beautiful rose?!" The warmth at the pit of your stomach returned at full force, the loud, crazy sound of his voice and the look in his eyes, burning lust and devotion reflecting your flushed face with such clarity, as well as how clouded your mind had become.

"I do love you." Riddle's face lit up with glee, the words freeing you of doubt that you weren't sure why it was there in the first place. Riddle was helping you, who are you to refuse his help? "I love you." You chuckled, "I've loved you for so long." Another laugher, a little bit louder, "Riddle."

Your back arched as far as it was able, stars dancing in front of your eyes, pussy twitching around Riddle's hard cock. "You're so tight! I'll make this one better for you! I'll make your cunt feel so good, let me fill it up." Your constant stream of pleas was only broken when you felt it, his cock emptying inside your, ropes of it painting your sensitive inner walls.

When he leaned against you to catch his breath you'd noticed the tight pressure around your wrists release. Now you were free to hold him, and he was free to hold you, now that you were fully complaint.

"Let's take you back to my castle. After today I think we should start moving your things there. And maybe inform the Principle that you'll be doing online classes only. I don't want anyone else laying their eyes or hands on you." Riddle gathered you in his arms, your body fully limp against him, pussy still pulsing with need around his cock, "There, there. You'll get more, don't you worry." He pressed a kiss to your lips, sealing his promise. The two of you began your way back through the maze, Riddle's crown forgotten where you'd just been.

[aajjks]

The Conqueror (XXIV)

Synopsis: He had conquered everything, anything but your heart.

Pairings: Yandere!King Jungkook x Commoner!servant Reader

warnings: yàndèré, Dàrk thèmès, Fòrcèd màrrìàgè, Tàlk òf vìrgìnìty ànd màrrìàgè cònsùmmàtìòn, Gòssìpìng, Còld béhàvìòr, Ùnhéàlthỳ rèlàtìònsìp, Dèprèssìòn.

note. besties I hope you enjoy this, The reason I’m updating this more often now is because I want to finish the story as soon as I can and please share your feedback because it’s really important to me. I love you guys enjoy! Ash I finished this chapter just for you x

series masterlist

taglist: @mageprincess7 @starsggukk @sprinkleoftee @koremis @minshookie29 @sana-b @bangtannoonalvg @oonaaurora @jeonsweetpea @sugaslittlekookies @outro-kook @kthyg @lunaashes @debicaptain-saturn @laurynne5 @captainsjoongs @myblackconfessions @lanalanexpjm @namjooncrabs @shadowmoon21 @kookunot @natalie-rdr @angelicasdre @iwasfuckinginnocentonce @mermaidtea @foulnightharmony @ungodlyjoon @quechulitaaa @telepathytae @silversparkles11 @j3alous-ang3l @bunzom @1-in-abillion @breadgeniedope @jiminie-08 @artgukk @lovesthetword @bunijmin @pinkcherrybombs @afangirllikeme-blog @twilight-love-nochu-main @wedarkacademia @hollxe1 @bighitfics @darkuni63 @golden-thv @investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @koocreampie (I can’t tag anymore people, it’s full 😭😭)

•••

You wake up, and the first thing you notice is the absence of him-

Jungkook. The bed is cold, empty. You feel the space beside you, where his body should have been, yet it remains untouched.

Why is he the first thing on your mind when you wake up?

You were the one who sent him away last night so you should be happy about it, as you rub your blurry eyes, your vision finally clears.

The sheets are crisp and neat, too neat, too clean.

As you sit up, the ladies-in-waiting enter quietly, their movements practiced. They approach the bed, and immediately, you see them take note of the immaculate sheets, the lack of any sign of what should have been..

A mark of possession, a proof of consummation.

“Good Morning to Our Lady Jeon.”

A sense of dread creeps up when they refer to you as a Jeon.

“Lady yn,” Na-yeon calls, her voice soft yet commanding, “it’s time to prepare for your duties as the emperor’s wife. The king will be expecting you.”

You nod, but you can’t shake the guilt settling in your chest. You already know what they’re whispering about. The sheets, they’re clean. There’s no sign of the king’s touch, no evidence of the night that was supposed to bond you together.

One of the maids, her voice barely above a whisper, says, “She wasn’t touched last night. Look at that. There’s no mark, no blood.”

Another one replies in a hushed tone, “No sign of anything.”

They probably know that you can hear them, but do they give a fuck about it? No.

So what? you want to scream but you can’t

You feel the weight of their words, like they’re pressing down on you, suffocating you. You know they’re gossiping, but you can’t stop the flush of embarrassment that creeps up your neck. The sheets, the clean, untouched sheets, they feel like a reflection of your rejection. You had turned him away last night. You had rejected him. And now, the palace is talking.

You don’t regret rejecting him, but there is a guilt that is so heavy.

You are undeniably embarrassed.

The guilt tightens your chest. It feels as though the weight of the entire palace is on your shoulders.

You didn’t want to, but it happened.

You couldn’t let yourself go through with it. Not like that. Not when you know what kind of man he is.

He is a monster. He’s someone who killed your father and ruined your entire fucking life. How could you let someone like him touch you?

You hate him so much but then why didn’t you feel the satisfaction when he had walked away from you last night leaving you untouched?the shame of turning him away is like a shadow following you now.

The ladies continue their work, preparing you for the day ahead, but the whispers echo in your mind, too loud, too real.

You were the one who rejected him last night, so why do you feel embarrassed? He’s the one who should feel embarrassed… why are they gossiping about it like it’s a big deal? You will never let someone like him touch you anyways.

So why does it feel like there is a heavy burden on your heart and why do you feel so embarrassed about still being a virgin?

They dress you in your royal attire, the weight of the silk robes feeling heavier than ever. The red and gold, the fine embroidery—it should feel like power, but instead, it feels like a prison.

You feel like a fucking puppet

Finally, they place the pin in your hair. It’s subtle but significant. You immediately feel the burden of the pen on you because you realize that you are now actually the emperor’s wife.

You’re still not queen yet and you hope that you won’t be, but this pin indicates that you are married to the emperor of Goryeo.

Emperor Jeon Jungkook. A.k.a. your worst nightmare.

You are the emperor’s wife, but not yet queen. It’s a constant reminder of your place, of how far you are from the woman you want to be, and how close you are to the role you’re forced to play.

They leave you alone with your thoughts, but you can’t escape them. You look at yourself in the mirror, trying to connect with the woman you see with the woman you feel like inside. A pawn. A possession.

The sound of tea and breakfast wafts into the room, but it feels like a distant, empty thing. Time to face him,

The emperor awaits.

“My Lady. Come on let’s go into the dining hall where you will be joined by the emperor Jeon.”

Looks like you’re not gonna be able to eat because whenever you’re in his presence, you feel sick to your stomach.

But it’s not like you have any choice.

•••

You sit at the long, opulent dining table, the sound of footsteps echoing from behind you.

The breakfast spread is grand & delicate plates of rice, fruit, meat, and steamed buns, the aroma of the dishes wafting through the air. Yet, all of it feels distant, as though it’s meant for someone else. The golden utensils, the fine porcelain cups

It’s not meant for you.

none of it feels real. Not when you know what hangs between you and Jungkook.

He enters the room quietly, his presence is as always commanding.

His tall frame fills the doorway, and despite the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the large windows, he seems to cast a shadow.

His dark curly long hair is perfectly styled, his robes a deep crimson, embroidered with gold threads, marking him as the emperor. He is a king, but right now, he looks like someone out of reach, someone untouchable.

Jungkook’s eyes flick to you as he takes his seat across from you, his gaze cold. There’s no warmth in his look, no softness.

The air between you feels thick with tension, and you know, without a doubt, it’s because of last night.

You meet his gaze, but the words you want to speak catch in your throat. You can feel his anger, simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He’s holding back, but just barely. His hands rest on the table, his fingers clenched tightly around the delicate porcelain tea cup in front of him.

“You know,” Jungkook begins, his voice low, almost mocking, “last night was supposed to be different. I thought…” His voice trails off for a moment as he takes a sip of tea, his eyes never leaving you. “I thought I might have finally gotten what I’ve been waiting for. But you, you rejected me.”

He scoffs.

“You know? You look so beautiful. But it’s useless. Your beauty is useless.”

His words cut through the air like a knife, and your chest tightens. You can feel the weight of his gaze, his cold stare, as he leans back slightly in his chair, studying you.

“I don’t understand,” he continues, his voice is turning sharper. “You’ve been in this palace for a year. You’ve been living in luxury, waiting for this moment. Yet, when it comes, you turn away from me? What makes you think you can do that, hm?”

You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts. It’s hard to speak when the tension in the room is so thick, so suffocating. You know you can’t apologize, not with the pride he carries. But you can’t keep quiet either.

His presence is so overwhelming and maybe the guilt in your heart is also weighing on you.

“I didn’t—” you start, but he cuts you off with a sharp gesture of his hand, signaling that he doesn’t want to hear your excuses.

He just dismissed you like you mean nothing.

“You didn’t what?” he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t want me? The man who made you his wife?” His lips curl into a cruel smile.

He thinks that you are pathetic.

“You really think you can just refuse me and walk away from it all? There’s no escaping me, not anymore. You belong to me now, whether you like it or not.”

The words hit you like a slap, and you look away, unable to meet his eyes. The food in front of you suddenly loses its appeal, the steam rising from the rice feeling like it’s choking you.

You want to speak up, to explain yourself, but you know it won’t change anything. He won’t listen. Not now, not after what happened last night.

Jungkook leans forward, his eyes narrowing as if he’s waiting for you to speak, to beg, to plead for his forgiveness. He’s enjoying this, you realize.

Enjoying the control he has over you, enjoying the way you’re forced to sit there and endure his words.

“Well?” He presses, the coldness in his voice now unmistakable. “Are you going to explain yourself? Or are you just going to sit there and pretend everything is fine?”

You clench your fists in your lap, the urge to stand up and leave the room almost overwhelming. But you can’t. You can’t leave. Not when the emperor is sitting right in front of you, and you know the consequences of defying him.

Instead, you hold your breath and force yourself to speak but no words come out.

His expression darkens, and he leans forward, his eyes locked on yours, piercing and dark.

“You’re my wife. But you are one ungrateful woman, and if you don’t want me to touch you, then I won’t.”

The words make your skin itch, your chest is tightening with a mixture of fear and frustration.

You didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’s the emperor. He’s always had power. He’s never had to ask for anything, he just takes it.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be forced into this life,” you mutter, barely able to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “To be used as a pawn in your game.”

His eyes flash with anger, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to snap. But instead, he leans back in his chair again, his jaw clenched tight.

“You don’t get to speak to me like that,” he warns, his voice dangerously calm. “You may be my wife, but I will not tolerate disrespect. Not from you. Not from anyone.”

“Especially not from you yn.”

The room grows silent, the only sound the clinking of silverware and the soft hum of the palace outside. You know he’s not done with you yet. This conversation is far from over. But for now, he sits in silence, his anger barely contained.

You don’t know what to expect next. Will he lash out? Will he punish you? You’re not sure, but deep down, you know one thing—

This is only the beginning of the torture that you’re going to be facing for the rest of your life.

“Fuck.. you just know how to ruin my fucking mood, but there are other important things that I need to make sure that you know.” he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his simmering anger down.

Jungkook looks at you with his unyielding cold gaze.

“ the king of China, along with his daughter will be arriving to our empire in a few days. They have started their journey through ship so they shall be here in sometime. They are coming here to congratulate us on our marriage and maybe some political alliances but that is none of your concern.”

His tone is mocking.

“What should be your concern is that you’re going play the perfect wife in front of them, and if you don’t, my love?” he smiles, sickly at you.

“There will be severe consequences. Because you don’t seem to be wanting my love. So instead, I’m going give you my anger and my hatred.”

Those words of his send shivers down your spine because he says them such practiced ease. And what’s even more unsettling is the fact that his eyes seem to be empty and cold.

[that-basic-simp]

Baby Steps

Vi x Fem! Reader CW: Blood, swearing, suggestive at the end WC: 1.6k+

~Vi's POV~

"Y/N? Y/N? Y/N! Fuck."

I quickly turned and caught a glimpse of the color of her hair. The dirt and dust finally subsided and revealed her body on the ground. Blood was coming from some wounds, but it was mostly coming from her legs. I rushed towards her, not even bothered by the people I bumped into. It was just tunnel vision: I had to get to her.

When I reached her, I knelt beside her and was careful when I lifted her head up. I cradled it close to my chest as I heard shallow breaths. She was still alive. As I was about to move my arms to grab underneath her legs, she pulled her head back and let out the most blood curdling scream. I turned my attention to her legs. My eyes widened with horror and I almost dry heaved due to the smell. I could take blood before, but not to this amount. This was rancid.

"I've got to lift you up," I whispered to her.

"V-Vi?"

"I've got you, little dove," I said and carefully wrapped my arm underneath her legs.

"FUCK!" she yelled once more.

"Shh, shh, I've got you," I lifted her up slowly.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and clung onto me tightly.

"Stay with me," I whispered.

"Vi," she said in a heavy breath.

"I've got you."

~Reader's POV~

I slowly blinked my eyes open and found my apartment's ceiling above me. I turned to find I was in my room. As I was about to sit up, a searing pain shot up from the base of my foot and all the way up to my thighs. It was like my bones were being crushed, snapped in tiny pieces. My muscles ached like they had been stretched thin. I let out a scream as I fell back against my pillows. Vi rushed into the room and let out a sigh of relief, but it also sounded as if she was hurting.

"You're ok," she rushed over and hugged me.

"More or less," I whispered.

She pulled away and sat beside me, aware of the distance between her and my legs.

"What happened?" I asked.

"There was an attack. I should have been there."

"Vi," I reached down and grabbed her hand.

"When I got to you, all I saw was the aftermath. But after talking and listening to some conversations, there was an attack from the Enforcers. Witnesses said that you were caught right at the front and a piece of a building fell onto your legs."

Tears started to form in her eyes. She quickly reached up and wiped her eyes.

"I basically forced myself into Piltover. Thankfully I knew someone," a small smile appeared, but then it quickly faded. "It took almost an entire day to assess the damage. They said--" she couldn't finish her sentence.

"They said what?" I asked.

She bit her lip and shook her head.

"Vi, what did they say?"

"With the damage, your chances of walking again are slim."

"It was that severe?"

"I guess during the attack there was something that people didn't see. Your lower back sustained a heavy blow, causing the paralysis."

"I-I," I breathed out heavily. "I-I won't be able to walk again?"

"They said with a lot of physical therapy and a lot of relearning how to walk, there is a chance. But not in the way you used to."

I slowly nodded my head.

"But for right now, I am just relieved that you're here with me," Vi said, taking my hand in hers.

"I-I need a minute to think about all of this."

"O-Of course," she stood up. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"N-No."

"Ok. Holler if you need anything, little dove."

Sweat dripped down from every part of my body. Even in some areas I didn't even know could sweat. My shirt was drenched basically everywhere and I had barely gone two feet. I had a death grip on the railings beside me. My wheelchair was just a few feet behind me. We've been at it for two fucking hours. Two fucking hours and I had barely made any progress. I could hardly feel my legs. It was just pain and heat that I could feel, and the tightness of my muscles.

"You're doing great," Vi encouraged.

"Shut up, Vi," I sighed.

"Really," she placed her hand on top of mine, despite it being covered in a layer of sweat. "You are."

"I barely moved."

"But you're standing."

"With the help of these railings."

"So what?" she asked. "Things like this take time."

I shook my head and moved backwards, falling down into my wheelchair. It's been almost three months of physical therapy and there wasn't any progress. The only progress I had gotten was when I was sitting down and Vi moving my legs around.

"I-I can't do it anymore," I said after I wiped my face with a towel Vi had handed me.

"I know you are, Y/N, but you need to keep on going."

"I can't, Vi!" I yelled and threw the towel onto the ground.

She bent down and picked it up, placing it around my neck. I just shoved her away and turned my wheelchair to where my back was facing her.

"So you're going to throw in the towel?"

"I kind of already did, didn't I?"

"So you're just going to give up that easily?"

"I haven't been able to move past that line," I gestured to the white tape on the ground to show my progress. It has barely moved an inch within the past three months. "And it's been three months."

"These things don't happen overnight, Y/N," she said and knelt beside me. "You're going to have to do this for a long time before you get anywhere."

I grabbed the wheels and rolled off towards the bedroom.

"So this is how it's going to be?"

"Yes. I am giving up."

"So you're just going to have to rely on me and others to get you around? Don't you want to feel the freedom of walking out of this apartment, down those stairs, and into the Lanes?"

"I had a good run while it lasted, Vi."

"I'm not letting you give up this easily."

"Good," I rolled into the bedroom. "Because I won't listen. My mind is made up."

I closed the door and let out a sigh. Her footsteps grew closer and I locked the door.

"I know you're frustrated," Vi said.

"Beyond frustrated."

"I know you're annoyed, that you feel defeated. That you feel like you can't do shit because of some accident that was out of your control. That you'll have to rely on me to get you everywhere. That you feel like a burden. I know my words don't mean shit right now, but you're not a burden to me and you never will. If you want to give up, then fine, give up. If you want to throw in the towel, throw in the towel. But I can't sit around and see you suffer like this, Y/N. You need to take baby steps and if you must crawl before you stand, then crawl. But let that crawl turn into a stand, a stand into a walk, a walk into a run until you're halfway across that bridge from the Lanes to Piltover. But please, don't let this bring you down.

"Think of it like when you were young and learning how to walk. You were stumbling and bumbling all over the place," she chuckled. "I remember when Powder was first learning to walk. She wouldn't let go of our mother's hand, always looking up at her to make sure she was safe. There would be times where I tried to help her walk, but there was this one time where she shocked all of us. Mom and dad had just gotten back from the mines and Powder was so excited to see mom. She got up from a sitting position and full on ran towards her. All of us were standing there with our mouths open."

"That's a nice story, Vi," I said.

"It is a nice story, but maybe, you can learn from it."

Her footsteps grew faint as she walked off to who knows where in the apartment. I found the standing mirror in the corner of the bedroom. My reflection was all I could see, since I was practically across from it. There were scars all over my legs from the numerous surgeries I had to undergo to even get here. With a deep breath, I turned towards the door and unlocked it. I strolled out of the bedroom and faced the railings once more. I was going to walk again.

"Hey, I'm home, Y/N," Vi entered the apartment and locked the door, tossing the keys onto the counter nearby.

"Y/N?"

"Hey, there you are," I smiled as I strolled into the entry way.

"Sorry I'm a bit late."

"No, it's fine. I was just getting dinner ready."

"Smells good," she said, about to lean down to give me a kiss.

I stood up and walked towards her, since there was a bit of a gap between us. Vi took a step back as her eyes widened.

"Y-Y/N?!"

"What's the matter, Vi?"

"Y-You're walking!"

"I am," I smiled.

She let out a triumphant laugh as she hugged me, lifting me in the air and spinning me around.

"Look at you, my little dove!" she exclaimed as she set me down carefully. "Last time I knew of your progress, you had given up!"

"Well, when you told me that story of your sister running, it made me think about the times I had run like a child again."

"So you went behind my back and made me believe you weren't doing your physical therapy?"

"Yeah," I said sheepishly.

She softly smiled at me as she placed her hand on my cheek, caressing it with the pad of her thumb.

"It was a pleasant surprise," she smiled. "I'm glad you kept this a secret from me."

I chuckled and grabbed her hand. She pulled me towards her and pressed a kiss to my lips.

"Tonight, I'm not going to make you walk," she chuckled.

"Please, Vi, at least give me a month."

"I'll try to contain myself."

We both chuckled as we headed into the kitchen, her walking right beside me.

[slimybeth69]

Thirst: Part 2

Marcus Acacius X lady reader (no descriptions, you're a virgin though)

Summary: Your freedom had a price and Marcus Acacius was willing to pay for it... but you also had to do something for him.

Chapter 2 of 10: Stretching - Marcus shows up with more Gifts. (Look at him, showing up like he's about to do something...he is...he's gonna do something.)

Rating: EXPLICIT -- Shameless smut with a little plot

a/n: NO SPOILERS to the new movie. This is cross-posted from my AO3 account and I just and 2 more chapters locked and loaded after this one, so... if y'all like it lemme know! (i love to chat)

WARNINGS: dubious consent, ownership, loss of virginity, mutual mast., exhibitionism, voyeurism. mentions of being a whore. Sexy toys, Marcus talks you through it.

It’s been two days since you’ve seen that Gods forsaken General again. You thought he was going to take your fucking flower that night after you little little discussion over shard wine on the balcony… he slept in your bed that night! He never does that! He left in the morning and said he’d be back as soon as he could. 

What a fool you are for believing him. 

You’re naked now, laying out on the balcony touching yourself thinking about him though. You cannot help it. The way he spoke while he touched himself last time. The way you spoke to him!? You’ve been writhing around waiting for him to come back to give you release. Let him put his mouth on your slit or something! You need release and you are tired of your own fingers. So fucking tired of them. You wanted Marcus! You wanted him so badly. 

There are two of your forsaken fingers inside yourself. Your knees are bent and legs are spread wide as you sit back against the lounge chair. Your free hand pinches and tugs at your nipples frustratedly as you attempt to make yourself come. You’re not holding back your sounds of pleasure because you desperately hope someone will look up at you or maybe see you from another balcony. You like being watched, just like Marcus apparently. Why didn’t you just do this for him from the start!? You’d probably no longer be a virgin. 

Your head is thrown back and your eyes are closed because it is starting to feel so good. You imagine how it’s going to feel when he enters you for the first time— if that ever happens. Gods, you hope so. His cock is so beautiful and throbbing whenever you see it. You know it’ll be hot. Erections are always hot in your hand. 

“What a beautiful sight.” His voice in your head is so inviting and you curl your fingers even faster against that spot the Gods planted so deeply inside of you. Why is it so far away!? You can barely reach it! You’re desperately trying to plunge your fingers deeper. “That’s it. Rock your hips.” His voice isn’t in your head! He’s here!

You rip your fingers from within your pussy and try to cover yourself in shame and horror with your arms and hands. He’s chuckling looking down at you from behind your chair. His eyes flick to the street below and the surrounding balconies. 

“What are you doing here!? Why did you sneak up on me!?” You snap at him and pull your knees together and close to your body. He is still chuckling and gently places a brown burlap sack in your lap. 

“I have another gift for you. A couple things.” He sits beside you in his chair and waits for you to open the bag. You peek in and are appalled. 

“What do you want me to do with these!? I was expecting you!” You exclaim in annoyance at the bag of sex toys on your lap. Hand-blown glass that looks like his cock but smaller! Another glass toy that looks like a spade but softer! Rounded and circular. You’ve never seen anything like this one as you take it out of the bag to inspect. It’s got a dull, rounded tip and tapers into a thick base and then is thin again with a large glass bead at the end. 

“For your ass.” Marcus smiles at you. “The other one is so I do not hurt you. I’d like you to enjoy it. Not be crying.” 

“Is it really that bad?” You scoff at him and gently place the ass toy in the bag with the glass cock. 

“I might hurt you. I'm bigger than most men. I hurt women who take cock daily.” He smirks at you and now you’re fearful. “Let me use them on you today– right now.” He’s smiling and reaching for the bag. “I’ll show you how to use them, and then you can train for me. I’ll watch and make sure you’re doing it correctly.” He pulls the cock from the bag and scooches his chair closer to yours. “Lay back like you were.” 

You open up to him without another word because he’s going to touch you. Holy shit. Touching and putting something inside of you? That’s a start, better than being stared at. Yes, okay. You bring your knees to your chest but spread you legs wide. Marcus sighs softly and rubs the tip of the cock against your tight, virgin hole. No one else has ever been in there. Just you and your fingers. You were so scared now that he said it might hurt but your heart it galloping in your chest. Fully about to overwork itself and stop completely as he pushes the tip inside of you. 

Your jaw drops open as you stare at him. His eyes never leave yours even as he pushes it into you so slowly. 

“Painful?” He stops and pulls it back out slowly until there is nothing left inside of you. You shake your head silently. With this, he pushes forward again— his eyes drop down to your cunt so he can see you take something besides yourself for the first time. Now his mouth is the one hanging open as he’s moving this clear, glass cock inside of you. 

Marcus made sure to get one close to his girth and thickness so you’d have no problem adjusting to him. The length he had was hard to replicate so he did what he could. 

You’re doing so well and biting your bottom lip as the stretching and pain start to take over. You grimace softly and close your eyes. Marcus stops moving completely and when you look at him, he has curiosity in his eyes but no expression on his face. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks with his velvety smooth voice that just dances around inside your head as you pant softly. “Don’t hold your breath. Breathe through that pain until it feels good, Little Dove.” He coos to you gently. 

“Okay,” You whimper softly as he pulls the cock from within you slowly. There were six inches to this glass cock and you had two inside of you before it started to hurt. Marcus chuckles at the memory of your confidence the other day and when you left the brothel. 

“Touch your pretty tits for me. I like watching you tug at them. Makes me want to bite them. Suck on them.” Marcus whispers as he pushes the toy forward again. You mewl softly and roll your hips gently at the words he spoke to you. Your hands– both free now– find your sensitive and hard buds in your fingers and tug them gently, rolling them softly. “Perfect. It’ll make your cunt wet when you do that. Make it easier to push this into you.” 

“Okay.” Your panting quietly as he speaks. Your eyes never leave each others. 

“I’ll do those things to you soon. Suckle on your breast, bite at your beautiful nipples. I’ll make you wet for my cock, soon.” 

Marcus pushes the entirety of the toy into you and you jolt and close your eyes. It’s not as bad as he was making it out to be, but still not comfortable. Like a pinching feeling inside of your pussy. It’s not the worst but it is not great. You suck air in through your clenched teeth and he holds it within you. 

“Breathe. Relax your muscles and feel yourself adjust to the thing inside you.” He whispers into your ear encouragingly. “You can do it, Little Dove.” He is so reassuring that you believe you might actually be able to do this. 

“Okay.” Your murmur and unclench every muscle in your body. Marcus starts to twist the cock around inside, while holding it deeply inside of you. Moving it one way and then another. Grinding it against your hips as his free hand finds his cock underneath his tunic. You start to pant now from the pleasure he is bringing you. The now warm glass touches that spot inside of you that is placed just out of reach from your desperate fingertips. 

“Does that feel better now? Is it starting to feel so good?” He says almost mockingly but you love it. He’s cooing to you and you can see his arm moving up and down on himself under his tunic. You can’t see his cock and you wish to the Gods he would pull it out so you can look at it. It’s like he’s inside your head or seeing where your eyes have fallen. “Do you want to watch now, too?” 

As he speaks he lifts the skirt of his tunic above his waist and tugs his cock downward to show you his impressive and intimidating length. He strokes himself, downward like that instead of holding it up against his stomach. He’s leaned over, still pushing the glass toy into you. The tip of him is driveling and almost about to drip off of him. You bite you bottom lip and whimper softly at the sight and the feeling inside of you.

“Do you like it now? Do you like me?” He’s smirking at you as his strong hands stroke his length. The drop of precum that had been threatening to fall from his seam finally does; it drops right to the floor and something inside of you says that you should lick it off of the balcony.

You flick your eyes up at Marcus and he’s watching himself tug on his cock the way he is. He sees the drop on the balcony. He snaps his eyes up to yours and sighs softly.

“You’ll taste me soon enough, Dove.” 

“Okay...” You moan softly as he starts to withdraw the cock from within you. He does that slowly until there is nothing left. You feel hollow and lost without that feeling inside you. With desperate hums of need you rock your hips forward towards the tip of the cock. Marcus smiles and you can see his perfect teeth when he does. 

“I love the desperation in your heart and cunt. I know you want to fuck me. I’m not going to hold back like this when I do.” He pushes into you quite forcefully, with the quickly cooling glass toy. You gasp and quiver. There is still a dull pain when it does it but nothing like before. It’s just a full, stretched feeling. Like you could never be more full. It’s incredible. Breathtaking. “I won’t be able to control how fast…” Marcus starts to thrust the cock into you. “Or how hard.” He is pushing the cock as deep as it will go, the thick, still cold glass balls of it are pressed flush against your perineum. It sends a shiver through you when the connect with the sensitive warm flesh. 

“Oh my Gods.” You whisper. There is no breath inside your lungs to speak real words. The thickened head of the toy inside you grazes and rubs your spot lovingly and perfectly each time. “Oh, Marcus..” You whimper up to him. He sighs softly when you speak his name in the breathy tones of your first real feelings of pleasure from something inside of you. 

“Fuuck.” He groans softly and strokes himself faster. He is rock hard and so soft at the same time… you can see it’s stiffness sheathed with his bronzed flexible skin. It’s a paradox as you look at it still drooling. “You worship me and I will worship you, Dove. Say my name again.” He is fucking you with this toy and it’s not slow or gentle. He is trying to get you to scream his name and you just might. 

“M-Marcus.” You whimper happily up to him. “It’s s-s-so good.” You let your head fall back against the chair and sigh happily. You are just warmth. It’s such an incredible feeling what he is doing to you. 

“Do you like that we could be seen?” He pants to you. You nod without looking at him because the feeling that's building between your stomach and cunt is overwhelming. “Fuuuuck, my Dove. You are naughty. You want someone to see what The General does to his perfect girl?” The thrusts he’s giving you with this glass cock are making your tits bounce as you continue to tug and twist your nipples. 

“Yes. Yes.” You pant breathlessly. “Yes, I do. I’m going t-to scr— oh my Gods, I’m going to scream.” You groan loudly as the air finds your lungs again. You are overcome with this feeling in your lower belly. It’s incredible and you’ve never felt like this before. 

“Do it. Scream for me, Luna Flora. I want to hear it.” He is panting but he has his voice. It’s deep and demanding. Ordered to you like you are one of his soldiers. “Come for the first time on a cock, perfect girl.” He is softer and coos this demand to you. 

It’s like fireworks going off inside of you. Over and over again or just one big firework that takes so long to go explode completely. You do not know. You’ve only seen them once from this balcony and they were loud and frightening. This is not loud or frightening. It’s quiet– like all the sounds have been stolen from the world. Your chest feels heavy and weightless at the same time. Like there is a lion sitting on you while the Gods try to pull you up to them by strings wrapped around your ribcage.

It’s incredible and you are screaming now, you scream his name and clench your eyes shut as the walls of your cunt clench down around the cock inside of you. It is not forgiving or soft. It is just hard as you clench down around it. 

The pressure behind the cock is gone and you’re shocked by this. You feel it slipping from within you slowly. You cannot to react to this feeling and try to push it back inside of you because Marcus is standing over you, one hand on the chair beside your head, the other still around his cock. 

“You’ll be artwork when I’m done with you.” He leans forward and presses his lips to yours hungrily and groans into your mouth. You feel yourself being splattered and splashed with his releases. It’s on your chest and neck and now you can feel it dripping onto your stomach. 

You both jump and pull away from this embrace at the sound of shattering glass. Marcus jumps back in alarm and drops the skirt of his tunic. You knew what it was before it happened but it still startled you. The glass cock slipped fully out of your cunt and tumbled to the stone balcony. You’re just as shattered as the glass cock. It was incredible and you would have used it every single day. Every day until he had come back to see you again. 

“Don’t be disappointed, Dove. I can get you another.” He sees the sadness and heartbreak on your face. “You wont really need it after today, though. I’ll enter you tomorrow and we will break in that other new toy of yours.” He leans down again, his face only inches from yours. “You’ll know the real feeling of full tomorrow, Dove.”

And then that motherfucker leaves again. You're still naked on the balcony. Now you're sweating and still panting and your pussy is leaking down onto the chair you're still seated in. He didn't even really touch you! Just shoved a glass clock inside of you! 

Gods help you. This is torture!

I hope you all love this and wanna read more-- let me know if you do! -Ms. Slimy Elizabeth

[maybanksmusings]

THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!oc, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; changes are being made! see this post to learn more. to me, this part seems a little like a filler, but i want to explore veronica as a character and develop each relationship with each character as something more than a side character, not just honing in on her relationship with jj, which of course is a huge part of the story also.

part one. part two. part three.

when veronica begins to stir, the sun had long set. there was no way of knowing how long the pair had been asleep, all she knew was the lights of the chateau were off and there was a bright pink post it note stuck to jj’s head.

‘gone fishin’. jb pissed.’

pope signed off on the note, a small smiley face drawn inside the o of his name. veronica knew the pouges hadn’t actually gone fishing, that is was some sort of code jj would decipher when he came to.

in this moment, veronica was content. wrapped in the arms of the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.

what could only be described as a war was ongoing in her head. she wasn’t exactly one to believe in love at first sight, she thought this entire ‘spark’ thing was something made up by male authors to keep women reading their shitty romance books to keep them hooked, waiting for it to happen to them.

but then she met jj, and he was like a magnet. every time veronica was in his presence she was mesmerised, whenever he was gone she felt like all the colour was drained from the world.

there was only two problems.

there was a maximum of forty eight hours that they knew each other, add to that he was her brothers best friend, then add to that said brother made it crystal clear that inter-group dating was not allowed.

oh, and then the whole ‘nobody knows i’m his sister but us’ thing.

“you’re staring, baby” jj mumbled, his voice low and tired as he stirred beneath her “can’t say i blame you”

with a sarcastic scoff, veronica sits upright in the hammock, her legs laid out across the blonds lap “just admiring the drool on your face”

“aren’t you funny.”

comfortable silence follows, jj crosses his arms behind his head and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. even though she was staring off into the water, veronica could feel jj’s eyes on her.

“can i help you?” veronica quipped, a teasing lilt to her words as she face the boy in question “use your words, you’ll get there.”

unexpectedly, jj sighs and lets his head fall back “what am i doing?”

veronica knows he didn’t intent for her to hear him, but she did. she would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed, but she was even more disappointed in herself at the pang of sadness that hit her.

before she can say, or do, anything, jj is sat up a little straighter and speaking again.

“listen, you’re a really cool girl,” he pauses, shaking his head and starting again “you’re hot as shit, damn it!”

barely, veronica manages to mask her giggle with a cough.

“don’t ask me how or why, but i gotta tell you i’m super into you.” he blurts out “yeah, makes no fuckin’ sense, we barely know each other, no pouge on pouge macking, you ain’t feeling me like that-“

her body is moving before her brain can even comprehend what she’s doing, chipped nail polish framing blond hair as she held his face in her hands and pressed their lips together.

then, her brain kicks in, and veronica jumps back like she’d just been burnt.

“fuck, jay i’m so sorry. i wasn’t thinking,”

seconds pass agonisingly slow and veronica can’t help but think about just how badly she had just fucked up.

but she doesn’t get to overthink for long.

a calloused hand tangled in long, brown hair. the other gripping her waist like it was a lifeline, helping her into his lap as his tongue makes its way into her mouth.

the kiss is messy, it’s desperate. like two people drowning, taking in the other like they were air. hands cling to whatever they can, afraid if they let go it would all be over.

any reservations veronica may have had about ‘the spark’ were discarded, undermined even, this wasn’t a spark, it was fireworks.

but fireworks don’t last forever, and when the sound of john b’s rickety van can be heard drawing closer. the newfound excitement being dulled by the shadow known as a protective older brother, a protective best friend.

by the time the missing pouges pour out of the twinkie, veronica and jj are in much less compromising positions, now sitting beside each other trading menial conversation about the earlier events of the day.

“welcome back to the land of the living,” kiara teases, a yellow vape coming up to her mouth as she took a hit “you two were out cold.”

instinctively, veronica’s hand shot out, wordlessly pleading for a hit of her vape. with a groan, kie handed it over.

veronica lets her head fall back against the hard oak of the tree behind her, relishing the feeling of her first hit of nicotine in two days. she had a vape when she left home, but it died before she even made it to the outer banks and being broke meant she couldn’t even go buy a replacement.

“you could’ve woke us up, y’know” jj defended, trying his hardest to act as if nothing happened, reminding himself to stop staring.

pope scoffs, not missing the longing stares sent the brunettes direction but purposefully ignoring them “we tried, it nearly cost us our lives.”

unamused, john b walks past the rest of the group in silence. when he gets to the door of the chateau he looks over his shoulder and nods for veronica to follow.

the girl is suddenly more attentive, climbing over the human embodiment of a golden retriever and padding her way into the house behind the older of the two.

“does the name redfield mean anything to you?” john b questions, passing a beer from the fridge and getting one for himself “like, the surname.”

veronica is quiet, her finger tracing the rim of the can as she goes through every crevice of her brain in search of any name even remotely close, there’s only one.

“chris redfield.” she answers with a nod, popping the tab of the can and taking a swig “but i don’t get how he’s involved.”

“why not? who is he!?”

“a video game character.”

with a huff of annoyance john b drags a chair across the kitchen to sit beside veronica, unscrewing his compass and placing it down on the table. the name ‘redfield’ is carved into the metal.

“we went back to the boat, found a motel key, whatever.” john b shrugs off the rest of their findings, more invested in whoever this redfield person was. “then i remembered when you showed me that note, the one in the compass. then i found this, figured you would know more than i do.”

veronica gently traced the carved metal, it was definitely their fathers scrawl, she’d memorised it from the note she read over and over and over.

it couldn’t be a coincidence, her fathers note asking her to meet, the matching compasses. now this?

“if i’m going to help you, i need to know..” she trailed off, biting at the edges of her nails as she wondered how to phrase her next question “does this have anything to do with dad dying?”

“he’s not dead.” john b’s voice is louder, stern. then his face softens and he tears his gaze away from the compass and to the floor “sorry, just, i know he’s out there. and this? this is proof.”

“john b, i get it.” the younger routledge speaks slowly, trying not to tread on any toes “you’re not the only one who wants him to be alive, that needs to see him. but i don’t see how this—”

“dad found the royal merchant. four hundred million dollars in gold, and he found it. he’s trying to tell us where to find it.”

veronica sighs, fingers rubbing at her tired eyes as she once again tried to think of any connection to any redfield. when it came to family, she only knew the bare minimum, her fathers name and her mothers maiden name.

what she did know, however, was the royal merchant. as a child her father sent her maps and books on birthdays and christmases without fail, until one day they stopped.

“you’ve got books and stuff, right?” she finally asked, not wanting to get either her or john b’s hopes up. a nagging feeling was telling her their dad was alive, but she knew he wouldn’t just up and abandon his son.

the walls of her fathers study feel like they’re closing in on her, john b let her inside and left her to it. veronicas hand ghosts over the framed maps and dusty books. blueprints of ships with her fathers messy scrawl written randomly around the paper.

there’s pictures of john b littered all over the office, all different life stages, a few feature jj and veronica can’t help but smile at the photo of two little boys holding a fish between them.

on the desk there’s a picture frame, immediately veronica recognises her mother, years younger and a gentle hand placed on her tummy. in the same frame, there’s an ultrasound that veronica almost bypassed as john b, but when she looked at the date it was a long time after he was born.

it was her ultrasound.

it was her in her moms tummy, framed and proudly placed right on her fathers desk.

everything comes back at once. finding the note, and in turn the years worth of letters her mother had hidden from her. the dateline special with john b pleading for information about his father, their father. the fight with her mother, packing a bag in the middle of the night and making her way to the address stored safely inside her compass.

the tears don’t register until they hit the glass of the frame, the last few weeks of pent up anger, sadness and hurt bubbling over from the flame that single photo sparked.

her dad loved her.

for years she’d heard about her absent father, then the absent father that passed when she was a baby. the father who didn’t want the responsibility of a child and ran away once he found out.

but the letters, the compass, this picture? john routledge loved the daughter he was forbidden from seeing, from the second he knew about her he loved her.

and now he was dead.

a sudden wave of anger rushes from her head to her toes, glass shattering when she throws the dusty old frame against the wall with a scream. papers fly and maps fall from the walls as she turns her fathers office into her own personal rage room.

the racket coming from the small room shakes the chateau, so it’s no surprise when the pouges come crashing through the door.

the pouges eyes briefly flash with fear when their eyes land on the destruction caused by the newest arrival, but it’s quickly replaced by a familiar sadness when veronica crumples to the ground, screaming as loud as her lungs would allow for them to get out.

they don’t know what’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter. veronica was now considered a friend, and they gathered that’s what she needed right about now.

jj is the first to enter, drawing closer slowly as if he were being cautious “it’s okay, ronnie.” he mutters softly, dodging shattered glass as he knelt beside her “we’re here, we got you.”

kiara, john b and pope are close behind, wrapping veronica in what could only be described as a group hug until her tears subsided.

taglist!

@ren-ni @marleymarleymarleymarley @miidollaasignnn @rainingcecilias @tanyaherondale @xspideyhollandx @sluterainterlude @loverofmarsss @xoxo-ada @gigistalked @genderlessmenance

[levandright]

omg the no doubt mv STILL has me in a chokehold so can I request high school students boxer!fem!reader x boxer!jay who train together? it can be fluff/angst, whichever you wanna do 😚

𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

pairings : boxer!jay x boxer!reader ♠ content / warning(s) : fluff, jay gets into a fight, yn treats his injuries, highschool au, flirting ♠ word count : 0.7k ・ archive

synopsis. when jay comes to train in the boxing club injured, you can't help but worry about him. jay keeps getting himself into fights more often these days. maybe this is the day you'll know the reason why.

ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : idk anything about boxing so this will not be accurate at all, but fuck it we ball! i would have loved to make this angst but i legit couldn't think of a way when i wrote this so fluff it is. also long time no post ehe, life got a lil too busy i'll admit...

the thud of your fists against the heavy bag fills the empty gym. the quiet echo of your movements keeps you company as you cycle through your drills, waiting for jay to show up. he’s usually on time—but today, the minutes are dragging.

you’re midway through another combination when the door creaks open. you glance over your shoulder, lowering your fists just as jay walks in.

“finally,” you let out a sigh, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat off your face. “you’re late. did you forget about training or something?”

jay offers a lopsided grin as he drops his bag by the wall. “got held up.”

you’re about to say a snarky comeback, but then you notice it. his face. there’s a faint bruise blooming along his jawline, and a small cut just beneath his lip.

your brows knit together. “jay… you didn't get into another fight again, did you?”

he waves a dismissive hand, already unzipping his jacket. “it’s nothing. don’t worry about it.”

you narrow your eyes, unconvinced, but he doesn’t give you a chance to press him further. “come on,” he says, grabbing his gloves. “let’s get started.”

reluctantly, you let it go—for now. “alright,” you mutter, tossing him his hand wraps. “but you’re not getting out of drills just because you’re late.”

jay smirks faintly as he wraps his hands. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

the two of you fall into your usual rhythm, working through combinations and counter moves. but something feels… off. jay’s movements are slower, stiffer than usual. he’s still good—he always is—but there’s a tension in the way he moves that you can’t ignore.

it’s during a sparring round that it happens. you aim a jab toward his midsection, and though he blocks it, your fist still grazes his side.

jay winces.

it’s quick—barely a flinch—but you catch it. you lower your gloves, stepping back. “jay.”

“it’s nothing,” he says quickly, but the slight hitch in his voice betrays him.

you narrow your eyes, piecing it together. the bruises, the stiffness, the wince. “you got into a fight again, didn’t you?”

jay sighs, tugging off his gloves. he doesn’t meet your gaze. “maybe.”

your lips press into a thin line, equal parts annoyed and worried. “you’re unbelievable. sit down.”

“what? i’m fine—”

“sit. down.” your tone leaves no room for argument.

jay mutters something under his breath but does as you say, plopping down on the bench. you grab the first aid kit from the corner and kneel in front of him.

“you’re lucky it’s just bruises,” you say, dampening a cotton swab with alcohol. “next time, try not to pick fights with people who can actually land a hit., better yet. stop getting into fights at all.”

jay snorts softly but doesn’t argue. he stays unusually quiet as you start cleaning the cut on his lip, only wincing when the alcohol stings.

“seriously, though,” you continue, dabbing at the wound. “what’s going on with you? you’ve been getting into fights a lot lately.”

still no answer. frowning, you glance up—and your breath catches.

jay is staring at you, his dark eyes locked on yours. the intensity of his gaze makes your cheeks flush, but you refuse to let it show.

“what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“nothing,” he says, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk.

you roll your eyes, brushing it off. “well stop it. you’re being weird.”

“i’m not,” he counters smoothly. “just… thinking.”

“about?” you ask, focusing on his bruised cheek as you dab at it.

“you,” he says simply, and the way his voice dips slightly makes your hand freeze for half a second.

you feel your cheeks get warm, but you quickly recover, forcing a teasing smile. “thinking about how i’m the one keeping you in one piece, i bet.”

jay chuckles, his smirk widening. “more like thinking about how cute you look when you’re bossing me around.”

your eyes snap to his, heat rushing to your face. “you’re impossible,” you mutter, shoving the first aid kit aside as you finish up.

jay leans back, still grinning, and you hate how effortlessly smug he looks. “i mean it, though,” he says, his voice softer now. “thanks.”

you stand up, crossing your arms to hide how flustered you are. “yeah well, try not to make it a habit. you’re not gonna have me patching you up forever, y’know.”

“we’ll see,” he says with a wink, and you have to turn away before he sees the small, begrudging smile tugging at your lips.

taglist. @dazzlingjaeyun @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔥

Mike munroe x male reader

Summary: A year after the mysterious disappearance of Beth and Hannah, your group of friends gather in the same lodge to commemorate them. Your search for the truth leads to a heated argument with Mike, leading to a moment that could change everything about you and him.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. No use of Y/N. Friends to lovers. Mike and Jess are not together in this. Cute interactions between Mike and the reader. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Hate sex. Anal sex.

A request that I received. Hope you enjoyed it <3

Words count: 5000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔥

𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

You adjusted the blanket you had draped over Chris, snickering as you admired the doodles scrawled across his face like crude mustaches, poorly drawn glasses and a pair of horns. The temptation to add your own 'autograph' was too strong to ignore.

Beth stormed into the room, her face flushed with worry. She was shaking Josh's shoulder, trying to rouse him from his drunken stupor.

"Beth? Everything alright?" you asked, straightening up. The humor drained from the room as her panic became contagious.

Beth barely glanced at you as she threw on her pink jacket. "Hannah ran outside? She had barely anything on." Her words came fast, clipped with urgency as she gave up trying to wake up her brother.

"Wait, what? Beth, slow down. What happened?" you asked, but she didn't stop moving. She threw the cabin door open, cold wind rushing in as you saw your group of friends all outside.

You stood frozen for only a heartbeat before you bolted after her. The icy air sliced against your skin as you burst outside, squinting through the storm.

The others were already gathered by the porch, their faces painted with guilt and surprise. Beth's voice rang out.

"You're all jerks!" she shouted. Her breath puffed visibly in the cold as she turned on her heel and ran into the dark woods.

There was no hesitation in you. Your legs moved before your brain caught up, feet crunching through the thick snow.

But a hand grabbed your arm, jerking you back with more force than you expected. "Wait!" Mike's voice cut through the storm. His fingers dug into your sleeve. "What the hell are you doing? You can't just run out there!” His words rang sharp and harsh, a bark more than anything. The wind swallowed some of his words, but you caught the roughness in his tone.

He stepped closer, his grip tightening. Mike's mind was a chaotic mess, tangled with feelings he wasn't ready to admit to himself.

Why did you have to look so determined? So... stupidly brave? The thought of you disappearing into the woods made his stomach churn, especially the idea of you possibly getting hurt.

He wanted to keep you safe. Needed to. The words that came out of his mouth weren't carefully chosen. He'd fucked up the delivery.

Mike realized too late how his voice had come out too sharp, too loud. He saw the flicker of fear cross your features, the slight widening of your eyes. It made him feel like a monster, like the very thing he was trying to protect you from.

He loosened his grip on your arm slightly, his thumb brushing against your sleeve as if to soothe the sting of his earlier tone.

You twisted your arm free with a sharp motion, stepping back just enough to meet his eyes. "I'm not letting her freeze out there.” Your tone left no room for argument as you turned and sprinted toward the woods, your boots crunching in the snow.

The cold bit into your skin as you pushed further into the forest, the wind howling through the trees. Your breaths came in sharp bursts, visible in the icy air. The snow muffled most sounds, but the crunch of your boots and the distant echoes of Beth's frantic calls drove you forward.

"Beth!" you shouted, your voice swallowed by the wind. Anxiety gnawed at you as you stumbled over a hidden root, barely catching yourself before hitting the ground.

You strained your eyes, scanning the dimly lit path for any sign of her. Your fingers were already numb from the cold and each step felt heavier than the last. The distant sound of rustling made you pause again, but this time it was louder, closer.

The snap of twigs to your left made you whip your head around, heart pounding. You exhaled shakily, forcing yourself to keep moving.

Beth's footprints stretched out ahead of you, already partially obscured by the falling snow. You kept your eyes on them, your breath coming in sharp bursts, each one visible in the frigid air.

Suddenly, a loud snort broke through the quiet, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. You turned just in time to see a herd of elk emerging from the trees, their massive forms moving as one through the snow. Your heart raced as they barreled toward you, their breath visible in the cold air.

"Shit!" you shouted, throwing your arms up as the herd closed in. One of the elk collided with your body, its sheer weight and force knocking you off balance. The force of the impact sent you sprawling, your body hitting the ground hard. Pain exploded in your head as it struck a rock hidden beneath the snow.

The dull, sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air as you opened your eyes to the harsh fluorescent light above you. It flickered faintly, a faint hum accompanying the pounding ache in your skull. It felt like your brain was trying to escape your skull, every throb echoing with the force of your heartbeat.

You winced, squeezing your eyes shut as you brought a trembling hand up to your forehead. The texture of gauze met your fingers and another sharp wave of pain coursed through your head. You groaned softly, as though the sound itself might relieve the pressure.

Flashes of red and blue lights flickered behind your eyelids like a half-forgotten dream. The memory was faint, disjointed. You recalled the blaring sirens of police cars and paramedics talking urgently around you. You tried to piece together what had happened, but the harder you thought, the worse the pain became.

Shifting slightly, you felt a weight on your legs. Confused, you looked down and saw him.

Mike.

His head was resting on his folded arms on the edge of your bed, his shoulders rising and falling with each soft, muffled snore. His jacket was wrinkled, the same one he'd been wearing... last night? You blinked, fragments of the evening slipping further from your grasp.

With what little energy you could muster, you reached out and poked his head lightly with your finger. He stirred, groaning softly as he slowly lifted his head. His hair was a mess, and the bags under his eyes made it clear he hadn't slept well, if at all. His expression shifted from confusion to sharp relief as his bleary eyes focused on you.

"You're awake," he said, his voice hoarse as he ran a hand down his face. "Thank god."

You noticed how he winced slightly as he adjusted himself, probably stiff from sitting in that awkward position all night. "How long have I been out?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you winced at the sharp edge of your headache.

Mike scratched the back of his neck and let out a soft grunt. "All night," he mumbled. "And this damn chair didn't make it easy. Feels like my spine's been rearranged" He leaned forward, scraping the chair closer to your bed, and placed a warm hand on your shoulder. "How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean."

"Like shit," you admitted, your hand still pressed to your forehead. "What even happened?"

Mike hesitated, his jaw tightening. "First, I just—“ He looked away briefly, his eyes darting to the window before returning to you. "I'm sorry, okay? For yelling at you last night. I shouldn't have-"

"You yelled at me?" you interrupted, blinking at him in confusion.

His brows furrowed, his lips parting as he processed your words. "Wait. You don't remember?" he asked cautiously. He leaned back slightly, his hand stilling on your shoulder.

You shook your head slowly, the movement making you wince. "No. I don't even know why I'm here. I just remember...snow? And, uh...something about Hannah?" Your heart sank as the pieces refused to fall into place. "Are they okay? Hannah and Beth?"

Mike's eyes darted away, his lips pressing into a thin line. He rubbed the back of his neck again, a nervous habit you'd come to recognize over time. "The cops are still looking for them," he said finally, his voice low. "That's all we know right now."

You stared at him, your stomach churning with unease. "That's all? What do you mean, 'that's all'? What the hell happened out there?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. He wanted to tell you about the prank but the words lodged in his throat, tangled with fear. Fear that you'd hate him if you knew the truth.

Before he could say anything, the pain in your head spiked again that made you clutch at your temples. It felt like someone was smashing your skull with a hammer.

Mike cursed under his breath and stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He stormed out of the room, the door swinging shut behind him with a sharp thud.

"Hey!" you heard him shout from the hallway, his voice echoing through the sterile corridors. "Can we get some help here? Like, now?”

“We'll send someone over shortly," A nurse huffed, her voice muffled by the mask she was wearing.

"He's been like this all night," a nurse muttered, barely looking up from a mountain of paperwork stacked precariously on the counter, the exasperation in her tone clear.

"Yeah, 'shortly’ better mean now," Mike muttered under his breath. He returned to your side a moment later, dragging his chair even closer and sitting down heavily. "One of these idiots will be here soon," he said, his tone dripping with irritation. He glanced at you, his hand brushing against your arm, "You good for now?"

Despite the pain, a small chuckle escaped your lips, "It's six in the morning. You probably woke up everyone on this floor."

Mike shrugged nonchalantly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "After the night I just had? I couldn't give a fuck about someone else's beauty sleep"

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him curiously, "You stayed here all night?"

His smirk widened into a grin, though his eyes betrayed the exhaustion behind it. "Damn right I did," he said proudly. "Had to be the first one to greet your cute face when you woke up.”

Your cheeks flushed and you looked down at your lap, a shy smile playing on your lips. "Thanks," you murmured, your voice soft but sincere.

Mike leaned back in his chair, his expression softening as he glanced at you. "The paramedics said you were lucky," he began, his eyes fixed on the floor. "You had blood all over your face. Scared the hell out of me.” His voice faltered slightly and he rubbed the back of his neck. He shook his head, forcing a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Your heart tightening at the vulnerability in his voice. "What happened?" you asked softly, leaning forward as much as your pounding head allowed.

Mike's eyes darted toward you briefly before looking away again. "Ashley freaked out," he continued, letting out a weak chuckle. "She thought she heard one of the doctors say ‘cerebral death' or something. She lost it and well, everyone else started losing it too."

The sheer absurdity of the situation hit you and a small laugh escaped before you could stop it. Mike's grin widened, this time genuine, as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You should’ve seen Chris. He stumbled in here hungover, with all that crap we drew on his face. Ashley showed him a picture of his face and he spent thirty minutes in the bathroom trying to scrub it off."

That did it. You burst out laughing, the sound light and genuine despite the dull ache in your skull. Mike's grin widened, a flicker of pride in his eyes at making you laugh.

A soft knock at the door drew your attention. A nurse stood in the doorway, her face lit with a gentle smile as she watched the two of you "I need to do a quick check-up," she said, stepping inside.

Mike's expression faltered slightly and he pushed himself up from the chair. "Guess that's my cue to leave," he muttered, glancing at you. He hesitated for a moment before mumbling, "I'll be right outside."

You nodded, watching as he shuffled toward the door. Just before he stepped out, he turned back, giving you a small smile. "Don't let her poke you with too many needles," he joked, his tone light

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "I'll try."

As the door closed behind him, the nurse moved to your bedside. "He's quite something, isn't he?" she said as she began checking your vitals.

You blinked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

She chuckled, glancing at you briefly. "Your boyfriend. He's been here the whole time, you know. Pacing the halls, pestering the staff, demanding updates on your condition." She shook her head fondly. "He was a bit of a pain to deal with, but it's sweet how much he cares."

Your face burned at her words, and you stammered, "He's not... we're not...together. We’re friends." you mumbled, more to yourself than to her.

The nurse raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. She didn't respond, simply humming thoughtfully as she finished her examination.

The months following the incident on the mountain were a whirlwind. The memory of what little you could piece together was hazy.

True to his nature, Mike didn't let the weight of the situation drive a wedge between the two of you. Instead, he used it as an excuse to insert himself into your life more than ever.

It started subtly. A few texts here and there. Calls to check in. Then, he began showing up on your college campus unannounced, a crooked grin on his face each time.

At first, it was endearing, if a little overbearing. He'd pop up with coffee in hand or he'd insist on walking you to class, ignoring the curious stares from your classmates. The visits became frequent, regular. Sometimes he'd bring coffee, other times takeout, claiming he happened to be in the area. You weren't sure if it was pity, guilt, or genuine care that drove him, but as the months passed, his presence became a comforting constant.

When he and Emily broke up a few months later, you were the one he turned to. You'd let him in your dorm without hesitation, offering him a spot on your couch and a sympathetic ear as he vented about everything. It wasn't long before the dynamic between the two of you shifted. He lingered more. He'd stay late into the evening, keeping you company as you studied or binge-watched shows together. Even when you'd fully recovered from the incident on the mountain, he didn't stop coming around.

New reasons to stick around arose, like asking for help with studying, turning up with textbooks and assignments he'd borrowed from friends, spreading them across your desk as though he actually intended to study. Or just showing up with snacks and claiming he didn't want to eat alone.

Those nights were more about proximity than productivity. Mike would sit close, his arm brushing yours as he leaned over your notes, pretending to understand what he was reading. His cologne, warm and woodsy, lingered in the air, distracting you more than you cared to admit.

There were moments where he'd stretch, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal the faint line of his abs. Or when his knee would press against yours, lingering just a little too long. You'd catch him watching you sometimes, his gaze hooded and thoughtful, but he never said anything.

When the message came from Josh, it wasn't a surprise. A year had passed, and the anniversary of Beth and Hannah's disappearance loomed heavy over all of you.

Mike was with you when you got the text, lounging on your bed with one arm casually supporting his head. He didn't say much when you read it aloud but his jaw tightened and his fingers twitched against the fabric.

The drive up to Blackwood was quiet. Mike insisted on driving, his hands gripping the wheel with more tension than usual. Snow blanketed the winding roads, the mountain looming in the distance like a silent sentinel.

You sat in the passenger seat, stealing glances at him when you thought he wasn't looking. His profile was sharp against the faint glow of the dashboard lights, his expression unreadable. It stayed like that even when you arrived at the lodge. Josh greeted you with his usual grin, but there was a hollowness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

The group trickled in slowly, the reunion was bittersweet, filled with awkward hugs and forced smiles.

It had been almost a year since that night at the lodge, but your thoughts were miles away. Or rather, they were a year behind.

You hated this. Hated how your mind constantly circled back to that night, grasping at fragments that never fully materialized. You despised how you couldn't remember anything but what you hated most of all were the looks of pity from your friends whenever you asked about it.

They never gave you answers, just vague reassurances that it wasn't your fault, their eyes filled with that awful sympathy that made your stomach turn. How could they know that? You didn't even know what had happened.

But you didn't feel better off. You felt lost. And being back here, on this mountain, felt like reopening a wound that had never really healed.

You stepped outside for a quick run, plugging your earbuds and moving, hoping the rhythm of your steps would stir up fragments of forgotten memories, buried deep within the corners of your mind.

A sudden, sharp sting struck the middle of your back, jolting you from your rhythm. You stumbled to a stop, pulling out one earbud as you spun around. A snowball, already disintegrating into a puff of white, rested in the tracks you'd left behind.

Standing a few yards away, panting hard with his hands on his knees, was Mike. His breath came in visible bursts, his cheeks flushed from exertion. That damn smirk of his, cocky and self-assured, spread across his face as he straightened.

"You forgot this," he called, holding up your phone. The device gleamed in the sunlight, its screen dotted with melted snowflakes and the music you put on still going.

You frowned, realizing you must have left it untouched on the couch. As you walked back toward him, he closed the distance, holding it out. "Seriously, though, what are you training for? The Olympics?"

"Thanks," you said, snatching the phone from his hand with a grin. "Maybe you're just slow." There wasn’t even a signal here, why did he make all of this effort to bring it to you?

"Maybe you're trying to ditch me," he retorted, stepping closer. The smirk softened slightly as his eyes flickered behind you, scanning the trail to ensure no one else was there. "Kinda hurts, y'know."

Your heart raced for reasons that had nothing to do with your jog. "Oh, yeah? I'll be sure to write you an apology letter."

"Don't need a letter," he murmured, his voice dropping. "I'm more of a face-to-face guy."

The snow crunched beneath your boots as you walked side by side with Mike, the cold biting at your exposed skin. The air was sharp and still, the kind of quiet that made even your shallow breaths seem loud. You and Mike didn't have a real place to reach, you just had to be there for each other.

Mike's voice pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. "You've been quiet," he said, his tone soft but probing. "What's on your mind?"

Before you could answer, the trail curved and the remnants of yellow police tape caught your eye. It flapped weakly in the wind, still attached to the trees like a ghostly reminder. Your steps faltered, and Mike noticed immediately.

"You okay?" he asked, stepping closer. His brows knit together in concern as he studied your face.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. "They... they never closed the case, did they?"

Mike shook his head, his gaze moving from the tapes to you. "No. They didn't."

Your hand instinctively went to your forehead, fingers brushing the spot where you'd hit the rock that night. The dull ache of memory lingered there, even after all this time.

"Do you remember anything?" Mike's question was hesitant, like he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

You hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Last night, I had a dream," you began, your voice quiet but steady. "At least, I thought it was just a dream. But now, being here... it feels more real.”

Mike's expression shifted, a flicker of anxiety. "What happened in the dream?"

You took a shaky breath, your eyes fixed on the tapes covered in snow. "I was talking to Beth. She looked so real, like I could reach out and touch her. She said something about Hannah. I... I don't know. It's all so jumbled."

Tears pricked your eyes as you continued. "I remember trying to follow her. And then there were these sounds of animals. Something pushed me and I fell. That's when I woke up."

Your fingers pressed against your head, right where the rock had hit you. The sensation made your stomach twist. "It's just... it's all so confusing."

Mike took a step closer, his voice gentle but insistent. "Hey. Look at me." When you raised your eyes to meet his, his expression was serious. "Don’t push yourself. If you don't remember, maybe it's better that way."

You hesitated, then reached out, taking his hand in both of yours. Your grip was firm, almost desperate. "Mike, Please. I need to know. Why did Hannah run away that night?"

The question hung in the air and you felt Mike stiffen beneath your touch. His jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with conflict. For a moment, you thought he might not answer at all.

"It was supposed to be a joke," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. He pulled his hand away, running it through his hair as he took a step back. "A stupid, harmless prank. Something Jess came up with to stop Hannah’s weird obsession with me. That's all it was supposed to be."

Your stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

He looked at you then, his gaze pleading. "We didn't think she'd take it so hard, you know? But when she saw everyone she ran. And then Beth went after her. You know the rest." He trailed off.

You stared at him, disbelief and anger bubbling up inside you. "So you're telling me you humiliated her? In front of everyone? That's why she ran out into the cold?" Your voice rose, incredulous. You stepped back, shaking your head as anger ross to the surface.

Mike's face twisted in anguish, his own voice rising defensively. "It wasn't supposed to end like that—"

"Wasn't supposed to what, Michael? Run? Disappear? Die?" Your voice shattered on the last word and you shoved him lightly in the chest, your anger boiling over. "You knew what she felt for you! How could you think that was okay?"

"I know!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the trees. "I know we screwed up! I know I screwed up, okay? But it wasn't supposed to end like that!" His voice wavered and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his composure. “I didn’t want you to think i was some asshole” he was scared of losing you. He didn’t think he’d have to deal with this after all of this time. "I didn’t wanted you to stress or feel guilty at thinking that you could have done something"

You took a step back, your breath coming in short gasps, your heart pounding like it was about to rip through your ribs. His gaze softened, a painful sort of regret in it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. He was scared of losing you. Afraid of being nothing but the mistake you couldn’t forgive.

“I couldn't stand the thought of you looking at me like you are right now.“ His eyes searched yours desperately, his breath shaky as if every word he was saying was dragging him deeper into the hole he’d dug for himself. You could see the pain in his face, the regret that tore him up from the inside. “I didn’t want you to stress or feel guilty to think that you could’ve done something but failed miserably. I was trying to protect you," he said weakly.

His words hit you like a slap, reopening the wound of that night. You stepped back again, your chest heaving with the weight of everything he was saying. All you could hear was the deafening roar of your own heartbeat.

“You weren't protecting me," you snapped. "You were protecting yourself. Your image, You kept this from me because you were too scared to own up to what you did."

Tears stung your eyes as you turned, marching back toward the lodge, each step fueled by adrenaline. Your mind was a storm of anger, betrayal, heartbreak, all crashing into each other and leaving you feeling raw and exposed. Behind you, you could hear Mike's footsteps crunching in the snow as he followed.

"Hey! Wait!" Mike called after you. You didn't stop. You didn't even turn around.

"Will you just listen to me?" he called, his voice desperate.

"I don't want to hear it," you shot back, not stopping.

He followed you all the way into the lodge, the warmth of the interior doing little to melt the ice in your veins. You stormed into your room, slamming the door behind but Mike caught it before it closed, slipping inside before you could lock him out.

"I said leave me alone," you muttered desperately at this point, your headache flaring as the tension in the room reached a breaking point.

"I'm not leaving until you hear me out," he raised his voice, his voice firm.

You tried to push him toward the door, your hands on his chest, but he wouldn't budge. "Mike, I can't do this right now. I need time to think-“

Before you could finish, his hands shot up to cup your face and his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was rough, desperate and completely unexpected. It silenced your protests, your words melting into a muffled gasp as he poured everything he couldn't say into the kiss—his guilt, his fear, his love for you.

For a moment, you froze, your mind racing. But then, against your better judgment, you found yourself kissing him back, your hands fisting in the fabric of his jacket as the anger blended with everything else.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his breath was shaky. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice raw. "For everything. I'm sorry."

Mike's lips were on you before your mind could catch up, rough and desperate, dragging across your neck with a frantic intensity that left you breathless. The cold wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressed firmly against yours, his chest solid and unyielding as he caged you in. You hated how easily your body responded to him, how even now, with anger boiling beneath your skin, his touch made your pulse race.

"Don't leave me," he murmured against your neck, his voice cracking, barely above a whisper. His light beard scraped your skin, the sensation a pleasant tickle. "Please. Don't."

You hated him. God, you hated him in this moment for the prank, for the lies, for keeping the truth from you for an entire year.

But you also loved him. Loved him too much to ignore the ache in his voice, the raw desperation in the way he kissed you, like he was trying to hold onto you with everything he had left.

Your emotions were a storm, a chaotic swirl of love, anger, betrayal and longing. How could he do this to you? How could you still want him so badly after everything he'd just admitted? You clenched your fists, trying to push him away, but he caught your wrists, pinning them gently but firmly against the wall above your head.

His lips trailed lower, finding the sensitive spot at the base of your neck and you let out a shaky breath despite yourself. His kisses were softer there, almost reverent, as if he were apologizing with every press of his lips. But the soft apologies were interspersed with rougher ones. Teeth grazing, tongue lapping, his beard burning against your skin as he claimed you inch by inch.

"You don't get to-" you started, but his mouth cut you off, his lips capturing yours in another bruising kiss. It was messy, all tongue and teeth, his desperation bleeding into yours as he tried to pour every unsaid word, every ounce of regret, into the kiss. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your teeth catching his bottom lip before your tongues tangled together, fighting for dominance.

He pressed into you harder, one of his hands releasing your wrists to wrap around your waist, his fingers digging into your sides like he was afraid you'd disappear. The other hand slid lower, cupping the curve of your ass and lifting you slightly off the ground.

"Mike-" you gasped, but he swallowed the sound, his lips moving to your jaw, then back to your neck.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to stop. The wall was unforgiving against your back, but Mike's body was warm and solid, anchoring you in a way that made you hate him and need him all at once.

His fingers moved to your belt, undoing it with a quick flick of his hand. His breath hitched as he pulled your pants down just enough for your ass to be exposed, the cool air hitting your skin and making you shiver.

His hand slipped between your legs, his touch impatient and unrelenting as he found your entrance, his fingers pressing against you with a sense of urgency. You bit your lip hard, trying to keep quiet, but a small sound escaped as he pushed one finger inside, the stretch sharp and sudden

"So tight," he muttered, his voice low and wrecked. He added another finger almost immediately, scissoring them quickly, his other hand wrapping around your length and stroking you in time with his movements.

Your head fell back against the wall, a shaky moan escaping before you could stop it. You hated how easily he unraveled you, how your body betrayed you with every gasp and shiver.

"Mike," you said again, this time his name coming out as more of a plea.

"Just let me make it up to you," he whispered, his lips finding your ear. "Please. Let me show you."

You didn't respond, couldn't respond. Your hands found his shoulders, gripping tight as he prepped you with a frantic kind of precision, his fingers stretching you faster than he usually would. He wasn't being gentle, and you didn't want him to be, not right now.

When he finally pulled his fingers away, you felt the loss acutely, but it didn't last long. He shifted, pressing his hips against yours and you felt the thick length of him brushing against your entrance. He paused just long enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Do it."

He didn't need to be told twice. He pushed inside slowly, the stretch burning in a way that made your toes curl. He was big and the feeling of him filling you completely left you breathless. You clenched your teeth, digging your nails into his shoulders as he bottomed out, his hips pressing flush against yours.

"God," he groaned, his voice strained as he buried his face in your neck. "So fucking perfect."

You couldn't speak, couldn't think. Love, hate, anger, need all blended inside of you, something that had you arching against him despite the ache in your chest.

Mike pulled back slightly before thrusting into you again, the movement rough and unrelenting. His hand gripped your thigh, holding you in place as he set a punishing rhythm, each thrust hitting deep and hard.

Your hands slid to his back, fisting in his shirt as you tried to muffle the sounds escaping your lips. The last thing you needed was someone walking in on you and Mike like this, locked in a battle of lust and emotions that neither of you could control.

"Say you're mine," he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "Say it."

You didn't answer, your head thrown back as his hips snapped against yours.

"Say it," he repeated, his voice rough and commanding

"I hate you," you gasped, though the words lacked conviction.

"No, you don't," he shot back, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. "Say it."

You broke, your voice cracking as you moaned, "I'm yours."

The words seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he held you tighter, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was just as desperate as his movements. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring your anger and love and need into him as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

When you finally came, your entire body tensing as pleasure crashed over you. Mike wasn't far behind, his movements becoming erratic before he buried himself inside you one last time, a guttural groan escaping as he came.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. The air between you was heavy, charged with unspoken emotions.

Finally, Mike spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry,” his voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. He looked... broken. The confident, cocky Mike Munroe was gone, replaced by a man who was baring himself entirely, leaving every flaw and fear exposed.

"I want to hate you. God, I want to hate you for what you did. For lying to me. But—" You sighed, your fingers curling into his shirt. "I don't think I can." you admitted, your voice steady but low.

His hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist, relief flickering across his face before it was replaced with remorse. "I'm gonna make it up to you," he said, his tone firm. "Every damn day if I have to. I swear."

You wanted to believe him. And maybe, despite everything, you already did. But trust wasn't something that could be rebuilt overnight, and you both knew it.

Stepping away from the wall, you let your hands fall to your sides. Mike followed your movement, his hands still hovering, as though afraid to touch you without your permission. You gave him a small nod, a silent reassurance, and he finally relaxed, stepping back just enough to give you space.

"Let's go," you said after a beat, pulling your shirt back into place and brushing at the wrinkles.

He frowned, confused. "Go where?"

"To that chalet Josh mentioned," you said simply, glancing toward the window. "Want to get away for a bit?"

Mike blinked, surprised, but he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

You grabbed your coat from the bed, pulling it on as you headed for the door. Mike followed, hesitating for a moment before tentatively reaching for your hand. You let him take it, though the gesture felt heavier now, weighted with unspoken promises and unresolved tension.

The two of you stepped out into the cold, the snow crunching underfoot as you made your way back to the trail. The walk was quiet, but it wasn't the same silence as before. There was something unspoken between you, a fragile truce that held for now. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but so was the love, the connection that had grown between you over the past year.

You glanced at Mike. He caught your gaze, offering you a small, tentative smile. It wasn't his usual smirk, full of bravado and charm. It was quieter, softer, and somehow more real.

You returned the smile, albeit faintly, before looking ahead again.

For now, it felt like maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

And maybe that was enough. For now.

Note: if you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 5 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1])

(this is a sad one, apologies in advance)

agatha just had the unimaginably traumatic experience of her mother's evil ghost possessing her body, so of course she cracks jokes. she's shaking like a leaf, but hey, coping mechanism gotta cope!

when evanora tried to execute agatha, stealing secrets or whatever was only an excuse, she was punishing her daughter for the sin of being born. whatever she says, her so called worry for these other witches is also an excuse. she's simply furious that someone has begun to think of agatha as a person rather than a monster. it's once again a selfless VS selfish paradox, evanora is always framing her actions as selfless and for the greater good, but her hatred for agatha is undeniably raw and personal. I would love to learn what evanora's life was like, who were her parents? what turned her into such a hateful mother?

(look at how angry rio already is. and alice always protecting the person closest to her by default.)

this is the ultimate humiliation for agatha, someone who has always kept her past and struggles so close to the chest. now one of her deepest traumas is laid bare for everyone to see and judge. she's always trying to come off as strong and unfeeling and formidable, but here she is, a sad little girl abused by her own mother.

btw I see you all have strong feelings about ghosts and billy's powers! lol I got so many comments. I see you, I see you! Granted I'm not actually super invested in my ghost theories, this being a made up marvel show and all, but here's what I think:

agatha says to wanda, "you have no idea how dangerous you are, you're supposed to be a myth, a being capable of spontaneous creation, and here you are, using it to make breakfast for dinner!" agatha, one of the most powerful witches ever existed, could not create food for nicky. like, the scope of wanda's powers (and billy's by extension) is the kind of scary that can reshape reality itself and truly and properly fuck up the Sacred Balance or whatever rio calls it.

when I say billy created a ghost evanora, yes it's a copy but in the same way a Star Trek transporter makes a copy, you know what I mean? whether the orignal stays behind or not, billy's evanora is the real evanora. and if you believe in souls, that gets even more complicated! did billy take evanora's soul from the afterlife and plopped her in here, or did it copy it too? and was wanda actually able to create billy's and tommy's or did she catch the wandering soul of stillborn twins?

see I don't think evanora was a ghost prior to this (again, I might be proven wrong in the future, but this is where I'm at right now). if that were the case, you know she'd been haunting agatha's ass, wouldn't have given her a moment of peace. maybe rio took extra care to send her to the afterlife, idk. now rio looks shocked and angry to see evanora, like this is a new development.

rio's voice is literally roaring with anger

like i cannot overstate how much rio hates and despises evanora for what she did to agatha

evanora zeroes in on rio, approaches. rio takes a whole step back and makes herself smaller. she's nervous. she says that ghosts are cheaters, but it goes beyond that, doesn't it? rio understands life and death, but a ghost is neither, or both. it goes beyond all her control and expertise, and for the first time since we've known her, she's at a disadvantage. ironic, isn't it, considering what happens to agatha in the finale?

agatha, who's been cowering in a corner, chooses this moment to approach. does she want to protect rio and billy and the others? or is she so desperate for an ounce of love and affection from her mother that she, coward as she is, actually wants to put herself in arm's way?

while everyone is focused on agatha, alice looks at rio. she is putting together evanora's words, agatha's terror and rio's hatred. jen is being selfish. alice, generous alice, could never be selfish

the last time agatha saw her mother she was still a kid. now she is a mother herself and the mere thought of not loving, not wanting to protect your child, of actually going out of your way to harm them? it's simply inconceivable to her.

the shock. the tears forming in her eyes. the same heartbreak she felt when she realized her mom was about to kill her at the stake. she's feeling small and wretched and unloved like only a parent can make you feel

it's the matter-of-fact tone she uses. it's worse than hatred. she despises agatha beyond hatred

there is a moment in a child's life when they see a parent clearly for the first time, their weakness and their flaws. this is especially true for an abused child, it comes a day when you realize that despite being called bad and evil and blamed for the pain happening, it was never really your fault. agatha knows what a parent's love should look like now. and this is not it.

rio visibly deflates. she is the only person in the room agatha opened up with about her mother. there is nothing she can do to spare her pain now. she has no power against evanora

alice has a blinding moment of shock, realization, pity. she knows only too well what generational pain and trauma can do to a person. but she still had a mother who loved her. agatha didn't.

jen, who used to be a healer, can no longer feel compassion. jen has had to learn to protect herself above all others. because evanora hurt agatha, and agatha hurt jen in return.

and when it's all said and done, agatha will always beg. all her power, her brains, her experiences are nothing. she regress to that girl at the stake. I can be good. please.

alice, who's always been the first to jump to everyone's defense, who always puts others before herself. she has seen agatha bare and helpless, she has seen that raw core that agatha has always hidden and, in her final moments, she's accepted agatha in her coven. it's more instinct than rationality, but alice has always been a heart over head kinda girl. if she can see the harpy, if she can see the pain, by GOD she'll do something about it.

“The Knight of Wands.” full of fire, fights bravely.

lilia's gut-wrenching scream. she knows what is happening. agatha already told her.

a succubus who hasn't fed in so long. I keep thinking, there was never anybody who loved her enough to teach her control, to seek alternative solutions to satiate her hunger. rio never could, rio cannot interfere with who lives and who dies. but could a coven together have fed her? could a big coven have donated power little by little, and kept her safe and valued and protected? nurtured her in every way? or was she always doomed from the start? was evanora right, did alice sign her death warrant the moment she chose to love agatha? I know what my answer is to all that, but what do you guys think?

and another question for you: billy casts around desperately for help, nicky answers. was nicky, or rather a shadow of nicky, created by billy too? or was the son of Death powerful enough and scared enough to reach out on his own, maybe with just a little push on billy's part?

a name was all it took for agatha to pass her trial, and look how much was needed to get it out of her. only billy's chaos could do the impossible: drag agatha's ravaged and wrecked heart to the surface. billy only wanted to help her heal, but he's a just a boy with the power to shape the universe. it took evoking ghosts and dredging up horrible trauma to make all of agatha's defenses crumble and raw-beat her into admitting her pain, into maybe, if we're lucky, starting on the road to recovery. oh, billy. you don't know how to handle things gently yet, with your big man's hands and your young, too young soul.

she stops IMMEDIATELY. she didn't know how to control her hunger, until now. the monster was human all along

by. as in, by billy, because he did it all. and also, good-bye. good-bye, mama.

oh, alice. there are no words.

and now they're no longer just numbers, just fools she conned and killed and abandoned on the road. now it's the girl with the big luminous heart, who sang the Ballad with her, who shared her same pain, the first human being in agatha's life who wanted to selflessly help her.

there is a moment, in a child's life, when they see a parent clearly for the first time.