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chrissv4mp · 4 months ago

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october 27

don't give a fuck where the penis been —

– hold me down when a hole need dick...

her large hands held you so gently, a huge contrast to the way her cock roughly fucked you from behind. your pussy swallowed her so perfectly, so willingly with no resistance, you were just perfect for her, so wet. her hand squeezed your ass gently, probably just like she'd done for every other girl at these after parties, but she made you feel like you were the only girl in the world whenever she chose you. her other hand was in your hair, stroking gently as she whispered the sweetest things in your ear imaginable, "pretty, you're takin' me so well. ts' why you're my favorite."

you cried out softly at her words, nails scratching the wall as your forehead fell against the cool tiles. you didn't care who or where the fuck her dick had been in before this, all you cared about was that it was in you right now. she was in you right now, and her attention was solely on you. her lips trailed hot kisses from the little skin on your back that you top exposed all the way up to your lips, the hand in your hair turning your head so that your swollen lips could meet her pretty pink ones. as you kissed her, you forced yourself to believe that you were her favorite. you convinced yourself that she'd never said that to any other girl before. only you.

her breath on your lips made you shiver, the strangled grunts falling from her lips right into yours. you reached behind your head to grab at her hair, tugging softly as you tried to stifle your noises, reminding yourself that you were in a public restroom and that anyone could walk in and hear the filthy noises coming from the large stall furthest from the door. your legs trembled, knees almost buckling under the pleasure of her cock sliding in your walls so harshly. every time you blinked, you saw stars and colors behind your eyelids. all you could think of was her. billie. billie motherfucking eilish.

"yup, jus' like that." she coos, lips pulling away from yours just to watch the way your hips roll against her dick. her own hips are relentless, smacking against your ass and making you take her until the base, just for her to pull out and repeat the action over and over until all you could scream were the syllables of her name, "no one's fuckin' you like this except me?" she asks, her mind hazy and thoughts scattered from the alcohol she had consumed since the beginning of the party. neither of you knew how much you'd had to drink. you shake your head feverishly, shuddering as she tugs your head back by your hair, "you sure?"

"no—mm.. nobody b-but'chu." you murmur, eyes rolling back as she hits a spot deeper than before. the burning feeling in your lower stomach is too much to bare as she repeatedly hits that spot over and over until your juices are leaking on her dick and dripping down your thighs. she quickly catches you as your knees buckle, her hands gentle but tight on your hips as she keeps you upright. the way she chuckles lowly in your ear only adds on to the floating feeling you get when you cum, endless incoherent babbles falling from your lips and into the empty restroom, "y'love me?" you whisper, voice shaky and quiet and almost unheard by the girl holding you so closely.

but she hears. she hears loud and clear the rushed words that spill from your mouth and out into the open air. her heart beats rapidly in her chest, and she's almost afraid that you can hear it. the only thing you do hear is her labored breaths, her hands only tightening their grip on your hips until she's sure she'll leave bruises that won't leave until a week after, "bill—" you cut yourself off when you feel her kiss your sweaty shoulder, her lips so soft against your skin. you feel the smirk when she speaks, and you can hear it in her tone, "i do—love... i love you."

KINKTOBER

@mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @mxqdii @cannibalsclass @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @hrtsdollie @zayluvss

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henrycangelbaby · 6 months ago

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In which: This is not going well. He remembers what Y/N said—that he enjoyed scratches behind his ears, although he's pretty sure she had referred to them as "scratchies.”

Logan has to learn to get along with the newest family member.

Logan isn’t always resistant to change; in fact, he would do about anything for his lover, for his Y/N. He spends most of his nights watching the garbage TV of the modern family that she loves, and he even let her get pink tiles in the bathroom when they moved in together, but this might be too far.

He knows something’s up as soon as he walks through the door. Y/N usually comes running to greet him with a sweet kiss, or if not, he can usually hear her stomping around upstairs doing God knows what. But today, he doesn't hear anything immediately when he opens the door, and Y/N certainly isn't there to greet him.

As he steps further into the house, he tries to pick up on any sounds. Is that water running? It's a little early for Lovie to be having her nighttime shower, but perhaps a change in routine was called for. As he approached the sound, he realized that it wasn’t the shower; in fact, it was the sink in the bathroom. He could see her back facing him as she hunched over the sink, muttering to herself.

“Y/N?”

She quickly jumped at the unexpected sound, splashing water before turning around.

“Hey, love.”

He quirked an eyebrow. She sounded rather guilty.

“Is everything okay, baby?” he asked, peering over her shoulder to try and get a glimpse of what she was doing.

“Yeah, everything—”

He cut her off before she could finish. “Is that a cat?”

In the sink that he was standing in front of, he swore for just a second that he could see a sopping wet cat shivering in the middle of it. She finally relented quickly, turning around to pick up the tiny thing and pulling it tight into her chest, causing her shirt to quickly be soaked with soap and water.

“Actually, no, Lo, it’s a kitten,” she continued quickly, “and his name is Squish, thank you.”

“Baby, why the fuck do you have a kitten?”

He could be mad; she looked so cute standing there holding the tiny thing close to her, just like a protective mother.

“I found him, and he was all alone. He looked so sad; I couldn't just leave him there, Lo.”

Okay, he definitely wasn’t mad; how could he be when his baby had been doing something so sweet and loving? He hummed.

“So his name is Squish?”

Y/N lit up instantly. “Yes! Isn’t he the cutest?”

He nodded vaguely along, checking out the kitten closely. It was pretty cute, with white and red fur and big round eyes that peered up at him longingly. He was a little hesitant to reach out and pet ‘Squish’ just yet, but perhaps admitting his cuteness was the first step to that. He shook his head gently when Y/N offered for him to hold the kitten; that was definitely a while in the future.

The start of their relationship was rocky; Squish truly was very cute and made his baby very happy, but the kitten hadn't exactly taken a keen liking to Logan. Perhaps this cat was super smart or something, but he felt like the cat could tell something was up, could tell that he wasn't entirely normal. And listen, it wasn't entirely unjust; he had caught Logan whipping his claws out once completely on accident, but he had felt so guilty for scaring the little guy that he had fed him for a week just to win his trust back.

But it wasn’t just that; whenever Y/N wasn't around, Squish was, well, rather cold towards him. Perhaps it was rather silly of him to read into the emotions and feelings of an actual cat, but he felt that he should be closer to the thing. They did have quite a bit in common, more than he was willing to admit, much to his dismay. But no matter their common ability to ruin furniture, he couldn't quite understand the thing. It wouldn't matter if it was anything else, but this little kitty meant so much to his lover that he felt rather guilty about their mutual distaste for each other.

It goes on like this for a little while; they tiptoe and walk on four legs around each other for a little while, Logan embarrassingly unsure how to handle the little cat except for feeding it every day in hopes of it taking more of a liking to him. Things do not change for weeks.

Y/N has to go out of town for a few nights; she promises to call him every night (after teaching him his way around FaceTime) and makes sure he has Squish’s routine down pat. She leaves early in the morning, giving him a quick kiss on the lips and a somewhat crushing hug before she does the same for their cat and leaves out the door.

And suddenly they are alone together. He feels like a deadbeat father, unsure how to handle hanging out with his kid. Feeding it and then leaving it to its own devices. However, he finds himself rather lonely; of course, he finds things to do. He sees some friends, fixes the broken shelf in the bedroom, and considers what color he should consider painting the bathroom. He finds himself a little lonely; he is the only human in the house, and the only other creature seems to be avoiding him if it's not dinner time.

On day three of Y/N's absence (not that he's counting), he sits alone on the couch. He has eaten a rather pathetic dinner and now sits watching an episode of Modern Family on basically zero volume. The little guy comes trotting into the room. Despite the cat being about the same size as his hand, he can hear its little paws clicking on the ground, or perhaps he is more in tune with his supersense than he thinks.

Squish jumps up, settling onto the opposite end of the couch to Logan. He reaches out to pat Squish, but he gets quickly rejected as the cat shakes off his pat before turning around. This is not going well. He remembers what Y/N said—that he enjoyed scratches behind his ears, although he's pretty sure she had referred to them as "scratchies.”

Fuck it, it was time for him to give Squish some scratchies. He reached out and carefully patted the cat behind the ears. The little guy quickly leaned his head into Logan's hands, rubbing against them with what he could swear was a small smile. Squish moved closer to him, placing his furry head on Logan's thigh. This was nice.

He had opened the floodgates, and now there seemed to be no stopping them. Squish went everywhere that he went, always following Logan around, running around at his feet. He had also taken to sleeping in the bed with Logan. Logan was rather obsessed with having the little thing sleeping on his bicep or chest. Squish had taken residence on his thighs during their now shared TV time and had taken to meowing outside the bathroom when he spent too long in the shower thinking about his Y/N (Squish had ruined his pace at least once with the meowing, but Logan had quickly forgiven him, scared that he had traumatized the kitten again).

In all his excitement, he hadn't told Y/N about this new development in his relationship with her baby. Of course, he had been texting her more often than not—all they had been saying was “I miss you” and “I love you more,” and their phone calls had often consisted of too much talking.

After what seemed to be a lifetime, Y/N came home. She had texted him that morning letting him know her estimated arrival time, but he had jumped to his feet when he had heard her car pull up in the driveway, quickly swooping up Squish in his left arm before rushing to pull the door open. He grinned at her.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, Lo,” she replied before he pulled her into his arms, hugging her close to his chest. He kissed her on the head.

“I missed you."

"I missed you too, love.”

He shut the door behind her as she turned to face him and gasped in surprise.

“My baby!” she somewhat squealed in excitement, and she reached for the kitten, pulling him into her chest and kissing him multiple times on the head.

“I see you are getting along well,” she grinned at Logan. He felt his cheeks heat up.

“Yeah, we've been hanging out,” he shrugged.

She reached up for his collar and pushed their lips together. He smiled into the kiss. God, he loved his Y/N (and their Squish).

Squish’s clinginess towards him tampered down once his mommy was home. The kitten still sleeps in the bed with them and often rests himself on Logan's thigh, but he has stopped following Logan around wherever he goes. Y/N has definitely noticed their newly formed bond; she often catches them snuggled together when she gets up to pee in the middle of the night and has to stop herself from cooing every time Logan picks him up, dwarfing the little guy in his big hands.

Late one night, Y/N is in the shower, and Logan finds himself alone with the cat. He picks up Squish, pulling him next to his face and kissing the small guy.

“My baby,” he mutters. “My baby, tiny baby,” he utters quietly, gently kissing the kitten on the head.

God, he was down bad.

#deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan x you #ryan reynolds #wolverine fic #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fluff #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fanart

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hotchnerwrites · 19 days ago

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Two Inches Away

◁ part one

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 0.8k

Warnings: SFW, established relationship, domestic fluff

A/N: i couldn't resist writing a follow-up and including the part about Hotch using touch as an indication he should come closer. yet another day goes by where i wish soft aaron was real and mine, sigh. enjoy reading! much love to anon especially for the inspiration <3

Dividers by @/strangergraphics-archive My requests are open :) Send me stuff! Images from Pinterest

7 months later

The heat wakes you. Your body feels clammy with sweat, and the thin tee you wore to sleep sticks to your skin. As you turn to check the clock on your bedside table— 04:00 am— you notice that the other side of the bed is empty. It hadn’t been that way a few hours earlier. You rub the sleep from your eyes as you swing yourself into an upright position.

The door creaks gently as you slip out. The house is still, save for a faint hum from the refrigerator. The only source of light is an orange glow coming from the study.

Must be time for annual reports again.

Silverware clinks softly as you dig through the kitchen cabinets for a bowl. The cool tile beneath your feet grounds you, and you turn to open the freezer. The ice cream is soothing; it’s what you need to cool off from the humidity. As you lick the spoon, your eyes flicker to the closed study door. You wonder if you should grab another bowl, but Aaron doesn’t need ice cream right now. Not when he’s buried in paperwork like this.

One of the first things Aaron showed you when you moved in with him was how to brew the perfect cup of coffee. You’d never liked the taste of caffeine, but Aaron changed your mind. There was a world of difference between burnt instant coffee and properly brewed espresso. So, you grab the coffee beans, a ritual the two of you now share. It’s one you know he needs, even on the warmest nights, when most would go for something cold. The cup of coffee was his comfort, something to keep the world at bay when it got too heavy.

The rich aroma fills the space as the machine hums to life. It’s just coffee, you muse, but it feels important. In the same way that Aaron knows how you like your eggs made just so, you’ve memorised his little quirks too.

When it’s ready, you grab the cup and your bowl and head to the study.

You don’t knock. Just walk in like you always do.

Aaron’s seated at his desk, shoulders tense under the weight of whatever he’s working on now. He looks up as you walk in, his gaze softening at the sight of you, cup extended in his direction.

“Why’re you awake?” His voice is low but carries that familiar undercurrent of affection.

Always so worried about you.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” you tease, setting the coffee down in front of him. He doesn’t drink it immediately; it’s too hot. But his fingers brush the side of the cup, warmth leeching into his skin.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his quiet amusement. Aaron’s always been like that— unhurried, content to exist beside you. The kind of love that’s felt in the stillness, in the small gestures.

You pull up a chair next to him. The ice cream is melting in your bowl. The minutes tick by slowly, punctuated by the sounds of Aaron’s pen scratching and your spoon clinking against the bowl. The quiet stretches between you both like an invisible thread, before Aaron leans back slightly in his chair. Without looking up from the papers, his hand reaches over and steals a spoonful of ice cream from your bowl. His thumb brushes against your wrist as he takes it, the light touch enough to make you shiver just a little.

You let the contact linger. You know what’s coming next, even before he pulls your foot toward him with a gentle tug.

Aaron looks at you then. His eyes are like two drops of the coffee he so loves to drink in a cloud of milk. He looks tired, you think. Not from the lack of sleep but from the unending pile of files he takes on. You wonder if the team knows that they get less paperwork because Aaron bears the brunt of it.

He blinks, a million expressions flitting across his face in a flash.

��You’re too far away,” he says quietly, voice rough.

He doesn’t wait for an answer; he doesn’t need to. The pressure against your ankle becomes more insistent.

You don't argue. You let yourself be pulled in closer, drawn to him without a single spoken word.

He leans in, resting his head against your shoulder. His familiar scent fills your senses— faint notes of aftershave and laundry detergent.

Aaron moves his hand to rest it against your thighs. His thumb traces light patterns onto your skin.

The weight of the world slowly slips away as your eyes begin to flutter shut.

“You should sleep,” Aaron mumbles, not moving from your embrace. His tone— gravelly but warm— belies his words. He doesn’t want you to leave him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reply softly. That’s all it takes.

He doesn’t have to ask you to stay. He doesn’t need to. You’re already here.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

ps. anyone catch the movie reference?

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds x reader #hotchnerwritescm #hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you fluff #criminal minds x you #👩🏻‍🦰-asks

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meganegatari · 11 months ago

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i have this stupid idea in my head and it won't leave- ugh ok imagine this. y'know how in those rom-coms there's a moment where the main characters partner will throw rocks at the mc's window to get their attention. and then crawl inside the mc's room after almost dying climbing up by the nearby tree, scaling the roof tiles and almost tripping. i can't unsee some type of modern!ellie doing exactly that.... imagine her cutie self scurrying around your yard to find little tiny pebbles that won't scratch the glass and pelting them, all you hear is clink, clink, clink. then you open your window like "girl what??" and she stares up at you on the second floor asking if you two can chat, "please lemme in?" such a cutie. IMAGINE SHE BRINGS HER GUITAR TO SERENADE YOU AS WELL. oh gosh and then climbing up. you wouldn't even be able to watch, lest she slips and splats on the ground. and she almost does, being adorably klutzy, fingers slipping as she hoists herself up the branches, then balances across your roof and almost dies once more. and she makes it yayyy!! you cannot resist opening the window to let her in, partly because she's so silly, and partly because you didn't want her to slip and die leaving. however!! it is also nighttime and y'all gotta be quiet, whatever it is you may be doing once she's successfully made the journey. DO I WRITE THIS FR??? months ago i used to write these little ideas and never take them anywhere but i dunno....maybe i'll twist something outta this one eventually, unlike the other few oops. but like i really do love this idea- just might make something with it one day we shall see heheh...

edit: i wrote it here you go

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satoriberry · 1 year ago

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Higuruma Hiromi is a cat.

No. That's not the correct verb.

Higuruma Hiromi behaves like a cat. Occasionally. Well, it only happened once.

Higuruma Hiromi, a man who lives up to the reputation he doesn't even know he created for himself a while back, never ceased to amaze you. He amazed you a first time when he correctly guessed your favourite skittle without even knowing your name ("You have the face of someone who would enjoy grape skittles.").

He amazed you a second time when he technically won a case and managed to score his client a one-month house arrest instead of a decade in jail after proving her innonence with nothing but tax return receipts as his golden piece of evidence. He amazed you a third time when you watched him ride a mechanical bull and manage to stay still as a statue the whole ride - not even whobbling when he got off.

A few dozen (read: hundred) more shocks and synonyms of the word "wow" later, you found yourself cohabiting a cozy apartment with him, one that conveniently allowed him to dodge public transport and bask in the crisp morning air on his way to his firm, then lackadaisically gaze at the moon on the way back. Nevertheless, Hiromi didn't find himself any more chipper or excited about going to slave in an office than he was before.

It had been a while since Higuruma has done something major that made you ogle him with a mixture of fear and wonder, ergo, amazed you. It had been a while since he's wowed you, but that didn't make you love him any less. It may actually be quite the opposite: ever since you made the mutual decision of living together, you believe you've become even more charmed by the man. His painfully bland yet charged lifestyle was practically the whole reason behind you sighing dramatically with heart eyes whenever someone mentioned the first two syllables of his name.

However, Hiromi managed to update the surprise score you had in your brain just for him, and, for the first time in a while, made you wonder what exactly was he made of.

9:56 AM.

You stood in the kitchen, palms on the marble counter's edge and eyes drooping every few seconds as you tried to resist the urge to sleep, and the only noises that kept you somewhat awake came from the chirping of birds outside your balcony doors, the typical Saturday traffic and the faint sizzle produced by the waffle maker you had plugged in.

You chose to skip some sleep, that was now starting to sound much more appealing than it did previously, and cook up an elaborate breakfast to avoid the avocado toast and coffee combo you and him have been having out of convenience for the past 10 days or so. You were waiting for the waffles to be done so you could move on to the other food items.

You reached for the egg tray and held one in either hand, contemplating the cook that you were going to go for, then horror struck as you heard your shared bedroom door creak, followed by the sound of irregular footsteps against the wooden tiles. He was already up. Feeling a bit betrayed and looking visibly deflated, you replaced the eggs on the tray and went back to staring at the red light that indicated that the waffles were still cooking.

The footsteps became louder as Hiromi approached your figure, rubbing his eyes with the ends of his palms, completely mute aside from the "ouch" he let out after bumping the island.

"Morning sleepyhead," you greeted him with similar fatigue in your grin, enjoying the sight of him manouevring rather terribly. You didn't move, awaiting the back-to-chest embrace he made a habit of offering you every time the occasion presented itself. However, you didn't get one. You didn't feel two warms arms wrap around your midriff, nor did you feel a jaw being placed on one of your shoulders.

You simply felt a nudge on your neck. More correctly, you felt a series of nudges, pokes and nuzzling motions on the side of your neck, accompanied by his bedhair scratching your ear multiple times. You additionally felt him rub his boney cheek against your shoulder's exposed skin, uncovered by the baggy shirt you had on.

He was rubbing his face against you. Like a cat.

You were certain of that due to the familiar bump of his hooked nose jabbing you gently, and rubbing along the expanse of your neck in a vertical motion. All this with his eyes glued shut despite wiping the life out of them a few moments ago.

You breathlessly giggled at the ridiculousness of....whatever this was. "Hiromi, don't take this the wrong way but, what on Earth are you doing?"

He made a bizarre grunt, but no words came out of his mouth. He contently kept tilting and pushing his face into your shoulder, his body stiff and arms dead on either side. A few times, you felt him push the top of his head in the junction between your shoulder and neck, as if he was spreading his atoms all over you. The feeling of his somewhat spikey morning hair made you emit a perplexed chuckle.

After what felt like a century, he switched gears and began peppering light kisses that started at the cap of your shoulder and made a trail to behind your ear, where he placed a final peck before patting your head and making to the bathroom, croakily mumbling, "Morning angel."

Just as you were doing before, you stood in the kitchen silently, body still and palms on the countertop's edge. Yet contrary to earlier, you were gobsmacked, absolutely lost as to what the fuck your will-be husband just did. Your eyes didn't leave the spice rack that was in direct line with your vision, and your jaw was still floored by the feline assault you just went through. It wasn't until the waffle maker's light switched to green with a clicking sound that you snapped out of your shock-induced stupeur, and began moving again.

Scratching your head in a cartoony manner, you walked to the bathroom whose door was completely ajar and showed that Hiromi was almost over with his morning routine, splashing water on his face to rinse off the ridiculously priced cleanser you persauded forced him to get.

Grabbing a towel from the rack, he patted his face dry a couple times before looking up at you with a mocking grin plastered on his features. Throwing the towel away haphazardly, he placed a callous palm on your shoulder and planted a brief kiss on your forehead, then proceeded to let you know just how good whatever it is that you're cooking up smelled, before heading off, leaving you a second time with no answer to your question.

Higuruma Hiromi was a man with a myriad of tricks up his sleeves, but waltzing up to you and acting like a needy cat wasn't something you could have predicated.

#berry.writes <3 #higuruma x reader #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #i drank so much water my tummy hurted #anyway!!#higuruma being babygirl because hot lawyers need to be adorable at times #theres a balance to it yknow #in hotness theres cuteness #and in cuteness theres hotness #amen #ayalations 1:98

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cognitivejustice · 5 months ago

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When we think of sustainable materials, bamboo, cork, recycled stone and reclaimed teak often come to mind. These building and surface materials are used extensively in both residential and commercial projects, enough to solidify them as the eco-friendly future of established architectural practices.

But what if we went even further? Creative and experimental designers worldwide are embracing much more unusual sustainable materials in a wide range of projects, be these sturdy floorboards and insulating panels, or small-scale decorative elements such as lamps, trays, vases and other furnishings. With designs hailing from Singapore and Indonesia, as well as distant studios in Italy and Palestine, here are the materials of tomorrow.

Mogu’s mycelium floor tiles

Mushroom filaments may not seem like the sturdiest base for hardwearing floors, but the Italian designers behind Mogu would argue otherwise. Transformed into resilient tiles appropriate for luxury residences and even commercial spaces, the mycelium structure is topped with a layer of bio-based resin, granting it resistance to scratches and abrasions rivalling traditional flooring materials.

Orange peel and pine needles make up the sustainable lampshades by Caracara Collective

Turning orange peel into useable furnishings and décor pieces is no small feat, yet the people behind the circularity-focused Caracara Collective in Finland have mastered this singular art. Inspired by the abundance of the natural, inherently sustainable materials around them, the designers created a series of lampshades made of orange peel, as well as pine needles from discarded Christmas trees.

As the collective puts it: “It takes around 20 squeezed oranges to create one lampshade. In other words, each lampshade is the by-product of someone drinking two litres of orange juice.”

Markos Design’s Ostra lamp, made of discarded oyster shells

Discarded oyster shells are similarly repurposed on the island of Cyprus, transformed by Markos Design into Ostra, a ceramic-like biomaterial. Ostra is worked into statement lamp designs, naturally hardwearing thanks to the oysters’ high concentration of calcium carbonate, which also lends cement and concrete considerable strength.

#solarpunk #solar punk #reculture #solarpunk aesthetic #eco-design #materials innovation #solarpunk futures

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m1dnyt3-w0lf · 7 months ago

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Good Puppy Part 4:

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

⚠️WARNING: NSFW, SMUT⚠️

Summary: You and Miguel share quite the morning

You felt something press against your crotch in just the right way. It felt solid enough to give you some traction. You figured your blanket must've bunched up and started to rub against you. In your sleepy state, you lazily started to grind against it. You loved the small shocks of pleasure that shot through your body. You weren't exerting too much energy, but you were definitely building up to your orgasm rather quickly. Your breathing started to labor as you slowly chased your climax. Oh gods, you were so clo—

“A-amor,” came a rugged, and extremely raspy deep voice. It sounded strained and desperate. Then, a large hand grabbed and gripped your hips to still your movements. Your eyes snapped open, meeting Miguel's immediately.

Then, to your horror, you realized you were grinding on his cock.

You tried to get off him, but his grip on you rendered you immobile. “W-wait,” he said through clenched teeth.

This is embarrassing! You thought to yourself. How could you forget you were sharing a bed with him? And how did you end up with your crotch against his?! Your cheeks flushed red, unsure of what to do. You still felt so turned on, and the thought of not finishing nearly made you cry. On the other hand, you were literally on Miguel's dick. Sweats aside, obviously.

Slowly, Miguel lifted your leg off over his hip and scooted you back to your side of the bed. You nearly whined at the loss of warmth and contact. However, your now awake brain forced your legs to close immediately, shame making it hard to meet Miguel's eyes. His hand lingered on your thigh for only a moment before it gently slid off. He cleared his throat and rolled over, giving you an unintentional view of him. You felt your cheeks flush even more.

How big is he?! You thought as you watched him stiffly walk out of the room, leaving you to your flustered and horny thoughts.

Miguel had to resist the urge to drag you back onto him and rut into you. Instead, he shoved a hand into his sweatpants pocket and waddled out while doing his best to hold down his erection. Embarrassment flooded him as he quickly hurried to the bathroom, making sure not to tear the door off its hinges while locking it. As soon as the lock clicked into place, he slipped his sweats down and spat on his dick to lubricate the fast pace his hand moved along his shaft, softly moaning your name. The feel of you against him lingered and had his mind reeling. Shock, he could still smell you. A growl emitted from his throat. The claws in his free hand unsheathed and scratched at the wall he braced himself on. His breathing immediately labored with moans on the cusp of his throat. A whine managed to escape him, his hand moving as fast as he could comfortably go.

“Shock!” He gasped out, giving a few final pumps as his load once again covered the bathroom tiles. Miguel surveyed the mess. He could've sworn there was more than last time. He barely managed to squeeze out a groan through his heavy breathing. He couldn't handle this for much longer.

You couldn't handle this for much longer. You bit into your forearm, muffling your moan as you came. The climax had your thighs shaking and left you gasping for breath through your forearm. Gentle, muffled moans slowly spilled out of you as each wave of pleasure rolled through your body. As you came down from your high, the image of Miguel pounding into you slowly disappeared from your mind. You released your arm from its hold and sighed heavily. Your chest rose and fell at a slowly decreasing pace. At the same time, your guilt began to eat at you. You not only grinded on Miguel but also masterbated to the thought of him. And now…and now…

Oh you were in trouble.

You sat up in bed, eyes wide as the realization hit you. You quickly got out of bed and rushed to your luggage to pull out baby wipes and fresh clothes. If it weren't for the flush your body still carried from your climax, you'd be going flush at the sudden thoughts filling your head.

You were in so much trouble.

You could not be crushing on Miguel right now! While fake dating him?! And in your family home?! No, no, no, no! You don't even know if he liked you!

The thought halted you, leaving you with one leg halfway through your pants. If he liked you? Where did that come from? Of course he didn't! He's…he's just a friend. You put your pants on slowly after that. Just a friend. Yeah.

We're just friends.

We're just friends. Miguel thinks as he cleans up the last of his load off the floor. He looked over the tiles, making sure he cleaned up well. This was just a mistake. You weren't thinking straight. You were still sleeping. You didn't know.

He definitely didn't know all of this because he was already awake.

No, of course not.

And he definitely wasn't already staring at you.

Why would he do that?

Let alone staring at you as the morning sun shined down upon your skin, giving you an ethereal glow like some kind of angel.

Why in the world would he do that?

He, for sure, was not just letting you grind against his morning wood and letting the pleasure roll over him until he started to get close, and he barely had half a mind to even think about stopping you.

Who would do such a thing?!

Miguel groaned, uselessly pumping his once again hardened cock. He leaned down onto the floor, using his forearm as a crutch to barely hold himself up. He panted and softly whined at the sensitivity. He just couldn't help himself. Feeling you against him drove his mind wild. Something he's dreamt of finally made a reality, even if you weren't in your right mind.

Miguel moaned your name, panting and drooling onto the floor. Shock, how would you feel naked against his own naked skin? How would you sound moaning—no, screaming—his name? How would that mouth of yours take his girth? Would you try to hilt it or choke trying? He moaned again, thrusting into his hand pitifully. Much too soon, he came again. He bit into his forearm to muffle the animalistic grunts he released.

He needed to do something about these thoughts. The more he pretended to be your boyfriend, the more he wanted to be your boyfriend. He thought if he could just get through this weekend it’d be fine.

It is, very obviously, not fine! He thinks bitterly as he once again starts cleaning up his mess on the floor with one hand, shoving his now softened dick back into his sweats with the other. How was he going to talk to you about this after what just happened? It'll just make it seem like he only caught feelings after the fact. Then what would happen? You'd probably disappear from his life for sure.

Miguel washed his hands and splashed his face with cold water a couple of times. He dried off and looked at his reflection. His sclera appeared to be tinted red, and his irises had gone from his usual dark brown to a bright red. His eyes widened.

“Shock.” He was quick to exit the bathroom and rush back to your shared room. How could he forget—

—to lock the door?!

You screamed when Miguel barged in, making him shout in alarm and stumble back out and slam the door on his way out.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” you said in a hurried panic. You were fully dressed. You were just given such a fright at the sudden barge in. You held a hand over your heart and felt it beat hard against your chest.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see anything if you're worried about that.” Miguel called through the door. You roll your eyes, letting out a soft chuckle as the fright subsides. You walk over and open the door, opening your mouth to say something.

Only for your words to die in your throat.

Miguel was towering over you and leaning against the door frame with one arm, his free hand planted firmly on his hip. Despite the morning light, his face seemed shrouded in shadow, his eyes seeming to glow red and stare right into your own eyes. Your arousal came crashing down on you like a speeding truck. A gasp left your throat. You felt your cheeks heat with the usual pink hue. You felt so small against his large frame.

Miguel's eyes squinted slightly before slowly roaming your figure. A pleasant shiver crawled down your spine. His eyes developed a sort of hungry look. His eyes traveled back up just as slowly. You felt like he was eating you alive, and you loved it. His eyes met yours, and for a brief second, you could see exactly what he was thinking.

“Miguel?” Came your mother's voice. Miguel looks away, his demeanor changing into a completely new person as if shape-shifting. You gasped out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

“Hello.” Miguel says in a normal tone with a polite smile on his face despite the hungry look he had just given you.

“What was that screaming I just heard? Is my Junebug okay?” Shit, you worried your mother.

“They're fine, I just gave them a little fright, is all.” He says with a chuckle. “Right, mi amor?” His gaze slips to you, the same hungry stare clouding his vision from before. You gulp and take a second to find your voice.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah.” You stutter out.

“See?” His gaze slides back to your mother, the hunger gone.

What did that stare mean? And why do I like it?! You thought in a daze.

“I'm not dressed for such an occasion, but I'm sure they are!” Miguel said, emphasizing his words by looking at you.

“Wait what?” You manage to say before he grabs you and pulls you out of the room.

“Hey!” Then he pushes you towards your mother.

“Miguel!” He didn't respond. Instead, all you heard was the slam of your room door. You were left standing in the hallway with your mother, staring at her with wide eyes and in utter shock. Your mother, on the other hand, had a gleeful expression and clapped her hands together.

“Oh, thank you, Junebug!” She exclaimed as she hurried over and pulled you into a crushing hug. For an older lady, your mother sure had some strength. “I'll get the coffee ready, and you can help me make breakfast!”

“Oh, uh, Mom, wait-” You didn't have a chance to say anything more, dragging you away as she talked your ear off.

Miguel listened to you both walk away. Once he was sure you weren't coming back, he rushed to his luggage and opened it, nearly ripping it completely in the process. He tossed his things out without care. Eventually, he found what he was looking for: a small, gun-like contraption. A little more rummaging, and he found a case. The case was not as lucky as the luggage, being ripped apart in his desperation. He took out one of the vials and quickly loaded it into the contraption. He barely had a mind to aim it before pulling the trigger. A small grunt egged out of him as the needle pierced his skin, and that familiar cooling sensation began to run through his veins, spreading from his shoulder to the rest of his body. His clenched jaw and shoulders relaxed, and his heavy panting fell to more gentle pants. A sigh of relief finally escapes him.

“Shock.” The morning was off to a terrible start. Miguel didn't even want to think about the thoughts that filled his mind when you opened the door. “I'm in so much trouble.”

Part 5

Likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome!

Tags: @crocs-blogs @madschiavelique @arithestrawberry @eveandtheturtles @obi-mom-kenobi @thelaundrybitch @symmetricalkazekage @raphsmuneca

#m1dnyt3 w0lf #m1dnyt3 w0lf fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x gn reader #gn reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut #friends to lovers #there was only one bed

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ventiques2011 · 4 days ago

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

Note

can you do some bratty reader x johnny cage :33 need him so bad 😭

HELLS YEA I CAN

(Also because it wasn't specified which Johnny, I'm gonna go with MK1 because the things I would do to with this man--)

Bad Kitten

Johnny Cage x Bratty!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, SMUT, bratty!reader, bit of a dom!Johnny (but not much), pool sex, teasing, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, dirty talk

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

💵💵💵💵💵💵💵💵💵💵

Being Johnny Cage's girlfriend had its perks.

Living in Malibu in his gorgeous mansion was one of them. As well as having a bomb ass pool that went all the way inside the house, too.

It was no biggie to pop in for a swim whenever you wanted to engage in your "fish instinct brain" that Johnny called it. In fact, when Johnny couldn't get a hold of you while he was on set, or you weren't answering he knew he could find you floating in the pool, one of your favorite shows playing on the TV nearby as you lazily kicked your feet about in the water.

You were a bombshell, a true prize, Johnny would tell everyone.

But the one thing that confounded him the most, was your bratty and playful personality. You were a smartass, a bit of a prankster, and a maddening tease.

An intoxicating cocktail that he couldn't resist (and found stupidly sexy).

But sometimes... You needed some reminding as to who you were playing with. And right now was one of those times.

He crossed his arms as he looked down at you, his shoes just inches from the edge of the pool, his expensive silk shirt wet and damp from where you splashed him, soles squeaking on the expensive tile.

"C'mon, Kitten..." He said, crossing his arms over his chest, frowning down at you, a bite to his tone.

"Because of you, I have to go change now. We're gonna miss our reservations."

"So?" You grin up at him, doing a lazy backstroke, thrusting your chest up out of the water so your breasts were on display, your bikini top leaving little to the imagination.

You could see his Adams apple bob in his throat as he licked his lips. You couldn't see his glasses behind his shades, but you knew damn well what he was looking at.

"Baby, c'mon..." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Nah. Fish brain demands water." You laugh, kicking your foot out and splashing water onto his shoes, causing him to step back with a sputter.

Somewhere along that time, Johnny slipped on the water you'd splashed earlier, landing flat on his ass and sending his glasses skittering across the floor.

"All right, that's it!" Johnny growled, moving to get back on his feet.

"You are in for--" He was cut off when your bikini top came flying at him and hit him square in the face.

His mouth dropped open when he looked at you, the setting sun casting fiery colors on the water, reflecting up onto the walls in a mystical array of patterns, the light of the sunset illuminating around you as you spun in the water, a cheeky grin on your face as your breasts freely bobbed in the water.

"In for what, baby?" You purr, sticking your tongue out at him. "Gotta catch me if you wanna get your point across..."

Johnny gave you a grin that sent a thrill down your spine, and he started pulling his clothes off.

💵💵💵💵💵💵💵💵💵💵

"I'm soo-oo-rrr-rrryyy!" You whimpered, squirming to get free from his relentless grasp.

"Nope. Nuh-uh." Johnny said casually, as he rolled and pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger. Your bikini bottoms had long since been untied, floating somewhere in the pool.

He had been at it for nearly an hour and a half. Your bodies were already pruning, but that didn't stop him.

"You got my floor wet, Kitten." Johnny sighed in your ear as he gave you another pinch, his other arm wrapped firmly around your waist, keeping your back pinned to his front.

"Got my clothes wet, made us miss our dinner reservation..." He rolled your clit beneath his water-wrinkled thumb.

"Made me drop my glasses, too. If those lenses are scratched... Well." He grinned into the skin of your shoulder.

"This is what happens to bad pussies, you know. You gotta learn your actions have consequences, babe."

You groaned at his crude metaphor, and made a shaky moan. Your throat was dry and scratchy, your tongue feeling like sandpaper from your whining, squealing, and moaning you'd done since he started this torture.

You felt the flames of your orgasm, so close to completely engulfing you, and you felt your heart speed up again at the promise of release.

But Johnny? Oh, he knew your body like that back of his hand, by now.

He knew how to read you the way a blind man reads a book written in braille; and he was always eager to study when it came to you.

And that, is precisely why he stopped, merely tapping his finger on your engorged clit, sighing as you thrashed, a needy sob coming from you as water splashed around you, your legs kicking weakly in protest.

"Johnny!" You cried, tears burning in the corners of your eyes.

"Mmm?" He hummed innocently, still tapping your clit in a way that was just pure torture, each point of contact sending lightning bolts striking up through you.

You could feel the hardness of his cock was pressed firmly against your ass, yet Johnny seemed perfectly content to ignore it in favor of driving you to the brink of insanity with just his fingers.

"God--just--fucking--" You cry, throwing your head back.

"Hey, now, keep talking like that and I'm gonna make sure you never get off." Johnny grinned at you, kissing your cheek.

"Johnny, I'm sorry--" You hiccuped pathetically. "Just please!"

"Please what, baby?" He cooed.

"Fu--please. Please please pleasepleaseplease let me cum."

"Aaaaaand?" He chuckled, swiping at your clit again.

"I'm sorry I got you wet!" You sobbed. "Ah-and--and made us miss d-dinner!"

"That's my girl! Knew you could do it!" He encouraged with a kiss to your shoulder.

When he pulled his hand away from your, you whined, thinking that he was messing with you and wouldn't give you the relief he had been teasing you with and yanking out of your fingers.

But when he spun you around and started to grind his cock against your folds in the water? You felt your mind get foggy with the promise of having his cock fuck you into oblivion.

"Been wanting to fuck you in the pool for a while." He grunted as you blindly reached down to line him up, sinking down so the tip of his cock popped into your aching hole.

Johnny tipped his head back with a deep groan that rumbled in his chest as you speared yourself down, nails biting into the wet skin of his shoulders, sliding down to leave deep red grooves in the skin.

"Goddamn, Kitten. You're so tight."

"Ah, god--fuck." You whine, desperately trying to get into a rhythm that you could settle into.

But it was hard. The slickness of the water made it difficult; awkward and hard to find purchase. You were getting frustrated now, and made an angry whine.

Johnny chuckled tightly and took pity on you, his feet planting on the tiles of the pool below (thankfully you were on the shallow end, right now) as he grabbed your hips.

He used the water to help him move you as he arched his back, thrusting up into you with vigor.

You squealed and doubled over as he rammed himself in mercilessly.

When he tipped his hips up in a certain way, your mind went blank with the white-hot pleasure that sparked in your blood. The flames of your orgasm that Johnny had been edging from you finally combusted, engulfing you in the choking flames with a frayed wail; your muscles clamping down on his cock as you wrapped your arms around his neck, sniffling from the overstimulation as he continued to slam up into you, his arms caging you against his chest.

"Fuck, so good for me, baby." He hissed through clenched teeth.

"Doing so. Fucking. Good." He grunted, punctuating each word with a harsh snap of his hips.

"Johhhnnnnyyyyy..." You mewled as his dick dragged in and out of your gummy walls.

"Fuck!" He rolled his eyes back with a deep moan, swallowing hard.

He knew he was going to cum soon, he never lasted long when you were this worked up and tight.

But damn, was it fun to work you up.

Johnny made a whimper in your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth, biting down as his orgasm started to crest.

He had the mental acuity enough to pull out before he started to cum, milky white ropes spurting out of his swollen and achy tip, lazily wafting about in the waves that splashed around the two of you.

You both almost collapsed, letting the push and pull of the water ease your muscles.

"...Im thinking we should order out tonight." Johnny grinned at you.

"Up for some Chinese?"

#answered #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you #johnny cage smut #johnny cage mk #johnny cage #johnny cage mk1

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hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

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kinktober !

kink: knifeplay

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader

wc: 3k

knifeplay: consensual BDSM edgeplay involving knives, daggers, and swords as a source of stimulation.

It was perfect. You had fake blood all over your room, staining your once blue sheets, but the costume was perfect.

For Halloween, your friends had decided to host a party at one of the dorms. You and your best friend, Jeongin, had decided it would be the best idea to dress up as Sidney Prescott and Ghostface. Your costume was quite easy - you already had an old denim jacket you could cover in blood, and a basic lilac top to go underneath it. When put together with a simple black pair of jeans, you felt completely ready. Your costumes were going to be the best.

The Instagram pictures would be amazing, too, you decided while walking to the party. You didn’t have a long way to walk, and it was quite amusing listening to the kids screaming for candy outside people’s doors - but all you could hope was that one of the members of 3Racha had actually cleaned the dorm this time, and not left it all on Hyunjin.

Music was already booming when you arrived, reverberating around your sober brain and making you wince. Would you regret coming here?

You realised you really did regret it, when the front door swung open and you were met with fox-like eyes in a… a fucking Pokemon trainer costume. Felix emerged from behind him, sharp yellow ears perched on his head and his cheeks covered in red.

“Listen,” Jeongin began, gloved hand reaching out to you. You sighed, shutting your eyes. “It was Felix’s idea. Look at him. He’s really convincing, and I’m sorry I didn’t text, but Chan’s put this stupid no phone ban on and-”

“Look!” Felix chirped, and when you finally saw him… well, you understood what Jeongin meant. He was in yellow dungarees, tail wrapped on a string around his waist and little ears bobbing with his glee. When he looked at you, his face fell. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. Did you guys have something planned, or-”

“No, not at all, Lixie,” You murmured, pulling him in for a hug. He really was so cute. No one could resist him. “I’ll find my Ghostface somewhere.”

Felix nuzzled into the hug, wrapping his arms around you, before he was squealing. “Seungmin’s dressed up as Ghostface! Oh, Innie, did you plan this?”

You blinked, turning to Jeongin. Seungmin was your arch nemesis, but only purely on the basis that you both had some heavily unresolved sexual tension. Jeongin wouldn’t do this to you - or so you thought, because when you looked at his face, he was looking extremely guilty. “I know you have some… issues, but it needs to end now. It’s making things awkward, and, and… you can take pictures together, y’know? Then be friends,” He was mumbling, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. His Pokemon hat obscured most of his face, but you could still see the pout on his lips. Fuck this. You had the two sweetest men in front of you apologising, expecting you to be angry at them, but even you weren’t that mean.

You sighed, finally pushing past the two figures to enter the party. You were immediately attacked by a black plastic streamer dangling from the ceiling, and you swatted it away with a grunt. “It’s fine. Let’s do the pictures, then.”

It had always been the plan - to take pictures all together before the party really got into full swing. You had a feeling you’d been a little late because there were already quite a few people there. Still, you diligently walked into the kitchen behind Felix and Jeongin anyway, where everyone was standing around, conversing.

There he was. Ghostface mask pulled halfway off of his head to reveal dark, menacing features and a black cloak draped over his slender figure. Chunky black boots made an echoing noise as he tapped his foot impatiently on the tile, sipping out of a glass with one gloved hand and the other holding - a knife. It glinted in the light as he spun it around with his fingers, playing way too comfortably with the blade. Oh. Oh, no. Someone was playing a practical joke on you.

“Is that knife real?” You squeaked, and Seungmin turned to you with a glare. “Like, it’s not a prop…? Why do you have a real knife?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, then his lips were curling upwards with a smile. “To finally kill you with.”

“Haha, that’s so funny,” You deadpanned, but half of you was considering if he was being genuine about it. It wouldn’t surprise you - he was a sadistic fuck, always had been since you met him. It was why you wanted him so bad. “Let’s take these pictures. I’m already over it.”

Felix fiddled with his camera, flicking off the lens cap and trying to get it in the perfect position on the counter. You scurried in front of Seungmin as he walked over after placing his cup aside. Once Felix had set the timer, he ran in front of the lens and clutched onto Jeongin. Oh, yeah. What was Seungmin supposed to do, given that you were matching?

You had your answer quickly. With one gloved hand, he pulled his mask down and pulled you into him by the waist, and then he was positioning the knife at your exposed collarbone. It nipped teasingly, the blade threatening to draw blood. You looked down in shock, only to see Seungmin’s hand confidently holding the handle - god, was he skilled with this? He hadn’t killed people, hopefully, but… what if he was into something like this?

Wetness pooled in your panties at the thought. It’s a kink straight out of your deepest, darkest desires. The idea of being too scared to move in case the knife bites at your skin, dripping crimson liquid down your body only to be lapped up by the blade again… yeah. It was hot, and for some reason, with your fake-enemy pressed against you, it was even hotter. You didn’t even blink when the flash went off, too focused on trying to keep your breaths even.

Seungmin dropped his hand once the picture was taken, and then he yanked the mask back again. He was staring at you with a bewildered expression, but he looked somewhat impressed. Pulling you to one side by your arm, he gripped your waist again, trapping you against the wall so he could whisper into your ear. “Did you get turned on when I held that knife to your neck?”

“No, what’s wrong with you-“

“I heard you holding your fucking breath,” Seungmin hissed. “That’s fucking insane, you know? Dressing up as Sidney and then getting all… like that. It’s like you wanted me to do it.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Seungmin’s eyes flitted around your face. “I was actually meant to match with Jeongin, so maybe I wanted him to.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Seungmin scoffed, rolling his eyes. He pinched his temples, and then he sighed. “I know you want to fuck me. God, I want to fuck you too, so bad. I’m sick of playing this stupid push and pull when I could be upstairs fucking you with this knife to your neck right now.”

Your eyes widened. You let out a puff of air, trying to find the words to say, but you only noticed that fuck, Seungmin was awfully close all of a sudden. His breath was heavy on your burning cheeks. When you looked around the room, you could see that no one had noticed the two of you - Felix was too busy still jumping around and Changbin and Jisung had dressed as Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. You wanted to coo at Changbin, his bulging arms so adorable in the little green dress and wings, but you were definitely more engrossed in what Seungmin had to say.

“The party. We can’t leave, you know?” You finally spoke, and Seungmin pulled back. You wanted to cry. He looked around the room, nodding, before he was pulling the mask back onto his face and obscuring his annoyingly perfect features.

“Half an hour. Jisung’s room, upstairs. Is that alright with you?” His voice was muffled, and you had to crane your head a bit to hear him. You nodded nonetheless, and he gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the crowd of dressed up men.

You sighed heavily. This was about to be the longest half an hour of your life.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Jisung’s room was chaotic. You had literally no idea why Seungmin had decided on his room out of everyone’s - surely Hyunjin’s would be better, or even Chan’s with the mood lighting? You opened the door anyway, entering the small room and stepping over piles of clothes to lay back on the bed. At least the bedsheets were cleaned. Jisung’s lamp was the only source of light, leaving the room basked in a creepy orange Halloween atmosphere. It definitely fitted the setting.

It had been exactly half an hour. Seungmin was late. Was he ever late? In your whole pseudo-friendship, you were sure he’d never been late, and-

The door burst open and a masked figure emerged. You jolted, sitting upright on your hands and blinking at the man in costume. It briefly crossed your mind that you couldn’t even be sure it was Seungmin, and then he was tearing the mask off, throwing it aside.

“It’s still me,” He said, tone soft. Was he a mind reader as well as a borderline psychopath? You nodded, wiggling forward on the bed when he sat across from you. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Did you bring the knife?” You responded. Seungmin burst out laughing, and then he was bringing it out from his jean pocket, beneath the cloak.

“You are very fucked up. Has anyone ever told you that?” He murmured. You stared at his gloved palms as he threw the knife aside, moving on the bed to pin you down against the mattress. You wiggled impatiently, spreading your legs to allow him between them. Your chest heaved, staring up at him with doe eyes as he blinked down at you.

“‘M not fucked up,” You mumbled, pouting. Seungmin chuckled.

“What was it Billy said in the movie again? ‘It certainly fucked you up, it made you have sex with a psychopath’? Is that not what’s happening right now, baby?” His breath was hitting your face again, and you just couldn’t help it this time. With one hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him down, pressing your lips against his in the filthiest kiss you’d ever shared. Seungmin groaned, hands meeting your waist and delving into your mouth with his tongue. You let him nibble into your bottom lip, let him nearly draw blood with his teeth until you were whining, bucking your hips up for more.

You whined, chasing his lips for more kisses. You heard fabric rustling, and then Seungmin was pressing an ice cold blade to your neck. You shifted immediately, laying back against the pillow and looking up at Seungmin obediently. He just smiled, appearing borderline menacing in the dim lighting of the room. You were so fucking wet.

“You do get off on this,” Seungmin mused. He leaned back on his ankles, letting the knife drag down your body. With a clean swipe, it was cutting through the fabric of your tank top and leaving you in just your bra. “Should I make you bleed, hm?”

“You can- you can do anything you want, Seungmin,” You sighed, arching your back to get more of the feeling of the blade against you. Seungmin bit his lip, dragging the blade down to your jeans. He wouldn’t be able to cut through that fabric - it’s too thick, he’d need something sharper. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head and then he was shaking his head, unbuttoning your jeans and yanking them down your legs. They balanced precariously on one ankle, and you kicked them off before eyeing Seungmin up and down. “Are you… gonna get naked, or?”

“I have different plans for tonight,” Seungmin replied quickly. He gripped the knife firmer this time, until he was dragging it down to your underwear. You knew you were wet, and you shut your eyes and moaned loudly when he pressed the blade into the wet spot forming in the fabric. You thanked every god that the music was still just as loud as earlier. “I’m going to finger you and play around with this knife. I don’t think you could handle more tonight.”

He was right. Another thing that irritated you beyond belief was the fact that Seungmin seemed to read your mind. First with your silly knife play kink, and now with the fact that you definitely couldn’t handle full blown sex tonight. You would’ve tried, and gotten yourself all fuzzy over it - but he knew better.

“Okay,” You agreed. He hummed once more, and then he hooked the blade into the lace of your underwear, cutting them off of your body. He was a bit heavy handed though, and your legs thrashed when the blade nicked your skin just a little, causing a small crimson red cut to bloom on your hip bone.

“Oh, would you look at that?” He ogled the cut, running his thumb over it. It made you whine in pain, yet he ignored you and thrust his thumb into your mouth. The taste was tangy, a bit too metallic for your liking but the whole thing was so fucking hot you couldn’t deny him anything. “Did you like that, too? Okay. We’ll explore that another time.”

Seungmin threw the knife aside once more, and then two long fingers were pressing into your folds. You laid there with legs spread, letting him explore every dip and crevice in your pussy and examine how wet you were. You knew you were dripping, and he did too - it was just a waiting game.

You squirmed, bucking your hips up. “I’m wet enough. I promise that I am, just-“

You gasped when he pressed the knife against your throat again. You hadn’t even seen him grab it. “Stay fucking still,” He warned. “I decide when you’re ready.”

Well, you could definitely get on board with that. Seungmin sunk his middle finger into you nonetheless, meeting no resistance. Your hole was dripping around him, leaking down to his knuckle and making him sigh in approval at the sight. He still had his gloves on, the faux leather buttery and smooth inside of your hole. “This pussy’s tight, huh?”

“I’d clench it for you,” You breathed out, letting one of your hands grab your tits over your bra. The knife was still pressed tightly against the column of your throat, but you managed to pull your tits out of the lace, making Seungmin’s eyes instantly flit down to your pebbled nipples. He started to thrust his finger inside of you, the material of his gloves dragging on your rim. “I’d- I’d clench around your cock, Seungie. Make it so tight for you.”

“Yeah?” Seungmin breathed. On his next thrust in, he pushed another finger in, and then he was curling two directly at that lovely spongy spot inside of you. “I’ll look forward to it, baby. Do my fingers feel good?”

“So good,” You gushed, tweaking your nipples with your fingers. “It’s so good, and- the knife, oh god-“

“Is it like you imagined, yeah?” He moved up to your side, easing his pressure on the blade so you could turn your head and kiss him. It was just as filthy, and he moaned in approval when your walls fluttered around his digits. When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected you both. “Maybe next time, I’ll fuck you with the handle of the knife.”

You keened, starting to bounce your hips against his hand. He obliged with your movements, pressing his palm up against your clit and letting you grind the sensitive bud into his calloused hand. It was just the right amount of soft and rough, making your toes curl in your socks and your orgasm build steadily, a white hot pleasure in your pussy.

“It’s- I need it-“

“God, do you even know what you need?” Seungmin chuckled, kissing your cheek. “I think you need to cum for me, don’t you?”

You nodded erratically, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. Seungmin dropped the knife to his opposite side once more, replacing it with a firm grip to your throat with his spare hand. The sight of his gloved digits around your throat and restricting your airflow had you wailing once more, gripping his wrist and grinding with renewed fervour.

“I think- oh, I’m gonna cum,” Your lips parted, letting out muted moans and whines at the feeling of his fingers inside of you. “Oh, yeah, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me then, no need to make a noise,” Seungmin was still amused, and you gasped before you were cumming. “That’s it, there you go.”

You felt your hole gush around his fingers, soaking the material of his gloves with white cum and your clit throbbing through your orgasm. It felt good, not only to cum but to also finally have some tension resolved with such a prominent person in your life.

When you finally came to, you were still gasping, breath heavy and burning your lungs with every exhale. You heard Seungmin coo at you, laying back and dragging you onto his chest.

“Good?” He questioned, and you nodded.

Then, something hit you. “Seungmin?” He hummed in response. “You cut my shirt open. What do I wear for the rest of the party?”

Seungmin stopped breathing, and then he burst out laughing, full body laughs wreaking havoc on his body.

“It’s not funny!” You whined, but you were giggling too, slapping his chest playfully.

“You can wear the cloak, baby,” He kissed your nose. “I have clothes on underneath.”

You hummed, nodding. “You still have to wear the mask though.”

“Fuckin’ freak,” He mumbled, but he was still grinning.

“You like it.”

Seungmin kissed you again, chaste and sweet. “Unfortunately, yes.”

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aciddrattboyy · 13 days ago

Text

Hҽ'ʂ Mყ Mαɳ

┆ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ - "obsessed stay at home wife unknowingly poisons her husband over time."

ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛꜱ: ★ Starring: Kento N. x F! Reader ★ Run Time: 1.5k ★ Genre/Warnings: [Rated R: Drama] angst? i guess?, obsessive reader thinking, unintentional poisoning altho not explicitly mentioned, thats perty much it ★ heavilyyy based off of hes my man by luvcat its an amazingly beautiful song and i recommend everynyan listens to it

▶▶

drip. drip. drip.

your perfectly manicured nails tap in rhythm with the leaky faucet against wooden table top where you sat in the dreary kitchen. the room was cast a dark grey, the cloudy skies and setting sun only adding to the sombre ambiance. glancing up at the clock, your frown only deepened.

8:52PM

the clock hands only seemed to mock you further. your husband should have been home by now. where was he? what was he doing? you start scratching at the table almost absentmindedly, the feeling of the wood resisting under your nails somewhat grounding. looking over at the stove, you let out a small huff of frustration. the dinner you had worked so hard on was already going cold. the corners of your lips pulled downwards even more and as you looked at the door you could feel your eyes prick with tears. god where was he?! he should have been home nearly two hours ago. what if he left you? what if he was gone from good?

drip. drip. drip.

with a frustrated grunt, you slam both of your hands against the table, relishing the pain as the wood bites at your skin. some part of you worried momentarily about splinters but that wouldn’t matter as soon as your loving husband came home. he would take care of you, just as he always did. you shoot up from the table, sending the chair flying back with a loud scrape against the tile floor, and walk over to the skin. hands gripping the edge of the counter tight, you tried to calm yourself. tried to calm the aching pain in your chest that felt as if it were threatening to consume you at any moment.

drip. drip. drip.

where was your husband? where the fuck could he be? why wasn’t he home yet? why wasnt he fucking home yet?! a pained noise escapes your lips, eyes screwing shut as you tried to block out the noise. you needed your husband. needed him like the air you breathed or the water you drank. this pain was all encompassing, a weight both physical and mental that seemed to rest on your shoulders. your knees grow weak, body trembling as you slowly slump to the floor. your chest was already heaving, tears already pooling at the corners of your eyes.

drip. drip. drip.

your hands find their way into your hair, tugging at the strands lightly. although you knew it wouldn’t take much longer for you to be at the point of ripping your hair out. you felt empty, cold. you were nothing without your husband, he was everything to you. how could he leave? how could he abandon y-

the door creaks open slowly, the sound of light rain could be heard clearly for a moment until your husband closes the door behind him. you immediately scramble up, eyes wide and a huge smile plastered on your face. that is until you took in his appearance. he looked… tired, and that only made you frown. you never wanted your husband to be tired. he deserved all the rest in the world. scurrying over to him, you help him take off his coat.

“you’re home,” you breathe out, the tension in your chest slowly ebbing as his familiar scent fills your nostrils and calms your brain. “i missed you. why were you late?” nanami only responds with a huff as he toes off his shoes, pressing a rough kiss to your forehead as he walks deeper inside the small house. his frame seemed… smaller? like he was losing weight. but thats impossible. you made sure to feed him every day!

“my head is killing me y/n. please tell me you made dinner.” nanami flops down onto the worn leather arm chair with a groan, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. without missing a beat, you nod your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“of course honey let me go fix you a plate,” you head off towards the kitchen, humming a random tune as you prepared food for your husband. there was a small smile on your face. you always smiled when nanami was home. it was the only time everything was perfect. thinking about how tired your poor husband looked, you decided to make him some tea as well. he had been having trouble sleeping lately and you’d do anything to help him feel better. “here you go my love,” setting the plate down on the coffee table in front of him, you gingerly handed him his tea, your smile only growing as you watched him blow softly at the steam.

“thank you.” he murmured softly, holding the cup of tea with both hands as he waited for it to cool. the steam made his glasses fog up slightly and you took it upon yourself to push them back up as they slid down the bridge of his nose. nanami smiles up at you then, it’s small, his exhaustion evident on his face. you study his glasses, noticing how the lenses seem to only be getting thicker as the months go by, for reasons both of you didn't know.

“eat up, i worked extra hard on this meal,” you perch yourself on the armrest of the chair, the worn leather creaking slightly under your weight. you leaned in slightly with a soft hum, running a hand through his blonde hair as he blew on his tea. you watched intently, studying his features, each little movement of the muscles making up his beautiful face. nanami chuckles lightly, glancing up at you briefly before taking a sip of the warm liquid.

nanami’s nose scrunches slightly as soon as the tea hits his tongue, an odd flavor coating his taste buds. it tasted weird, that same weird he’s been getting used to now over the past few months. you must’ve been using a different blend recently. looking back up at you over the rim of the porcelain cup, seeing you looking down at him as if he was the only man in the world, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you he didn’t want it. so instead, he steeled his mind and sipped more of it past his lips before setting it down to move onto your carefully crafted dinner.

the room was quiet as he ate aside from the sound of utensils hitting the glass plate and the dreaded dripping of the leaky faucet along with the rain that was gradually getting heavier. the room was bathed in a warm orange light from the flower lamp nanami had bought you a year back. you stayed where you were on the armrest, massaging his shoulders and scalp as he ate, content to just work on soothing him. content to be in his presence.

as soon as his plate was cleared, you get up and grab them before heading to the kitchen. you diligently work on cleaning the dishes. you found peace in the routine, even though none of it mattered when your husband wasnt home. you’d never be at peace when he was away.

you can feel a pair of warm arms wrap around your waist, a low hum leaving your lovers chest as he pressed closer against you from behind. nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck, he places a light kiss to your skin, taking a long moment to just breathe you in.

“thank you for dinner love,” he mumbled against your collarbone as he peppered the exposed area with soft kisses. you couldnt help but lean back into his touch, tilting your head lightly to give him better access. but it was over before you knew it, nanami pulling away as he mumbled something about his head still hurting and wanting to get ready for bed. you frown at the reminder that he would be gone tomorrow morning again. the thought of him leaving hurting just as much as always no matter how many times you had to bear it.

by the time you finish cleaning up the kitchen, nanami has already slipped under the blankets, snoring softly against the silk pillows. the sight made warmth bloom in your chest. he looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, and you were the only one able to see him like this.

after completing your nightly routine and slipping on your pajamas, you crawl into bed next to him. you scoot in close, your face mere inches away from his as you studied his sleeping face. his cheeks were slightly gaunt, eyebags only growing more prominent as the days went by. it made you upset that he had to go out there and work away, especially since he should be staying home with you. always.

you move closer, pressing your body against his and holding him close. with a low grumble, nanami wraps his arm around your waist, tugging you as close as possible. pressing a kiss to his shoulder, you murmur a soft ‘goodnight’ before letting yourself drift off in your husbands warm arms, feeling a love so fierce it could consume you both.

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very appreciated <3 ʟᴏʙʙʏ ﹕ꜰɪʟᴍᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

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painsandconfusion · 1 month ago

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Nathan

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Forty-five

(tw [all only discussed, not on screen]: murder, death, staged suicide, dubcon impregnation, familial abuse) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]

No actual whump this one, just backstory and angst - sorry!

This house seemed to breathe, dragging in howling wind and exhaling out like a plume of smoke from a courtesan cigar. It was easier to hear at night. The life in this place.

Ethan could never quite decide if it was eerie or comforting, but either way, the soul was there. How many people had died in this house, he wondered? Maybe it wasn’t really the heads, but just the years themselves showing their footprints over the foundation. The way the rose-carved staircase creaked when your sole pressed against the grain. The house was more than strong enough to hold the weight, only offering a sigh at the effort it took to keep him up as he walked, pristine and honorable in its age. Or, maybe it was the ghosts trapped inside that made it seem so alive.

Either way, Ethan never felt alone at night - no matter how silent the echoes in the room nor how loudly the storm beat against the windows.

He slept with the curtains open now. He hadn’t at first, but after a while, the moon’s pale glow was comforting to him. No one was outside for miles to see him and the windows fell on either side of the king-sized bed, narrow enough that he couldn’t see outside from his pillow. He felt protected there, nestled in the blind spot while watching the shadows of oaks dancing in the starlight across the carpet. Climbing up the baseboards. Swirling and flashing in the darkness against the door of his closet.

Ethan’s closet. He hadn’t had one of those before. He didn’t know what to do with it at first besides stare at it and resist the urge to crawl inside and hide from the world in the cool, pressing safety of the small space. Maybe sleep would come easier in there. Ethan never tried it, not wanting to feel so helpless that he couldn’t sleep in the bed. That seemed weak and small. Like admitting defeat.

Tonight, Ethan was lying awake, watching lightning splatter shadows across the wall - counting the seconds before it grumbled through the base of the house. The bed seemed both too hot and too cold, blankets flipped over him only to be shoved aside again and again. Back and forth. Restless and unnerved by the empty night.

Through the echoes of the storm and the stillness of the house, footsteps wandered through the hall. Ethan’s head tilted to free both his ears from the pillow’s suffocation to listen. As they grew further away, it was harder to hear, but he did note the sound of the stairs before it was quiet again. Perhaps ten more minutes of storm and rain before a distant and muddy few piano chords wafted through the house.

Ethan often wondered if all rich people sent their kids to piano lessons, or just the stupidly rich like Nate’s family. Then again, this house wouldn’t suggest ‘stupidly rich’. It was on the higher end of upper middle class, but not unattainable. Nate’s car blended in as well. Yet, he’d bring home random pieces of art which cost several million dollars at auction, then set them somewhere in the house where they wouldn’t be in the way, letting them blend in with the rest of the decor.

Regardless, Nate must have had a lot of piano lessons. Even muffled through the distance, Ethan could tell the instrument was being played beautifully. He used to lie on his cot in the basement, staring up at the ceiling and listening to that piano. From what he could tell, his little cell was directly under the conservatory where the piano rested. It was unsettlingly peaceful to know that his tormentor was so close, yet not touching him. Perhaps ten feet away - through boards and insulation and terra cotta tiles. Yet, as long as those fingers were pulling listless melodies from the keys, they couldn’t be touching Ethan. Nate may as well be a world away while he’s at the piano.

What scratched at Ethan’s mind the most, however, was the kind of music. Nate was an angry man. Furious, most of the time. It didn’t show very often. He kept himself pinned back and proper, even when he was abusing Ethan. He’d wear a smile and crack jokes - rarely lashing out when Ethan pushed too far. Ethan only really heard that fury in his music. Heated and clanging notes hit with precision would rapidfire scream through the house so often Ethan wondered how long a piano could possibly stay in tune when beaten like that on a daily basis.

When Nate’s anger subsided - usually after spending time in the basement workshop - his music would soften into wailing melancholy. Ethan would pretend it was his own body singing the songs of the piano, lying in a puddle of blood and ache.

But Nate wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t too broken to even get up onto his cot. Why would his heart scream like that?

Either way, Ethan used to love listening to what Nate played. But tonight he was a free man. And free men can get out of bed, wander down the halls, move down the stairs, step through the darkness, and stand in the doorway, watching Nathaniel Arden Walker VI sway to the rhythm of the music - alone in the darkness and the storm outside the all-encompassing windows.

The notes fumbled to an abrupt stop as Nate flinched back - then melted into a laugh. “Jesus- fuck, E - how long have you been standing there-??”

“..just got here.” Ethan stepped inside, immediately wishing he’d have put on socks. The tile floor leeched away his warmth even more quickly than the cold night air. At least he had a hoodie for that, though.

“Good- announce yourself next time, ya’ fuckin’ creep.”

Ethan stepped to the wall, flicking on the light.

Nate groaned, hand shielding his eyes. “Ewww- gross, whyyyyyy-???”

“Do you always sit in the dark out here?”

Nate’s nose scrunched up. “Sometimes.”

“You can’t even see the music.”

Nate gestured to the spot on the piano that usually holds the music (Ethan made a mental note to look up what the word for that was). It was empty. “No music. I kinda just play.”

“..those aren’t even real songs?”

“Nah, I get bored trying to stick to one. It’s easier to just make it up as you go.”

Ethan…had a feeling that was a lie. It seemed impossibly difficult to him to play at all - much less write music as you go. “You don’t ever write it down?”

Nate shrugged, turning to face Ethan and criss-crossing his legs up on the bench. “Bold of you to assume I remember jack shit once I’ve played it. And composition is hard.”

“I can imagine.” Imagine that it’s hard, that is. Ethan couldn’t even begin to fathom what composing looked like.

“My mom used to, though. She’d write everything out in her head and put it on paper before she even played it. Then she’d go through and make changes and scribble out the notes - put in new ones. It never made any sense to me.” By the end of the sentence, his eyes had drifted to an ornately framed family photo that hung on the wall near the door.

Ethan’s eyes scanned it. A man in his 40s or so who looked so much like Nate stood in the back. A woman with soft eyes and black hair sitting in a chair - posed elegantly. To her side, a child with Nate’s blond waves and blue eyes stood with the father’s hand on his shoulder - not quite smiling for the camera. The three were posed in front of a wall of blooming ivy that Ethan recognized from the garden outside.

“You were a cute kid,” Ethan offered.

Nate blinked hard, looking at Ethan almost in confusion. “I-.....that’s n-....” He took a deep breath and nodded to the picture. “That’s…actually not me.”

Ethan frowned, looking up to the picture again. “Oh- sorry, it just looks l-”

“I know. I know, we… yeah.” He turned to the piano again, fingers finding keys and rolling through a few chords.

Ethan’s frown pinched a bit tighter as he surveyed the photo - then Nate. “..that’s not your dad, right?”

“No- I mean, yeah - he’s in the-” SIGH. He turned to point. “The man’s my father. Nathaniel Arden Walker the Fifth. Aaand that’s my mom. Eden.” Ethan didn’t miss how his voice softened at her turn. “The kid… that would be my brother.” Back to piano.

“Oh. I.. didn’t know you have a brother.”

“Had,” Nate corrected gently, stepping through the chords again.

Well he walked right into that, didn’t he? Stupid. So fucking stupid. “..I’m sorry.”

Nate shrugged, still not looking at Ethan as he started a simpler melody. “It’s alright. I never knew him.”

So not as big of a fuckup as he expected that to have been. Nice!..? Probably. Still, it’s polite to stay solemn. “..what was his name?”

Nate breathed a laugh. “What a great question.”

“..what, you don’t know?”

Nate’s head shook dismissively. “Nah, that’s not it. It’s just- It’s incredibly stupid.”

“..his name is stupid?” It couldn’t be that bad.

“No- that’s not what I mean. He j- I’m-” He huffed some ‘Nate is frustrated’ air - Ethan was starting to learn all his little tells - and shifted the melody.

“His name was Nathan,” he eventually supplied.

..what the fuck was up with this family? “..but you’re Nathan.”

The music missed a beat before continuing. “I’m Nate. My brother was Nathan. My father was Nathaniel.”

“..they made you match?”

“No-” the music was speeding up slightly. “He died in a car accident when he was sixteen. But my dad wanted someone to carry on the family name. So they had me to replace him and gave me the same name. Like they’d just hit rewind or something and nothing ever happened.”

Ethan was..silent. Which wasn’t abnormal - but it was abnormal for him to simply not have any idea what to say.

Nate waited a few seconds, then evidently moved on. “It’s fucked up, I know.”

Ethan lowered himself into one of the wicker chairs. Not like he can walk out of the room after that bombshell. He’s an ass, but not that much of an ass. “..sixteen years is a big age gap.”

“Eighteen, technically. It took them a long time to get pregnant again. A lot of time, pills, and surgeries.” The music was picking up again.

“..how old were they?”

“What, when I was born?”

“Yeah.”

“Mom was forty-eight. So he must have been..fifty one? Yeah.”

“..that’s pretty late.”

“Yup,” He popped the p. “It broke her. All the pills and the stress. I don’t remember a time when she could walk. And each year she was alive, she just got.. Less. Weaker and smaller and more fatigued - because he just had to have Nathan back.”

“..that’s awful-”

“Yeah. He made it very clear how much of a disappointment I was compared to Nathan.” The music trilled to a stop, and Nate tucked his hands under his thighs. “..sorry. I’m trauma-dumping.”

Ethan shook his head, even though Nate couldn’t see it. “..it’s fine. Is your mom…?”

“...she passed away a few years ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. She- …was genuinely the only good thing about my family.”

“I wish I could have met her.”

Nate laughed, finally turning to look at Ethan again. “Yeah? Well I’m glad she didn’t meet you - not under these circumstances, anyway. She wouldn’t exactly approve of my lifestyle.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Nate dragged in a long breath, looking to the picture one more time. “..what about you? Do you know anything about your parents?”

Nate had asked before - years ago - though Ethan wasn’t really in a state to give information. He always figured Nate would work it out of him eventually, but he escaped before that could happen. But this felt..different. He didn’t feel like entertainment or a clinical study subject right now.

“..you know those little baby boxes they put in the side of hospitals? So you can kinda just dump kids in there if you don’t want them?”

“..you were one of those, huh?”

“Yup. Didn’t get a name until I was like five months along.”

“..shit, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I just wish they’d have picked a better one.”

“Ever think of changing it?”

“Do you think about changing yours?”

Nate smirked over at him. “..no. I should want to, huh?”

“Maybe. I dunno. I just haven’t found something else that feels right, so I stuck with Ethan.”

“That’s as good as anything until you find something else you actively want. Better to run toward something than away from something, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Nate evidently didn’t have a response for that, so Ethan had to go and make it weird again like the idiot he was. “..is your father still alive..?”

“Oh fuck no. He survived for about a week after my mom passed. I shot him in the temple and typed up a suicide note for him.”

The rain seemed so loud when it was the only sound in the room. A clap of thunder helped it along.

“..sorry, I can’t tell if you’re j-”

“No,” Nate cut him off. “I’m actually completely serious about that.” He looked back to Ethan again. “You’re the first person I told, actually… that was kinda nice.”

“I’d imagine.” Ethan looked to the picture again. The man in the photo had the same punchable face as Nate but without the smile. He half expected to feel sorry for the murdered man, but he felt nothing. “Did he know about your basement activities?”

“..huh-? Oh, no- no, this shit didn’t start until after he was gone. He was my first, I guess. I was kinda hoping the urges would stop when he was dead - like it was tied to him or something? But nope. Didn’t change at all. So I kinda just let myself start having fun with it instead of shoving it all down.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, pushing up to standing. “You’re so fucked up.”

“Me??” Nate laughed, swiveling on the bench to watch Ethan go. “You’re the one who currently had a man beaten half to death in the basement.”

“Yeah.” Ethan stretched, willing the tired ache away from his muscles. “I can’t sleep so I think I’m gonna go finish him up now.” He took a step toward the door. “..do you wanna join?”

Nate perked up. “..for the death?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh fuck yeah, I want in on it~!” Nate hopped up, bouncing on his toes as he grabbed Ethan’s arm. As if he was escorting that motherfucker.

Ethan peeled Nate off his arm, pushing back the urge to laugh as he shoved Nate to walk in front of him. “I’m not walking you there - you know the way.”

Nate laughed, not stumbling as he moved forward and walked backward up the hall toward the basement door. “Oh come on, you love it~”

“It’d be so easy to stab you right now.”

“Would not-!”

“It’s pitch black and you’re running out of hallway.”

“Yeah? Then why haven’t you stabbed me yet.”

“Dreaming about it’s enough for now.”

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

tags:

@prisonerwhump

@whumpawink

@wormwriting

@distinctlywhumpthing

@whump-cafe

@jo-doe-seeking-inspo

@azayta

@batfacedliar-yetagain

@there-will-always-be-blood

@siren-of-agony

@whumpworld

@deltaxxk

@whumpasaurus101

@pickywhumpreader

@whumpberry-cookie

@morning-star-whump

@nailevislev

@throwawaywhumper

@the-mourning-star

@d-cs @pigeonwhump

@suspicious-whumping-egg

@snakebites-and-ink

@whumpedydump

@whumplr-reader

@rainbowsandwhumperflies

@starfields08000

@crystallizedme

@lumpofsand

@taterswhump

@starsick1979

@neverthelass

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

As always, lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

#have some nate angst on the house #murder #death #staged suicide #dubcon impregnation #familial abuse #whumping the whumpers #nate and ethan #of course nate plays piano #what did you expect

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