#either way he did his bes and the leak is NOT his fault

[thetarttfuldickhead]

The face of a woman who loves someone for who is he and forgives him for who he isn't.

[monzabee]

diet pepsi - ln4 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Lando have a rather interesting way of resolving an argument. 

Pairing: lando norris x fwb!reader 

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: kinda cute ass fighting so fluff??, sex in a car, fingering, penetration, manhandling, no use of protection (wrap it before you tap it!!), cursing, minords dni!! 

Request: “okay but what about good old car sex with lando pleaseeee” 

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! first of all, who knew addison rae had the power to make a song that made me write this whole thing under 3 hours?? i certainly did not. secondly, i thought it would be nice to take a little break from the charles-carlos drama, and before i finish the third and final part to that little mini-series, i thought you guys would enjoy a little treat in the meantime! i have to admit writing for lando again was an interesting experience for me, but who knows, maybe i'll do it more often (i have one request that i'm obsessed with so that’s definitely coming your way as well!) also, i have an oscar fic in the works as well, so maybe the sudden change in mclaren also started to affect me lol. a quick psa, i know many people asked me in my last fic, but i do NOT have a taglist and i won’t be making one any time soon either! anywaaays, i hope you guys enjoy this fic, and feedback is welcome as always! thank you to the anon for their request, and good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking that in my car.” Lando complains, shooting you a sideway glare as you sip your choice of beverage contently.  

You tilt the cup slightly in his direction, grinning. “Relax, it’s not like it’s going to explode, nor it is your car.” 

“It might as well,” Lando mutters, eyes back on the road. “Knowing your luck, the second I hit a bump, that thing will be all over the place and I’ll have to explain what happened to Zak. Do you even know how much it costs to clean these seats?” 

You laugh, swirling the drink in the cup. “You’re being dramatic, it’s not like you are the one to detail the cars you use. It’s fine, I’ve got this under control.” 

“Famous last words,” Lando grumbles. His grip tightens on the steering wheel as if he’s preparing for impact. 

You glance at him, amused. “Are you always this paranoid about your car, or is it just me?” 

“It’s you. Definitely you.” He shoots you another look, this one laced with mock suspicion. “You have a history, you know.” 

“Oh, puh-lease,” you drawl, rolling your eyes as you turn your upper body to face him. “Tell me one time I actually made a mess in your car, and I’ll throw away this can right now.” 

Lando doesn't hesitate as he answers quickly. “Monaco. Last year. You remember that smoothie incident, right?” 

You blink a couple of times, taken aback. “That doesn’t count! That was your fault for speeding around the corner like a maniac. How was I supposed to hold on to it?” 

He smirks, clearly enjoying the memory. “Oh, so now it’s my fault, huh? You were the one who insisted on bringing a smoothie into my car five minutes before a race.” 

“You didn’t even have to brake so hard,” you mutter, crossing your arms defensively. “I had it under control until you decided to turn it into a F1 race.” 

Lando chuckles, shaking his head. “Doesn't matter. I still won, throw it away now.” 

“That doesn’t count, it was clearly your fault!” You complain, holding the can protectively. “There’s no way I’m tossing this because of your bad driving.” 

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “Bad driving? I think I’d take that up with the people who hired me to race professionally.” 

“Professionally doesn’t mean you’re not reckless,” you quip, a playful glint in your eyes. “Especially when there’s a smoothie involved.”  

“Fine,” he contends, shrugging, “how about that time I made you come too hard, and you leaked onto the seats?”  

This manages to shut you down for a moment, with eyes nearly bulging out of your head, you gasp at Lando’s sudden choice of words. “Lando!” You exclaim, reaching over the console to hit him on the arm gently, “That’s vulgar!” 

Silently chuckling at your reaction, he reaches over as he places a hand on your upper thigh, his hand tightening as you hold his wrist in warning. “It’s the truth,” he reminds you with a smirk, “don’t go shy on me, now, you were the one to get the seats all messed up because of how wet you were.” If you weren’t blushing before, your face most definitely resembles a tomato now as he continues his stream of consciousness, “Not that I’m complaining, though, I’m pretty sure I came in my pants when I made you cum just from my fingers.”  

 “You– you did?” The question flies from your mouth before you can stop yourself.  

The smile that overtakes the smirk on Lando’s face is almost sweet, and he coos at the innocence of your question as he squeezes your thigh again. “Oh baby,” he coos, “it was the hottest thing ever.”  

Your thighs attempt to trap his hand as you inadvertently press them tighter together, your nose scrunching up in confusion. “But it was messy.”  

“That was the best part,” Lando confirms, his thumb caressing your skin. “I loved getting to clean you up afterwards, didn’t I? Almost as much as you loved it.” 

“Sure.” You mumble, shrugging as you do your best to ignore his burning stare. You’d be worried about the fact that he was supposed to be driving if it was someone else, but considering he’s a F1 driver, you don’t comment on Lando’s lack of his surroundings as he pushes your thighs apart. “What are you doing?” You ask, confused as he moves his fingers further up your skirt.  

“You just focus on finishing that drink, okay?” He mumbles as his fingers pull your underwear to the side. “I’m suddenly in the mood for something sweet myself.”  

“Lando, I don’t think we should do th–hat.” Your voice waivers towards the end as his fingertips press on your clit, drawing lax circles on the bundle of nerves. “Lando,” you try to warn him, but your voice comes out as a high-pitched whimper.  

He shushes you gently as his fingers spread your wetness around your skin, causing you to bite down on your lip to silence yourself. Lando lets his dissent known by clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, mumbling, “Don’t silence yourself, let me hear you, baby.” And when you give him what he wants and let out a loud moan as your hips involuntarily buck against his hand. Grinding the palm of his hand against your puffy clit, Lando uses your wetness to slowly push two of his fingers into you, drawing out another moan as you lean your head against the headrest. “My God, baby, look at you. You’re already making a mess on the seats.”  

“N-no,” you manage to whine, shaking your head as you give him a pleading but stubborn look, “I’m not making a mess.”  

“No?” He asks, mocking the pout that has found its way onto your lips. “Then who is so wet against my hand that it’s dripping, huh?” You're not sure if it’s his words or the way his fingers keep moving in and out of your cunt, but in either case, the overwhelming need of just something more causes you to attempt to put the can in your hand down, when Lando tuts again in warning, “You don’t get to put your drink down until you first come on my fingers.” 

After his words set in, you finally come to your senses, suddenly opening your eyes as you give him a shocked look. “Wha–what?” You ask, “What if I spill?” 

He shrugs, an innocent smile on his lips as he throws you a glance, “I guess you’ll just have to be careful and not spill it.” The smile on his lips grows as you let out a frustrated sound, and he responds by moving his fingers in a come-hither motion to git the spot, which causes your body to arch into his touch. “Are you going to give me what I want?” He asks, his concentration still on the road as he tries to find a secluded spot to park the car.  

“Uh-huh,” you mutter, voice shaky as you focus on not dropping the can in your hand, “I will, Lando, just keep doing that.”  

“Doing what?” He asks in a faux-innocent tone, as he goes back to simply continuing the pistoning movement of his fingers. “Like this?” He asks, with a shit eating grin on his face as you whine. “Or, like this?” He asks again, but this time, he repeats the movement of his fingers previously as he hits your g-spot again.  

You can’t control the scream that gets released from the back of your throat as your body shakes violently. “That,” you breathe out, your free hand holding onto the seatbelt so tight that you can feel it starting to cramp your hand a little bit, “don’t you dare stop doing that.” 

Lando lets out a low chuckle, clearly satisfied with your desperate plea. His fingers continue their relentless pace, teasing and coaxing you closer to the edge. “Oh, I won’t stop,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet commanding. “Not until you give me what I want.” 

Your entire body feels like it's on fire, the combination of his skilled fingers and the impossible task of not spilling your drink has you teetering on the edge. The car feels smaller, the world outside irrelevant, as Lando’s attention is focused solely on you. Being so consumed by the way Lando’s fingers move in and out of your cunt, you don’t even know that the car you are in at the moment has been abandoned in the side of a deserted road. You grip the can tighter, your hand trembling as the tension builds in your core. “Lando,” you gasp, a hint of desperation seeping into your voice. “I— I can't—” 

He smirks, enjoying your struggle. “You can,” he counters smoothly, leaning slightly closer while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “You can do it, just let it go, baby.” His thumb presses harder on your clit, drawing another loud moan from your lips. 

“Lando, please,” you beg, your voice almost cracking under the weight of your impending release. “I’m going to—” 

“Good,” he cuts you off, his smirk widening. “Let go for me, baby. And don't you dare spill that drink." 

His words are your undoing. With one final flick of his fingers, you shatter around him, your body convulsing with pleasure as you ride out your high. Your head falls back against the seat, your hand gripping the can so hard you’re not surprised it bursts under the pressure. 

His words are your undoing. With one final flick of his fingers, you shatter around him, your body convulsing with pleasure as you ride out your high. Your head falls back against the seat, your hand gripping the can so hard you’re not surprised it bursts under the pressure. 

You hear Lando’s satisfied chuckle as he eases his fingers out of you, giving your thigh one last affectionate squeeze. “Good girl,” he murmurs, glancing over at you with a proud smile. “Look at how good you look.” He shamelessly holds his fingers in front of your face, then without missing a beat, he brings his fingers into his mouth. The way he moans is nothing short of sinful, and you watch him with your lips parted as he mumbles around his fingers, “I think you spilled it a little bit.” 

“E-Excuse me?” You stutter, looking at Lando with the horrified look on your face. “No, I didn’t!” 

Lando raises an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he glances down at the mess on the seat. “Oh, but you did,” he teases, licking his lips after savoring the taste of you on his fingers. His eyes gleam with amusement as he points at the spot between your legs. “Not the drink, though… you.” 

Your face burns with a mix of embarrassment and desire, your breath still uneven as you try to process what just happened. “That’s not what I—” you stammer, crossing your arms over your chest, but Lando just laughs softly. 

“Relax, love. It’s nothing a little cleaning can’t fix.” He leans back in his seat, eyes never leaving you, his hand returning to the steering wheel like what just happened was the most normal thing in the world. “Besides, I’d much rather clean you up later.” 

You feel the heat spread through your body again, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel a wave of arousal wash over you. Lando’s confidence, the way he handles you with such ease, is almost intoxicating. But as much as you’re enjoying the moment, a small part of you knows this is ridiculous. 

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, trying to regain some composure, though your flushed cheeks give you away. 

Lando just grins, completely unbothered. “You love it,” he says casually, shooting you another one of those playful sideway glances that makes your heart race. “Admit it. You like when I make you lose control.” 

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to throw a retort his way. But you can’t deny it, not after the way your body reacted to his touch. “You’re lucky you’re good at this,” you finally concede, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Lando’s smile softens, just for a moment. “Good at a lot of things,” he says, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. Then he pulls the car to a stop, turning off the engine before leaning toward you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “And I’m just getting started.” 

[stoopidpigeonxx]

To the anon that suggested Curly Manhandling..

here bookie <3

NSFW MINORS GO AWAY

Curly’s quite the big fellow. He knows it, too. He’s always flexing his arms in front of you to show off his gym gain and taking every opportunity to show off his impressive build. You don’t mind it. It’s a bit of a turn-on, knowing all that is all yours. But the best part is when he uses that muscle he worked so hard on to fuck you dumb. He knew you liked to be manhandled and took that to heart, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder whenever you suggested taking things to the bedroom. He adored the squeals and giggles from you when he did. Filled his heart with a sense of pride… or maybe he just adored his sweet girl. His favorite method was pushing your legs up to your head while he pounded into you, seeing the very slight bulge of his cock outlined in your stomach when he thrusts. You’re soaked and gripping him like a vice and he could die happily right now, buried 9 inches inside you. He’d hunch over to quicken his pace, hands pinning your wrists up by your head. He’d love looking at your fucked-out face, the slight drool pooling at the corner of your lips, your slightly crossed eyes, mouth parted in an O shape. You looked so pretty like this. He wanted to take a picture and frame it, hang it above his bed so he could see it every day. Your face was amazing, but it came in second only to your moans. Your beautiful, sweet little noises. Whines of his name, pleas, whimpers, all of it spurred him on. Hearing his name from your mouth was music to his ears. “Yeah, baby? Wan’ me to go faster? Harder? You got it, lemme take care of you.. Sweet thing.” “Fuck, you’re takin’ me good… g’na make me come quick..” And you took it like a champ. When he did pump you full of his kids, you took every drop. He’d let you fall back and observe his come leaking out your poor cunt. But he’s not finished, ladies and gents. Oh no. He doesn’t normally do this out of fear of hurting you, but when he’s particularly stressed and you’re just offering yourself.. Full Nelson time!! Yup, he’s got your back pressed flush against his chest, ass against his pelvis, cock thrusting in and out of you. He has an arm locked around you to hold you in place, and his other’s holding up one of your thighs for a better angle. You find this position the hottest because he finally gets to be rough with you.he begs to differ, but as long as it makes you happy, and it really does. “Fu-uck, baby, keep movin’ like that, i gotcha.. Mhmmm. Feels so good..” He’s babbling praise into your ear while he destroys you, the gentleman that he is, and making sure to kiss you everywhere he can. Soft little ‘sorry’s on your skin. He feels bad for being so rough with you, but he can't help it when it feels so good. Even he’s moaning like a girl now just from the euphoric bliss of being inside your sweet little cunt. And he’ll keep going, until he’s filled you up with at least 5 loads of his come. He wants to pump you full of his babies in hopes he’ll start a family with you. But, more likely, he’s just obsessed with seeing you leak his seed out of your abused hole. Either way, you’re full of him, a reminder of what he does to you. You’ll certainly find it difficult to walk tomorrow, but it’s worth it. He’ll take care of you, since it’s his fault you’re in that state, poor thing. And he’ll do it all over again when you want him to! <3

[sexlapis]

Actor!Toji has my heart and soul.

Imagine while they’re still trying to hide their relationship something gets out that it’s a real relationship and now the internet is going crazy. They’re still trying to deny it, but sadly there’s a paparazzi photo of them in a very.. interesting position, and they really can’t deny it. One of them on live or in an interview and all they are being asked is about the relationship and the photo. How far is either one willing to go before they crack and confirm their relationship?.. I’m going crazy

UHM…ARE YOU GUYS DATING?

ʚɞ actor!toji x gn!reader

s4w, one shot, short fic, fluff, crack, unintentional relationship reveal (toji’s fault ofc…)

a/n: these asks have been in my inbox since november 2023 so…sorry about that.

actor!toji masterlist

general masterlist

*

What you and Toji were doing was just a complete joke at this point.

The blatant glances in interviews, the paparazzi pictures of you two together in cafes, museums, on set, at parties, the shocking innuendo replies under each others posts, the way you were always caught wearing a clothing item of Toji’s at least once a month…

…Just who did you think you were fooling?

Because it definitely was not the internet.

Every so often, after a questionable photo of the two of you or a clip of you both being overly physical in an interview, your names would be trending or your ship name.

Parasocial relationships on social media have no bounds.

People were assuming, guessing, planning, solving and just plain trying to figure out what on earth was going on between the two of you.

Some thought you were just close friends, others believed you two were so obviously dating.

But everyone agreed on one thing: there was no way that the relationship you and Toji had was platonic.

No way.

Of course, when asked about the nature of your relationship, which was very often, you both denied it.

“We’re both just friends”, you’d say.

“We’re just really close”, Toji would say.

“I couldn’t ask for a better person to be friends with”, you’d say.

“Well, yeah, I like her a lot…doesn’t mean anything’s going on!” Toji would claim

But all of these lies come to an end when a picture comes to a light.

You and Toji, at the park, sitting on the grass and…you’re stradding his lap, facing him and cupping his cheeks and Toji’s smiling, no, not one of his sleazy smirks, he’s really smiling like he’s looking at the love of his life.

There was nothing either of you could say - no like you could utter, no truth you could tell - that would stop everyone from stating the very obvious.

You and Toji are a couple.

And the internet is going crazy.

The top three hashtags that were trending on the day the photo was leaked were: #TOJIYN, #THEY’RE DATING?, and #I KNEW IT.

So it is safe to say that…everyone knew.

And nobody is shocked. Not really.

A week after that compromising photo was leaked, Toji is invited to speak on a popular podcast.

It barely even takes ten minutes before it is mentioned.

“Toji, thank you for coming! It’s really great to have you here!” The host praises, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Yeah, of course, thanks for-“”

“Are you and y/n dating?”

Toji stops mid sentence, his mouth open and seemingly surprised by the hosts’ straightforwardness.

“Uh-“”

“Because there’s a photo of the two of you.” The host presses on. “You know that, right?”

“I-“”

“Let’s a take a look.”

The podcast host picks up a remote, one that controls the computer monitor, clicks a button snd there it is…the leaked picture of you an Toji.

“See? Look at that.” The podcaster says, shaking his head. “What do you have to say about that, Toji?”

“Uhhh…” Toji bites his lip. “…I had something on my face. She wanted to take look at it.”

“Look at it or sit on it?”

“LOOK at it.” Toji confirms, a soft blush rising on the apples of his cheeks. “Just wanted to…you know, see what his was.” He shrugs, scratching the stubble on his face.

Toji and the podcaster are silent for a few moments, staring at each other.

“You guys are dating.”

“Yeahh, we’re dating.”

*

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

[emchante]

carlos with a breastfeeding kink is something i did not know i needed 😵‍💫 i just know it turns him on so much to be walking outside with you and suddenly your t-shirt starts getting wet…… just imagine panicking when you start lactating but its okay cause he’s there to guide you every step of the way…….. and if he can help with the excess milk then it’s all for you of course 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

WELCOME DEAR ANON.. WELCOME 🤭 trust me.. it’s not something i’ve ever written about before but it’s peaked my interest for a long time.. maybe now is time to indulge if i have some takers?? 👀

drabble below about this<3

god, he LOVES it when it happens in public, because he loves watching you all embarrassed that your body is doing things you didn’t expect it to do. carlos isn’t slick, either, often throws you a thin shirt to wear if you’re going out with him.. the thinner it is, the easier it is to leak.

and when it starts, your face is flushed and you instinctively raise your hands to your tits, covering it. carlos pulls your hands away though, tutting quietly in your ear. “cariño, you can’t do that in public. are you trying to draw the attention of other guys, huh?”

and of course not! you’d never do that when you know you’re destined to be with carlos!! so you get a little panicked and upset and oh.. carlos’ pants are tightening even more now. the sight of you so embarrassed, crying over something he is the cause of. it’s delicious, he craves it.

so he takes you into a shop, finding the bathrooms and pushing you inside as he locks the door. you don’t have time to question him, he’s already dragging your shirt over you, and you whine loudly from your sensitive nipples being teased with the t-shirt, and now being exposed to the cold air.

his hands are instantly on your fuller tits, squeezing softly as you whine in response. you tilt your head back, swallowing thickly as you revel in the feeling of carlos’ warm hands on your aching tits. you feel his thumbs run along your nipples, and your legs shake from the amount of pleasure it causes.

“i can help you princesa, you know that. you just need to ask me nicely.. so go on.”

and you’re begging. all you can say is please and carlos for the most part, sometimes able to slip in little i need you’s and that’s what wins him over. you need him, your mind is wired to think he is the only man who can help this mysterious issue, when deep down— it’s all his fault.

he coos at your pleas, beginning to squeeze your tits a little harder, thumbs teasing your nipples until they’re leaking even more, the milk falling from them as you’re left to whine and moan desperately for the release, hoping your full tits don’t start swelling again anytime soon.

but.. this is carlos. big, bad wolf carlos sainz. who’s to say he fully helps you out? because i think.. he leaves you around 3/4 if the way done. tells you that he’ll continue when you’re home, and that he’ll personally clean up all the milk when

[monstas1ut]

Morning Vixen

ERWIN SMITH x black!reader

Summary

__ 18+ black!reader hasn’t taken relationships seriously until an older man came her way. now she’s here basking in golden sunlight and being drowned in orgasms in the morning just for being pretty… with an engagement ring on her finger

Contains

__ black!reader, female!reader, age gap, he talks you through it, creampie, oral sex(pussy eating), engagement, “I love you”, big daddy cock Erwin, names like ‘daddy’ and ‘love’ and ‘princess’, bulging, crying from pleasure, somnophilia if you squint in the beginning, impreg if you squint

__ brown skin can be dark, light, medium color.. whatever. brown is brown.. and it's gorgeous

The slight contortion of your face gave insight that you were indeed waking up. The sun looked right into the glass door that was on the side of your room. It was eager to shine and dance onto your brown skin, and it wasn’t the only one eager to touch you. With a lot of respect and love for you, there was a blonde male that looked above from the soft surface of your skin and stared hazily at your face. His eyes were as blue as the ocean, and they revealed a lot about what he thought of you.

Funny enough, he thought of you as piping hot oil on one’s skin. The surprise would be your mouthful of shocking, yet lustful words. The burn itself would be just how alluring you were. He was so needy when it came to you, and as an older man, he’s confused as to why he acts like a teen boy when thinking about you. There are times where he’s cooped up in his office and his blood is rushing towards his cock. It’s all you. This man has an entire gallery dedicated to you, and he named it ‘My Love’ with a heart just to tease you more about it.

“Erwin…”

Watching those videos over and over again, the blonde knew each detail. For example, his favorite video is the one where you are shoving a pale colored cock inside of your pussy. Your nails had black tips, medium length, and you didn’t even have your wig on, only a bonnet. That was his favorite video, and he couldn’t stop thinking about that exact video this morning.

“Erwin…” shaky whispers slipped out of your throat as your toes curled tightly. The sun attacked your eyes, however with strain, you could see your soon to be husband right between your brown thighs. His hair is only slightly a mess as his soft lips caressed your sensitive bud. Those strong hands kept hold of your legs to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.. like close them.. Erwin thought of your pussy juices as nectar, and he wanted every drop of honey there was.

“I’m sorry… There was just something about today that made you more of a princess than you already are… maybe it was the light.” Erwin’s voice was husky and it almost cracked. He hadn’t even taken the time to wake up fully. It was almost as if he’d rolled over with the thought in his mind. And he did. That video crossed his mind more than once when he’d woken up.

“Or maybe it was all my fault for gaining a painful erection… I do have dreams if you would like to know, dreams about you.” He whispered as his gentle kisses began running up your stomach to your neck. Sensitive as it could be, he practically caressed part of your neck with his genuine kisses. The feeling of it made you gasp immediately, either it was that or the way Erwin’s slightly rough fingers slipped into your core.

“S-So you just eat my pussy whenever you please?…” you choked out, obviously not having a problem with it, especially since you were leaking all over his digits. “I’m sorry, my love… I am-..what do they call it? Pussy drunk..?” Erwin asked you with a genuine look of approval as he left your neck. He was so funny sometimes, even proud of his younger slang and it made you giggle mixed with a surprise moan that slipped. “You pussy drunk ova’ me..?” You asked seductively, your knees pulled to your chest as you relaxed completely. Your e/c eyes finally looking up into his lustful blue ones, you then decided to tease him even more by pulling your thin tank top down. Those pretty dark areolas were revealed to him for the hundredth time and he still got oh so weak.

“Truly.” Erwin breathed out deeply before his face went right back down to your pussy. That pretty, wet clit was completely covered by his eager mouth. His fingers still digging softly in your gushy hole.

“Fuck. Fuck Erwin ~ that feels t-too fuckin’ good..” you whispered as your hands gripped at the sheets. This man and his tongue couldn’t be defeated. Erwin was an older man, not afraid of pussy juices or anything dealing with female anatomy. This man was experienced, ready, and always turned on by you. You didn’t need anything to turn him on. All you needed was your dirty talking mouth and your sexy body.

“Hold those beautiful breasts for me… let me drown in that vixen aura..” Erwin whispered in a purr almost. It caused vibrations in your core, almost like this earthly shock. There was nothing better than a lustful Erwin. His limit was nonexistent, and he would continue to pleasure you as long as your want was present. And you holding your pretty tits was enough to arouse him even more. His eyes glossed over your pretty nails and the way your nipples peaked from your fingers, and his cock became harder.

Erwin’s need only showed more and more before you began to feel that wrath of his.

“Erwin~… fffuck.. I love when you eat my pussy, baby. M’gonna cum on your fuckin’ tongue…” you squealed before feeling that sudden sensation in your lower stomach. Your hands squeezed tightly on your own breasts and Erwin groaned at seeing that, making this bumpy vibration on your clit. It sent you soaring for miles, and all you could do was whimper as your legs shaked.

“M’cumming…” You choked out as you reached your everlasting high. The feeling of Erwin’s fingers being squeezed alerted him that you were indeed at your high. He didn’t move, not wanting you to dive straight into overstimulation just yet. You needed to save all of your energy for the rest of the session, and that became obvious when he slowly slipped the fingers out of you and straightened his back. While between your legs anyway, Erwin finally could pull you closer.

This man had bushy eyebrows that fit his face, a sharp jawline, beautiful eyes, and a muscular body that also glowed from the sunlight. His arm was visibly strong, and his hand gripped your ankle before gently lifting you up and immediately sliding a pillow underneath you.

“You’re stunning in this light. It shows just how gorgeous your e/c eyes are.. and how beautiful your skin is..” Erwin commented this on pure instinct, his eyes scanning you dearly before you giggled. Something was just so adorable about you laughing while you were spread out for him. It made blood run to his cheeks. “It’s true..”

“Well… you’re stunnin’ while being above me.. your blonde hair.. your eyes.. your muscles.. the way you talk to me…” you trailed on in a seductive tone as you even moaned a little before reaching and pulling his underwear down enough for his cock to spring out like a surprise. It all made Erwin’s heart beat fast, his urges getting harder to keep back.

“Rub that big dick on my pussy daddy.. m’so fuckin wet… and it’s all your fault..” you grinned slightly before biting your bottom lip. All the blonde could do was leak pre cum on your clit. The underside of his cock started to rub up between your juicy folds and your soft hand touched his cock with encouragement. It made the older man jolt, only because that ring on your finger made it all better. You were going to be fully his soon, and every inch of your body was going to be marked with love.

He was going to absolutely paint your insides white and put a baby inside of you. He won’t be sorry about that though.

“That feels so fuckin’ good daddy…” you whispered to your lover, his eyes entranced with your brown pussy and his own fair skinned cock. He had a straight cock, he didn’t really have a lot of veins showing but it was quite the pretty cock. His blonde pubes weren’t much, it was intact just like his life.

“You’d love my cock inside you, wouldn’t you? Slip it in… put it in your tight pussy, love…”

“Mnh… Fuck me…” you moaned as he demanded this, your hand gently pushed on his cock to slip smoothly inside of you, and only the tip slipped for now. Erwin filled you up soon enough, right to the brim. His Dick was more girthy, and it made you feel as if you were full. The loud gushy noises made his cock going in sound hot, and to be honest? Erwin would love to listen to the melody of his cock entering you and making a lower belly bulge.

“Good girl..”

Erwin seemed oh so scary now, his face completely concentrated and his muscles already glistened with a little bit of sweat. And all while you were admiring his own beauty, his fat cock slid out of you for just one second before sliding right back in. The sounds your pussy made was embarrassing to you before, but now.. being with an older man, you knew he enjoyed every sound. “A-Ah~.. Fuck. Fuck…” suddenly you were breathing hard from just that one thrust. It was quite overwhelming, but Erwin leaned down and kissed your ear with reassurance.

“The neighbors will place another complaint on our door if you’re not quiet… then I’d have to shut them up now wouldn’t I?…” Erwin thought out loud before his eyebrows furrowed, his kisses trailed right to your lips before he kissed them dearly. His big hands pressing in the bed on the sides of your head. “They’d be better off minding their own matters rather than worrying about how much you love daddy’s cock…” Erwin muttered against your lips , a hint of anger behind his voice as he moved his hips slowly, but with desperate blows. Each thrust made you gasp for air, and you couldn’t help but drag out a whine right after each.

Erwin’s cock felt so good inside of you that you’re sure your bonnet fell clean off in this exact moment. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, and the sight of you looking like this made you look like a cute doll he couldn’t wait to drench in his cum. The bulge showing from your lower core made him watch it intently. He liked seeing how much you could take, and obviously that was much.

Seeing you put your arms underneath your knees made him all the more eager to pump you with dick. You were almost folded completely, and your painted toes with that anklet was dangling right in his face. Everything about you turned him on, and even though it was so simple, it made his thrusts faster. “Mnh~… Oh shit-.. Daddy.. Daddy, I love your big dick so fuckin’ much… cant hold it in..” you moaned, almost furrowing your brows with concern of how tense this orgasm was going to be.

The golden light was still shining on you, and now it was shining on your pussy because of this pretty angle. It looked like it was dripping gold, completely expensive folds with wine that made Erwin drunk for days on end.

“That’s okay… That’s alright. Cum. Cum on my cock, love… Your pretty pussy can take it, can’t it?”

“Y-Yesss..”

“Then cum on my cock, princess… feel every inch of me while I guide you to that high you need so much..” Erwin groaned as you got tighter, his hands jolting to underneath your legs before he pushed them forward. His cock now pounding you at an even more sensual position. You felt like this man was poking your womb from how big he was.. and how fast he was going. Your mind was blank, nothing was in it as the high was finally reached.

“Good girl… let it go, let me take care of it..” Erwin was sweet enough to slow down just a little so you wouldn’t be overstimulated. He was so rhythmic, and his cock suddenly had a white Ring around it, following with a white mess all over. This caused Erwin to pull out of your hole before watching it drip and wink at him. Your hard breathing was still obvious, and his erection hurt so bad that he wanted to slip right back in.

Erwin licked his lips before leaning down and attacking your pussy with his lips, tasting you once again. It only made you whimper and cry out from the sudden stimulation, but although you were on the brink of crying, Erwin couldn’t stand here and wait. “You have to take it again princess… once more?” He huskily whispered above you before you started to shake a little. “P-Please… c-can’t..”

“You can…” Erwin whispered back as he grabbed his pulsing cock and put it back into your hole, it fitting like a glove before he watched your tears fall down your beautiful face. The drool. The way your eyes would roll, he was in pure heaven. You looked so pretty in the morning, he didn’t understand how men couldn’t look at their woman in the morning and not melt all over again. Erwin decided to melt inside of your pussy, but it still counted.

“Look at that… you take me so well every time” Erwin groaned out as he was staring down at you and your slightly trembling legs. He did have remorse, but at the same time, your pussy was absolutely amazing. He could feel it only get wetter and he assumed it was because he was staring at your face. The eye contact made you gush and it made your heart beat faster.

The slapping skin sounded quite loud, but they weren’t fast yet. He indeed felt his orgasm brewing though, and with the weak sounds you were producing, he could only moan right along with you.

“That’s right… Grip it, love…” Erwin breathed out before his head leaned back, his grip now on your waist tightening. He was using you like a little doll now, and that pillow was helping a lot. Your skin and your breasts jiggled with each passing thrust, and he let it be the perfect show as he looked back down again. “You feel so good…” he grumbled before reaching between you both and grabbing his cock before taking it out completely but ramming it inside of you.. creating a loud mess of a moan from you..

And he continued that same rhythm. Taking his wet cock in his hands and rushing it back inside you. The gooey and gushy sounds echoed against the walls and it made you even hornier, so much so that you couldn’t figure out what you were saying yourself.

“I can’t-… Daddy-… Right there.. my pussy…”

With those tears, he listened to everything you said, but he didn’t stop. Erwin was so immersed in your pussy that he blocked out anything you said. Anything you said was incoherent now anyway, and to think it was still morning… yet you could barely comprehend what was going on. Your soon to be husband had such a great, older cock that it would send your brain spinning for miles and miles. Even as the sun was finally up, Erwin still didn’t stop pushing his fat cock in you.. He only let up when he felt you tense up again, signaling your second orgasm brimming.

With rolled eyes and your legs twitching, you were holding onto your orgasm for dear life. Erwin adored the way you looked, and he finally started thrusting with his hips again. His large thumb then began rubbing at your sweet clit while he kept thrusting. “I cannot hold my orgasm much longer..” admitting this, the older man shakily breathed in before his cock twitched. The rush from his lower body ran throughout and he couldn’t stop it. His balls contracted and he let out a string of moans that made your body shake.

“So damn beautiful…” he swore before his cum spurted inside of you. Erwin was the type to have cum that wasn’t too sticky nor too much of a liquid. It was right in the middle.. but he would cum so much in that one orgasm… He wouldn’t stop cumming inside of you. Your kitty was filled to the brim with his absurd amount of cum, and it flowed out of you like a waterfall when he pulled out. However he didn’t forget about your precious high, no. He didn’t even stop rubbing your clit. You hit that high the same time he pulled out, and you felt ecstasy once the pleasure was released.

And with battered breaths and a cheeky smirk, Erwin gently moved away from you before looking at the masterpiece. Damn did you look good with cum rushing out of you… his cum.

“Now… What should we eat for breakfast? You’re not exactly fit to stand today so I’ll cook, how’s that sound?”

ⓒ Monstas1ut , do not copy

[der7py]

Yandere Radio host x reader

Victor Rodriguez was the most popular radio host there was to date! He had late night talks shows, was always on the evening and morning radio, and was super charismatic! Only problem? He didn't have a co-star. But you'd make a lovely co-star.

Warnings: Mature language, addresses being leaked (only to yandere), stalking, car tampering, hero complex, mentions of abusive households

You swear that Victor was always on the air! Day and night, on every station. You could've sworn nobody listened to radio anymore! But apparently, with this new hotshot, everybody did now.

It's not that you disliked the man. He didn't do anything wrong. Surprisingly, unlike other radio hosts, he wasn't that boastful. But you were just sick of hearing him all the damn time.

Eventually, you tuned in (your friends wanted you to listen to him for once), and you made the mistake of accidentally calling in.

"Hello, this is Victor Rodriguez speaking! Who do I have the pleasure of talking to?" Oh wow, he answered the radio like it was just a normal contact in his phone!

You two had a surprising, really meaningful conversation! He didn't talk over you, poke fun at you for his listeners, and actually remembered things about you in the short time you talked.

You actually emailed him (he has a work email), and he responded back! You two emailed for a bit before exchanging numbers since you had made plans to hang out with him!

_______________________

Shit! You were running late! Your car just wouldn't start, and now you don't even know if he's still there. But before you could call a mechanic, a black car pulled into your driveway, and a very concerned Victor immediately jumped out of his car. "Are you okay? You didn't show up for a while, and I was worried if you got into an accident!" You felt your face heat up and start to turn pink. No man had ever done what he did. Usually, they just got impatient and left at the first minute. But Victor... he actually went looking for you. To make sure you were safe.

"Yeah sorry, my car just won't fucking start." You explained, pointing at your car which was a pretty old model. Victor cocked his head, peering into the car, before looking back at you. "You got tools so we can pop the hood up? Maybe it's the engine." What happened next you had no control over. It was magic even. You opened the hood, grabbed a toolbox out of your garage, and handed it to him. In the next 30 minutes, he had fixed whatever problem your car had.

Victor turned back to look at you with a goofy smile, and you swore your heart was moving a mile too fast. "All done! But the ice cream parlor is probably closing by now. Do you wanna just hang out here?" He asked, and you nodded your head immediately. It was surprisingly a really nice day with him! You both had a cookout, lounged in the sun, and even had a water balloon fight. You were having so much fun, you let one thing slip your mind.

How the hell did he know where you lived.

_______________________

Okay, so maybe he has every caller's address show to him and only him so he can stay safe. It's not his fault! He didn't know if his step-dad was still looking for him.

After he ran away from his abusive household (promising his mother and little siblings, he'd come back and save them from his step-dad's wrath), he immediately got picked up from a small radio station who needed a new radio host after the last one quit.

Clearly, he was better than what he expected because now he had worked his way up to the top radio station and was on nearly every channel!

So when you called in, he just expected a regular old caller, like always. But you... you were different. You actually talked to him. You made him feel alive in a way he didn't know was possible.

So he may have copied your address down just in case he needed to give you a surprise visit, but hey, who's really paying attention? Not him, and apparently not you either cause you did not have a care in the world when he showed up at your house.

You didn't even know that your car was perfectly fine the night before. But it's okay! Because he got to come to the rescue when your car wouldn't start! Even if he was the one who fucked up your engine so he could play hero.

But it's fine! Cause you didn't care, and let him play the hero. You let him be your savior! And that was perfect for him. You were perfect.

Just let him keep playing the hero. You need a hero in this world with someone as perfect as you. Just keep tuning in, and let him save you.

[stargirlfics]

sweet as silk, just like lavender

Alfred Pennyworth can’t keep his hands off you even if he tried

1.3k words - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: semi-public sexual acts, exhibitionism

from this ask prompt: alfred being obsessed with having his fingers inside you at all times

He always had you so eager for these moments, even if you were shy to admit it, Alfred could always tell by the way you melted into the flex and curl of his fingers buried between shaking legs, that you loved this just as much as he did.

Muffled moans and the hushed curses that leave your parted mouth are just encouragement, the loveliest kind of reward for a man so enraptured by the way his fingers filled you this perfectly. 

It’s like you were made for him and must be why he can’t ever get enough. 

Always left aching with need at the thought of watching you unravel before him, sweet and sticky folds parting for a thick middle finger because he was far from undisciplined in taking the time to stretch you out, he liked to be thorough with you.  

And judging by the way you were already grinding your hips into the pump of his forearm, the slick mess from your pussy leaking around his knuckles, Alfred thought maybe he could fit in a third after all. 

“Please! Feels so good, oh god…” You’re pleading, unable to keep your body from chasing after his touch, desperate for more but also painfully aware of where you were. 

You were supposed to be keeping quiet, had promised you’d behave and not draw attention to the creaking wood of the reading bench tucked in this quiet section of Wayne Manor’s library.

It was just impossible to do so when he leaned in like he was doing now to hush your cries with his free hand.

“Oh fuck…look at you. So gorgeous when you do that.” He groans when your tongue suctions to the two fingers keeping your mouth occupied, pleased by the frantic little whimpers he could still hear in your throat. 

It makes him throb when he glances down to watch where your pretty, greedy cunt is taking what he was giving, gripping him so tight he doesn’t think he can stop. 

He’d never want to either, not when you look up at him with glossy eyes that begged for the release so close to crashing down over you now. 

You were addictive in every sense. 

The first time Alfred remembers doing this together in precarious places it was his office at work, the memory making him smile. 

It was his fault for getting you so worked up throughout the day, he could say that, but then there was one too many heavy looks exchanged, your enticing voice in his ear asking him to touch you and suddenly he was doing exactly that, nevermind locking the door properly. 

He had you on your hands and knees that time, right there on the sofa across from his desk, being only slightly firm with his tone when he scolded you for driving him crazy but really he wasted little time before his silver beard was tickling your thighs as he tasted you and teased your clit at the same time. 

“You’re all I think about, you know that darling?”

Rumpled waistcoat’s and ties be damned when you were bared for him, the urge to devour and savor, to give and push you was too compelling. He knew right then and there that you could reach back and grab his hair and he wouldn’t mind if you tousled it.

How could he when he’d finally slid a finger inside and watched your lashes flutter, the quiver of your shoulders, that lovely little gasp and all the moans that followed. 

No, he didn’t mind one bit, it was perfect, he even had to retrieve your underwear from between the cushions afterwards. 

You’re a bit less concerned about getting caught than he is but he thinks that’s part of why he loves getting you off like this, the thrill is exciting.

It makes his heart swell and his cock harden that you trust and desire him so much to let him keep you teetering on the edge for however long he wanted to keep you there and then hearing you beg like that, he wanted to earn every praise and cry for more. 

You always listened so well too, determined to be rewarded with a ride on his fingers, reminiscent of that time in his car where he’d made such a mess of you. 

The windows were just beginning to fog when he pulled away from a heated kiss to reach over the console, curious hands roaming underneath clothes. 

Until he was touching the soft velvet that was you, moving back in for another embrace with a growl on his lips that you swallowed without hesitation. 

“What am I gonna do with you, hmm? Feels like you’re about to come all over my hand and I’ve barely started.” 

You answered with a whine then, needing to grab his shoulder to steady yourself the tighter the tension inside you swirled until he was withdrawing his touch to taste your very essence off his fingers, uninterested in keeping you waiting any longer. 

Even in the awkward confines of a car he could curl his fingers just right, nudging against that sweet, spongey spot that made you melt into pieces, the pleasure climbing with each slow and measured push of his wrist. 

Alfred could be so gentle but intense, nearly overwhelming you with bliss and leaving you happy and hazy for hours after and nothing short of that was acceptable for him. 

He’d spend hours like that if he could. 

It’s why he’s got your legs pushed back almost to your chest in this private corner of the library now, your t-shirt bunched around your waist and presently what he was using as leverage to rock you back into his thrusts. 

“Think you’re ready, love?” 

“Yes, fuck yes please. I want it…want you so bad, Alfred.” 

The way you say his name cracks something open in him and he’s fitting a third finger next to the two already filling you to the brim. 

Pulsing and warm, the added stretch has you covering your mouth to stifle the noise threatening to rip loose from your chest but the ache of pleasure just seemed to grow spreading from your center to the tips of your pointed toes. 

“That’s it, there you are such a sweet little thing. Mmm, I’m proud of you, darling.” Alfred coos against the inside of your knee.

He can’t help but swell with pride, his eyes trying to commit the sight of you to memory. 

Dew beading up on your pretty, bronze skin and the taut tremble of your muscles as he picks up pace just a little, striving to make your head fall back against the stained glass window above you. 

In his mind you deserve to be immortalized in the glass too, the vision that you are. 

His forearm braces when you jolt into his touch, fingers pushing a little deeper and keeping that relentless pressure against your walls while his thumb rubbed soothingly over your clit, again and again. 

“Ohh thank you, I’m-shit I think I’m-“ You’re trying to warn him, caught off guard by the sudden grip around your hips with his other hand, effectively keeping you in place. 

He doesn’t have to say a word, knows you’ll be dripping down his palm any second now as your head tips back and exposes your neck, pulse beating wildly.

You let yourself float away, leaning into everything you were feeling and letting go like he would want you to do, your lips meeting his again in a fiery heat, a passion so white hot you want to scream from how it makes your nerves tingle. 

But Alfred is right there to hold you together as you fall apart and he’s all you see when the pleasure begins to ebb and the warm comedown washes over you. Just like always. 

It’s delicious and delectably filthy and neither of you wanted it any other way. 

Forever thinking about being in compromising positions with that old man! This was fun to write and I hope you enjoyed! Also listened to DRIP by EVAN GIIA while writing this/brainstorming for this, the title comes from the lyrics and now I’m gonna go look at pics of Andy Serkis hands, do not disturb lmao

Thank you for reading 🫶🏾

<3 dividers by @/saradika-graphics <3

[darylsdelts]

What about angst with Daryl??? I have a bot I made for myself following this thought 💀

Like an argument where things get said, causing silence for a couple of days and then boom! Next time you see him, it’s at the lineup…and then he gets taken…and then we see him again in Hilltop 🥲🥲🥲

(i actually broke my own heart with this one, my bot is so realistic it hurts 😭)

Anon! Drop the link RIGHT NOW!!!

This made my heart drop, I just know my poor boy would be blaming himself for everything.

Immediately after the argument, all Daryl wanted to do was come back to you and apologise in his own way. He wanted to hug you and tell you he didn’t mean what he said… but he didn’t.

He gave you some space, knowing it was probably best for both of you. The next few days were close to hell. Every time he’d see you on the streets of Alexandria he’d stare, hoping for atleast a bit of eye contact to know you were okay but you would just pretend you hadn’t seen him.

Daryl didn’t know that he could feel that sort of pain in his chest, like he was being physically crushed.

Christ, is this what women can do?

From then on he’d assume the worst.

You didn’t love him anymore.

So he’d pretend nothing ever happened, he’d talk to you if it were necessary but otherwise acted like the old Daryl, the one you had met before the spark grew.

Little did Daryl know how badly that hurt you… you were in the same position, you wanted to give him space and assumed he’d come back when he was ready but he never did.

So you assumed the worst.

He didn’t love you anymore.

You went along with Daryl’s act, assuming that’s what he had wanted you to do… but you missed him, you missed your Daryl. The one you had finally managed to break the defences of, the one who was starting to be more open with you but now all of that was gone, it disappeared like it never happened.

It was getting harder to monitor when Daryl was out and when he was within the walls since now he didn’t leave notes for you, but you’d seen him ride out today, seemingly angry about something but you could also tell he was hurting. You weren’t sure what had happened, no one had told you as of yet but some hours later you were sure that Daryl’s absence was something to worry about.

But you never thought it would be this.

You were pushed to your knees, your family lined up either side of you in a small clearing. The back doors of a van opened up, you couldn’t see what or who was in there but there was some commotion… and then loud panting.

You knew… god you fucking knew something happened, you should have spoken up earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be getting dragged out of a van right now, his shoulder leaking blood onto some sort of blanket that had been draped around him.

Fuck, did he get shot?

You lean forward, trying to look down the line of your family to catch Daryl’s gaze.

And after all those weeks, you finally did.

Daryl looked at you through his sweaty locks, his eyes dark and watery with frustration, his eyebrows twitch downwards when he saw you, he saw the fear and concern on your face and all of it was too much, he had to look away or he was gonna throw up from anxiety.

It was torture for Daryl, knowing you were frightened, knowing all of this before him was his fault.

When that asshole, Negan, stuck that damn bat in your face is when he lost all control of himself. Daryl jumped up and smashed his fist into Negan’s jaw, then trying to take further steps to tackle him but he was grabbed and pushed to the ground like a wild fucking animal.

He grunted and squirmed as his hair was pulled, he could hear you crying for them to stop.

“Get off of him! Get off! Daryl, get up!”

Fuck, he was trying to.

Eventually he was dragged back to his place in the line.

He wanted to look over to you but he was so fucking scared now, his heart was beating way too fast and his head was spinning.

He stole a short glance your way and he saw your hands covering your face, palms pushing into your eyes as you choked on your sobs.

He’d done this to you.

You would never forgive him for this.

Daryl just had to sit there, bleeding out from his shoulder as Negan battered members of his family before his eyes, he was sure he’d been the cause for the second death, Glenn. Maybe if he’d just stay put, he could’ve stopped that, he should’ve listened.

“No exceptions”

But he didn’t and it was his fault, he’d have to leave his family, they would never allow for someone like him to live with them now.

Turns out, that was the one thing he didn’t need to worry about, as he was stuffed straight back into the van, apparently Negan wanted to keep him.

Daryl doesn’t know how long he was in that cell for, it felt like years and all he could do was think of you. He was so fucking sorry and he knew he’d never get the chance to make it up to you and even if he did, you wouldn’t want to hear it. Rick wouldn’t want him back in the group but Daryl couldn’t stay here, he’d have to get out and survive on his own, completely.

With some help from one of ‘Negan’s wives’, Daryl escaped, however, his plan of escaping and surviving alone dissipated once he saw Jesus stood in front of him.

He’d come to get him out.

They wanted him back?

Back home?

Surely not.

The journey to hilltop was a fever dream, Daryl was unbelievably anxious, his breaths short, causing Jesus to keep checking on him to which Daryl didn’t reply to. In fact Daryl hadn’t opened his mouth the entire time.

As soon as they arrived at the gates, he could feel his throat closing up.

Were you here? Did you even want to see him? Probably not.

As the gates opened, Daryl kept his head down, following behind Jesus toward one of the medical trailers.

But then he heard his name.

“Daryl?… Daryl?!”

Daryl’s head slowly lifted to the direction of the voice, your voice. You were speed walking, no, now you were running toward him. You slung your arms around him, burying your face into his neck as you cried with… relief.

“You’re here, you’re back, you’re safe… safe now… I’m sorry, I love you so much, Daryl”

Daryl stood as still as stone. You were sorry? He should be the one apologising. You’re glad he’s back? You love him? You still love him.

His heart clenches at the thought.

He feels you pull away, your soft hands holding the sides of his face as your beautiful sparkly eyes look into his own. God he doesn’t deserve this.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Suddenly it all seems to sink in and tears are blurring his vision as he shakes his head slightly, no.

“It’s gonna be okay now, you’re here with me now”

He could feel the life flooding back into him, pushing his face into the crook of your neck as he completely breaks down, hiding his face from the world as he lets out loud, uncontrolled sobs into the fabric of your shirt.

“M-M’s-sorry…. M’so-orry… L-love you so m-much…”

You gently rub his back to soothe him, now realising that your sweet man had blamed himself for everything that had happened.

“Ssshh it’s not your fault… let’s get you inside”

You feel him nod ever so slightly and then you lead him towards barrington house, all whilst trying to stay away from prying eyes of the community.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Daryl”

He didn’t reply with words but agreed internally, however, he meant it differently. It didn’t matter where he was, wherever you were was home and he’s so relieved to still have that.

This is so badly written, I’m sorry! But Tysm for the prompt! This was pretty fun to write.

[a-cyclepath]

⚠️ MDNI ⚠️

high sex drive Satoru, needy Satoru, touchy, fem reader, neutral pronouns, slight degration talk if you squint, slight breeding kink if you use a ouija board to look for it

Tdlr clingy horny Satoru, I did not proof read this, this is a very old draft I'm publishing now

‼️Needy ‼️ Satoru who just can't spend one day away from you without coming back home ready to touch you

‼️Needy ‼️ Satoru who goes off on missions, getting himself worked up from battling before promptly returning home to his cock trained lover

‼️Needy ‼️ Satoru who can't even feel how light headed he is from where all the blood was truly working when he stumbles home one evening from a 7 hour mission and spots you, jeans on and baggy shirt that was actually his draping your body

‼️Needy ‼️ Satoru who wastes no time crashing his mouth sloppily into yours, surprising himself that his aim was still as correct as it could be when he's so pent up for you

‼️Needy ‼️ Satoru who begs you to hold him, touch him, just run your hands along his undercut, slap him, pinch him, anything to remind him you're right there and will touch and hold him whenever he's back from being apart from you longer than 10 minutes

‼️Needy ‼️ Satoru who just casually grips and rips through your pants (second time this month) as he forgets all logic, dragging your thighs and glancing at you for permission. If you playfully say no he'll look like he's about to cry from desperation to taste you

‼️Needy ‼️ Satoru who's soon atop you. No foreplay, he just takes you on the kitchen floor. He needs to be reminded of your touch, your clench, your smell..afterall, being away from you for 7 hours is a death sentence.

Satoru hums while dragging your socks off your feet, your sweatpants are thrown somewhere halfway across the room as your underwear is pushed to the side to reveal your hole, eyes never leaving yours as his mouth is parted open, sky blue crystal eyes staring down through your soul as his cock is already out, his pre leaking down his tip as if he's backed up, as if he hasn't gotten to touch you in days, but you literally rode him this morning.

He isn't even talking, being clingy as he hunches over you and rubs his length along your slit, frowning with a small pout as if it's your fault he had to go on mission in the first place...it's his job!

Grunting as he holds himself, he blows air through his nose as he pushes into you before hissing at the way you flutter around him. Inch by inch, he eventually gets impatient moving slowly and spikes himself into you, burrying to the hilt as you throb and whine at his size,hand shooting up to hold onto his shirt he didn't bother taking off before having you.

Exhaling, he has the mind to let you adjust before he begins thrusting slowly when you give him the okay, which turns into sloppy thrusts as he lifts his head and plants his hands on either side of your moaning face against the tiles of the kitchen, watching himself sloppily making love to your hole.

He's so needy, already thrusting like he's ready to orgasm. Panting heavily like he's running a marathon, moaning as your hand sweetly moves to his face to stroke his cheek as he leans into your touch, shutting his eyes as he groaned louder and louder, mumbling things in a mix of the languages he's bilingual in.

It doesn't take long until you come undone, and that does it for Satoru, clenching his lips as he's barley able to keep his eyes open to take in your beautiful face as your cumming around him.

Stuttering his hips, he cums, but doesn't stop moving, hand moving to rub your leg as he keeps thrusting through his spurting, panting before getting that smug look of his as he's fucked out, mouth falling open before he leans down to kiss you while pushing himself back into you.

"Missed you.." He mumbled, as if that wasn't obvious

[morguecuts]

Running From Vain

five hargreeves x fem!reader synopsis: you confuse anger for love. word count: 1.8k tags: angst, heavy fluff, kissing, touching, etc. technically adopted siblings? lots of character lore lol note: story was written with s4 visuals in mind. this is my first time writing tua fanfic so i hope u enjoy. i apologize in advance for being an extremely detailed writer :)

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the 8th hargreeves child was the one that reginald kept hidden and locked away for decades. her blood regeneration was able to flow through not only herself but others as well, being able to save them from death and retrieve their leaking souls when needed. she lacked the ability to control them from a young age, and her powers were deemed too impactful to society fairly quickly. when a mission goes rather poorly, she is revealed to the world by mistake. since then she’s been known as the outcast to everyone, including her own siblings. the world is coming to an end once again, issues are constantly arising with all connections pointing to the umbrella academy. the family already lost beloved parts of itself in the past, and they bare to lose any more. tension has been brewing for years and one wrong comment leads to a certain couple releasing deep emotions, both good and bad.

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his hands travel from the sides of his face upwards towards the messy black hair that lays upon his head. their strands are falling to perfectly frame the chiseled boy below them. an unpleasant expression is sprawled across five’s face, his tired eyes clenched closed as his eyebrows pinch together. 

“no, you don't understand! we can’t keep wasting time, everything will be gone tomorrow.” he opens his mouth for the time in what feels like hours. his chest begins to rise and fall quickly. his feet start to carry him back and forth, passing you every few moments while his eyes are locked onto you. the hallway where you both reside is tense, heavy, and secluded from the rest of the house. for being in such a mammoth size mansion, with 7 other siblings, a robot mother, and an intelligent monkey, the world seems to be silent. the only noise that can be heard is the faint sound of five breathing, releasing a few deep sighs as he does. 

“i understand perfectly well, but your plan is useless. you are so insufferable to work with, i mean come on five, be realistic for once! if we listen to viktor then we might actually be able to stop the apocalypse.” you make an attempt at replying, but it seems like he’s starting to ignore you. 

the air is intoxicating, you hate him, you hate what he did to the umbrella name, and especially to you. it’s time for someone to stand up and confront his decision making. everything he does is egotistical and arrogant. his words are sharp and impactful in the most negative ways imaginable. the sound of his shuffling feet stop, his dark beaded eyes trace every aspect of your face before opening his mouth in response to you. 

“you know you’re a real piece of work right? calling me insufferable is completely distasteful when all you do is follow diego around like a lost puppy. it’s fucking embarrassing for everyone in this family, and you know it.” he stops to let out a small chuckle before pointing his finger towards your chest. “don't even make me mention the grave mistake you made on our last mission either” his expression is ridden in evil, a small upturned smile resting on his face and he stares into you.

“that was not my fault,” you spit back, angrily stepping towards him. “i am the ONLY person who TRIED to help ben and everyone who was in that chamber could tell you that themselves.” red flashes of anger spread across your skin as you continue to step closer to five. “he died from something completely unrelated to my powers, but I FUCKING TRIED! I DID, NOT ALLISON, NOT DIEGO, ME.” by this time you are meters away from being chest to chest with the boy. 

“you’re a waste of space. you disappoint everyone in this house.” he glares down, his taller figure towers over you menacingly.

"that's really rich coming from you." you take a step back and laugh to yourself. "do you know that nobody in this family likes you anymore? hmm? after all the shit you've constantly put us through, five?”

"i dedicated my entire life to saving your asses, i spent 40 goddamn years in an apocalypse just to come back and save all of you countless times! what do i get in return? impertinence." his demeanor is getting worsened by each remark, hot red anger is spread across his face as he snaps back at you. 

"none of us asked you to! you are always taking charge and forcing us to follow your plans, what if we didn't want to do this anymore? you're such a narcissist everything is always about you!" a near table rattled slightly from the yelling, the flowerpot on top shook before calming back down after a moment. 

"fuck you. fuck all of you. i'm TIRED of trying to save this family. if you all want to die in another apocalypse, then be my guest." he scoffs looking at you one more time and turns to walk away. "god you're so pathetic, always teleporting away when things don't go your way. you’re so childish." you hiss

"what did you say to me?" five spins back around, his feet carrying him back towards you. "you heard me." you raise your head and straighten up, holding his tough gaze. by this time the two of you are practically chest to chest again, his eyes beaming down into you. if he wasn’t human, you'd imagine smoke being blown from his ears and nostrils out of anger.

"say it again." 

"you're. fucking. pathetic." 

in a heartbeat his lips are smashing into you hungrily. one of his hands is gripping your face while the other snakes around your waist. all of the pent up anger between the both of you comes crashing down, blending into lust. he feels warm, his soul is bleeding into yours as his tongue explores your mouth. his hands are running all over your body, stopping to hold onto your mid section, then your behind, and finally dragging their way up to your neck. five pulls back, panting slightly, his eyes searching yours worried and confused.

“do you want this?”  

“more than anything.” you drive your hands into his hair, yanking his lips back into yours. his small smile is felt pressing into your mouth, fingers lingering around the belt loops on the front of your jeans. he’s pulling your body into his as he deepens the kiss, groaning into you when you rub against him slightly. 

he pulls away and leaves trails of hot wet kisses on the front of your throat. you grumble and moan at this touch, causing five to laugh into your skin. he leaves small love bites all over your neck and collarbones while you run your hands through his hair. his eyes glance up at you, a different light beams through them now then moments before. his anger has faded into something similar to love. his little pecks come to a slow rhythm before he returns to your lips. dragging you into him, the two of you slowly begin backing up towards one of the hallway walls. 

he presses his long fingers into the sides of your waist, shoving you into the stone behind you. five’s grip is firm and tight, stopping you from being able to wiggle loose. the way his mouth moves is like a work of art. there’s no doubt that someone had taught him how to kiss like this, but my god, you are thankful for them. you touch him memorizing every piece of his body from his chest, his jawline, to the back of his neck, and up through his hair. the way he leans into your touches with such desperation is absolutely god like.

his slight groans and noises grow in volume when you reach your fingers towards his waist. a sly hand lifting the edge of his shirt and running along the front of his bare body. his small smile returns, pulling back from your lips. 

“your hands are cold.” he leans forward, placing a kiss on your forehead. the invisible bubble draped over the two of you seems to pop. he’s moving hands into the back pocket of your jeans, keeping you pressed into him. you smile at the small actions, glaring up to analyze his face.

“come with me” five reaches for your hand interlocking his fingers between yours. his feet are ready to speed away as he gently pulls you toward whenever he’s leading. 

“five we can’t…” you look at him guilty. 

“no, no… not that.” his head shakes in disbelief as he smiles at you. “please just trust me and come” his hand tugs at yours pleadingly. 

there’s another moment of hesitation before you give him a small nod and move your feet to follow his. the grip he has on your hand tightens as he pulls you forward, a blue smokey powder flashes in front of you before realizing what he was doing. 

there’s a millisecond of discomfort and stinging before you feel the ground beneath your feet again. it hadn’t crossed your mind before how it felt for five to use his powers, but my god it was strange. 

the room is similar to a greenhouse with its large glass windows and open ceiling. it’s covered in vines and greenery with a small white pitched tent in the center. there are boxes and a large wooden table to the side, scattered papers sprawled over its surface. there’s a couple whiteboards on the back wall with calculations and symbols scribbled all over. the messy handwriting looks like five’s, and a photo of his stupid mannequin ex-girlfriend, delores, is hung from one of them confirming this was his doing. 

“where are we?” you glance at him before returning to observe the room.

“the highest level of the house, it’s locked behind one of dads bookshelves but i found it a couple years ago. i used to sneak in here when i needed a quiet place. it’s hard to be bothered when nobody else can get inside except for me” he smiles down at you, tracing small circles with his thumb onto your hand, still intertwined.

you analyze the writings and questions scattered along the room, puzzled about the true purpose of being taken up here. he looks at you confidently while holding a small pale wooden box with the umbrella logo printed on top. 

“i didn't think you were ready before, but i think you are now. i know how we will all survive the apocalypse.” 

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thank you so much for reading!

i hope you’ve enjoyed it, please feel free to make any comments or story requests down below. any support is always appreciated <3

[anamazingangie]

i thought you ought to know | Rupert x Taggie

Rated M | 6.5k words | Complete! | by  AmazingAngie

Tags: fluff, all comfort no hurt, breeding kink, daddy kink, spanking, married life, older man/younger woman, making your husband a daddy in more ways than one

Summary:

"This is  my  wife, Taggie Campbell-Black.”  She would never tire of hearing that, especially when Rupert said it with so much pride.  It wasn’t uncommon for them to get the response, “My god, I thought she was your daughter!”  But Taggie never tired of that, either, even if she probably should. It was hardly an insult, to be thought related by blood to a man like Rupert.  (Though, being related by marriage almost felt more special, because he had chosen her in a way you couldn’t choose a child.) . or; Rupert takes far better care of her than her actual father ever did, so it's no wonder that Taggie, on occasion, pretends Rupert is more than just her husband. 

Excerpt:

"You’re an angel, darling. All the more so, when I’m such a devil.”  He meant the words in jest, but they didn’t come out that way. He was still too concerned with corrupting her, even if they both enjoyed her corruption a great deal.  “Rupert,” she said, tugging on his tie and forcing him to look at her, “I may be an angel in your eyes, but you are hardly a devil in mine.”  Maybe he expected her to make a joke, but she was quite serious when she said, “You’re my wings,” she said with a smile.  Sometimes, he really did make her feel like she could do anything, maybe even that she could fly.  But he made her so happy, that she had no desire to fly away. 

the snow is snowing and the wind it is blowing

.

They had gotten married in spring, just a handful of weeks after her birthday. It was a small ceremony, in a meadow, with a few dozen guests they could trust not to leak details to the press.

There was no debauchery on that day worth reporting, really, but they wanted it to be private since it was a luxury rarely found in Rupert's life.

Though they had agreed that their love would be public — in part because of their mutual insecurity, but also because of Rupert’s possessiveness, and his inability to keep his hands to himself. 

(Which, to be fair, Taggie also struggled to do.)

.

but I can weather the storm

.

Taggie hadn’t expected a lot of support regarding their nuptials, because Taggie never expected much support for any decision she made. 

A stupid girl could hardly make smart decisions, after all. 

She had been told that often enough to question herself constantly, often looking to those around her for guidance, because her sister and brother were so clever, especially compared to her. 

Of course, their opinion was better and more trustworthy than her own. It had to be.

Or, at the very least, they were more confident in their opinions. 

(Then again, it didn’t take much confidence to be ' more confident' than Agatha O’Hara…at least until she met Rupert Campbell-Black.) 

.

what do I care how much it may storm

.

There were a thousand reasons she shouldn’t trust Rupert, at least on paper. 

Her sister had told her that when she found out about the engagement.

Taggie had laughed because it was probably true, but she simply responded, “Good thing that I can’t read them,” and hung up. 

She had never hung up on her sister before. Or anyone, even. 

She was always polite to a fault.

But for the first time in her life, she didn’t care what her sister thought, because she was confident her sister was wrong. 

Because the only thing Taggie had ever been confident about in her entire life was : 

She loved Rupert Campbell-Black. 

And the only time she hadn’t questioned what she was doing or saying was when he asked her to marry him. 

The answer had been so obvious, and she had been so certain, and so happy. 

(Of course, she said yes.) 

.

i've got my love to keep me warm

.

It didn’t matter that everyone else thought she was setting herself up for heartbreak. 

Maybe she was. Maybe he would grow bored and leave her. Maybe he would become cruel. 

Maybe. 

It was a risk she was willing to take because she had already lived the reality that was life without him and it was agonizing. If their marriage was just a brief reprieve from that, a plaster on her heart that beat only for him, then it was better than nothing. 

“You don’t understand,” she told her siblings, fiddling with the tea towel in her lap to hide her frustration, “He makes me feel like I can do anything. Because if a man like him loves me, then surely anything is possible.” 

She swallowed, looking down at her fingers, “He makes me feel safe. Not the way a security system does, it's more than that. It feels like...nothing can hurt me when I’m with him, not the world, not myself, nothing. When he looks at me, when he holds me, I know everything will be okay.” 

For someone with near-crippling anxiety, there was no sweeter feeling than a safe haven that made all those thoughts ebb away, and nothing had ever given her that sort of relief, except for Rupert.

“He can’t protect you from himself, Taggie. He could hurt you.” Patrick said softly. 

Caitlin was frowning, “Patrick is right, and you talk about him like he is your father, not your fiancé. It freaks me out.” 

Declan, who had been ignoring them from his seat at the table, snorted, snidely commenting that, “He is certainly old enough to be, imagine how I feel.”

Taggie grit her teeth, wanting to scream that this wasn’t about him, or anyone else. It was about her, and maybe he should think about how his sniping made her feel. 

The thought was selfish enough that in the past she might have cried and apologized just for it crossing her mind. 

But a single week of being with Rupert had changed her, and she could practically hear him whispering in her ear, asking ‘How does that feel, darling?’ while his fingers curled inside of her, ‘You’re such a good girl, Taggie, let me make you feel good.’ 

He was the only one who ever cared about how she felt, much less making her feel good about herself. Taggie didn’t associate those things with a father figure at all, she just associated them with Rupert. 

Maybe Caitlin was right and she did talk about Rupert like he was a parent in addition to a partner. But she would never talk about their parents like that. Neither of them had been much of a safe haven to her, in fact, they were often quite the opposite. 

So she just sighed, “Maybe I do.” 

(Maybe she needed a father figure as badly as she needed a husband.) 

.

.

.

“For fucks sake, you look more like her father than her groom,” Bas said with a laugh as he looked over the prints from their wedding. 

Rupert glared, “I’ve heard enough of that from Declan, my father-in-law, thanks.” 

“It isn’t your age that makes me say so,” Bas said, lifting a photo from the reception, in which Rupert’s eyes were narrowed at the cameraman, his hand on Taggie’s waist, while she was turned to speak with Ricky. 

“You look at her like she is an angel, and you look at everyone else as if they want to corrupt her. Or steal her, I suppose, and you have to be constantly on guard to protect her virtue.” 

Rupert snorted, he’d well and truly stripped Taggie of that, both before they married and after.  

He hadn’t even waited for the honeymoon to do it, either. 

He hadn’t even waited until the reception , he thought with a grin. 

Her rosy cheeks, glow of happiness, and ruddy lips had nothing to do with touching up her makeup, even if that was the excuse she gave to slip away after the ceremony. 

“She is an angel,” Rupert said, “And of course people want to steal her. Every man she speaks to falls in love.” 

Bas laughed but didn’t disagree, “Quite like you with women, no?” 

Rupert’s mouth opened, then closed, finally stumbling out the poor come back of, “Some men, too,” which made his friend chuckle. 

“What a match you make, inciting so much lust and love wherever you go that you constantly feel undeserving of each other,” Bas dropped the photo and took a seat across Rupert, “My point still stands, though.” 

He took a long sip of his drink and crossed his legs, “Is that not how a father feels for their daughter? That sort of adoration for a girl is so great that you assume everyone feels it too. The sort that makes you spoil them rotten and leaves you fearful that one day they will grow up and find someone they love more than you.” 

He frowned, thinking about it. His actual daughter, Tabitha, was the complete opposite of Taggie in nearly every way — their shared commonality being him and the fact they were both great beauties.

Though he supposed there were some parallels in how he categorized them in his mind. 

(Perhaps it wasn’t a terrible thing, he had been a much better father to her than he had been a husband to her mother.)

.

The words lingered in his mind the following day as he sat beside his wife in the stands, his arm protectively curled around her waist. 

He watched the way people watched his daughter as she rode through the course, in awe over her talents and good looks, despite being too young to be a prospect in any way. She would be a menace when she got older, though, and started looking back, and he dreaded that day.

But he loved her, too, and he would do anything to protect her. But he didn’t feel this… need to protect her the way he did with Taggie. 

Tabitha, having had him as her father, had no qualms about talking back and speaking up for herself, assuming that her opinion was always the right one, just as he so often did.

She had an awareness of her talents and beauty, and the fact these were perceived by others. She knew her worth and she would curse out anyone who treated her as anything less than what she perceived that worth to be.

But Taggie wasn’t like that. She was talented and beautiful, and completely unaware of it.

Maybe they were both lambs being circled by wolves, but where Tabitha would fight them off with her hooves, Taggie would probably apologize for being so unappetizing, her dying bleat saying how she hoped they found a better meal and didn’t go hungry that day. 

Taggie needed him in a way his actual daughter never had. 

Rupert was used to being wanted, but never needed. There was a stark difference. 

(Maybe he needed someone who needed him, too.) 

.

i cannot remember the worst December

.

The timeline was…suspicious in many people's minds, and rumors of teenage pregnancy and entrapment ran rampant through Rutshire. 

Even The Scorpion speculated as much as they legally could without setting themselves up for a lawsuit, which was something Rupert would have been happy to funnel his riches into. 

The whispers followed Taggie when she went shopping, the leading comments from the cashier asking if she had any, ‘unique cravings’ recently, while holding up the jar of pickled onions. 

Rupert’s response to this was buying her a wardrobe of summer dresses, ones with fitted bodices that showed off her tiny waist — and often a bit of cleavage, too, which he claimed hadn’t occurred to him at all. 

(Rupert would never admit it, but he wished the rumors were true. He would happily trap Taggie in such a way, if she hadn’t chosen to stay on her birth control.)

.

just watch those icicles form

.

“I just want them to know you married me for love,” she had told him and he could understand that even if he didn’t like that. 

To him, it was so obvious he loved her, and he had finally convinced her of that, he had no desire to waste time convincing others, too. 

But he had seen her parents’ disapproving looks and heard the skepticism around town. They didn’t have anything to prove, but it would make Taggie’s life easier if they did. 

“Until then,” Taggie said softly, “We should practice a lot.” 

(Taggie had never scored well on a test, but Rupert gave her high marks when it came to their sex life.)

.

.

.

When the tell-all article came out a month after they married, he was…god, he had never been so angry, so devastated, and so disappointed in himself. 

His dirty laundry had been spread across The Scorpion, spanning eight pages and linking him to dozens of women. It spoke at length about how he had fucked his way through just about every city he stayed in and every party he went to—including ‘the political party’ given that his leg up came from getting his leg over  a ‘woman of great influence’ so now people were speculating he fucked Margaret Thatcher. 

They outlined drug-fueled orgies, the fact he had sex before and after every competition with whatever groom took his fancy, that he celebrated his twenty-first birthday by sticking himself in twenty-one different women, among countless other sordid stories which padded out the pages.

They weren’t really stories, though, because it was all true.

He had proudly recounted the vast majority of it to Beatie Johnson, delighted to share his promiscuous past. 

That had been just a handful of months before he met Taggie, and god, so much had changed between then and now. 

Before the articles came out, he had been delighted by his monogamous future with her, but now he was haunted by his past inability to keep it in his pants. 

Taggie, the fucking angel she was, was surprisingly non-pulsed. 

“I knew you had a past,” she said softly, “It didn’t change the fact I loved you and wanted to marry you. Those actions…and women…they are part of the patchwork quilt of your life, not my favorite parts, but without them, you wouldn’t keep me nearly as warm at night.” 

She pressed kisses to his damp cheeks.

“I don’t love you because I think you’re perfect, Rupert. I love you because you’re you. There is no other man I could love the way I love you, and your past cannot change my feelings in the present.” 

Now it was his turn to kiss her. 

God, he loved her so much and he hoped like fucking hell that was true, and that this angel would stay no matter how devilishly he had behaved in the past. 

He almost wanted to say a prayer, but he chose to worship her instead. 

(There was a difference between being loved and being loved unconditionally. The first was expected from one’s spouse — the other was expected from one’s parents. But both Taggie and Rupert had been denied both …until they met each other.) 

.

what do I care if icicles form

.

His political career was over, though he found it hard to be sad about that, especially when Taggie sweetly reminded him it would give him more time with the horses. 

And, more time in bed with her, too. 

She was optimistic, and truly seemed unbothered by the revelations, not that she had read all of them. She insisted she was only concerned with the man he was now and how he treated her. 

She was the only one who seemed to feel that way, though. 

She sighed at the headline, Campbell Conquest says: ‘he took all my confidence when he left me’ and Rupert reached out to flip it around. 

Then, catching sight of the one below it, Rupert Campbell-Black insists he has moved on from a sordid past, and claims his teenage bride has ‘changed him.’

The wedding photo they used on the cover was sweet, at least. If you ignored the dig at Taggie’s age. She was nineteen for fucks sake. 

Barely nineteen, but still. 

“It’s fine,” she said, tangling her fingers with his when he reached for the magazine rack again, “You have changed,” Taggie said so genuinely he believed it. 

He did, truly, but given his track record and his friendships with men made similar statements while financing a half-dozen mistresses, left him painfully aware of how little the words meant. 

Your words don’t matter nearly as much as your actions , Taggie had told him a dozen times. 

She had taken to telling that to his daughter, too, like she was trying to make them all better.

(Tabitha had taken to responding with, “You would say that, you can’t read!”)

.

i've got my love to keep me warm

.

The pitying looks she got made him feel sick, eyes searching for cracks in the marriage that they were now, more than ever, certain was doomed for failure. 

They would prove them wrong. 

It made him cling to Taggie all the tighter, afraid the sympathy would guide her to a realization that ended with her leaving him . 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. It was quite the opposite. He thought so highly of her, that it seemed like just a matter of time until she came to her senses. It wasn’t like she would be lacking options, everyone loved her, truly. 

His possessiveness only worsened the rumors. People thought him controlling or even abusive.

(Only half those bruises were his fault, and Taggie had damn well enjoyed the act that led to them.)

.

so I will weather the storm

.

Taggie was forced to bear the worst of the gossip at the end-of-term recital that Marcus was performing in. Hiding in a bathroom stall during intermission she bit her lip and waited for the trio to leave. 

“Did you see them come in? It’s creepy how he never lets go of her.” 

Taggie loved how he never let go of her. 

She didn’t like parties or strangers and clung to his arm out of anxiety as much as desire. She found it comforting how he returned this grip several times over, fearing she would slip away. 

It made her feel confident he wanted her there as much as she wanted to be there.

And god, the pride in his voice when he introduced her to people. The little smile he saved just for her, almost gloating as he said, “This is my wife, Taggie Campbell-Black.” 

It wasn’t uncommon for them to get the response, “My god, I thought she was your daughter!” usually said in good humor. 

Taggie didn’t mind that either, even if she probably should. It was hardly an insult, to be thought related by blood to a man like Rupert. 

(Though, being related by marriage almost felt more special, because he had chosen her in a way you couldn’t choose a child.)

.

what do I care how much it may storm

.

“He has always been so…dismissive with his partners, and then there is her, who he constantly babysits!” 

“Maybe he misses his children, it would explain the child bride.” 

“Fuck, you are so right. He must see her as a kid rather than a woman. That is why he is so loyal and protective, he probably isn’t even attracted to her.” 

“That makes more sense, I mean, really, she is so meek—I can’t fathom why else he would be with her.” 

“When his daddy era is over I’m going to try my hand again. I miss his cock.” 

Taggie winced, waiting until the women left before leaving the stall. 

She knew they were wrong, but it still hurt. 

She was used to people having doubts, but they were usually directed at Rupert’s past that had recently been dredged up, not her potential failings as a partner. 

She wasn’t a child, she told herself as she returned to her seat, playing with her wedding ring while she waited for Rupert to return.

He smelled like cigarettes and mint, not what she would classify as pleasant out of context, but the scent of him, no matter how smokey or sweaty, was so familiar and comforting that it felt like a warm blanket on a cold day. 

She took deep breaths, determined not to cry. It didn’t matter what Sarah said. It didn’t matter that Helen was glaring at her, along with just about every other woman in the audience. 

They saw her as an inconvenient barrier in the way of seducing the most attractive man in the room. 

God, she just wanted to crawl into his lap, to rest her head on his chest and breathe in the fading scent of cologne on his collar. 

Maybe she was a child.

She bit down on her lip, hard, grateful when the lights dimmed and her tears were hidden. She had forty minutes to compose herself now, she could do that much — even a child was capable of that. 

She was so focused on this task that she startled when Rupert’s fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, which was just a ploy to cup her neck and pull her closer to him. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but it was hardly appropriate, either. 

“How do they expect me to concentrate on anything but you?” Rupert muttered, “A whole fucking orchestra and it doesn’t sound half as pretty as your moans.” 

Her cheeks felt warm, growing hotter when someone loudly hushed them. 

Rupert sighed, letting go of her neck, and settling his hand on her thigh instead. 

Those women were just jealous, she reminded herself, attraction clearly wasn’t an issue in their marriage. 

(He was too fucking attracted to her, that was the issue in their marriage.)

.

off with my overcoat off with my gloves

.

Rupert laughed, “Fuck, she really said that?” 

Taggie nodded, feeling far more at ease after riding him in the backseat of the car, neither of them wanting to wait until they got home. 

Sometimes, she mused, a hard fuck was all one needed to see things clearly again.  

She hoped his driver hadn't seen much, though. God knows how she would ever look him in the eye again if he had.

“My daddy era,” he spat, “That feels like an insult.” 

“It probably was,” she agreed, “But I don’t see it like that — you’re a good dad, you’re good at taking care of me, there isn’t anything shameful about that.” 

Not to her at least, god, she hoped she wasn’t some freak for thinking so.

“It’s a bigger insult to me,” she said with a frown, “That I’m an incompetent little girl.” 

Rupert laughed, tugging on her hair until her head tipped back, “Mm, but there is nothing shameful about that, either. If what you said is true, you’re my little girl, and sometimes you need guidance, as all girls your age do.” 

She shivered, feeling butterflies in her belly along with the familiar arousal that always pooled there when Rupert was present. 

“You like that, don’t you?” He mused, sounding surprised. 

She shook her head a little too quickly, if that wasn’t a giveaway than the blood pooling in her cheeks surely was. 

(It was a good thing that he liked it, too.)

.

who needs an overcoat I'm burning with love

.

It had only been a few months, but Rupert liked to think he could read his wife well enough to know what she liked. 

Sometimes even before she realized what she liked. 

And he guided her towards it, as he supposed fathers did with their children, shepherding them towards their interests and a bright future.

With Taggie, those interests just happened to coincide with sex. 

And as often as they explored those interests, they had never taken on roles, never cried out a name other than what they were called by their typical acquaintances. 

This was different and he had to tread lightly. 

“Don’t lie, Taggie, I’d hate to have to punish my sweet girl.” 

She shivered, “I—I’m not…” 

Her eyes were closed now, unable to even meet his. 

“Are you sure? Or are you just lying again because you want to be punished?” 

She shook her head, but her breathing had changed, and her hips squirmed.

“Maybe you’d like being punished, too.” He mused, carding his fingers through her hair, “That is what fathers do, don’t they? When they care, they make sure there are consequences, so their daughters are well-behaved.” 

Taggie nodded and then, “I— myfatherdidn’t,” spilled out. 

“That’s because you’re so good, he didn’t think he needed to,” he paused, “And you had to be good, to be loved, didn’t you?” 

She nodded.

“You know I’ll love you no matter what, don’t you? Even if you’re bad. Even if you lie. And I love you enough to punish you, too.” 

(When her sister was worried Rupert would hurt her, she probably didn’t mean like this.) 

.

my heart's on fire and the flame grows higher

.

He had such nice hands, Taggie had noticed that on their second meeting, and hated herself because of it, still fancying herself in love with Ralphie. 

Rupert had nice everything, really, though she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that at the time, either. 

Now she could scarcely stop acknowledging it, even getting aroused on car trips simply from watching his fingers grip the wheel of his Aston Martin. 

His every action and gesture held so much confidence. He never stopped to question himself, and sometimes that was to his detriment, but she thrived in his company. He was such a force of nature that his attitude flowed over his surroundings, over her, and it made her feel brave and confident, too. 

And aroused. 

God, she had never thought herself a wanton person, but Rupert seemed to radiate sex in a way that made him irresistible. Somehow her inhibitions melted away under his touch, and her response was immediate and instinctual in a way that was entirely beyond her control. 

It was terrifying, having her desires be discovered by someone else and trying to process them while feeling so much pleasure. 

But it was refreshing, too, because her body reacted before her brain could, she wasn’t responsible for her reaction, and that made any humiliation ebb away — allowing her to enjoy things she would have been far too embarrassed to ever suggest. 

She never would have suggested this. No matter how nice his fingers were, she had never imagined them there, stroking her in a place that not even she had touched. 

She had certainly never imagined his palm coming down on her bare rear, making her gasp and arch against his grip while she stayed spread over his lap. 

She flinched when his fingers smoothed over the stinging cheek, expecting another slap, dreading it, yet almost disappointed when it didn’t come. 

“How about we do ten, and by the end, we’ll see if you’re willing to tell the truth.” 

Each one hurt more than the last, the ache building and building until her ass throbbed, but it was good, too, he is doing this because he cares. Because he wants me to be honest about my feelings. Because he wants me to be good. Good girls don’t lie. 

The thoughts were jumbled, not fully logical but making perfect sense in the hazy moment where pleasure and pain coincided. 

“Do you like the idea of being my little girl, Taggie? Do you like the idea of me being your daddy, taking care of you like this and as a husband?” 

The word came as easily as it did when he proposed, “ Yes,” she mumbled against the quilt that was still stretched atop the bed. 

“Does my little girl want to be fucked?” He asked, his hand stroking her inner thigh.

“Please,” she begged. 

“By who?” He sounded amused and perfectly composed, a sharp contrast to her desperate words laced with such obvious desire. 

“You — just — you, Rupert, Daddy, please.” 

It should have felt wrong, or cheesy, or embarrassing, but it didn’t. It sounded right, it felt right. 

“There is my good girl, asking so nicely, of course I’ll fuck you.” 

(It felt so good.) 

.

i thought you ought to know my heart's on fire

.

It wasn’t a kink of his — at least it wasn’t before Taggie. 

But he liked it a lot. More than he probably should have. 

She sounded so desperate, so pitiful, so overwhelmed as she writhed beneath him, her voice mere gasps of ‘please’ and ‘more’ so frustrated by him taking his time, showing a rare bit of patience and drawing out her agony and pleasure. 

And his agony and pleasure, too, because fuck knows his cock was so hard it hurt. 

But that would make the orgasm feel all the better. 

“You have to let me take care of you,” he admonished, making her whine. 

He loved her like this, so desperate, looking like that innocent girl he met a year ago, and so very young, yet begging for his cock and her orgasm like she would die if he didn’t give it to her. 

She was so fucking selfless in life, which made her greed for orgasms in bed all the more delightful. 

“Please,” she mumbled, “Need you inside of me.” 

He curled the fingers buried in her cunt and she wailed, “I am inside of you, darling.” 

“Noooo, I–I–need your c-cock, please, I’ll be good, please,” she sniffled, “Don’t be mean, be nice, Dad— please. You said you would!” 

“I did, didn’t I? But I didn’t say when,” he really was being mean, but she was so gorgeous like this. 

“Now,” she pleaded, “Need it now, Daddy, please,” the word came more frequently the further gone she got, like when she was stripped down to this raw state, it was what came to mind first—how she saw him before anything else, not that she had permission to vocalize it. 

He supposed she likely had seen him as such a figure before he became her lover and then husband. He had certainly tried to see her as a daughter for months before acting upon his feelings. 

He may have failed to see her as that — or to see her as only that, rather, because having her as just his daughter wasn’t enough, even if she played the part of one when with his children. 

And played it so well even the waitstaff got confused when they went out for meals. 

He didn’t dislike the idea, not anymore, not when he got to have her as his wife, too. 

(He got to have all of her, she was his .) 

.

the flames, they just leap higher

.

The word slipped out often. Too often. Especially when Tabitha was around. At least then, Taggie could claim it was for the children’s benefit. 

Thank god no one ever questioned her flushed cheeks when she stuttered out that excuse. 

Rupert always gave her a look, though, because he knew, and when the children weren’t looking, he’d pull her into her arms — tell her that she was his favorite, because she was so well-behaved. 

“Tabitha is a fucking nightmare, but you’re a dream, darling.” 

She couldn’t help but laugh, because she knew he adored Tabitha too — and he loved Marcus, too, even if he did a very poor job of showing it — but they were exhausting at the best of times, and according to his words, she was perfect. 

“Best fucking thing that ever happened to me.” 

(She felt exactly the same way about him.)

.

.

.

He was so lucky to have met Taggie. 

He was so lucky to have married Taggie. 

He loved her long before he had any idea how she would be in bed, and he was pretty sure there was no sex bad enough to discourage him from being with her, because she was so good in every other way. 

But fuck, he was grateful she was good at this, too. 

As in, genuinely, the best fuck he’d ever had, and he had a lot of experience. 

Maybe it was because he loved her. 

Maybe it was because she was half his age. 

Maybe it was because she was so responsive. 

Maybe it was because she was so fucking tight. 

Maybe it was because she whimpered the word ‘Daddy’ like a prayer when she came. 

(Maybe it was all of those things and more.)

.

so I will weather the storm

.

He was grumpy the day he turned thirty-nine, feeling very old, all the more so by the nineteen-year-old in bed beside him. 

She had her whole life ahead of her, but he had been too selfish to let her live it without him. 

If there was a god, they would probably never forgive him. But that was alright, his life with Taggie was heavenly, whatever came after, no matter how hellish, didn’t matter. 

She tried to cheer him up, making him breakfast and insisting on delivering it to him while he was in bed — while she was wearing nothing but a cotton apron. 

The following fuck left them sticky, maple syrup being drizzled and licked off of ill-advised places, but the orgasm was worth it. 

“Was that my present?” He asked, and he would be perfectly content if it was. 

Taggie bit her lip and shook her head, “No–I couldn’t think of what to get you, when you have so much, so instead, I got rid of something instead.” 

Maybe his memory was going in his old age, but he didn’t quite understand, and the fact she looked nervous was not helping things. 

“What did you get rid of?” He asked, very slowly.

“My birth control,” she said plainly. 

He froze. 

“Do you mean it?” He asked, not wanting to sound too hopeful. 

She nodded, but looked more nervous now, “You want that, right? I can get them back out—they are just in the tras—” 

He rolled them,  “ Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, feeling his arousal flare again at the prospect of knocking her up. 

She knew he wanted that more than anything, and had been trying not to pressure her while vying for it since before they even married. 

If someone asked him a year or two ago if he wanted more children, he would have said no. 

But Taggie was such a natural-born caretaker, she would be such a good mother, and he wanted to make her one. 

And, a possessive part of him, wanted to see her pregnant. He wanted everyone to see her pregnant with his child, because she was his wife, and she was so much more than that too. 

“I fucking love you,” he muttered against her lips. 

(Since ‘actions speak louder than words,’ he made love to her, too.)

.

how do I care how much it storms

.

Their first Christmas together felt like a test — both the day of, and the parties that came before and after it. 

It had been six months since Beattie released the dreaded article, and even longer since they married. 

They had survived Rupert’s thirty-ninth birthday, and his…response to her ‘gift’ had given her confidence that he would like this one too. 

Because the truth was, she was already pregnant.

She hadn’t taken a pill in nearly three months but didn’t want to get his hopes up, knowing it could take a while for it to leave her system. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said, when she saw the boxes under the tree. 

He scoffed, “Of course I did.” 

This was it.

“You didn’t, really, you already gave me the best present.” 

His brow rose, and she was impressed by the restraint he showed in not saying, ‘my cock?’ 

“You gave me a baby,” she said softly, hand moving to her stomach. 

He looked stunned. 

And then he smiled. 

“Going to make you a dad for real,” she said softly, then adding, “Again,” since she could never forget Tabitha and Marcus. 

“Can’t fucking wait for it,” he said, pulling her into his lap, “You’ll be the best mother, god, can’t believe my little girl is giving me a baby,” he purred. 

She squirmed, feeling the heat build in her pelvis. 

“I’ll still be your little girl, though, won’t I?” She asked, hating how insecure she sounded. 

The look he gave her was adoring as anything, “Of course you will be, Taggie.” 

And he’d still be her daddy . 

But—

“Will I still be your favorite?” She asked, feeling ashamed for asking but needing reassurance.

“Always,” he promised, “My favorite girl, my favorite wife, my favorite fuck, my favorite person on this fucking earth.” 

(It was not lost on Taggie that he said favorite person, she knew better than to ask where she placed amongst the hounds and horses.)

.

i've got my love

.

People knew right away. They couldn’t tell from how she looked — the red velvet clung to her waist that was tiny as ever, the little bump barely visible even when she was nude — but the way she refused drinks could only mean one thing. 

The congratulations were plentiful, if not particularly genuine. 

He heard the, ‘that poor girl,’ muttered, and got sympathetic, ‘sorry your young wife is going to get fat,’ slaps on the back from other men, both of which he found equally offensive. 

Taggie was glowing, though, she couldn’t stop smiling, even with the stressors of the party and holiday. 

“I got everything I wanted this year, you know,” she told him that night, “I have you and I’m having your baby.” 

(He had her, and he made her happy, and that was all he wanted, too.)

.

to keep me warm

.

“Fatherhood suits him,” Sarah said longingly, her bleary eyes focused on Rupert while she sipped her fifth drink of the evening.

Though Taggie usually appreciated her husband earning such compliments, because he deserved them, Sarah’s attempt to ‘nurse him’ while Taggie fed Matthew in one of the spare bedrooms was not something Taggie would forgive or forget any time soon, even if Rupert had turned her down quite emphatically and publicly. 

“It does,” Taggie agreed, “He is the best daddy,” she said, drawing the word out and leveling a glare in Sarah’s direction, because she hadn't forgotten her words from last year, either.

“He will always be that to me, so try your hand at something else. And keep your tits to yourself, too.” 

Rupert moved towards them, and baby Matthew reached for her, bouncing in his father’s arms while looking delighted to be reunited with his mother, “How is my favorite girl?” He asked, greeting her with a devastating grin and a lengthy kiss.

“Tired. Happy. Hopelessly in love. And horny, too," she told him, when her lips were freed from his. 

He laughed, “So the usual, then.” 

She nodded, “You’ve turned me into a monster.” 

He shook his head, “I think you mean mother, though some are one and the same.” He frowned in the direction of her mother, Maud, who was hanging off some stranger's arm, while Declan looked on with an expression of exasperation heavy on his face. 

“Not you, though,” he reassured her, “You’re an angel, darling. All the more so, when I’m such a devil.” 

He meant the words in jest, but they didn’t come out that way. He was still too concerned with corrupting her, even if they both enjoyed her corruption a great deal. 

He had been especially whiny on his fortieth birthday, going on about how she was ‘wasting her life with an old man’ until Bas called him a, ‘fucking idiot wasting a day moping when he could be fucking his gorgeous wife who is half your fucking age’ which was a bit crass, but something Taggie very much agreed with. 

“Rupert,” she said, tugging on his tie and forcing him to look at her, “I may be an angel in your eyes, but you are hardly a devil in mine.” 

Maybe he expected her to make a joke, but she was quite serious when she said, “You’re my wings,” she said with a smile. 

Sometimes, he really did make her feel like she could do anything, maybe even that she could fly. 

But he made her so happy, that she had no desire to fly away. 

.

i've got my love to keep me warm

.

[chaifootsteps]

feeling bad for the fans holding out hope that Via's one line from the trailer about 'you never loved me or mother you love him [Blitz]' will be part of the narrative holding Stolas accountable

if the storyboard leak is still accurate Via says that right before ditching Stolas outside Andre's castle. Viv is again framing him as the victim because Stella/Andre have been screening Stolas' calls so she thinks he doesn't care (so it's not his fault) and she gets mad at him for using anti-depressants (which is pretty transparently designed to make Via look bad and unreasonable imo). the only thing she's allowed to mention that makes some sense is his choosing Blitz over her which is similar to Blitz getting to vaguely gesture at Stolas being a pompous royal without the writers letting him use specific examples anyone would think to mention

and speaking of - it's the exact same writing issue as all the stuff with Blitz.

everything she could say that's reasonable for her to be upset about - why didn't he call her when he got hurt and was in the hospital (texting Blitz first instead), why didn't he do anything to ensure either of their safety after he knows Stella called a hitman on him, why didn't he tell her about that, why did he instead spend all that time focused on getting a crystal for Blitz only to get drunk when he got rejected, why did he risk her inheritance for sex - I'm pretty confident the vast majority of this stuff will never be brought up

instead she's only ever going to be mad at him for things that are either not his fault or unreasonable on her part. it's embarrassing to feel so defensive of a character that his 17yr old is next to be forced to take stupid pills just so the narrative can favor him

An all likelihood, they'll learn the hard way what we all had to learn...that holding out hope for anything when it comes to HB is a recipe for disappointment.

[slicznymartwy]

saccharine pt ii (you're billy's favorite)

cis fem reader

warning: billy's being fucking weird again. stalking you from inside the house, stealing your panties, humping your pillow, breaking into your room and masturbating. obsessive billy. 69ing. dead dove stuff. don't read if that bothers you

read pt i

read on ao3 here

Billy waits until the house is empty to drop from the attic.

He passes by Claude in the hallway, who gives him a disinterested once over before rolling onto his other side.

“Meow,” Billy says, stopping next to the old cat.

Claude croaks a little hello, and Billy goes on his way.

When he first started staying in the big brown house on Belmont Street, Billy spent his lonely days investigating the sluts’ bedrooms one by one. It was fun to dig around aimlessly, poking through their dirty clothes and their garbage cans, until he would hear a noise and scrambled back up the attic.

In those early days, he did his best to be extra cautious; no matter how badly he wanted to, he never took any panties with him back to the attic and he never messed with their beds. He knew that if they found out he was looking through their rooms, they’d chase him out. He wanted to stay with all of you in the big brown whorehouse.

Your room was the last room he explored, it being the closest to the staircase to the main floor. Standing in front of your door for the first time, he had no way of knowing how much you would change him.

The smell in your room was intoxicating. It was sweet, like pretty flowers in a crystal vase. It soaked into your messy sheets, which he stumbled towards excitedly, and he buried his face against the indent where your body must have been. He breathed in deeply, eyes fluttering shut, then moaned. Was he already getting hard?

Again, he breathed in deeply, moving so that he was laying on the bed. You smelled so good, whoever you were. He wished that he could put a face to this smell. Wished he could imagine whose pussy he’d fuck while you rubbed your pretty scent all over him.

His jeans were tight and pushing his dick down against the mattress made him moan again. Sitting straight, he crawled up the bed and dropped down with his head against your pillows. The smell was even stronger here, and he shoved his face into the soft white cushion as far as it could go.

He was definitely hard now, pressing against the unforgiving denim. He undid his pants and let himself free. Breathing in deeply, he wrapped his hand just around the tip of his cock and squeezed.

“Pretty pig,” he whispered, lips moving against the wet spot already forming on the pillow. He tried to slurp up some of his drool, but his heavy breathing made it pointless. It didn’t matter to him either way.

He fisted his cock a few times, but his hand was dry even with the leaking fluid that gathered at his slit. As he breathed in your pillow, his mind began to wander; he pictured your pretty imaginary head against these pillows every night, rubbing your smell on them. You had pressed your cheek to these pillows, your hair, maybe even your lips. These pillows were like your face, Billy concluded. He wanted to fuck your face.

After that point, he’d made it a habit to visit your room almost every day. It was your fault, really. You shouldn’t smell so good, shouldn’t have such soft pillows, shouldn’t be such a perfect pretty pig slut.

Today, he opens your door, just like he had done yesterday and like he will do tomorrow, and shuts it behind him.

Walking to your bed, he passes by your dresser. He can see right away your bottle of perfume, the one you put on whenever you came from your shower. He knows from experience that it tastes like shit, but it must be something about you that makes the chemically fluid become so delicious. He wants to lick the smell off of you. Wants to suck it out with his mouth.

He’s quick today. He hasn’t eaten much food this past week and he’s eager to dig into the kitchen, but this is more important. If someone came home early, he’d much rather go to sleep hungry than having missed you.

Putting the pillow towards the middle of the bed, he straddles it before pulling his cock out. After a few strokes, he’s hard enough to rub against you. He pictures your face, pretty and blushy. He pictures your glasses too, how they’d get knocked off while he rubbed his cock against your cheek.

It’s so good, and Billy’s mind swims. He’s fucking your face, your mouth, your thighs, your pussy. He’s rubbing his cock on your shoulder and your arm. He’s getting his leaky clear fluid on your hair and on your thigh. His drool makes your tits shiny. The pillow is so soft against the tip of his cock, and he humps it like a dirty dog. Dirty Billy.

But even with how good it is, it isn’t enough anymore. He’s had this fantasy for weeks now, and he needs to cum more than he wants to live. With shaky legs, he stands and wanders the room, searching in the usual spots. He opens your white laundry hamper and sees them immediately. With a little smile at the corners of his lips, he takes your panties and smells them. You must have worn these all day yesterday. He licks at the little strip of cotton where your cunt would have been. His cock twitches.

“Pig cunt,” he mutters sharply, waddling back to the bed. His cock is rock hard and jutting out from his opened pants, and he’s quick to press it against your pillow again. As he rocks his hips, he puts your panties to his mouth and nose and breaths in.

It only takes a few more thrusts against the pillow before he’s coming, and he’s quick to drop the pretty pink panties to his cock to catch his hot white cum. It’s so messy and sticky, and a couple drops still land on your cushion anyways. He needs a minute to catch his breath, and he rolls onto his back, looking up at the ceiling.

He had done the same thing his first time too, mind pleasantly fuzzy after his orgasm. He had stared at the wooden ceiling and thought about how this was your view every night. Maybe one day, you could both lay here and stare at the ceiling together. Back then, he was so lost in his daydream that he almost missed the hole between the floorboards just above the bed. Almost.

His life changed so much the day he met you.

Standing after a few calming moments, he flips the pillow onto its other side and drops it back at the head of your bed. Next, the panties go into your hamper, and then he fixes his pants. His stomach growls angrily and he sighs as he pats it.

Claude follows him to the kitchen.

“It’s for you,” Clare says, holding the phone out to you as you pass by. “He said he’s from your orgo class.”

There’s only one guy who calls you about organic chemistry. You breathe in sharply as you glance at the phone. Not wanting to alarm your friend, you fake a smile and take the handset.

“Thanks,” you say, and watch as Clare walks off. You’re not a child, you tell yourself. You can be brave. You take a calming breath in and out before you hold the phone up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hi,” the Moaner says, laughter making his voice sound so boylike that you wonder how old he is.

“What do you want?” you ask, closing your sweater around you with your free hand. You turn your back to the living room.

He moans obscenely then swallows, the sound so wet and desperate that you wonder what he’s doing to himself.

“You. You pig cunt,” he says, spitting out each word like they’re accusations. He laughs again and you close your eyes.

“What’s your name?” you ask him calmly. He responds with yours instead, and you try not to shake by clenching your sweater even tighter.

“Your name,” you say again, emphasizing the first word. Still, he says yours like he’s proud of it. He laughs, then says it again.

“Cut that out,” you snap at him. “This isn’t fair. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“What’s the change in enthalpy?” he whispers.

“I’m going to hang up if you don’t tell me,” you threaten. He groans, but it doesn’t sound pleasured anymore. It’s as if he’s in pain. Or, your mind supplies unhelpfully, he’s the sort that likes them at the same time. You sigh heavily, both at him and your overactive imagination.

“What’s the change in enthalpy? Pig slut. I’m gonna, gonna stick my tongue up your pig cunt,” he mutters into your ear.

“No, you won’t,” you say dismissively. You regret it immediately as the line goes dead. Even when he wasn’t talking, you could hear him and his mouth, breathing and licking and moaning. Now, it was silent. “Hello?” you say after a long stretch of silence.

“Filthy Billy,” he says finally.

“Is that your name? Billy?” you say, straightening up a bit. He moans then, and you have no doubt that one is from pleasure. “You’re disgusting, Billy.”

“Disgusting Billy,” he mumbles back, panting and moaning and slurping at his lips. Why are you feeling so hot all of a sudden? You clench your thighs and look over your shoulder.

“You talk a lot, Billy. You make a lot of promises,” you whisper into the handset.

“Gon- gonna suck your piggy clit,” he mumbles, so sweet that your stomach flutters with butterflies.

“No, Billy. I don’t think you’re brave enough,” you goad.

“Gonna lick it,” he groans, stretching out each word and letting you hear every syllable. “Piggy cunt. Stick my tongue up your pretty pussy.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say, gulping. You’re still trying to stay brave, but you can’t understand the warmth in your belly.

“You want my fat cock, you cunt,” he snaps at you, cutting off the end of your sentence.

“Do you know where I live, Billy?” you ask suddenly. The line goes dead again. You didn’t know you were so good at shutting him up. “If you want me so bad, come and get me.”

You slam the handset down and half expect it to start ringing again. It’s quiet, even after a minute. Feeling satisfied, you nod at the phone and head back to the living room. You sure showed him.

The hallway is black as pitch, and Billy stands in front of your bedroom door. The house is filled with the sounds of sleeping, all except for your room. An orangey light shines through between the door and the floor. He can hear the scratchy sound of a pencil on paper, and the occasional sigh from your lips.

He can’t believe he’s so close to you, and his cock twitches in anticipation. Already, he can smell your flowery crystal scent from here.

He doesn’t knock. Quiet as a mouse, he turns the doorknob slowly and eases the door open. Staring through the newly made crack, he can see that your back is to the door, head hunched down over the textbooks on your desk. Carefully, he steps inside and shuts the door behind him.

Billy knows the creaky floorboards to avoid as he makes his way behind you, and he’s so close that he could touch your hair with the tip of his finger if he held his arm out straight. He waits there for a while before you realize you’re being watched.

“Fuck!” you squeak, jumping in your seat before turning to face your intruder. Books and pens clatter to the floor and a sheet of paper is crumpled in your hand. Your eyes are so wide and beautiful as you stare at him.

You’re shaking. Billy wants to fuck you and cum on your face and your ass and your slit. He wants to lick it, lick it, lick it.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“You- you.” With trembling hands, you let go of the paper and push your hair out of your face. You can’t seem to speak, your lips moving with words you don’t say.

“It’s me, Billy,” he says, shaking too. It’s so hard to hold himself back, and his fingers are so scratchy with his need to touch you. “Agnes.”

“I’m not Agnes,” you respond, staring back at him from your seat.

“I’m here, Agnes,” he says quietly.

“That’s not my name,” you say again. When you stand, Billy takes a half step backwards.

“That’s not my name,” he responds, unconsciously matching your pitch. He lets out a shuddering breath.

Your smell was everywhere, so much stronger with you in the room. It wasn’t just a vase of flowers anymore; your smell was like an overgrown garden, with dirt and honeysuckles and animals.

Your name falls from his lips without his brain’s permission, and he feels kind of like how he was supposed to feel when he went to church as a kid.

“Billy,” you say softly in return, and Billy has to swallow noisily or he might drool past his lips.

“I found you,” he says, and he makes fists against his thighs.

“You did.” Even though your voice was quiet, you didn’t sound scared anymore. Billy glanced down at your body and saw that you were already wearing your night dress, made with white flowy cotton that danced and twirled with every step you took towards your bed; Billy watched helplessly as you sat down on the edge of it.

Billy’s breath was ragged, and he felt like he had been running for miles. Here you were, looking up at him with your pretty eyes and your pretty hair. Pretty pussy, pretty pig cunt that he wants to fill with his hot cum until it oozes out, lazy and slow. He tries to lick his lips, but he can’t stop panting like a dog. He should be used to this; he’s watched you from this exact same spot up in the attic. He’s already cummed on you.

He should have known from his calls with you, it was your attention that made him lose his mind. He’s about ready to scream out loud when you hold out your hand to him.

“Come here,” you whisper. Billy stares at your hand, then at your face. Pretty face. He steps forward like he’s falling.

You lead him to sit beside you, and Billy can feel your heat pressing along his leg where you touch him. He stares down where his rough denim meets your white dress. He doesn’t jump when you put your hand on the side of his face.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot, Billy,” you say. Billy drags his eyes up to you. You’re so close. He breaths through his nose. You stand, leaving Billy on the bed, and you don’t take your hand off him until he’s out of your reach.

In front of him, you pull your dress up and over your head. Billy blinks. You’re naked.

“Not so talkative now, huh?” you say with a little smile. Billy’s eyes are so wide as he takes you in. He wishes he could take a picture like this. Wishes he could take the picture with him back to the attic so he can cum on it one million times and stroke your face with his thumb. “Take off your sweater, Billy.”

Billy breaths in and out a few times to catch his breath.

“Don’t pussy out now. What happened to dirty Billy?” you taunt.

“Filthy Billy,” he mumbles, and he has to lick his lips. Sitting like this, he’s at eyelevel with your soft stomach, and he wants to pull you close to kiss his way down to your pussy. He wants to part your pussy lips with his tongue and trace it all the way up until it hits your clit. He wants to rip you apart and live inside your tight wet heat.

“Show me how filthy you are,” you whisper, taking a step closer to him. Billy groans, hearing the wet click of your pussy as you moved. Shaking, he lifts his sweater over his head and throws it to the floor. When you sit beside him again, he can feel your soft warm arm against his own.

Billy gulps and stares down at your lap, because if he looks into your eyes, he might wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until your face turns blue. He digs his fingers into his denim-covered thigh.

“It’s okay, Billy,” you murmur and take his hand. “Can I kiss you?”

“You can suck my cock,” he mumbles helplessly. He smacks his lips like he’s dying of thirst and laughs softly. He can’t stomach looking at you.

“You’re such a pervert,” you tell him, like he doesn’t already know. Filthy, disgusting Billy.

“Wanna put my tongue up your piggy cunt,” he says, but he can’t touch you yet. You let out a hot breath, and he can feel it on his shoulder. He shudders and presses his mouth closed.

“Take off your pants,” you whisper. It’s a secret, and a dirty one.

Billy can’t move fast enough. His hands are still shaking as he opens his pants, and he stands for just long enough to pull them down with his underwear. His cock is hard, and it lolls against his thigh when he sits again. He can feel your eyes on his face still.

“Can I kiss you, Billy?”

He nods and keeps nodding even when you cup his face and pull him in for a gentle kiss. He only stops when he feels your tongue on his bottom lip, and his cock drools against his overheated skin. He whines against you and presses his forehead against yours while he takes a shaking inhale.

“Lay down with me,” you say quietly, putting your warm milky creamy hand on his chest.

“Wanna suck-“ Billy swallows thickly, gasping his breaths again. “Wanna suck your clit.”

“Lay on your back,” you say, more insistent as you push him onto his back. Again, his cock bobs with the movement and settles flat on his stomach. Billy lets a broken groan come from his throat as your hand moves lower on his torso. You shush him, and the sounds sends a chill down his spine, like icy spiders.

“You’ll wake my sisters up,” you tell him, lips brushing against his ear.

“I’ll lick their cunts too,” he whispers back. He tries to look at you from the corner of his eye, but it’s like looking at the sun. His head hurts being this close to you, and the smell is like being drunk. When you smile, he looks away.

“What about me?” you ask, and Billy feels your hand on the shaft of his cock. He chokes on his spit and coughs, turning on his side away from you. He laughs because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“S-slut,” he says, slowly going onto his back again.

“You’re mean.” Billy watches you get onto your knees beside him. “You talk so much, Billy.”

He moans when you turn yourself around and swing your leg over him, and all he can see is your pussy – pretty, pink, and so creamy for him. His hands move on instinct and wrap around your thighs, pulling you flush to his face.

There’s no point in wasting time, not when his heart and his cock are competing on which could throb the hardest. The sound of his tongue against your wet slit is terrible and it makes him feel like he’s drowning. He can’t help but moan, letting his tongue trace along your meaty folds before burying deep inside your cunt.

You’re making sounds too, but Billy hardly cares. This was what he had been dreaming about for so long. He wasn’t just dirty pervert Billy who made empty promises. He was Billy who takes. Billy who isn’t afraid to be seen. Billy who can be brave when he wants to be.

Still, he nearly shouts when he feels your lips on the tip of his cock.

“So good, Billy, that’s so good,” you’re whispering, but everything is so loud between your legs. His breaths echo, and everything is so fucking wet. He can feel your slick on his cheeks and on his chin, and every move of his tongue clicks against your needy fuckhole.

His cock feels tight, like it’s going to fall off, but then you wrap your lips around him and swallow him down so far that your nose touches his balls. He tightens his grip on your thighs until you cry out against him, your wet hot mouth vibrating against him.

It’s more perfect than Billy could have imagined, feeling your cunt clench around his tongue as he fucks it in and out of you. He wants more of you, wants you dead so he can take you without having to talk to you, wants you alive to hear your voice. He wants to fuck his cock so far down your throat you suffocate. He wants to make you cum again and again until you’re beginning him to stop.

“Love you,” he tries to say, but it sounds mangled against your cunt. He kisses your pretty piggy pussy lips and feels like maybe he’s turned into a pillow, with the way you ride on his face.

Maybe that’s all he is, maybe he’s so messed up in his brain because he’s a pillow that turned human. Maybe he’s only meant to be your thing to hump against, to sleep on, to get your smell all over before washing it. Billy thinks it would be nice to roll around in a clothes dryer.

Your lips are soft against his hot swollen cock, and he bucks wildly when you wrap a hand around his base and suck at his tip. He grunts into your fleshy cunt, nose bumping against your folds before returning his tongue to its rightful place. But, from the bottom, there’s not much he can do but take – take your mouth on his cock, and take your cunt on his mouth.

He doesn’t last long, but he never does when he can help it. He could have probably come from eating your pussy alone; at least he would have lasted longer. He bucks into your mouth, but your firm grip at his base keeps him from gagging you. He shoots his cum in your mouth instead, and he feels you swallowing around the tip of his cock. Even when he’s finished, you suck like you’re trying to get more out.

“Slut,” he tries to moan, and he sounds wretched. He holds onto your thighs still as you move more frantically on top of him. When you sit up, your press your cunt even harder against his face and he stabs his tongue deeper than before.

Billy makes a depraved noise, a mix between a groan and a choking cough, as you clench down tight around him like you’ll rip his tongue straight out of his mouth. He’d let you, he thinks desperately, he’ll let you take his cock too if you want it. You can sleep on him and hump him and use him however you want.

Your legs shake as you clench down again, and then you collapse forward, pussy lifting off of his face enough to see it quivering and sopping wet. Mindlessly, he picks up his head and leans forward to lick at it some more, broad strokes from your clit up to you blinking hole. He laps at it until you’re quiet, and then laps some more until you lift your hips too far for him to reach.

Rolling off him, he’s suddenly exposed to your chilly bedroom air, and he longs desperately for you to cover him again. If he wasn’t so cum-dumb, he might’ve tried to pull you back on him again. Instead, he watches you from the corner of his vision as you lay down, shoulders touching his.

“Wanna spend the night?” you whisper once you catch your breath. He shakes his head, still panting out loud. He’s not sure if his heart will ever slow down again.

“At least stay for a little while,” you say. You touch his hand gently. He wants to snatch it away on instinct, but a moment passes, and he’s surprised that he likes it. His hand is limp as you wrap yours around it.

“Are you gonna keep calling?” you murmur. It feels like one of those questions that has a right answer, but Billy doesn’t even know where to start. He tells the truth instead, and nods.

“Pretty… pretty cunt,” he says, letting go of your hand to brush along your thigh towards your cunt. He touches your clit with his sticky finger, and you jolt like you were struck by lightning.

“That’s too much,” you whine. Billy lets his hand rest on your lower stomach instead, feeling your scratchy hairs against his palm.

You’re quiet for a while before you say, “If you’re gonna call, I don’t want you to talk to the other girls like that. I don’t want you to sleep with them.”

Billy lets out a shaky breath and drags his hand up your stomach, watching your nipples pebble in anticipation.

“My piggy,” he says.

“Mean,” you respond. He faces the ceiling again, hand falling off you and resting on the messy sheets again.

You lay together, shoulders touching, and knees bent over the edge of the bed. Billy imagines watching himself. How does he look next to you. Probably like nothing. The Billy in the attic wouldn’t even be looking at himself – he knows he wouldn’t take his eyes off of you for even a second.

And he doesn’t, once he finally gets dressed and leaves without another word for his attic; he watches you all night, your smell on his fingers and his face, your flowery perfume on his clothes.

In the morning, he hears your housemate sluts laugh at you and ask who came over last night. You don’t say anything when the loud annoying one asks if it’s your new boyfriend. No, Billy wants to say, he’s something even better than a boyfriend. He’s your pillow, and you’re his pig.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

:D i had a lot of fun writing this !! hope you guys enjoy it

reblogs are greatly appreciated !!!!!

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 12

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Angst, tension??, angstangstangst

₊˚✩⊹

Four was worried. It’s been almost 5 days since the brawl at the Yiga clan hideout and you’ve barely spoken to anyone. At first, he brushed it off as being an aftershock, after all you were unconscious for the first 24-hours after the incident. But almost a week of not being your usual self? He was getting very worried.

You barely ate, picking at your food most of the time. Wild’s attempts at making your favorites didn’t help much either. You tossed and turned most nights, ending up sitting on your bedroll from the latest hours of the night, into the first rays of a new day. Your eyes were so so dull, you looked like a husk of yourself, as if someone tried to make a replica of you. As if someone could ever compare or replace you.

Four watched as you made your way over to him, sitting between him and Wind.

“If one of you asks me if I’m alright I’m going to kick your kneecaps in.”

“Got it.” Wind replies.

Four sighs, focusing back onto sharpening his blade. It was a small knife, the blade itself shorter than his forearm. It was his go-to when it came to small daggers, so he sharpened it every few days or so to keep it in pristine capability.

“Had enough of Cap and the Old man, huh?” Four mumbles, trying to look preoccupied. 

“Just tired of the contant looming over my shoulder and treating me like a damn vase.”

He nods. 

Wind groans lightly, “Ugh, tell me about it. They can’t see past me being a 12-year old, regardless if I fuckin’ killed Ganon or not.” He pulls out a small flask from his bag, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“Since when do you drink?”

“Since when do you care?”

You back off, clearly it's a touchy subject.

“Sorry, Y/n.”

“All good.”

The night continues, Wind eventually setting up his bedroll to go to sleep. He shuffles up to Sky, who was out about half an hour ago, already somehow in deep sleep. The group relocated to a stable on the outskirts of Hyrule Field, the plan of going to the Arbiter’s Grounds being delayed, yet again.

You sigh, “I don’t know what to do anymore, Four. I’m just so… lost.”

He puts his dagger down, sheathing it. He looks at you, your face illuminated by the low light produced by the embers.

“Is this about your journey?”

You nodded. You could feel the tears already starting to leak from your eyes.

“Is it ok if I touch you, Y/n?”

You nod again, hiccuping lightly.

He scoots right next to you, putting your arm around your form and rubbing your arm slowly. Placing his chin on your head, he lets you cuddle up to him, crying softly into his chest. He combed his fingers through your hair, placing a light kiss on your head.

“I’m right here, Y/n. I’m here. Shhh.” he cradles you, holding you slightly tighter whenever a particularly louder wave of cries comes out of you. Legend was still awake, as it was his turn for watch, a solemn look on his face while he looked at you.

“E-Everything’s changing and I-I’m being left in the dark-” you hiccup, sobbing harder into Four’s chest. Four’s hold tightens on you again.

“What do you mean, Y/n?”

You gasp, “I could’ve-”

You breathe in again, “Everyone is acting different towards me and I know its all m-my fault because I don’t know what I fucking want.”

“I don’t think anyone knows what they want, baby.”

“I thought I did. I wanted to go home but after some stuff that’s happened recently… I don’t know. Is that selfish of me?”

Four shakes his head, “Of course not. Changing your mind in the process is natural.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m splitting myself into two versions of myself? One that’s in Hyrule and one that’s in my era.”

Four sighs dejectedly, placing another kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t know, Y/n. I don’t know.”

~

A new dawn breaks over the horizon, shining onto the dew settled over Hyrule Field, the light fog dissipating. You fluttered your eyes open, your body scrunched up between Twilight and Hyrule, who were still in deep sleep. Feeling antsy, you climb over them and make your way to Wild, who was already awake, prepping breakfast.

He looked tired. You both were.

“Hey.” you rasped, your voice still hoarse from the crying of the evening before.

He looks at you, and gives you a small, tightlipped smile. He was swiping through his slate, gathering ingredients for breakfast. You placed your hand over his, causing him to halt in his actions. You both don’t move for a minute.

He slumps forward, face in his hands. Shakily, he says, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. If I didn’t leave you alone this could’ve all been prevented.”

You shake your head, “None of us knew, Wild. Riju didn’t know, Time didn’t. It’s not your fault, it was an accident.”

You bring him to lean against you, the slate being long forgotten about on the ground.

“I shouldn’t have wandered off, you literally told me not too. I’m partially at fault too.”

You chuckle, “And look where my stubborn self got me.” That seemed to make Wild crack a smile, making the tinge in your heart diminish. 

“You do have a hard time listening.” he said, you just give him a playful nudge.

“Har har, speak for yourself blondie.”

You both sit in comfortable silence, Wild going back to picking out ingredients on his slate. A thought pops into your head, “Wild, can I take a look at the mirror shard again? I wanna compare some of the hieroglyphics to the book Shad gave me.”

He tenses up slightly, but it quickly goes away, pulling out the shard from the slate. He carefully places the shard on your legs, making sure the sharp edge doesn’t cut your leg. Pulling out the Encyclopedia, you turn to the chapter about the Twili tribe.

You run your fingers along the markings on the mirror, lightly engraved into the mirror. Unsurprisingly, there were no visual differences from the shard in your lap and the mirror on the page, meaning this wasn’t just a replica but the real thing. Before you could continue reading, Twilight walks up behind you two, making you close the book and put the mirror away. You could read at a later time.

“Hey pup, Y/n.” Twilight mutters, voice raspy with sleep. Curse his bedroom voice making you weak.

You just waved, not trusting your voice at the moment. He sits next to you, you now sitting between him and Wild. You can feel his eyes on you, you glance at him asking “What?”

He still gazes at you, flickering his eyesight to Wild, then back to you.

“Oh, nothin’. You two just seem cozy.”

Wild snaps his head at his mentor, “Shut up, Twi. Don’t think I don’t notice you making goo-goo eyes over there.”

“Right. Speak for ya self, pup.” he remarked, snorting at Wild’s fumbling. You smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners.

A moment of silence passes, just the sound of the breeze blowing past your ears, causing stray hairs to stream over your face. The clouds seemed gray today, but not like an imposing storm was about to break, no, more peaceful. Serene.

“What are you guys going to do once this is all done and over with?” you ask, not really knowing where the question came from.

“Jeez I don’t know, probably go home and help around Hateno and the princess. I know she’s building a school for the village.” Wild says, looking out onto the terrain.

Twilight ponders for a moment. He didn’t really think about what he was going to do once this was over and once… you left. He never really thought you’d leave, especially now that it feels so soon and abrupt, he’s dreading his future.

“Don’t know, to be honest. Go back to Ordon, help Rusl and with the farm. Make sure the kingdom ain’t in shambles.” he lied. That was the last thing he wanted to do after all of this. He didn’t want to return after knowing what it's like not being alone anymore. He was left behind once, he didn’t want it again.

“You’re a terrible liar, Twi.”

“What? No I’m not-”

“Your ears twitch when you lie.”

“It’s true.” Wild muttered, resulting in a slap up the back of his head from Twi.

Twilight sighed. Rubbing the back of his head, he turned to you “Truth is… I didn’t think this would end. Don’t get me wrong, I love home and bein’ with everyone it’s just… after I’ve found people who know what it’s like to carry this burden, I don’t think I want anything else.”

You hated this feeling of guilt you were starting to feel about going home. You didn’t belong here, you weren’t meant to be here, unlike them. You needed to go home, forget everything, or at least regard it as a really good dream. 

But it’s not that simple, is it?

“I don’t want to leave you guys. I really don’t. I’ve become so attached to this life and all of you and I feel… heartbroken.” you sighed, laying on your back, blades of grass digging slightly into your exposed skin. 

“I mean… you don’t have to. I may be wrong saying that, but Hylia isn’t necessarily pulling you into a portal to go home.” Wild offers, choosing his words carefully.

You groan in frustration, “I know, I know. But its so much more difficult. Like, yeah I won’t have to deal with stupid shit like college classes or working my entire life for a mediocre job, but… my brother and my aunt are home and they need help. I have a few friends that are probably wondering where I’ve been and if I’m ok. I don’t want them to worry for me and my life, knowing that makes me feel so much worse, y’know?”

Both men nodded, relating to your thoughts on some level. Their adventures weren’t by choice and pulled them away from their friends and family without a warning. A burden that can’t be undone or altered.

“Either way, you didn’t have much of a choice. You were sucked in the portal as well, a quest destined for you, as well.” Hyrule spoke, quietly padding up to you three.

You snort, “Have you been listening this entrie time, Rulie?” 

“Eh, bits n’ pieces. The others are waking up anyways.”

You sit back up and decided to be productive for another 20-30 minutes, as Wild was just barely starting to cook breakfast. From what you could tell, it looked to be a sweeter meal this morning.

You looked back at the book, reading through the script. You were sitting against Twilight, a nice support for your back. You tried to not pay attention to his warm breath on your neck or the feeling of his eyes on you, but that was easier said than done. 

You zoned out everyone’s chatter, finally focusing on the task at hand. You took the mirror back out again and tore a spare piece of paper from an old journal a merchant gave you, using an old piece of charcoal to transfer the engravings of the mirror onto the paper so you could compare with less physical effort and so Wild could keep the shard in his Slate whenever you needed to reference the imagery again. The hieroglyphics transferred seamlessly, the paper seemingly identical to the mirror.

Looking back to the book, you filled in the missing shards and any images/lettering that faded or was carved off for reasons unknown. You then pulled away, looking at your work. Not too shabby.

But you noticed something peculiar. The mirror in the book had straight lines that overlapped the ornate designs, almost as if someone carved them in years after its initial creation. It wasn’t messy by any means, though it seemed that it wasn’t the initial design of the mirror. 

What if…?

“Four, I need a small blade really quick.” you said, not taking your eyes off of your drawing.

He was about to say something, but Legend beat him to it, handing you a small blade just slightly longer than your palm. Muttering a ‘thanks’, you start cutting the paper along the lines that you copied, making sure to keep your hand steady. Once you finished, you handed the blade back to Legend, then focused back onto the scraps of paper in front of you.

You started rearranging the pieces, aligning each piece with the associated shape or side. The pieces started forming a familiar shape, but something was different. Something you should’ve seen before. Something everyone should’ve seen.

“What is it, Y/n?”

You look up at Twilight.

“It’s not a triforce, Link. It’s a tetraforce.”

₊˚✩⊹

[repressionmd]

oooooooh my god dabble prompt #64

"What doesn't kill me still hurts." 922 words + hilson (i promise i tried to make this about thirteen but i am physically incapable apparently)

House was no stranger to painful medicine. He was no stranger to pain, but he was specifically no stranger to medicine that hurt. Short of chemotherapy, he'd tried out most of it. Admittedly, some of it was his fault - recovery after electric shocks was a bitch.

He had hated physio for his leg. Hated being pitied, hated the comforting consolations as he made no progress, only grew in anger as his leg seemed to burn more every day and his therapist smiled that same useless smile. He hated being forced to take fluids and lie around in bed. He hated the mandatory CBT after his 'suicide attempt'. He quit everything. He signed out AMA, he refused the better option. Even as a reasonable portion of his mind begged to weigh up the benefits, he didn't listen. He didn't quite know why.

Never mind that. He was trying to quit whatever treatment Wilson was suggesting at the moment - something he desperately did not want to go through with, and he noted with concern the rising panic in his stomach. Dissociating mid-conversation wasn't a good sign either.

"Come on, House, it could be good for you! There's studies, look. I sent them to you!"

Oh, right. Ice bath. "Nope." House turned around, intending to shut himself in his bedroom till Wilson left. If it also helped to mask his deep breath, well, that was just coincidence. He was feeling warm, restless. Scared. Warning bells rung out in his mind, hugely distracting and entirely useless. He didn't need to be told twice to know to get out of this.

"You've not even tried it. It could help!" Oh Wilson, if only you knew.

"Those studies are stupid. Besides, I don't want to. Warm water helps my leg, not ice. I'd think after all these years you'd know that."

Wilson had come up behind him, the traitor, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around, forcing House to meet his eyes. "I'm trying to help you, House, as your friend and as your doctor. It can't hurt to try. It won't kill you."

It won't kill me. House almost wanted to laugh. Yeah, it sure felt like it would have, when he was thrown out of the house, freezing to the bone. His dad had said it wouldn't kill him, and House had wished it would. Wished they would wake up to a cold, dead, Gregory House under the willow tree in the yard. Wished they would cry and scream and shout apologies to a boy who didn't hear them. Just once, he wanted to hurt them back.

"What doesn't kill me still hurts." Fuck. He sounded too genuine. The way his throat had caught on hurts would not be lost on Wilson either. Backtrack- too late. Wilson's face had fallen.

"Are you okay?"

Now House laughed. "Yeah, just peachy. Don't ever talk to me about ice baths again." He was shaking. Stumbling backwards, he brought his hands up to his face to hide the redness in his eyes he knew was building, and his leg buckled under the sudden weight as his cane was lifted up. One hand flew out to brace himself against the wall, cane clattering off to the side, but he kept his eyes closed so Wilson wouldn't see.

"Hey, House. Sorry. What's wrong?"

House had buried his face in his hands, brain short-circuiting as tears leaked out of his eyes. Fuck, this was embarrassing. "Lots."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah." Wilson meant his leg, but House meant everything.

"Do you… need anything?"

House took a deep, shuddering sigh. Looked up. Watched Wilson's emotions - worry, fear, shock, panic, guilt - clear as day on his face. "Just… promise me you won't talk about that again."

"Okay. I promise." Wilson knew trauma. Wilson had seen plenty, House knew. House knew that Wilson could see right through him, right now, and he had never felt so naked.

"Your leg will hurt more on the floor."

"Don't you think I don't know that, stupid?"

"Bed or couch?"

"You know, that's usually a very sexually charged question."

Wilson stared at him with a raised eyebrow, and House laughed, noting with more than a twinge of self-disgust at his sniffly state.

"Bed is fine."

Wilson helped him up, let House lean on him. Stood awkwardly at the threshold as House propped himself up on his bed and massaged his aching leg, till it was House's turn to raise his eyebrow. He patted the empty half of the bed.

"C'mere. I'll get bored like this."

"Want me to tell you a bedtime story, Greg?"

A flash of hurt. Another memory. Not so bad, and House mused with a vague sense of interest in his own inner workings, that maybe he could remake that memory.

It was many hours later that Wilson stopped talking, and House had ended up absent-mindedly combing through his hair. Wilson's hand was on his thigh, and it was well into the night.

They didn't talk about it. They didn't need to. Work shirts came off and old t-shirts were pulled out of cabinets, and if House ached for the way Wilson looked in House's clothes as he settled in to sleep, he didn't voice it. If House waited for Wilson's breathing to regulate before pulling him closer, he was sure he could explain it easy enough.

He thought though, and it was one of the clearest thoughts apart from his epiphanies he could remember having, that maybe, just maybe, he didn't want to.