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fangirl-dot-com · 7 months ago

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🚕Accidentally Kidnapping a Mafia Boss

*part of the reverse tropes series*

Pairing: MafiaBoss!Max Verstappen x UberDriver!Reader Genre: Crack/Humor/Fluff? Summary: Uber seemed like a brilliant plan to get money to buy a new car. However, a mistake has you picking up the wrong passenger. Pretty blue eyes turn dangerous when you notice the gun in his belt.

*this was actually so much fun to write! this is in no way dark whatsoever. it's super funny and the reader is pretty ditzy but it's all in good fun! hope you like it!*

TAG LIST CLOSED

You hummed to whatever tune was playing on your half-broken radio. Most of the lyrics came out as muffled voices, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because like the radio, your car was almost dead.

Key word being almost.

You had bought the car at the beginning of your high school career and refused to give it up. But, your father had finally convinced you to buy a new one. However, buying a new car was expensive, hence why you were driving around town at 7 p.m. on a Friday night trying to find someone who needed an Uber.

Your family had mentioned how dangerous it was to drive for the “taxi” company, but no one else was hiring at this time.

“It’s an easy way to make bank,” you had told your very confused parents.

Your hand came up and smacked the top of the dash, causing the radio to spam for a moment before finally, clear voices played out. However, your eyebrows furrowed once you could actually listen to the song.

“This is not my playlist,” you muttered while trying to get your Bluetooth to come back on. Once your fingers reached the dials, your phone lit up with an Uber notification.

“Finally.”

You quickly put in the address and drove down the street. Your humming resumed, playlist reaching out through the speaker. You hadn’t even glanced at where the location was, or you would have realized that you were going in the wrong direction.

When you were supposed to be going further into the town, you were headed for the city. The only place your parents refused to let you drive.

It might have to do with the local mafia war that was going on. Something about track limits or whatnot. However, that was not going to stop you from getting paid that night.

You finally came to a stop at the corner of what you thought to be Fifth and Main, like your phone said to stop at. The actual corner was Fourth and Main, but you couldn’t tell because half of the word “fourth” was smudged with some type of brown substance.

Your shoulders raised in a shrug while your gaze landed back on your phone. At least you were supposed to be picking up a nice older looking lady. That’s what your Uber app said anyway. You leaned forward in the driver’s seat, making the entire car squeak. Before you knew it, your fingers had started to tap along to the song that was still playing.

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut caught your attention.

“Drive!” you heard from behind you.

Your entire body turned in the seat as you looked to the back row of your car.

That was not a nice looking old lady.

The man that now resided on the back road had a mean glare as his eyebrows cocked. Sea blue eyes met your own as the man leaned forward and pointed out the window.

“I said drive, let’s go!” the accented voice yelled.

If you had taken a moment to actually look at the man, you would have noticed his roughed up suit, along with the bright red splatters along his white dress shirt. And on his belt line, a gun seemed to be tucked.

But you hadn’t noticed.

“Yes sir!” you cheerfully said, putting the car into drive. A loud boom sounded outside the car, but your radio had decided to turn up full blast, masking the sound. Your car squeaked as it started to move away from the corner and farther along the road.

The man in the back seat seemed agitated, but slowly relaxed the farther away you got on the highway. He had leaned back against the window and rubbed his eyes. You wanted to keep glancing back at him, but you needed to drive. When you noticed that the Uber app had not updated with his next location, you gathered the courage to speak. However, he beat you to it.

“Is this your first time?”

You sheepishly grinned back at him. “Yes, sir. Sorry, is it that noticeable?”

A grunt escaped his lips.

“The damn Get Away Car sticker on the back is not very inconspicuous. You need to get rid of it.”

“Oh! So you don’t like Taylor Swift that much?”

The man glared at you through the rearview mirror, before he shut his eyes. His hand waved at you through the gap between the front seats.

“Just don’t miss the exit.”

“Sir, you’ll need to put in your location first.”

His eyes shot open. “I guess this is your first day. How did you ever get through training?”

You glanced back. “Training? It was all online?”

A huff only answered as he reached for what you hoped was a phone in his pocket.

“I’ll have to let Lando know that online training will not work.”

You let out a nervous giggle, noting that there was no “Lando” in the Uber training video. But, once again, the money promised kept you going down the highway. You kept glancing at your phone, hoping that the guy would just put his address in. Now you were getting annoyed.

“Sir, I really need the address or I’ll have to make you get out.”

A click near your ear made you freeze.

“Who do you think you are? Giving orders to de Leeuw.”

You had definitely picked up the wrong person. You wanted to start explaining yourself, but the gun near your head made the words die out in your throat. You could feel his breath on your ear as he spoke. This would be hot, if you weren’t scared to lose your life.

“Now, you’re going to tell me who you are and why you don’t know where the right exit is. Are you working for Hamilton? Vettel? Alonso?”

You were so caught up in not wanting to die that you missed the car in front of you slamming on your breaks. You were thankful for your fast reflexes as your foot pressed down on the left pedal, making your car lurch to a halt. A thump on the back of your seat had you reeling around to see what had happened to the blond man.

You were surprised to see him now sprawled on the back seats, eyes closed and gun now on the floor. Your hands were shaking as you were now able to take a random exit. When you got to a random parking lot, your head hit the steering wheel.

“I have de Leeuw in my back seat.”

Your breathing started to grow ragged.

“I have de Leeuw in my back seat!”

You were now panicking.

“I HAVE AN FUCKING UNCONSCIOUS MAFIA BOSS IN MY BACK SEAT!”

Charles’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Max’s tracker come to a stop in a parking lot. The Dutchman was supposed to come back right away after a swift deal with Gasly on the other side of town. But, Charles’s heart had dropped when the car, that Max was supposedly in, turned at an exit too soon. He took off his headset and rolled his chair over a bit.

“Lando, who was picking Max up today after the deal? Was it Carlos?”

The curly-haired Briton spun in his seat to look at his fellow mafia worker.

“Uh, Carlos called in sick. I thought it was Oscar’s turn?”

Something felt weird in Charles’s stomach.

“No, Oscar is on that mission? Daniel was then after Oscar.”

Lando’s eyes widened with fear. “Daniel is out of the country.”

The Monegasque turned back to his computer screen. All vitals for Max were still good, but he had yet to leave the location. His finger pointed and pressed against the screen.

“Then . . . who has Max?”

Back in the parking lot, you had gotten out of the car and were currently rocking back and forth in the fetal position.

“This is not happening. Why did this happen to me? I only needed some money. Why did I get stuck with a mafia boss. I want to live. I need to get back home to my plant and cat.”

Last time you checked, de Leeuw was still out cold. You had taken the gun just in case he woke up in a panic and started to shoot at stuff. That would not end well for you. You grabbed your phone and pushed a button.

“Yes? Hi? Hello, I am calling about what to do if I picked up the wrong passenger. Uh-huh. Yes. I didn’t have his address. Well, no. He’s unconscious. I can’t call the police, he probably owns them. What? Ok. No? The hospital is under the law as well? Yep. I can’t just take him back! No, wait. Don’t hang up. Uhg.”

So much for customer service.

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket. Your feet took you over to your car, and you opened the back seat. The blond man was still looked like he was asleep. Your face got closer to his.

Hm. Up close he was quite handsome. The freckle on his lip really added bonus points. You were so engrossed with the small dot that you missed the twitch of his eyes under his eyelids. When you looked back up, your eyes met blue, which made you shriek and fall back on your butt.

Max was a bit out of it when he was trying to wake up. What he wasn’t expecting was a face to be so close to his when his eyes finally opened. He would laugh if he had the strength as he watched you fall onto the concrete. His hand immediately went to his belt, but his heart dropped when he didn’t feel his gun.

“Looking for this?” you asked, gun outstretched at the man in your back seat. Max’s eyes widened at the gun pointed to his head. It took all of his strength to put his hands up.

“You don’t want to do this,” is the first calm thing that the man said to you. You, however, kept the gun pointed directly at him.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I can’t have you freak out on me and shoot my face. Who would take care of my cat back home? My cousin Lan could, but he kills everything.”

Max registered the slight hitch in your voice. While his hands were still up, he took a moment to look around the parking lot. In the depths of his mind, he was hoping that Lando or at least Charles were on their way to come get him. Yet, his heart rate rose as he saw a few familiar things surrounding him.

He turned back to you. “Ok, you need to listen to me. We are in Rosberg territory right now. And he’s not going to like us on his property. So, you need to give me the gun and get back into the car.”

Your eyes flickered around, and caught some movement to the left and then to the right. You slowly inched the gun down as you walked closer. When you were right in front of the Dutchman, you quickly handed him the gun as you rounded the car to the drivers seat.

Max quickly reloaded the unloaded gun with a smirk on his face. You couldn’t have shot him if you tried. It took a bit for him to do it, but when the magazine fit back in the gun, he was wondering why you hadn’t taken off yet.

“We have to go, now,” he said sternly.

You turned around. “But I need to find a good get-away-song.”

Max could count the pout on your lips as adorable, if it weren’t for the fact that Rosberg’s men were quickly making their way to the car.

“You’re going to have to pick a good funeral song if you don’t hit the gas pedal.”

“Aha!”

The music blared out of the broken speaker as you finally put the car into drive. You heard metal hit metal and prayed that you still could trade your car out for another (even with a few bullet holes).

Max had pressed himself up against the back seat, gun cocked and ready.

“You better not shoot out my back window. I have to trade this car for a new one.”

Max muttered, “You won’t trade anything if you’re dead.”

“I heard that!”

The mafia boss ignored you as he kept watch. When a few cars started to gain, that’s when he leaned back and aimed the gun, firing shots through your back windshield, shattering the glass.

“Do you listen to anyone? Or is my voice just static in your brain?” you asked as you swerved onto the highway. When Max didn’t answer, you huffed. You steadily drove your car down the big roads as Max tried his best to keep the cars at bay.

“How far am I driving?”

Max grunted as he ducked from a bullet. “Just until exit 7. That’s my track.”

You wanted to hit your head on the steering wheel once again. “You’re telling me that if I just kept driving, I wouldn’t be in this situation?”

When he didn’t answer, you swerved a bit to knock him off balance. Your chuckles hit Max’s ear, pissing him off even more.

“And to think, I was going to replace this utter junk if you made it out alive.”

“We’re not done yet mister.”

There was still a bit of road to go, and you were hoping that Max would try to shoot out one of their tyres, instead of trying to shoot at their drivers. He was about reload when he heard a clicking sound. Max really wanted to through himself out the door.

“Is your blinker seriously on right now?”

Your fully turned around to glare.

“Yes.”

You jerked the wheel as you got onto exit 7, making the cars behind slowly back away and continue on the highway. You wiggled in your seat as you did a little celebration. When some familiar houses came into sight, you gasped.

“My cousin lives around here!”

Max was out of breath as he was flabbergasted by your upbeat spirit. “Cousin?”

“Yeah! He has this like high tech job and stuff. I come over to swim in the summer.”

He had no words as you pulled up to a familiar house. You scrambled out the door and fell face flat on the asphalt.

“Sweet mother, thank you, thank you.”

You could kiss the ground, but that would be super unsanitary. When the garage creaked, you quickly got up and scrambled behind Max, who raised his gun out of instinct. However, he wanted to laugh when he saw his two best friends in full oversized gear.

The two friends froze at the sight of their boss and, well, Lando’s cousin.

“Y/n?” the Briton questioned, pulling the visor on the oversized helmet up.

Your sprung in your place.

“Lando!”

“Max?”

“Charles?”

Lando squinted at you.

“Y/n?”

A nervous giggle escaped your lips.

“Lando?”

The curly-haired man rushed at you, making you dodge around Max. Which, that resulted in Lando chasing you around the yard.

“You kidnapped my friend?”

“Why are you friends with de Leeuw and apparently Il Predestinato? I’m telling Aunt Cisca!”

“Not if I tell your mum that you Ubered in the city!”

Max and Charles watched as the two of you ran after each other, hurling insults and threats. The two jumped when they heard a loud creak behind them and then a crash. When they looked, your car was down to the ground, wheels askew.

“My car! De Leeuw, you’re paying for that!”

uber_y/n has posted

uber_y/n new baby from my new baby 🖤

liked by bestie, land0, max_v, and 204 others

bestie um excuse me ma'am 🤨 what happened to bessie? 😭

uber_y/n someone (not saying any names [max] ) SHATTERED HER BACK WINDOW

max_v I hope you like bessie 2.0 schatje

uber_y/n I dooooooo(not)

max_v woman 🙄

land0 you just had to go for my cousin 😐😑😐

uber_y/n he was very charismatic, unlike you noRIZZ 🫵💀

sharl_lec pls, for the love of everything good in this world, quit uber

uber_y/n NOPE on my way to pick up someone named...lewis?

max_v oh no

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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logansbaby · 3 months ago

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NASTY | LOGAN HOWLETT

❥ like the title says, it’s nasty, no other explanations needed

word count: 1k

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

content warnings: NSFW 18+ CONTENT BELOW, p in v, unsafe sex (don’t be like them!), oral sex, literal filth i need to be cleansed

a/n: just a little drabble because i cannot get the these pictures out of my head and im a preening slut for logan (we knew this) i haven’t written in a little bit so im rusty but anyway its just filth i need to be put down! also, nasty by ariana grande was on repeat, hence the title ❥

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

Logan Howlett is the type of man that goes feral when he sees you on your knees for him.

Seeing his girl, all desperate and needy, has his body thrumming with pure, hot desire.

Like right now, for instance. He’s leant back, comfortable in his seated position, eyes struggling to stay open at the feel of you whimpering around his cock.

You’d jumped him the minute he’d returned home, leading him away from wondering eyes until you’d found your bedroom. Far too impatient, you’d pushed him through the threshold and didn’t let up until the back of his legs dug into the leather chair nearest to you. Then, without another thought, you’d dropped onto the ground before him. The minute you unbuttoned his jeans and yanked his boxers down, he groaned at the full-body shiver that rattled through you.

With a salacious glaze to your eyes, you took the tip of him, cherry red and bubbling with white desire, past spit slicked lips and sucked.

“Fuck, princess,” he’d gritted out between clenched teeth, head slamming against the back of the chair at the feel of your wet, warm mouth caressing him.

A soft, supple hand grips the skin of his thigh, nails digging into the flesh until he grunts out, tethered back to the present as his hips jump at the feel of your fingers leaving indents. The movement sends him deeper into your mouth and you both moan at that.

You suck his cock like it’s your favorite treat and you can’t get enough of it. Your eyes never break eye contact with his own. Even as you swirl your tongue from base to tip, as you gag around the entirety of him, as you lift your head up and down in desperation. He supposed you did it because you liked seeing him lose his composure from something only you could do to him.

“Yeah, jus’ like that, baby.” he groans, hands sliding down to grip at you in anyway they can. One hand strokes the side of your face tenderly as he thumbs the imprint of his cock pressing into your cheek. The other grips your hair tightly, yanking it and holding you still as he starts to fuck your throat.

His hips are relentless, cock stuffed as far as it can go and though you’re gagging around him, you look as happy as can be. Even as your eyes stream tears at the fullness and the lack of airflow. You were moaning around him, looking like you were absolutely cock drunk and it’s that thought that sends him reeling past the edge.

Stifling, untamed pleasure curls in his lower stomach and builds up, up, up until his orgasm crashes over him with overwhelming euphoria. Logan groans, loud and guttural, hips stuttering in the sweet, sweet escape of your mouth.

He barely registers the sounds of you gasping off the length of him as you try to swallow his release, a look of pure glee mixed with sweltering desire painted on your face.

Just as you’re about to swallow, though, he yanks you up and into his lap, slamming his lips into your swollen, wet ones. He tastes himself as the saliva and his release mix between the swirl of your tongues. The messy, messy kiss has you whining into his mouth, unconsciously grinding your clothed, sopping pussy onto his thigh. The taste of him between your lips, the caress of his tongue on yours, the grip his gruff hands have on your hips (which encourage your pathetic humping), makes your head spin.

Its all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Such a good girl, took me so well.” Logan praises as he pulls away from your kiss, focusing his attention on the flushed skin of your neck.

Instead of answering, you just moved your hips down harder, chasing the searing pleasure encompassing your body. The smell of your arousal had been permeating the room the minute you sucked his cock, but now, it was wafting around Logan’s nose teasingly, tempting him to ruin you.

“Atta girl, use me.” He grunts out, flexing his thigh against your cunt to relieve the pressure building at your puffy clit. When he can’t take it anymore (and neither can you, you need him so badly it hurts), he lifts your sensitive body into his arms and stands. The need to take care of you properly overpowers his urge to see you hump yourself to an orgasm on his thigh.

Your whines of protests only last a second because the minute you land on the bed, Logan was between your thighs, ripping your shorts and lace panties with his claw, before devouring you.

And after you’d finally come on his tongue, your release was all over his face, slick and shiny, as he pressed gentle kisses on your thighs. It shouldn’t have made you arch back up to his mouth, not with how sensitive you were, but it did.

And because Logan is absolutely unhinged, he wouldn’t just stop after you’d reached your high, he would continue to suckle your clit and lick up your dripping desire until you’d come undone a couple more times for him. Then, as you’re a blubbering, teary mess, he’d flip you onto your stomach, grunting at your lewd whines and whimpers, before he fucks you hard until you were crying out. With your cunt squeezing his cock in tight, delicious pulses, he’ll thrust with more vigor. As you’re shivering with pleasure below him, he’ll grip the plush of your hips and fuck you explosively until he’d finally come inside you.

While you’d be all dazed and hazy, you’d latch onto him tightly and Logan would tuck you into his side tightly. When he would try to pull out, pitiful protests would tumble from you until he got the hint. He’d settled down with you, one hand stroking your sweat soaked hair, the other tracing your back. You’d both fall asleep like that; tangled up together and still connected in the most intimate sense possible.

And if he wakes up in the morning, still inside you and hard again, he couldn’t be blamed. He turns into an animalistic version of himself the minute you get on your knees.

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zepskies · 6 months ago

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Wanderlust

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: Your wandering hands are keeping Ben up at night.

AN: My nightly daydreams led me to Soldier Boy this time. 😂

I was imagining the Break Me Down-verse for this one (shortly after Checkerboard), but it can also be general Soldier Boy x Reader.

Word Count: 650

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Fluff, innuendo, Sleepy Ben, implied smut.

You traced down his back with light, trailing fingers.

Lying next to him in bed, with scraps of moonlight filtering through the closed blinds in the window as your only guide, your mind was still drifting even though you should’ve been sleeping.

You couldn’t help yourself.

You drew invisible patterns across his bare skin. Ben was warm, always warm, even though the AC was making the room almost frigid. You knew it was the ever-present radiator in his chest that made him your own personal heater.

You propped your head up better with an elbow on your pillow as you laid on your side. You then let your hand drift over every dip of muscle between his shoulders, every small freckle you knew just from memory, then down and down his spine.

You flirted with the idea of inching down the sheets, where his bare ass would greet you. From there, you supposed you'd decide what wandering direction your hand took next.

“If you don’t go to sleep,” his deep voice rumbled, “I’m gonna wake up and fuck you again.”

You bit your lip against a giggle, but you didn’t quite succeed.

“It sounds like you’re already awake,” you remarked.

Ben grumbled incoherently in response. He was tired, you knew. He’d just come back from a week-long mission with Butcher and Co. for Supe Affairs. Hence the long night you two spent catching up.

If you were honest, you were still tingling between your legs. Your thighs and ass were a little sore too. Likely they’d be sporting a few fingerprints tomorrow.

You didn't mind it so much though. You two now had a safe word for that kind of thing.

You smirked, sifting your fingers through his hair. It was getting long again. Maybe you’d trim it for him tomorrow, since you both had the weekend off.

Your hand meandered down the back of his neck, just to begin dragging your nails up and down the slope of his back.

“What does that feel like to you?” you asked curiously. You often wondered how much his invulnerability affected the way he felt things, especially the way you touched him.

“Like a tease,” he muttered.

You applied some more pressure with your nails. Not the way you’d scored his back about an hour ago, when he’d had his sinful mouth all over your body, but enough to be more than a tease. Enough that it would’ve left an angry, red trail on your own “fragile” human skin.

Still, you weren’t able to leave any marks on him. Just a faint whiteness of pressure against his skin that soon returned to normal when you moved your hand away.

“How about that?” you asked.

“Like you’re playing with fucking fire,” Ben said, though you heard the smirk in his voice. “Go to sleep.”

You smiled too.

“We'll pick this up in the morning,” he made sure to add, though he was already halfway back to slumber, from the sound of it.

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, laughing lightly. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against his shoulder. “G’night, babe.”

“Mhmm,” he responded.

He groaned deep in his throat and turned over onto his back. Your smile remained as your body tensed in anticipation, but all he did was slide an arm under your waist and curl you towards him, trapping you against his chest. His hand splayed against your lower back, heavy and warm.

His lips brushed your hair away from your forehead and lingered there. He closed his eyes and let out a deep exhale. You did the same, relaxing against him. Your hand came to rest against the steady thrum of his heart.

Moments like this with him still managed to surprise you…but admittedly, less and less the longer you lived and shared together.

A girl could get used to it though.

AN: Lol should she have pressed her luck? Let me know what you think of this one! 😉💚

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Next we have a fun, fluffy, angsty, smutty Christmas special, Love Actually:

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.

▶️ Next Story: Love Actually

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

Including the BMD tag list on this, since that's what my heart was imagining. 😂

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @vavafaure1994 @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

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joonberriess · 1 year ago

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teeth. ☆ j.jk

⋆ TAGS — ghostface!jk, breaking in, TW: non-con to dub-con (oc does NOT consent verbally even if she does participate hence the dub-con), brief knife play, cunnilingus, degradation, misogyny(?), objectification, blow jobs, brief face/skull fucking, fuckin in the woods, unprotected sex, nasty talk by jk, possessive!jk, hints of kidnapping/captivity, fear play, facial, jk is lowkey yandere, iconic what’s your favorite scary movie scene but my style, DEAD DOVE, slight praises, ass n coochie worship cause jk is a ass man certified LMAO, cheerleader!oc, college setting

⋆ WORD COUNT — 4.2k

⋆ now playing: teeth - 5sos ⋆

“Color me your color, baby, color me your car, color me your color, darling, I know who you are,”

The music blared loudly, you hummed under your breath while lining over your lips with a dark lip pencil. The hour was getting closer and you realized you had to speed things up if you wanted to meet with your friends on time (you had been stuck in your cheer uniform ALL DAY). You moved around your room quickly while tossing articles of clothing onto your bed, no outfit in particular on your mind.

You uncapped the red lipstick and ran it over your lips slowly, filling in the blank spaces and blending the two colors to perfection. You decided a white long sleeve tucked into your mini jean skirt would serve as a perfect combo. If you were lucky, maybe that cute college senior Kim Seokjin would give you his jacket to wear. The idea has you smiling like a dummy.

Before you can slip out of your skirt the phone downstairs begins ringing loudly. You could have very well ignored it but you don’t feel like listening to your parents nag at you for not picking up the phone if it happens to be them. “Ugh, seriously.” You mutter and quickly run downstairs to the kitchen.

“Hello?” You softly sigh while twirling a piece of your hair around your finger.

“Hello,” some guy’s deep voice greets you, he says nothing else and you tilt your head in confusion muttering a soft ‘yes?’. “Who is this?”

Immediately you frown in confusion and balance the phone between your ear and shoulder, “Who are you trying to reach?” You pop a piece of chicken from your mom’s leftover casserole into your mouth.

“What number is this?”

“Uhh..what number are you trying to reach?”

“I don’t know.”

You hold back a deep sigh and check the time behind you on the clock, you really don’t have patience for this nonsense. Especially for some weirdo who’s either prank calling or just doesn’t know how to work a phone. “Then you have the wrong number,” you eat another piece of casserole, “it happens, take it easy though.” You hang up quickly before he can utter another word to you.

You had just set the phone down when it began to ring all over again, “Ugh…hello?” You stare at the decorative ceiling in annoyance, “Hello?” You say loudly when the other person doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me? Just wanted to apologize, ‘s all.” He says with a teasing lilt, but it sounds more condescending than anything, “Just wanna..get to know you.”

You ignore the nasty little shiver you get down your spine when he talks to you like that, a deeper part of you is literally drooling over how this guy’s voice sounds but too bad he’s a weirdo though.. Your gut twists uncomfortably as your eyes dart to the side to look out the patio doors. “Okay..well you’re forgiven now, bye.” You go to hang up.

“Wait–if you tell me your name I’ll tell you mine.”

You can’t help your scoff, “Yeah, right. I don’t think so, why the hell would I give you my name? You sound like a total creep right now, you know that?” You huff and open your fridge up for a drink, “Besides, what’s your deal anyways? You keep calling and I’m obviously not who you’re looking for.” You complain while uncapping a bottle of water.

“Because,” he calmly starts, “I wanna know who I’m lookin’ at right now.. Pretty red lips and a tight little uniform on,” he draws out huskily.

You immediately go still, “W-What…how do you..?” you look around the empty kitchen and living room. “This isn’t funny.” You quickly head down the hall to the front door, making sure the locks are set before you go back to the living room and make sure the patio doors are locked as well.

“Never said it was babydoll.” He muses, “Though I do gotta admit, red looks spectacular on you, wonder if you got more around here in your drawers.” He trails off, the sound of drawers slamming close and another opening could be heard on the other side of the line.

You wait with a bated breath listening carefully, you slowly turn your head to look up at the ceiling. There’s a low thumping noise that follows the sounds you hear from the phone. Your eyes slip shut as you try to control the sob that’s about to come out of your throat, “What do you want from me?” You croak in a tiny voice.

“What’s your favorite scary movie sweetheart, hm?” His footsteps are heavy as he starts walking around upstairs in your room.

You blink your tears away and stumble towards the hallway to your only escape route: your dad’s office. “I-I don’t like any scary movies,” you whimper quietly, “p-please, I don’t wanna die.” You sniffle. You can hear him humming in the hallway upstairs now, causing you to duck into the office as silent as you can.

“That wasn’t my question. Time’s ticking babydoll, I’m not exactly a patient guy you know.”

“H-Halloween..!” You whisper-yell, “I like Halloween.”

“Which one?” He asks, you can hear him loud and clear at the bottom of the staircase, “Hm?”

You sniffle softly and back away, “Rob Zombie’s version,” you utter softly and hear him pause in his footsteps. He stands there for a few seconds before he slowly draws nearer and nearer. Your eyes squeeze shut as a terrified whimper escapes your lips, before you can plead with him the door slowly creaks open and a hooded figure stands in the doorway with the phone held up to his ear. You stare at him, the phone slipping from your trembling hand as it slams to the floor with a loud thud.

He tilts his head to the side and raises his gloved hand to wave at you. “Hey there sweetheart,” he purrs from under the mask.

You scream out in fear and knock over the desk chair, you’re lucky as hell your dad has a set of patio doors himself. You slip through the doors and run down the small hill, looking back and forth in time to see the hooded figure chasing after you.

The sounds of leaves crunching and branches snapping fill both sides of your ears. Adrenaline kicks in like never before and has you running the fastest you’ve ever moved in your entire life. If you can lose him in the woods you’ll make it to your neighbors’ in five minutes tops, might even get lucky if you detour to the main road but the hill to climb up will only slow you down.

“Don’t be like that babydoll!” He calls out from your left? Right? You don’t know where his voice is coming from, and quite frankly you’re too scared to look. You hear his heavy footsteps (now) directly behind you before a hand tangles itself in the back of your uniform top, gripping it tight as he stops you from going any further.

The force itself is enough to send you flying to the ground, knees scraping hard against a tree stump. You break your fall with your hands, crying out from the pain that erupts in both palms as tiny twigs and rocks dig into your soft skin. “Gotcha.” He chuckles and squats down to your level to admire your bruised form. You must have gave him a run for his money with how hard he’s breathing under the mask.

“P-Please!” You crawl backwards, back hitting the tree stump, “I don’t wanna die,” you pathetically cry, “I promise I won’t tell anyone if you let me go.” Call it cliche but it was worth a shot to plead with your killer? Stalker? You don’t know anymore.

He tilts his head, “Heard that one before, you’re not the first to beg so sweetly like that babydoll. Almost melts my poor little heart,” he coos mockingly, “but don’t stress your pretty little head over that, you’re not meant to use that brain of yours—meant to sit and look pretty for me.” He purrs and reaches out to run a gloved hand over your dirt stricken thighs.

You curl away and try to escape his touch, “Why are you doing this?” You whimper quietly, watching as his hand rubs circles over your bruised knees. A tremor runs down your spine as his leather gloves run over your shaking thighs, his touch feels scorching hot despite the cool material of his gloves pressing against your skin.

“Been watchin’ ya for a while,” he murmurs, “night n day—just imagining allll the different ways I could have you. Bet you’d look pretty with a mouth stuffed full of cock, wonder how pretty you’d look with cock deep inside your little cunt baby,” he trails off while giving your thigh a rough squeeze, “always did wonder how that pussy tastes.” You can practically picture the shit eating grin he must have under the mask.

You hate that his nasty words have a bubbling heat building in your lower stomach, it shouldn’t be that arousing to you yet here you were in the middle of the woods being fondled by your stalker while he talked about how much he wanted to fuck you. His voice even sounds hotter in person vs the phone.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He chuckles.

You land a harsh kick to his arm with a loud, “Get off of me!” You quickly turn over to stumble to your feet while he curses under his breath and stands to chase after you.

He’s not so gentle this time with the way he snatches you and slams you right up against the tree trunk, letting the chips and splinters bite into your skin unforgivingly. “Thought we were over this,” he growls, “was gonna treat you nice and sweet but by the looks of it you just wanna be tossed around like the filthy little slut you are,” he hisses in your ear while pressing you tight against the tree.

You whine loudly and push back against him in an effort to get him off of you, “Let me go—let go!” You growl angrily, “you’re a fucking psycho creep!” You grit your teeth while trying to turn to look directly at him.

He doesn’t shy away from hurting you to get you to become docile again. He pins both wrists behind your back in a tight grip, squeezing both of your hands until you hear a low threatening pop. A pained little whimper escapes your lip as he forces your head against the bark, “You gonna sit still like a good girl or do I have to tie you up?” He growls menacingly.

“I-I’ll be good!” You cry out as the pain starts to become unbearable.

“What was that?” He whispers in your ear, “Couldn’t hear ya.” He smirks.

A quiet sob slips from your lips as you slump over in defeat, “I-I’ll be a good girl.” You softly reply, too hung up on the pain to reply with the unbridled anger you feel right now. “Just please—let me go.” You sob.

He ignores your cries and instead brings out a rather intimidating looking hunting knife, it cuts into your skin almost right away with the slightest little touch. “Please no—” You immediately begin, thighs shifting as they slide against each other in an attempt to block him from either cutting or stabbing you. The only thing you achieve is the blade running into your thigh and slicing a small line downwards.

“None of that now babydoll,” he whispers while letting your wrists go and setting his big hand over your hip, “just sit still and look pretty for me yeah? Don’t need to think, just feel.” He breathes out as he guides the knife up your skirt, letting the sharp tip (which you noticed was slightly curved like a hook or something) hook under the side of your panties.

Your poor heart hammers in your chest as you begin to hyperventilate, “W-What are you gonna do to me?” The blade tugs at your panties, no doubt already piercing through the flimsy little material.

“Fuck.” You hear him whisper from behind, “You’re driving me fuckin’ crazy you know that?” His tongue clicks in annoyance as he suddenly yanks the knife down, a loud riiip following in suit, as well as your terrified scream/sob. “Gonna have a taste now babydoll, put your hands right there—yeahhh, good girl. Keep ‘em there baby,” he has you bending over with your legs spread wide apart and your hands over the tree, “ ‘s like a fuckin’ dream back here, fat little cunt n a nice ass.” He whistles while smacking his hand against your poor cheek.

You bite your lip as the cool air fans over your moist cunt, at this point in time you have long given up making any excuses as to why your pussy was drooling for this weirdo. Still didn’t mean you were less scared but you figured if you complied the faster things would go over. “Look at this slutty pussy, already leakin’ like a bitch in heat. Does a scary man like me chasing you through the woods get you goin’ sweetheart? Maybe you’re a little more fucked than I thought.” He chuckles.

There’s a brief pause and you wonder what he’s doing back there, so you turn your head to look at him when you gasp softly. He has the mask thrown off to the side, his face in all his glory—messy black hair and a lip ring with an array of piercings on his ears— he sits there with a shit eating grin, “Guess the cat’s out the bag huh?” You eye him with distaste before turning back around, you had at least hoped he was ugly or something.

“God,” he groans, “can’t get over this ass,” he mutters to himself while smacking both cheeks and pulling them apart to expose both of your holes to him, “wanna see it wrapped ‘round my cock, gonna have you squirting and messy babydoll. Might even have to get you on your knees to clean up your mess,” he whispers as his hot breath fans over your pussy lips, “you’re gonna be lookin’ at me with those sweet little eyes of yours too, gonna bust my load all over that pretty face of yours.” His tongue dips between your soft folds, licking from your winking hole down to your swollen little clit hiding under its hood.

Your eyes squeeze shut as his hands steady you by the hips, his face is practically smushed against your cunt as he slobbers over it with his greedy tongue. He sucks on your inner folds, getting every nook and cranny as he slurps up the mess he leaves behind before lapping over your clit with his tongue. Your thighs shake a little, you’ve never had anyone this eager to eat your cunt out like this. He’s a fucking menace and you hate how good he is at this.

“Fuck,” he pants softly, “can’t get enough baby, could eat this pussy for days.” He all but moans while latching on to your clit.

A shocked cry leaves your lips, you dig your nails into the tree bark and hold on tightly as your swollen bud throbs in his mouth. He doesn’t let up, suckling on your clit like a lollipop with just the right amount of pressure around the bud. A new wave of slick gushes from your untouched hole, loud mewls and whines leaving you as you subtly rut back against his face. It’s pure heaven.

He spreads your cheeks apart and pulls back to harshly spit on your cunt, “There you go, get nice n wet for me babydoll.” His hot breath fans over your empty little hole, “Good girl.”

You shouldn’t like the way he’s talking to you, but something about him calling you that has a delirious little whimper leaving you. He dips his tongue into your pussy, the sensation definitely welcomed as you sigh in bliss. His tongue wiggles around and curls upwards to brush over your sensitive walls in a flicking motion.

He jiggles your ass in both hands, moaning at the sight of the fat slipping through his fingers from his tight grip. He flicks his tongue back and forth over your swollen bud, you nearly double over as his tongue traces letters on your clit. “W-Wait,” you bite your lip as your eyes shut and you reach behind you to tangle your hand in his hair.

You freeze when you realize what you’re doing, but instead of getting angry with you he leans into your touch with a low moan. Clearly he loves it so you keep your hand in his hair, occasionally pulling just a tiny bit. When he pulls back to catch his breath, audibly gulping as he sits back on his haunches, “Turn around.” He says breathlessly.

From behind you can hear him shuffling around, the sounds of a belt being unbuckled fills your ears. “On your knees babydoll,” he rasps out while fisting his cock, sliding his thumb over the mess of precum he’s made at the tip of his cock. He’s watching you with dark lust filled eyes as you slowly fall to your knees in front of him, eye contact never wavering.

“Shit—when you look like that you make it harder for me to hold back.” He groans while licking his lip, “Exactly how I imagined you’d look.” He purrs as he brings the head of his cock to smother his precum over them, “Stick your tongue out for me baby—there you go, just like that.” He grins softly.

You lay your tongue flat under his fat cock, delighting in the delicious weight over your tongue. You can’t help but flick the tip of your tongue upwards causing it to brush over a throbbing vein. He releases a quiet hiss, fisting the shaft as he roughly slaps it against your tongue in repeated taps.

“Will you look at that, ‘nother little filthy slut we got here, how many other cocks you sucked huh?” He pushes into your mouth and holds the back of your head with one hand tightly fisted in your hair. You gag around his cock and fruitlessly claw at his thighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t take it? Poor baby can’t handle having a cock stuffed down her throat? Pathetic little thing you are, can’t even do what you were made for,” he rasps out while rolling his hips against your face.

His balls press snug against your chin as spit and drool dribble from the corners of your mouth. Your tears run freely no doubt ruining your makeup for the night, you probably look a hot mess right now. Your stalker moans and pants freely above you, he doesn’t bother hiding how good he feels right now as his cock twitches occasionally. You really lose it when he forces your head down and keeps you still, pelvis pressed right up against your nose as he rolls his hips in quick grinds.

“Oh shit,” he breathes out, “feels so fuckin’ good babydoll, knew you were the one when I first saw you.” He whispers out while slipping his cock out of your mouth, relishing in the gasping noises you make, “Gonna make you into my little cock sleeve, don’t need you doin’ anything else..belong with me right on my cock.” He shoves himself back into your mouth and begins fucking into your throat roughly. You cry and gurgle while weakly slapping your hands over his thighs. He doesn’t let up and only fucks your throat more eagerly.

“Fuck baby, c’mere,” he yanks you off his cock and brings you up to him.

He doesn’t waste time bending you back over the three and shoving his fat cock into you. You let out a loud cry and dig your nails into the tree from the pressure and slight twinge of pain from the size of his girthy cock. It sits nice and snug against your walls, curved slightly upwards to press into your g-spot, not quite hitting it but brushing over it.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper out as your toes curl from inside your shoes.

When a couple more seconds pass of him just idly rocking into you, he pulls all the way out until only the head remains before slamming back in with a loud slap. You jolt in pleasure as a tiny scream escapes, he doesn’t let up and keeps the same harsh pace he started with. His cock punches deep into your pussy, poking at your cervix painfully as you yelp out in pain between your moans.

“Fucking hell,” he moans out while moving his hands from your hips to your bouncing tits, “got a nice little pussy n a pair of pretty tits just for me right sweetheart?” He slaps one of your tits before taking your pebbled little nipple between his fingers and meanly pinching it.

“Mm!” You arch your back and try to twist away from his bruising grip. He manages to grip your other tit and knead it in his big hand.

Loud squelching noises fill the space around you in the woods, some of your slick even drips down onto the ground with tiny wet splats. The sound is filthy and has your face burning up in embarrassment as you hide in your hands with low whimpers and whiny moans. He suddenly changes the angle and begins grinding his fat cock right up against your g-spot, pressing insistently as he hits it over and over again.

“Oh you like it there don’t you sweetheart,” he grins while rolling his hips in slow circles, “go on then, fuck yourself on my cock like the little whore you are. Get that pussy nice and soaked for me.” He growls quietly in your ear while pinching your nipples once more.

A quiet squeal erupts from your throat, you shakily manage to knock your hips into his in a sloppy pace. “Please,” you slur out as your eyes slip shut, “c-can’t do it,” your pace is nowhere near the same as before.

“Can’t what?” He moves one hand down between your thighs, “Hm?”

You press your forehead against the tree bark in defeat, sobbing quietly as you wiggle your hips side to side, “ ‘s not the same, need you to f-fuck me.” You shamefully admit.

“Like this?” He slaps his hips upwards, “Or like this sweetheart?” He purrs and begins plowing into your drenched pussy, stuffing his cock deep inside with every thrust.

You throw your head back with a loud moan, “Yes, yes!” More drool begins slipping from your chin as you part your legs a bit wider and arch your back.

He swears at you from under his breath while rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. The sounds of skin slapping against skin begin louder, his balls collide with your swollen puffy folds and your ass ripples from his pelvis from his harsh thrusts. “Little fucking slut,” he grits out through his harsh punishing thrusts, “fuckin’ mine you hear that? So help me you ever think of looking at someone else I’ll fuckin gut them like a fish n fuck you over their dead body.” He hisses, “Better yet covered in their blood.” He roughly smacks your clit.

You mewl loudly and go still, your pussy pulses like crazy as you feel your orgasm hit you at full force. You cum with your clit trapped between his fingers and his cock stuffed deep. The orgasm is so strong it knocks you off your feet as you wobble and shake like a newborn lamb. “P-Please,” you sob out.

“On your knees,” he growls while slipping from your drenched cunt, “fuckin’ look at me.” He aims his cock at your face and strokes himself with loud slick noises. You stare up at him with a dazed expression, too fucked out to reply. He cums with a low moan, making sure to coat your lips and face with his cum as he taps the head against your cheek, “Fuck…” He sighs in bliss while lazily flicking his wrist.

You blink slowly and the last thing you see is him picking his knife back up.

Jungkook hums under his breath while he lazily digs through his bowl of popcorn, he’s been switching channels for a couple of minutes now. Nothing good is ever on these days, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head while flicking through the channels.

“Oh,” his face lights up in joy, “baby come look at this,” he grins and turns the volume up all the way high, “found somethin’ perfect for movie night.” He turns to look behind him, eyes wild and filled with sadistic joy.

“She was last seen Friday in the evening by her parents who were only going a few towns over to visit family. Her friends have all stated she was supposed to be meeting them that night but never showed, one even said they had spoken to her hours prior about their plans to meet. They said she wasn’t acting suspicious or anything—”

A muffled sob erupts, the sound of a cage rattling heard next as Jungkook slowly turns to look at your cowering form. You look so adorable all curled up in the cage like that, mascara streaking and lips wiped red from your lipstick. “Don’t like that movie?” He pouts, “Pity.” He turns back around and replays the entire missing persons ad.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @gukiebaby @babycandy111

[halloween m.list]

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

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farfromstrange · 3 months ago

Text

“What if the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?” | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (18+), shower setting, oral f!receiving, masturbation, fantasizing, beard appreciation (kink?), dirty talk, mentioned unprotected p in v, slight Dom!Matt, DDBA!Matt, improper thoughts about a certain crucifix necklace, (kind of) religious symbolism, mentions of choking, praise kink, pet names, “good girl”, not perfectly edited (shocker)

Summary: Fantasies about your late-working boyfriend take over your much needed self-care shower—until he’s suddenly (and unexpectedly) right in front of you when you are about to take care of the problem yourself.

A/n: So, the Born Again trailer brought me back from the dead and made me so fucking needy for this man. I thought this would be the best opportunity to rewatch Daredevil and practice writing Matt again because I’ve been a bit out of practice lately. Let’s just say the experiment was successful, but I definitely owe it to my hormone levels. The gif below inspired this fic (as it probably has done to many writers in the fandom these past two days). Anyway. If you want to listen to the song I was listening to while writing, it’s “Guilty As Sin?” By Taylor Swift, hence the title. Other than they, enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read Me On AO3!

The warm water from the shower head above runs down your clammy skin, seeping into your pores and aching muscles. You have been dreaming about this ever since you got home from work.

The apartment is quiet, save for the little noise you make in the bathroom. Matt called you earlier, telling you he would be late and that you shouldn’t wait up for him; you expected as much after he and Foggy caught a high-profile case a couple of weeks ago.

When he isn’t busy at work, he tries to fulfill his duty to protect the city. You’re not mad; you knew what you were signing up for when you fell in love with him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you miss him sometimes. Or rather, all the time. It doesn’t matter if he’s at work or wandering around in red leather, searching for a fight—you always miss him.

There’s not a day that goes by that you’re not worried he might not come back to you. You can only hold on to the thought of him coming home in the middle of the night, crawling into bed beside you because he’s too tired to shower, wrapping his arms around you as though you are the only thing anchoring him to reality. It makes you appreciate what you have in him.

The thing about Matt is that he feels he has to do penance for every little thing he has ever done, whether his actions hurt people or not; he loathes himself for who he is, which is absurd to you but to him, it makes sense. Perhaps it’s the catholic in him, or all those years of losing soulmates, or maybe it’s both.

His shampoo smells faintly of sandalwood and the rainforest, but only if you focus closely. You like that it makes your skin soft, and when you wrap yourself in his silk sheets at night, it’s almost like he’s all over you before he physically can be.

You close your eyes and you focus on the feel of him, imagining your hands are his. You imagine his calloused fingers trailing over your heated skin, exploring every dip and every curve, even though he already knows the wonderland of your body inside and out. His lips on yours, traveling down your neck to your shoulder to your chest… a shiver runs down your spine, pooling in your core. You’re on fire, and he isn’t even with you.

He’s at the office, sleeves probably rolled up, the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone, loosening his tie with that strained look he gets when he’s stressed. Or maybe he’s on his way to Fogwell’s Gym so he won’t disturb you before he puts the suit on, fists raining down on a sandbag as sweat drips down his body, and he grunts whenever he lands a hit.

You were just trying to have a nice shower, but Matt always manages to invade your every thought like a burglar on a mission.

It’s just not fair how he always looks so sinful when he’s at his wit’s end. Oh, you love that look he gets when he’s feral. And you suddenly remember how long it has been since you got to touch each other. Since he let the devil out on you. Since he came home in the middle of the night and fucked you into the mattress because he was still so full of adrenaline.

It has been so long since you two got to have a nice dinner together and you last rode him on his leather couch until you were both sticking to it, not even thinking about stopping; since he devoured you for hours and hours and hours until you were almost severely dehydrated and overstimulated from the orgasms he tore from you.

You bite your lip so you won’t moan into the void of the bathroom. If you touch yourself now, he will know when he comes home. For a moment, you consider it. You slide your hand from your chest down your stomach. The water is slowly starting to grow cold. You just need to take the edge off. Lower, lower, and lower, and—

“Don’t,” Matt’s voice reverberates in your ear. His hand slides over yours, calloused fingers on the back of your hand.

The veil of fantasy burns to the ground. Your heart stops, then picks up the pace at a million miles an hour. In an instant, you turn around to face him, a gasp dying on your lips.

He’s right there, clothes discarded on the floor before the shower, no doubt. The golden crucifix around his neck offers a sinful contrast to his milky skin. You have always wondered if he was made out of marble rather than skin and bone. How can one person be this beautiful—this close to perfection and still be human?

Matt is close enough for you to feel his heartbeat against your own. His hands slide to your forearms to make sure you don’t slip. You can see your wrecked reflection in his hazel irises.

His unfocused gaze is right on you, boring through your skull into your soul. Only he can read you like an open book, listen to your body, and know exactly what you want, what you crave. He thinks of himself as the devil, but all you see is an angel. He’s the sun. To you, at least, he’s everything. The moon, the sun, the stars, and the entire fucking universe.

He caught you when you were about to touch yourself, and he’s naked. Really fucking naked. This is not how you imagined tonight to go.

His chest heaves with a deep inhale of your scent, forehead coming to rest against yours.

“You’re home,” you whisper.

His lips curl into a smile—not a smirk but a genuine smile. “Yeah.”

“But you said you guys had that case, and then you were gonna go out…”

Matt cuts you off, “I missed you,” he says. “Couldn’t go out without seeing you.”

He chose you over the city. You never doubted Daredevil meant more to him than you, but hearing it out loud almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you too,” you answer. So much. Days, weeks, seconds, all the fucking time.

He’s so smug about it, too, when he tells you, “I know.”

The water keeps falling around you, drowning out the noise of the city and pearling off his necklace. He should have taken it off. If he wanted to shower with you, he should have taken it off because the need for him that makes your cunt pulse in desperation feeds off of the mere thought of taking the cold metal into your mouth while he pounds into you like a madman.

He doesn’t look agitated, not at all, but there is a dark shadow falling over Matt’s bearded face. It’s a calculated shadow rooted in a need for control, and who are you to deny him the only thing he can control?

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, “Tell me. What were you doing in there, hm?”

You bite your lip. “Just… showering.”

“Just showering?” He brushes his nose against yours. “You know I can hear your heartbeat…”

You nod. Your lips brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. You can taste the remnants of his last coffee, the familiar warmth of his mouth on yours, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction. You crave him so much that fireworks have started erupting on your skin wherever his fingers dare to travel; it isn’t fair. He isn’t fair.

Matt studied the science of driving you crazy, and now you are bordering on the edge of madness. Alone.

“Mhm. So, I know you’re lying…” He moves to your cheek, his breath hot when he speaks, “And I know when you’re touching yourself. ‘Cause I can smell how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.”

There he is. The relentless, feral animal you fantasized about before. The man driven by primal need and the sheer power of his senses rather than rational thought, and yet he knows exactly what he is doing. He’s a musician playing you like a delicate violin, pushing her to the breaking point but never fully destroying.

“Like I said,” you breathe, “I missed you.”

He presses his lips to your cheek, almost like a reward. “I know,” he says. “Probably been thinking about me, too, with your hand on your pussy…”

You swallow a needy moan that would have been too embarrassing. It’s been a long few weeks. Neither of you will be able to resist for long, you know that, so you decide you have to be bold tonight. “And what’re you gonna do about it?” you ask.

Though stunned for a moment, the smirk on Matt’s face isn’t far out of reach. “That’s my girl.”

Your back hits the now warm tiles of the shower wall before you can string together another remark, and then, finally—fucking finally—his lips are on yours. Kissing you. Devouring you. Breathing air into your aching lungs. He tastes like paradise, the Garden of Eden, and the six circles of hell all at once. It’s all the same to you, anyway.

As long as you’re with him, you don’t care where you end up. No amount of torture could take away the love you feel for him, and you know that with Matt, even weathering the stormy seas of hell would be worthwhile. It’s sick and twisted how far you would go for this man, but you can’t find a single bone in your body that cares.

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tasting you, and inhaling you like his sole source of life support. You don’t bother fighting for dominance; you’re all his. Your body is telling him to command you. Your mind is screaming for him to touch you in any way he pleases, so help him God, and the chain around his neck keeps sinfully dangling against his toned chest. You want to bite it. You’re going to bite it. But not yet.

When it is time for you to swim to the surface for air, he pulls away. His lips move from yours to the corner of your mouth. He kisses there, taking his time to explore what he has explored many times before. But Matt Murdock is an addict, and you are his drug of choice, so why would he ever stop?

He kisses your cheek, your eyes, and the bridge of your nose. That’s how he sees you. Either with his fingers or his mouth or both. Touching you. Listening to you. He wants to see you in his own way. In a way that is far more intimate than you admiring his objective beauty could ever be.

“So beautiful,” he whispers between kisses. When he says it, you know it has to be true, even when you don’t see yourself in the same light as him.

His beard is rough where he kisses you. He has grown it out quite a bit, not having the time to bother shaving. The specks of gray that have started appearing as he got older should be illegal, you think, staring at him through hazy eyes. It should be illegal to look this good.

You caress his face, palm covering the entirety of his cheek. So beautiful, you want to say, but you don’t have the words.

The confession of love tumbles against your skin, softly, breathlessly, and he dips his head into the crook of your neck. He seeks your pulse point to press his lips against the beat of your heart. Your head falls back against the tiles. He’s a fucking menace, but he’s gentle about it. So, so gentle.

The hands-on your hips pull you closer, as close as you can get. Your nipples brush his chest, and you can feel him growing hard against you. He’s hot, red, and flushed, and with his lips against your neck, sucking and biting and licking some more, the shower water isn’t the only thing running down your thighs. You’ve been wet just thinking about him; Matt is here now, and he has no intention of stopping until you’re screaming his name.

Your skin is raw from the way he’s moving his face against you, suctioning his lips right where he can feel your pulse reaching for him. Reacting to him.

“Matthew,” you moan, breathless. “Please.”

He hums, fingers digging into your flesh to keep his composure. The sound of his name from your lips in such ecstasy makes his cock swell to the point all he wants is to sink into you and fuck you against the wet shower wall until you can’t walk anymore. He wants to wrap his hand around your throat, just holding you there as you take it like the good girl you are. God, he wants to do so many things to you.

He wants to push all of your buttons and reward you for it. He wants to feel your nails running down his back until he’s bleeding. He wants to eat your pussy until you forget your name, and when he’s done with that, he wants to do even more because that is the kind of animal you turn him into. That is what you do to him. You consume him with your mere existence and your love you keep pouring into him like a glass about to overflow, a glass so full yet so fucking empty at the same time, and he has been neglecting you for far too long to hold back now—yes, the water bill be damned!

“I love it when you beg,” he growls, feeling his voice vibrate through your skin. Like he’s in your veins.

You whimper. Oh, that sound. That sweet, sweet sound. It seems to do him in. Matt sinks to his knees like he would in front of God in church—like Mary knelt in front of Jesus after he got crucified. But there are no stained windows, no crosses, and no confessional booth in sight; you’re his place of worship, and your body is the altar. You are the only constant in his world on fire. You always want him to set you on fire, too.

Once on his knees in front of you, his cock straining high and mighty against his stomach, he grabs your thigh and places it over his shoulder. No rush. You can barely catch your breath.

Burning along the inside of your thigh, Matt kisses his way toward where you need him most. Your core yearns for him. Your hand slips from his face, searching the tiles behind you for something to hold onto.

He’s quick to bring your hands back to his hair. “Don’t let go,” he says.

It’s almost embarrassing that the only sound you can make is a grunt, and when your brain finally catches up, it’s too late. He’s impatient. Desperate. And he places his lips in a gentle kiss against your clit. The sudden contact makes you jolt, but that is not nearly all of it.

He tests the waters. Once, twice, even a third time, gently kissing along your slick folds. You instinctively tug at his hair, but that doesn’t deter him. Matt inhales your scent, tasting your essence on his tongue; he would bathe in it if he could.

You cry out when he dives in. He parts your folds with his tongue, sucking and licking until his face is covered. The obscene noise of lips smacking against wet skin goes straight to your head. He can hear the wetness gushing out of you, every twitch of your muscles and hitch of your breath, and he sucks a little harder on your sensitive clit. You’re scared you might fall.

“Fuck!” Your moans are as obscene as the sound of him eating you out. You grind against him, at first involuntarily, but then he moans against you, and you can’t help it; the vibrations he sends through you continue to pool in your cunt, tightening the coil that is waiting to snap.

Matt prods your entrance with his tongue, the tip of his nose digging just right into that sensitive bundle of nerves he lost when your hips first jerked. He’s completely out of it, hooded eyes rolled back into his skull while you are almost splitting yours open on the dark tiles. The cross necklace is sticky with his saliva as he drinks from you like you are the spring fueling his ocean. He’s thrusting into his hand, pre-cum leaking from his cock, but his mouth never wavers. He has a job to do.

Your walls clench around what little of his tongue is inside of you. There is nothing more arousing than the sight of him touching himself because the taste of you is bringing him to the brink of an inevitable orgasm. Because he wants to come with you. Because he’s desperate and he can only imagine being inside of you as he licks away at you. It’s a kind of dedication that makes you feral. No one has ever loved you quite like he has, and no one will ever eat your pussy as only he can.

“Matt,” you choke out. “Fuck, I’m gonna—’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Don’t…”

As if he could. He flicks his tongue from left to right, painting shapes you have never felt before over every last of your nerve endings. You’re quivering. You’re shaking. You are turning the bathroom into a concert hall for the symphony of your pleasure.

He doesn’t stop to tell you to come, that would be futile. You couldn’t possibly stop the wave headed for your shore. You can’t warn him. You can’t do anything other than let it happen. The coil snaps and your orgasm crashes into you at full force, shattering you into a million pieces. You grind against him until you’re sure he is branded into your skin forever.

Matt holds you through it, working his tongue against you to prolong the electricity running through your veins. He gets lost in the echo of his name, stroking his cock harder and faster, and within seconds of you, he’s coming, too. He spurts into his hand and on your thigh, moaning deliciously into your pussy. For a moment, he’s stiff, though as you are starting to come back to him, he’s starting to come back to you.

The aftermath of your orgasm is quiet. His lips slip from your swollen folds eventually, and he pulls away to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, the one resting over his shoulder. He’s still catching his breath, cock softening in his hands, but when you look down at him, he’s a wreck. For you.

Slowly, he rises back to his feet. You look at him, unsteady now on both of your feet. He wraps his arms around you. “You okay?” he asks softly.

You lean into his hand when he places it on your cheek. “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m…perfect.”

“You were so good for me. So good.”

The distance between you dissipates, foreheads falling together in absolute exhaustion. He smells and tastes of you. You kiss him softer than you ever have. “I love you,” you whisper, and he smiles because he knows.

You don’t count the minutes you stay like that, kissing. It might have been an hour, not nearly enough. Matt reaches for the water when it starts getting cold, and he lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You frown. “Aren’t you going out tonight?”

He shakes his head. “No, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not done with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Gotta make sure you know how much I missed you.”

The giddy smile on your face when you kiss him again is involuntary, but not unnecessary. He giggles, too, before you finally shut him up.

Hell’s Kitchen can live without him for one night, that much is for sure. And when he finally thrusts into you and you bite down on the golden metal of that godforsaken crucifix to stifle your scream as he fucks you to hell and back in a way that is gentle yet possessive, you know this is the only place Matt needs to be tonight—for both of you.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #daredevil: born again #x reader #charlie cox

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lewisvinga · 9 months ago

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truly mothering | max verstappen x fem! reader

summary; news about y/n mysteriously retiring from mercedes shocked the f1 world in the middle of the 2020 season. what shocked them even more was when she appeared on the paddock four years later…

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested ! mix of smau + written ! also one of the tweets was supposed to say 2017-2020 instead of 2016-2020 lol

word count; 700

masterlist !

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“Arabella, Angelina! Wait up!” Y/n exclaims as the nearly 4-year-olds run towards a familiar man clad in skinny jeans and a Red Bull shirt. She ignored the cameras on her and recorded as she ran across the paddock with heels to chase after her twin daughters.

“Papa!” The eldest of the two, Arabella, exclaims when she sees her father surrounded by a group of other drivers.

“Bella! Angel!” Max loudly exclaims, stepping back from the conversation to crouch down to the level of his daughters. Arabella wrapped her arms around him and Angelina quickly followed. The Dutch driver kissed their rosy cheeks as they giggled at their father's actions.

“You both look very pretty.” He said, pulling away for a moment.

“Mama dress us,” Angelina said in a softer voice compared to Arabella’s shout.

Y/n appeared moments later and was clearly out of breath from chasing the two. “Your daughters don’t listen, Verstappen. I cannot chase after them in heels.” She said out of breath, not noticing the shocked yet happy looks from the drivers.

“Oh my goodness, is that Arabella and Angelina?”

A familiar voice caused the two blonde girls to look up. “Uncle Lew!” The youngest, Angelina, exclaimed as she escaped from her father's grasp to hug the Mercedes driver.

Lewis was quick to scoop her up into his arms as Arabella also gave him a tight hug. He was Angelina’s favorite uncle, but Arabella’s favorite was actually his future teammate.

“Wow, you two are getting big!” Charles exclaimed, picking up Arabella who let out a laugh. “How old are you girls now?”

“Almost four!” The eldest replied as she held up her 4 fingers.

“Wow, Y/n, I’m surprised you actually came,” Lando said with a chuckle as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

They all knew the truth of why she retired. It was because she was 3 months pregnant with twins. Although she kept it a secret from the public, she was always close with the grid hence why they weren’t shocked about the twins but more so shocked that she’s back on the paddock.

“About time the twins know the paddock,” Y/n replied with a smile, watching the twins chat with their favorite uncles. “Plus, it’s nice to be back. It’s been ages. The girls should also know how cool their mama was.”

“Was? She still is.” Max corrected her.

“Yeah, but Mama doesn’t race anymore.”

“Mama drive with you?” Angelina asked Lewis. He let out a laugh, his eyes crinkling as he glanced at Y/n.

“Yeah, and she was a great teammate. But be careful, Y/n, Toto might convince you to replace me.”

His words caused her to laugh as she shook her head. “Gee, no thanks. These girls are tough to handle on their own. I don’t know if I could handle racing on top of that.” She sighs, reaching over to fix Angelina’s messy blonde curls.

“These babies? Difficult? Angelina and Arabella are angels!” Charles said in an exaggerated tone as he squeezed Arabella tightly.

Y/n leans in close to Charles and glances at Max, “Between you and me, they take after their father.”

“Hey!” The Dutch driver exclaimed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means go get ready for the race.”

At the reminder of the race, Lewis and Charles set the twins down and quickly said goodbye to also prepare. The rest of the drivers soon followed leaving the family of 4 alone.

Max turned to the smiley twins who stared at their favorite uncles walk away. His eyebrows furrowed up as he looked at Y/n who just let out a chuckle while shaking her head.

He focused back on the twins and crouched down again. “How about a hug and a kiss for your papa?” He suggested. The twins didn’t have to be told twice and were quick to run back into their fathers arms, each giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Papa, you win okay?” Arabella demanded as Angelina nodded in agreement. Max laughs, giving his daughters one last tight squeeze.

“If I win for you both and for Mama, we can have ice cream for dinner. How does that sound?”

His deal caused the two girls to cheer in excitement as Y/n sighed again. “You’re dealing with their sugar rush, Verstappen.”

“Not if I’m a race winner!”

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liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, and others !

yourusername: the girls loved seeing their papa win! ( but they loved seeing their favorite uncles more! ) congratulations on another win, my love! we’re all proud💗

tagged; maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: i don’t like how they were looking at lewis and charles….

yourusername: they take after their father! they like pretty drivers 😁 especially angelina, she is team merc like her mama🙈

maxverstappen1: team merc? she’s all yours!

username: tears the twins are just like me fr

maxverstappen1: i love you❤️liked by yourusername !

username: MOTHER RETURNED AND SHE’S A FR MOTHER??

username: SHES BACKKK

username: she looks so good as a mom🥰🥰

username: SHE WAS DATING MAX THIS WHOLEEEE TIME??

username: bye so the baby f1 rumor was true except it was twins and w MAX???

carmenmmundt: such sweethearts 🥹🥹

francisca.cgomes: i know! such cuties💗

yourusername: ugh they love their auntie carmen & kika! they keep asking about you both😅💓

username: stoppp you guys rmbr when she said her biggest dream was becoming a mother 🥹🥹🥹

username: in her merc days💔💔 i love seeing her dream come true 🙁

lewishamilton: best part of this weekend was seeing the coolest gals on the paddock😎

yourusername: angelina won’t take her 44 merc hat off!!

charles_leclerc: my favorite verstappen are the twins

maxverstappen1: woah now….

yourusername: ( arabella is secretly team ferrari )

maxverstappen1: WHAT

username:will i get over this? no!

username: i am SHOCKED

username: from her party girl rookie era to being a mother, wow i love y/n🥹

mercedesamgf1: we miss the princess of the paddock!🩵

yourusername: and i miss my merc crew🤍

redbullracing: welcome arabella and angelina to the red bull crew! ❤️ liked by yourusername and maxverstappen1 !

username: in her birkin mom era

username: mother truly is mothering 😩😩

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #formula one social media au #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen imagine

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themidnightcrimson · 28 days ago

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all hallow's eve ࿏ wm

summary: in which a bleeding woman shows up to your house asking for more than just help.

words: 8.0k

warnings: blood, dubcon/noncon, fingering, knifeplay, knifefucking, murder, death, horror, gore, top!wanda, fem!reader

this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

There were already chips in the paint of her fingernails which she had painted a thick coat of black only the night before. Wanda liked using her hands—it was a cathartic thing. It only meant she couldn’t keep nail polish on for very long.

In her quiet kitchen, the gentle tink of a spoon again her black porcelain mug could be heard as she gingerly stirred her coffee, watching the cloudy white swirls of creamer fade into the black of her dark roast and turn walnut. She only liked a little bit of creamer. She enjoyed coffee for its depth and dark. Bits of brown splashed around the inner rim of the black mug as she tapped the spoon clean of remnants before gently setting it down in the sink.

Wanda kept a clean house, but her kitchen she kept clean most of all. She was not trained, but she considered herself something of a chef. She enjoyed carnivorous recipes most of all, beefy red ribeyes and delicately roasted chickens. Her kitchen was her wizard lair where she worked to perfect the most complex of dishes, so she kept it meticulously tidy. The clean black marble counters covered lower cabinets filled with pots and pans stacked neatly and drawers shockingly organized with tools and utensils no matter their irregular shape. She made everything fit perfectly because she was a little neurotic about her tools.

Now the kitchen filled with the lusty dark scent of coffee that she sensually inhaled through her nostrils as her ringed fingers clinked against her porcelain mug. The expensive, shiny coffee machine still clicked and steamed from the fresh batch, and it glimmered almost as much as the array of large knives that were set out neatly on the counter beside it. Wanda had also invested in nice lights for her kitchen, because she liked to take pictures of her dishes when she made them. The studioesque lights glared off the silver blades, some freshly sharpened, some awaiting the fate of the honing rod laying discarded next to the line of knives. Sharp knives were also one of the most important tools of a chef.

Wanda maintained the dark minimalist aesthetic of black and white throughout her upscale apartment. Her annual endeavors usually left her with enough cash to get through the year with lavish, hence the nice apartment. Draining a few bank accounts always amounted to more than expected. If she was saving up for something big she would target a nicer area of town.

Through her French windows was the view of the city framed by the bright orange leaves of the autumn tree outside. She had bought a few small baby pumpkins of different colors and shapes and set them along the windowsill. This time of year was always bittersweet. There was always that simmering sensation rising within her that starts near the end of July, when the dead summer heat goes quiet and still with the promise of no new births of nature, only the aging and deadening that future autumn will bring.

Maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was just her pituitary gland recognizing when it was time for her to awaken, but it always starts at the same time of each year. It was even earlier this year, though. She could feel the first little scritch when the fireworks went off above all the skyscrapers outside her window. It was like the giant booms and bangs shook the thing inside her awake. Now at this point, late in October, it had turned into a ravenous clawing inside her head. She imagined the innards of her skull like a wooden wall caging a wild animal—scarred with desperate scratches to be released. The clawing reminded her of a beast begging to be slaughtered as it is once a year, so that it may enjoy peace and quiet until it starts to conceive itself again like a rebirthing flower.

It gets so hard to manage this late in the season. Usually, she is the most calm and collected person she knows. People compliment her on her otherworldly levelheadedness which they don’t realize is just a lack of emotion. But in September she gets antsy, and in October she is wholly consumed with restlessness and need, constantly zoned out like a lion on the hunt, eyes laser focused for the bright stripes of a zebra amidst the tall African flora, jaw hung wide open, teeth buzzing with anticipation for the first tear of live flesh, ears constantly rounding its skull in search for the sound of food.

Even now, thinking about it as she stared out the window, she let her coffee go cold in her hand. Coming to, she cursed herself and put the mug in the microwave and turned it on. When warmed, she took the mug through her apartment and to her office, settling down in her chair. Her desk was probably the only thing about her apartment that could be considered messy, only because her planning was extensive and elaborate. It had to be for her to have gotten away with it for this many years. Her Octobers were spent stuck at her messy desk which, by the afternoon sun, becomes littered with empty coffee cups.

There were many papers scattered on her desks about many different things. Locations, demographics, news reports, police stations, everything there could be to know about a city. Underneath a stack of papers was another small stack stapled together. “Diagnosis Report.” She had thrown it on her desk carelessly when she took it home from the doctor, miffed that he was only telling her what she’d already known for a long time. “Controlled psychopathy.”

On the other corner of her desk was the most recent news report. “HALLOWEEN KILLER SET TO STRIKE AGAIN.” She’d been waiting for this for years now. She was surprised it didn’t happen sooner.

That was why her planning was deeper this year. Too many patterns in the same city. She needed to branch out, to change it up. She couldn’t complete her mission with cops stationed at every block. They’d even started tracking reports in the outer suburbs. She had to go farther this year.

She rolled out a wide roll of paper over the entire desk: a map of the entire city and its outer areas. Usually, the red circles were drawn on the yellowish vague blocks printed on the map to convey where urban areas were, more concrete and road. This year, her red marker circled farther to the side, almost to the very edge of the paper, where the paper turned green with curly printed lines to signify forested areas.

Wanda ran a shaky hand through her red hair, tugging harshly on the locks. She felt like a mad poet, a tortured artist. It was riskier this year. She wasn’t as familiar with woods as she was with the city.

Letting out a deep sigh, Wanda rolled out of the desk and went over to the little couch against the wall of her office, plopping down with another huff, chewing on all the thoughts in her head that were becoming harder to manage with all the fucking clawing. Lower population out in the woods could mean fewer fish brought home. But it also meant lower income levels than that in the richest parts of the city. Then again, she did pretty good last year and didn’t really need to worry about money this year. If money wasn’t a bias, then it usually would be beauty and females. That was why all the reports were either rich old men or beautiful young women, which made it hard for them to find a pattern. Of course, with women it would take more tactic to get everything she would want out of them besides the main point. The main point would be easy, but the seduction would take more artiste.

Turning her head over her shoulder, she eyed the brand new pair of expensive hiking boots that sat in the corner of the office, the laces recently untightened to let the new leather relax. They were industrial, tactical, ready to climb a mountain. It was the pair of shoes that even the most experienced hikers longed for.

She’d never been hiking a day in her life.

࿏

You’re alone this year.

Sticky green icing melted on your fingers as you picked up the bag of black icing again, piping out little pupils on the Frankenstein cookie you were decorating. Your Halloween playlist played at medium volume through your tiny kitchen as you piped Frankenstein’s black hair on top of his head. Once you had perfected him, even with his messy bangs and uneven mouth, you picked up the sugar cookie and placed it next to other decorated ones which included pumpkins, ghosts, bats, and even graphically disfigured vampires. A delicious aroma in the air emanated from the dish of tomatoes, garlic, onion, and spices roasting in the oven, and on the rack below that, a loaf of bread baking to completion.

“Jeez,” you murmured as you looked at the cookie in front of you that was supposed to be a black cat. One eye was twice the size of the other and its ears were more like Panda ears. You were going for cute, but horrific matched the theme anyways.

It was a cozy Halloween night in your little cabin. Orange pumpkin string lights were hanging from the ceiling, your little space cluttered with your accumulation of Halloween decorations that you just couldn’t stop buying each year. This was another great thing about living so far out in the woods—you could enjoy holidays by yourself without having to worry about catering to bratty little kids asking for candy, or your house getting egged for deciding not to. You had nothing against enjoying the festivities of your favorite holiday, but you were happy you could do it alone without interruption.

Wiping your stained hands free of icing because you had licked so much that you couldn’t take anymore, you slipped on your pumpkin-shaped oven mitts and took the dish out of the oven, feeling warmth on your face as the oil and tomato sizzled in the hot dish. Your kitchen was tiny, but it was cozy, and you could make all your favorite foods in it, so it was perfectly fine to you. And your cabin was small—so small that the kitchen and the living room were basically one room, and you could see the TV in front of the couch from where you stood at the oven. As you very carefully spooned all the tomatoes and garlic and onion out of the dish and into a large red pot that was older than you, you could hear the TV clearly.

Out in the woods, you did not have very good service. The satellite sitting on your roof let you have very few channels, one of them being the local news channel. It was time for the evening news as you heard the familiar theme sound, trying to not let tomato splatter on your Halloween apron that was white donned with black spiderwebbing.

The news channel picked up news from the city, which was a good 30 miles away but the nearest civilization. You halfway listened as they spoke about local events like the highway construction that was branching the city out even farther into the woods, a special on the best places to go trick or treating which was just all the rich neighborhoods, and then they came to the recent crime segment, starting off with one that was the city’s primary worry that night.

“Year after year, our city is faced with crime on this Halloween night that makes celebrating harder each year. For nearly a decade now, the city has experienced killing sprees that happen every October 31st from what locals call the Halloween Killer.”

You opened up your cabinets and waded through the messy piles of pots and pans and tools until you found your old beat-up food processor. The loud clanging muffled the news report that you were listening to with distracted but piqued interest until you found the processor.

“…Police have been unable to find patterns in the killer’s targeted victims or locations, but this famed killer does strike seemingly randomized neighborhoods each year, though they have mostly only targeted areas with higher income levels. Thanks to local funding, police have been able to set up neighborhood watches all throughout the city, even setting up a police line around the border to keep watch of any suspicious activity. Any sightings of criminal or suspicious activity should be reported to your nearest station immediately. For those living outside city limits, please be on high alert, as police think that the killer may start seeking out further areas to evade the local watches. Your local news station sends a huge thanks to our police as they fight to keep our city safe and to track down this Halloween Killer. Please, everyone be safe out there tonight as you enjoy All Hallow’s Eve.” You glanced momentarily to the TV and saw the wide shiny grin of the blonde newscaster that did not match her grim tone as she swiftly moved on to a segment about Halloween party decorations.

At first, the segment about the Halloween Killer started to pass right through your brain, until your brain caught it, and a small seed of paranoia plummeted into the pit of your stomach. You fiddled with your food processor as you thought about the segment.

When you lived in the city, people always talked about the Halloween Killer. At some point, people started to make up their own ideas of what the killer looked like, creating different masks that seemed to change each year. Most of them just settled on a rip-off of Michael Meyers. You always ignored it, until one year the killer struck right near where you lived. That was only a small impetus of why you fled the city searching for a more peaceful life out in nature, but it certainly was a reason thrown in with all the other rising crime rates in the city. It was becoming like Gotham out there, and you wanted no part of it. Hence your cozy cabin life out in the forest.

Still, it made you nervous. You were a young girl all alone. You didn’t have neighbors. If you screamed, it would be to the mercy of squirrels and foxes. And to be fair, though you lived in a forested area and got lucky to live on a plot of land with no other houses, you didn’t live that far from the city. If you climbed the nearby hill all the way to the top, you could see the skyline good enough to track the movement of cars on the city highway. If the killer was trying to escape city limits, all they would have to do was choose East, and they’d be right in your lap.

A shiver ran through you, and you gave a breathy laugh. You’d been watching too many scary movies that Halloween season. It was making you paranoid. This was why each year you chose ParaNorman over Pet Sematary. You were too paranoid of a person.

Though you took your fretfulness with humor, it gnawed away at you. Wiping your hands on the towel on the oven door, you went over to your front door and opened it.

The air was cold that night. Fall had been teasing and tantalizing all month, but it seemed to rush in all at once that Halloween night. That was another thing you liked about living out here—it wasn’t a concrete jungle that trapped in all the heat like the city did. It was cooler out here and less humid. It was just easier to breathe.

You looked up at the dark, shadowy pines that rose so much higher than your squat little house. Their needles rustled in the gentle breeze. It was so dark, nothing like the ever-present source of light in the city. Beyond where your measly front porch light and the flickering glow of jack-o-lanterns on your porch steps touched, it was pitch black. You could hear the whistle of crickets, the belches of frogs all around.

Twigs snapping.

Fear roared up in you at once, but you quickly settled yourself. Twigs snap all the time out here in the forest given that there are twigs littering the whole ground. A pinecone falling, or a bird landing, or a squirrel sitting—it all could snap a twig. You were scaring yourself.

Nonetheless, you pulled yourself inside, closed the door, lock it, turned off the porch light, and closed all your blinds and curtains. Even though you didn’t believe yourself to be at risk, it would be silly to ruin your own night by making yourself scared at the possibility of seeing a face at the window.

You slapped a piece of the bread on the buttered hot pan, deeply enjoying the loud immediate sizzle it made. You followed up with a slice of cheese and another piece of bread, and then flipped the grilled cheese, salivating at the perfect shade of brown the bread turned into.

You ladeled your tomato bisque into a bowl and topped it with some shreds of cheese and one singular basil leaf just to be extra. Bringing your soup and grilled cheese into the living room, you finally settled down on the couch with a sigh, setting your food down on the coffee table before searching for the perfect cutesy Halloween movie to watch. You settled on ParaNorman since you’d been thinking about it.

All traces of the news report had left your mind as you burned your mouth on the soup and did the most immaculate cheese pull with your grilled cheese. You didn’t even think twice when you heard a creaking noise on the front porch.

When you heard it again, you surprised yourself by remaining calm. It was a breezy night. This was an old cabin, and that wooden porch was squeaky. A gush of wind is bound to move the wooden panels enough for it to squeak.

Squeak. It seemed closer now.

You still weren’t worried, but just out of habit, you turned your head and looked back at the front door in the kitchen.

You didn’t really see it at first. Or didn’t recognize what it looked like, at least.

A dark shadow through the sheer curtains over the window of the front door. The perfect shadow for a head and shoulders.

Fear broiled deep in your gut, but you warred with yourself yet again. It was definitely just the way that the moon filtered through all the shapes of the forest trees and landed across the window of your door. That was all it was. You were just being paranoid—the shadow wasn’t even moving.

You’d managed to fully convince yourself and was just about to turn your head back around when there was a knock at the door.

Adrenaline shot through your body so hard that your bowl of tomato soup slipped right out of your immediately sweaty palms, landing with a heartbreaking splash across your shirt.

“Fuck!” you yelled as the hot soup instantly soaked through your shirt and gently burned the skin of your stomach. What was worse about how hot it was, was how sad you were at losing your tomato soup.

The knock came again, much more hurried this time.

“Hello!?” a woman’s voice came from the other side of the door, and the sound of a person’s voice deepened your panic even more. No one had ever been out here except the few friends and family you had invited over a handful of times. No one lived near here. Your dirt road stretched on for three miles before it touched the highway. The dirt road only led to your house, nothing else. It was your own personal driveway. There was no reason for someone to be out here unless beckoned.

And you were all alone. There was no one to glance at with panicked eyes and telepathically ask who the fuck is at the front door. It was just you and your tomato soup-soaked shirt.

“Help!” the voice cried, pounding on the door harder this time, so hard that your windows shook in their panes. “Help me! Please!”

“What the fuck?” you whispered, your breathing picking up as you started to really freak out. Not only was there someone randomly at your door this late at night, but they were apparently in distress? Or at least pretending to be.

“Please! Somebody help me! Please!” the woman screamed outside, and she slammed so hard on the door that it sounded like she was throwing her whole body against it. You could even see the door bulge from the wall, almost like she was trying to break it down.

Rule number one of living out alone in a cabin deep in the forest was to never, ever open your door to strangers. You were way too vulnerable for that. You knew that, and so your instinct was to hide and possibly call the police if she didn’t give up. It could easily be a trick.

Then again, she was screaming for help. She herself was out here potentially alone in the woods, if this was real. What if you later learned that this girl needed help and couldn’t find it from the single house she managed to stumble across?

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you whispered, tugging at your hair as you ducked across the room, hiding behind your little kitchen island. If you made yourself seen, there was no way you could get out of it or even pretend to not be home. “Please open the door!” she screamed with such desperation that her voice croaked, and you heard little sobs follow. “Please just open it! I need help! Please!”

Something about the desperation in her voice panged you deeply in the gut, and for some reason you felt like it wasn’t a trick. Nonetheless, you knew it was bad, whatever it was. She could be running from someone or something and leading them right into your house. The best outcome of this whole thing would be a cruel Halloween prank.

“Please!” she screamed, slamming herself against your front door. You heard a horrible clicking noise that sounded an awful lot like your door coming undone from the hinges.

Internally groaning, you grabbed a knife from your knife drawer and held it as realistically as you could in your hand, slowly going towards the shadow at the front door window.

“Please!” she screamed again.

Gritting your teeth, you gathered all your bravery, expecting anything to happen as you touched the doorknob. With a big breath in, you unlocked it and swung it open.

A scream involuntarily escaped your throat at what stood on the other side of that door.

Seeing a person’s face at your door for the first time in basically months was already a shocking thing, but seeing it covered in blood was even more shocking. The woman stood only an inch or two taller than you, her dark red hair stretching down past her shoulders. She wore a long sleeve white shirt, which you could only tell it was white from the sleeves because the entire front of it was soaked with dark red blood. The blood even caked the thighs of her jeans, and it dripped in long, thick lines down her face, with splatters over her cheeks. The worst part was that the blood glistened against the light that came from inside your home. In fact, it dripped—in horrible black splatters on the old wood of your porch. You could see bloody footprints going up the steps.

For a moment, she looked shocked to see you standing there. Had she started to think no one really was home? The shocked look faded as she glanced over you, her lips seeming to struggle to form words.

“Hi—I need h-help,” she said quieter now, very breathlessly. She was trembling—her eyes looked at you with a crazed, weakened look, like she was about to fall on you at any moment. That was when you realized that she must be bleeding—bleeding a fatal amount.

“Oh my God,” you croaked, not knowing what to do. “What—I—Come in,” you hesitated, and then remembered that whatever cut her up this badly could be following her, so you goaded her. “Come on, come in!”

Quickly, she came inside, leading a trail of bloody prints on your precious wooden flooring as you closed the door and locked it shut. You turned around, pressing your back to the door and staring at her as your heart pounded hard in your chest. You noticed that her eyes were focused on your hand at your side—you looked down and remembered that you were holding a large knife in your hand. “Sorry—” you apologized at first, thinking that she was probably just harmed with the same thing you were holding and wasn’t too happy to see another person wielding it, but remembered to keep your guard up. She could be anyone, and anything could have happened to her. Anything could happen next.

“I need to sit down…” she said, clutching her stomach and bending over. Her eyes, you noticed, were a vivid green against the darkness of the drying blood on her face. “I…” The vivid green disappeared, and you realized she had closed her eyes and was starting to sway.

“Oh God, yes, sit down,” you rushed, absentmindedly dropping your knife on the kitchen counter so that you could help her. Trying your best to avoid touching any blood, you barely held her arm and led her to the couch. She sat down heavily, flickering her eyes to look at you, those green orbs landing at your waist.

“Your shirt…” she whispered croakily.

“Oh,” you blurted as you looked at your own shirt that had an orangeish red splash over the front. “Tomato soup,” you blushed, growing sick at the fact that the red splash on her shirt was, in fact, not tomato soup.

You looked around as this strange woman sat bleeding on your couch, her eyes opening and closing. She was probably losing a lot of blood. What were you supposed to do?

“The police,” you blurted, and her eyes opened wider with a flash. “I’ll call the police!”

You went to your landline phone—there was no cell service up here, so you depended on the weak telephone lines for any kind of communication. You typed in 9-1-1 and pressed the phone to your ear—silence. Confused, you dialed again, only to hear more silence. “What the hell?”

“Water.”

“Huh?” you asked, glancing at the woman on your couch.

“Can I please… have water?”

“Oh, yes,” you said, feeling stupid and rude that you hadn’t even tried to physically help the woman bleeding out on your couch. “I’m sorry—Are-are you okay?” you asked as you went to get a glass of water. It felt like an obviously stupid question to ask, but to be fair, you weren’t entirely sure of her injuries nor her situation except that she was bleeding what appeared to be a lot of blood to you.

“I think so,” she said, coughing to clear her throat as you handed her the glass of water.

You ignored the stains of tomato soup on the other seat of your couch as she sipped the water with a shaky, bloody hand.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a phone on you, do you?” you questioned. It was obvious there was something wrong with your phone, which wasn’t that unusual, and even though there was no cell service the last time you checked, you thought any effort might be worth it to get this girl some help.

She shook her head as she gulped the water down.

Sighing, you glanced toward the curtained window and thought of your car out front. You would need to drive her to help, you realized. You figured you could at least find out what the hell was going on first before you loaded her up in the car.

“What happened to you?”

She finished the glass of water and weakly handed it to you, her eyes flashing up at you. Something about it startled you. Maybe it was the visual connection that jarred you into realization of the situation, or maybe it was because you weren’t used to being around people anymore. Either way, you suddenly felt scared with her eyes on you.

“Someone attacked me,” she hoarsely spoke, wiping her mouth of water only to smear blood around her lips. She gritted her teeth, looking around your house for the first time. You suddenly thought of your knife on the counter.

“Attacked you?” you asked, trying to imagine the situation in your mind. “Do you know who?”

“No, just some guy in a mask,” she exclaimed, sounding like she was starting to calm down and gather her wits. You noticed she wasn’t breathless anymore—in fact her chest rose and fell very slowly and calmly. Maybe she was a good self-soother.

“Where?” you questioned.

“What?” she said, looking up at you with sewn brows.

You hesitated. “I mean, where were you attacked?” You looked towards the window again when she hesitated to answer. “It’s just… you must’ve ran at least like, three miles.”

The redheaded woman only stared at you with her vivid green eyes that you now noticed, with a slight chill in your spine, were oddly empty. Like doll eyes. Like a doll skeleton with human skin stretched over it.

You were starting to feel weird as you tried to explain. “The main road is three miles down that driveway out there.” You vaguely pointed. “Unless you came through the woods. So I was just asking where were you attacked?”

Finally, she blinked. “On the road,” she blurted out. “I was… walking to my friend’s house on the road when this car stopped. And he got out and just… attacked me.” She started to shake again as she looked down at the blood all over her.

But you were still and silent. “Your friend’s house?”

Her eyes met yours, and you could see that chilling emptiness again.

You swayed your weight from one foot to another, trying to think out the entire situation before you spoke. “The nearest house in ten miles is abandoned.”

Her red brows sewed together in confusion, and for a moment you saw, through the blood on her face, that she was pretty. You wouldn’t find it strange for someone to target her.

“I’m confused,” she suddenly sobbed, an illegible cry escaping her throat as she covered her face. “I don’t know what happened.”

A flash of guilt shot through you. This girl is here bleeding out, obviously having just been attacked, and you’re questioning her. Sure, her story didn’t make sense, but you knew if you’d been randomly stabbed in the middle of nowhere, you wouldn’t be making much sense either. It’s possible that she was drugged or kidnapped or all of the above. She certainly didn’t look like she was from around here.

“Hey, hey,” you gently said, starting to reach out a hand to touch her shoulder but deciding against it. She was fully crying now. “It’s gonna be okay. I…” You took a deep breath and tried to be a better savior for this poor woman. “Look, I’ll get you some help, okay? We can take my car and take you to the nearest—”

“He’s following me!”

You stopped in the middle of your sentence. “What?”

“We can’t leave. He was following me as I got away from him…” She slowly turned her face to the window. “He could be out there right now…”

That paranoia boiled within you again. On one hand, you thought it would be better to just risk it to get her the help she needs, but you knew that if someone were lurking out there, it would be just you versus him since this woman was in no condition to defend you.

“The Halloween Killer,” she murmured. “I think it was him.”

Dizziness swirled in your head as your brain shot back to the news report. The Halloween Killer… the police guessed that he would be going out of city limits this year… You imagined the killer taking the nearest highway out of town which happened to be the one you lived by… Seeing a girl on the road… Maknig his first victim of the night… Except that he didn’t kill her. There was no way he would let a witness get away. Especially since she probably saw his face and his vehicle.

“Okay,” you breathed, rushing to the nearest lamp and turning it off. “We’ll wait for a while.” You turned off the kitchen light, the string lights, the range light. “We need to be quiet. If we don’t hear anything in… an hour… we can go.”

You walked back over to her, noticing that she was looking at her stomach.

“Can you wait that long?” you gently asked. “It looks like you bled a lot. Are you still bleeding?”

“I don’t know,” she weakly said. “I can’t tell.”

Biting your tongue, you thought for a moment. If you were going to make her wait an hour, the least you could do was clean her up a little. It was important to clean the wound, and if she was still bleeding, it looked like you needed to put pressure on it as soon as possible before she lost too much blood. You were already surprised she was still conscious with all that blood on her.

“I’ll be right back. Stay right here.”

You left for a moment to get the first aid kit, a rag, and a cup of water, and came back to find her in the same spot, her head leaned back on the couch cushion. Carefully, you sat down next to her with the rag in your hand, dipping it into the water. “We’ll clean you up a little so we know the damage,” you said, laughing at your attempt to sound professional and steady-headed.

“Thank you,” she croaked, turning to face you slowly on the couch. It was completely dark in your cabin now except for the little glare of moonlight that came through the curtains. It felt a little too close, sitting in the dark with her on your tiny couch, and it felt even more close when you started to wipe away the blood on her face with your rag.

“You’re welcome,” you said. “I’m sorry I’m not the best person to come running to for help,” you said with a little laugh.

Her lips curled into a smile, and you felt your heart murmur at how pretty she was. As you wiped away the blood on her face, wondering if she had a head injury to account for her confusion and the blood on her face, you saw that she was actually strikingly beautiful. It made you a little hot, sitting there so close to someone who looked like that.

“Okay…” you said when her face was all clean, now looking at the front of her blood-soaked shirt, hesitating. “Um—”

Without speaking, she rolled up the hem of her shirt to show the flat expanse of her abdomen that was blotted with dark blood. Worried that you would freak out at the sight of stab wound, you very carefully and tensely cleaned away the blood on her stomach, rewetting the rag in the bowl of water which was now murky red.

You always hated how ignorant you could be sometimes.

It wasn’t until you had wiped her entire abdomen clean that it dawned on you.

There were no stab wounds. Not a cut or a scratch.

Nothing felt real suddenly. Confused, you looked up at her.

The deeply malicious look on her face jarred you so suddenly you almost slipped off the couch, stumbling to your feet. Your ankle slammed against the coffee table as you backed away.

Her eyes were staring at you evilly, her lip set in a smirk. You suddenly felt small, tiny, helpless, stupid. So stupid!

“Is this the part where they say trick or treat?” the woman asked now in a gruff voice as she slowly stood up, looking suddenly a lot taller than she did at the door. You also noticed now a bulge in the sleeve of her shirt.

Wanda straightened her arm down at her side, letting the long, bloodied knife slide out of her sleeve, catching the long handle when it touched her palm. She held the knife up expertly, the moonlight glinting off of it.

This was one of her best tricks yet. There’d been times where she had to hide in the closet of the home of a victim, or in the backseat of their car, or she’d even had to follow them several blocks down before striking, but she’d never made herself so intimate with someone she was going to kill before, besides the ones that sparked out of intentional sexual encounters. Wanda had always been more of a grab and slash kind of serial killer, looting their belongings afterwards and moving right on to the next one. But this time, this girl… she was lingering.

You were just so pretty. Pretty girls were Wanda’s weakness, especially when they were vulnerable. And my, how you were vulnerable.

“All alone out in these woods,” Wanda whispered as you both just stood staring at each other, her at your face, you at her knife. “You never thought that one day the big bad wolf would come knocking?”

The fear in your eyes was delectable to her. You’d been so easy to trick. You almost caught her about the friend’s house—she’d been so distracted thinking of all the things she was going to do to you that she slipped up. She blanked.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whispered, raising your hands up like someone who was just caught by the police for vandalism. “I won’t do anything—I—I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’d hope not,” Wanda interrupted you. “If my plans go accordingly, which they will, which they always do, you will be in no state to do anything or speak to anyone. Ever.” Wanda grinned, chuckling at the way your fingers shook in the moonlight.

The Halloween Killer. You cursed yourself. You also cursed your luck. What were the chances the killer would decide to find you that night?

You realized then that the blood on her shirt was not hers. It was whoever else she had just murdered before coming to you. You were just another life to tick off her quota.

You thought of your knife on the counter. The woman stared at you with a cold, dead look, coupled with the look of enjoyment. She was enjoying this.

You hesitated for a moment before deciding that taking your chances was better than having no chance at all. You jumped over to the kitchen, reached over the counter, and had your fingers on the handle when you felt her warm body slam you against the counter, her hand reaching easily over you and slapping the knife away.

“No!” you involuntarily cried out as you watched the knife slide off the counter and drop to the other side of the floor.

“Bad girl,” Wanda grunted, and you felt the woman’s hands grab your hips. She pressed you harder into the counter, her hips flush against your bottom, grabbing a fistful of your hair and slamming your face down on the hard, cold counter.

“Ah!” you cried as your head slammed into the rock-hard surface, dizzying you. She had you completely bent over the counter, pressing herself into you and holding your head down on the counter with blinding pressure.

“I won’t lie that I like the challenge of putting up a fight,” she whispered, resting her fist that held the knife against the small of your back. “But I’d rather you make it easy for both of us.”

“Get away from me!” you screamed, feeling your cheeks go red hot as your animalistic instincts to survive kicked in.

“Shhhh sh sh,” the woman shushed right into your ear, making you jump at how close she was now, her body laid over on top of yours, her lips pressing right into the soft skin of your ear. “Hush, baby,” she cooed, and the sound made the entire side of your face burn hot. “I’m not going to really hurt you. I’m not that much of a sadist.”

Suddenly, you could feel something really cold on the back of your thigh. The tip of her knife pressed softly into the tender flesh of the back of your thigh, dragging slowly upwards. It caught the hem of your skirt, dragging it upwards and exposing you.

You whined and squirmed, to which she pressed herself harder down on you. The edge of the counter was pressing into your tummy so hard you could barely breathe.

“Now, stop moving, you’ll hurt yourself,” she husked against the space behind your ear, and you shivered at the way your body reacted. You were trembling under her, helpless and confused as the tip of her knife pressed harder into your thigh.

You let out a long cry when she let the knife slice your soft skin, engraving a slash right below your butt cheek.

“Oopsie,” she murmured as she breathed heavily into your ear, her fingers dragging your blood around the back of your thigh. “Sorry about that, you’re just the prettiest one I’ve ever had.” You could feel her smirk against your ear. “I hated how I had to branch out this Halloween, but if I get you, it’s all worth it. I can go right on home—stop moving!”

She grabbed your hip tightly, and your body reacted in the worst way possible. You arched for her, exposing your rear end to her hips even more.

“That’s it,” she said with an air of shock that made you hate yourself. “See? I don’t mind you enjoying it—in fact I want you to.”

Her hand suddenly came down hard on your ass, making you squeak and jump. Your body was hot all over, throbbing against the coolness of the counter, your mind a complete mess.

“Let’s see you,” Wanda said, lifting your skirt fully over your ass to expose it in the moonlight. You felt her finger grab the back strap of your panties and tug them down. Your face grew hot in embarrassment as even you could feel how wet you were. This strange murderer had untapped something inside you that was making you spiral against that counter.

“I knew you were perfect,” she whispered as her fingers touched you, making you jump and whine, swimming in your soaking folds. She laughed against your upper back, her hand roaming over your ass and squeezing it before going back to your pussy, slowly pressing a finger in. You could feel both the blood from the cut and the wetness from your core dripping down your thighs.

Wanda grunted, feeling lost in you. In your fear, your body under hers, the control. This was the best kill she had, and she hadn’t even killed you yet.

“Such a tight little thing, I almost want to keep you.” She pulled out her finger, and you hated yourself for feeling empty because of it. Then you felt something foreign and hard against your entrance, panicking as it pushed into you. She harshly grabbed your hair and slammed your head down again, and that was enough to weaken you.

Your insides throbbed and tingled as she pushed the handle of her knife slowly inside you, grunting at the way you stretched around it. It was a nice knife, thick blade. “You’re taking it so well.”

You squirmed helplessly on the counter, starting to sweat as the woman pushed the knife handle deeper inside you. You could feel it pushing against your cervix, and your legs trembled.

“It’s okay to feel good, you dirty little thing,” Wanda whispered, both a praise and a degradation that made you whimper. You were wordless, mindless, under this killer’s hands and body, and the last part of you that remained subconscious wondered what would’ve happened if you never opened the door.

She pulled the handle almost all the way out before slamming it inside you again. You feared feeling the blade, but you didn’t. She pumped the handle inside you over and over again, soft at first before that clawing inside of her head got the better of her.

“Good girl,” she breathed against the back of your neck, biting into it as she slammed her knife inside you. “That’s it. Stay still.”

You heard a zipper unzip, and the sound of denim shifting, before you felt the warmth of her core pressing into your left cheek. Grabbing the back of your neck with one hand, the other ramming the handle of her knife into your pussy repeatedly, Wanda grinded her clit against your ass, shoving you against the counter over and over again. She was so helpless, so overwhelmed with both intensifying hunger and relief that she just needed to get off. Her cum smeared over the hill of your ass as she rutted herself against it, listening to the wonderful squeaks and whines you made.

“Fuck,” Wanda whispered as she got close, watching the cum-soaked handle of her knife fuck harder into you as she got closer. “Mmmm,” she grunted animalistically as she felt the edge near her.

You clawed helplessly at the counter, your walls spasming around the ribbed handle until finally you couldn’t take it anymore, your hot face pressing hard into the cold, sweaty counter as you came around the handle of her knife. She rutted harder into you as you heard her vague sounds of orgasm, the tip of her knife accidentally making shallow stabs in your inner thighs as she lost control of how she angled the knife.

“Oh fuck,” Wanda breathed as she slowed down, and you were lost under her, your brain far gone and body farther, trembling, thighs bloodied. Wanda hadn’t even noticed that she ripped so hard into the back of your neck that it was bleeding.

Controlled psychopathy. Load of shit.

Pulling out of you, Wanda pulled away and turned your limp body over, looking at your reddened, tear-streaked face. You were such a pretty little thing. A diamond hidden out in the forest. It was a shame she’d stumbled across you that night. If it had been any other night, she would’ve kept you—courted you, even. She could tell you’d make such a good girlfriend to her.

“Well,” Wanda whispered, gently stroking your sweat-soaked hair out of your face. “That was great. I really enjoyed that,” she said softly, almost like a person with real emotions, and for a moment she had almost felt like one.

Controlled psychopathy.

“But I’m afraid I’m going to enjoy this even more.”

The last thing you saw was the flash of her blade as it came down on you.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #serial killer #halloween #crimsonween #kinktober #marvel #lgbt #lesbian #dark!fic

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tan1shere · 29 days ago

Text

Okay

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: angry sex is all I can say 😩 enjoy 😇

Summary: she's mad at you, but it doesn't last long.

Warnings: smut ! Car sex, angry sex, RED ROOTS BILLIE ! Rough billie 😋

Masterlist

She was mad. Angry. But that didn't even begin to explain it. But so were you, she didn't have a right to be mad at you. You two were on the brink of an argument, only moments before one of you breaks. Hence why she dragged you out of that club. The Audi was speeding through the night when suddenly she speaks up. "You shouldn't of done that." Her voice was stern. "Billi-" "No. It was stupid." Your eyes roll. "Oh please give it a break, I needed some space." She's silent. No reply. "I'm sure you did too." You look out the window, when you see your surroundings blur as she speeds up.

You turn your head to face her. Her left hand was gripped tightly around the steering wheel eyes glued infront of her. Fury radiating off her body. Your nerves pick up, you had to admit it was thrilling. She always made you feel that way and would never ever put you in danger so you trusted her. Her nuckles flex, veins popping in the night lighting. "Billie." You then say trying to get her to either slow down just a tiny bit or talk to you. There was no telling what could happen as her foot presses harder on the accelerator. "Billie." You repeat more forceful. Feeling your heart rate pick up.

Nothing. As the car speeds up her anger only increases. Her eyes darken, her brows furrowing. This is the most mad you've seen her in forever and it frightened you whenever you saw it. But at the same time, it made her look even more attractive, sending you hot. Your eyes dart to her hand, everything more prominent because of her grip. "Bills.." You whisper, and that's when she looks at you. The exact same look on her face. Still nothing, but a slight smirk.

Try to stop me, I'm like no way.

She could see slight fear, but with the past incidents, she knew that you knew she would never do anything but protect you. Just some harmless fun. It was turning her on. Even more so when you squeeze your thighs together, her eyes move to look. Noting that the dress you wore was ridden up very high. "Scared?" You shake your head. But you do get a bit scared as she keeps looking at you, pushing down all the way going far over the speed limit. But what was going to happen? It was 3 in the morning. There's nobody out.

Speeding like this shit was stolen.

Your eyes knit together with worry. "Billie-" Your eyes look to the road making sure she's still going straight. She surprisingly was. Your head looks back at her, her eyes on you intently, tilting her head a bit. "Tell your eyes that." Your breath catches in your throat. "Im still mad at you." She chuckles dryly. "Ditto." Her voice was dripping with venom. Your body shifts in the seat, causing her to look down at your thighs, biting her lip. "Fuck it." She mumbles. "Wha-?" But you were cut completely short as she slams on the breaks, putting her arm infront of you to make sure you don't fly forward.

Confusion strikes you as you're in the middle of nowhere. "Backseat. Now." Even though you were still slightly mad at her, your brain was telling you to do it. Wanting to see where this would lead. "Gunna show you just how angry I am." She says getting out the drivers seat and slamming the door. You flinch just slightly not expecting it. But my god was she sexy this way. You climb into the back, not caring if your dress moved more. She was just going to move it anyways. She opens the door, getting in and grabbing you. "Come on baby get on top, there you go."

She grabs your face instantly kissing you with absolute fire. Your mind shuts down. Forgetting even why you two were arguing. She was still very well aware, grabbing one of your hands and placing it on her belt. "I'm still pissed, you undo it. Kay?" "Okay." Your fingers fiddle with it, unhooking it and grabbing her zipper. "Good, good." She says observing. "Keep going." Your breath stills, moving her jeans to get the fake dick out. On full display. "Don't see why I have to do all the work. Sit." She stares into your soul, your heart rate still picking up. You felt like her prey in the little game. "B-" You begun but immediately shut up as she raises a brow. Tongue visibly poking into her cheek.

I got dirty in my own veins.

Fuck. You were so incredibly screwed. "Sit." She repeats. Your hands quickly try to take your underwear off, finding everything more difficult especially with her God damn eyes glued on you. You go to grab it again breathing out shakily. Lining it up perfectly and slowly sinking down. And with how wet she had you it wasn't hard. "Good fucking girl." Your mouth hangs open at the feeling of the slight stretch, causing both of you to bite your lips. Your hips move on her with need, everything about it was hasty. Gripping her shoulders for support. The feeling of how deep it was going straight to your stomach. Literally. Her hands make contact with the straps.

Pulling them down and letting your breasts spill out. "You're going to apologize." And that's when you give her a look. "The fuck I'm no-" Her hand comes flying to your jaw causing your mouth to close shut. "You want this right? You want me in you correct?" You whimper out as her fingers most definitely leave marks but you gave zero shits. You wanted that, you wanted her to mark you all over. "Speak." She orders. You gulp back a moan as she ruts up into you, making sure you're focusing. "Y-yes." "Apologize." She warns you with her eyes. "But-" Her hands instantly move.

Picking your hips up off of her making you whine out, her trips to the gym really paying off. "I'm sorry!" You screech. She gives it a second but she didn't need to. She had you exactly where she wanted you. "I'm sorry Bills, I'll talk to you next time just please. Please, need to feel you so bad." You felt pathetic, but you needed this desperately. She slowly puts you back down, making a moan slip into the car. It soon smelling of sex. Her hands continue their previous actions. Grabbing both your tits and kneading them. "Speed up baby, atta girl." Your eyes roll back as you feel her pinch your nipples. Moving up and down on her. Her hands moving down your body.

I can feel it in my brain.

Gripping your sides and helping you move even quicker. "Fuck!" You say falling against her, letting your head land on her shoulder. Her leg lifts up, bringing the one straddled on her up aswel in the process, getting a perfect angle. Your brain fogs up, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel it deeper. "Billie.." You breathe. She doesn't respond, only rutting her hips up into you. Causing you to almost scream but your mouth turns and bites the flesh on her shoulder. Her teeth sink into her lip as you do so, finding every action of yours attractive.

She grips your ass tightly, slamming you down with more force onto her dick. "Cum on me baby, do it. Know you can." Your head turns to the side, still having it rested on her shoulder. Moving so you can watch just a little of what was happening. Your breath uneven, having it warm against her neck as your fucked out state comes closer. And closer. And within seconds your juices are leaking all over her, moans floating into her eardrums. She was in heaven. "W-was that a good apology?" You tiredly speak.

She smiles to herself stroking your hair, soothingly. "Yeah baby. A very good one."

"I'm sorry too." She then says, kissing your head. "It's okay Billie. Trust me. We gave eachother a pretty good apology."

"Agreed."

#billie eilish #billie #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie elish icons #billie ellish lyrics #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader smut #billie eilish x y/n

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cobrakaisb · 8 months ago

Text

day 'n' nite

summary: every friday night, like clockwork, the older counselors and campers waste their nights away at a party. usually you’re the one taking care of luke but tonight the roles are reversed and all the cards are laid out on the table.

word count: 3.1k

featuring: drunk!reader, happy luke + reader (hence the happy luke picture in the header), them being giggly and in love, a little sad at the end (but only a teeny tiny bit)

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giggles tumble out of your mouth, filling the already loud atmosphere with your pure joy. you clutch onto katrina’s arm, pulling her flush against your side, as your cheek rests on her bicep. she laughs at you, moving her arm to support your weight.

you gasp, loudly, as her hand rests gently on your waist. “i have a boyfriend,” you snap, suddenly able to hold yourself up.

you stand, albeit a bit slowly, and move away from the girl. she does her best to hide her laughter, but fails. her laugh, however, builds up more anger in your chest, and you cross your arms.

“oh he’s your boyfriend now? i thought you two didn’t do labels,” katrina teases.

you pout at her words, answering, “well luke says that not me. everyone knows we’re together.”

“who’s together?” jade, a girl from the apollo cabin asks, sliding into the spot next to katrina.

you throw a nasty look in her direction, or what you assume is a nasty look. even in your inebriated state, you know that jade can’t be trusted. she was one of the first campers to hate on you, and she’s one of the few that continue to do so. once the novelty of hera having a demigod child wore off, most people left you to your own devices. there were still the occasional whispers and rumors, but jade and her friend group always seemed to be behind them.

“none of your business,” you snap, turning your nose up at her like a fifth grader.

she scoffs at you, “ugh whatever,” and walks away.

you smile, a satisfied look on your face as you reclaim your seat next to katrina. she’s holding onto two cups, and you’re positive that one of them belongs to you. you reach for one of them, but she pulls it away, lifting it just out of your reach.

“i think you need a break,” she says, voice soft and caring.

“no ‘m fine,” you mumble, trying to reach for the cup again but completely missing.

that’s the funniest thing in the world, and you burst into another giggling fit. katrina stares at you, a soft smile on her face. your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but your shoulders continue to shake with, now somewhat stifled, laughter. you can’t even register what’s so funny, but everything seems to have you in a giggly mood. one that only gets worse when luke walks across the way, followed by a group of boys who you know to be his friends.

“luke looks like a dragon prince,” you announce, pointing in his direction.

katrina chuckles at your words; they make no sense. you, however, think they’re the most accurate description in the world. the orange and red hues from the large fire pit, courtesy of cabin nine, illuminate his features. he’s laughing at something one of his friends said, but his eyes are still deep and serious. the white scar tracing down his cheek shines brightly in the dark, and you wonder if landon knows he hurt his king.

luke feels your eyes on him, because he turns and meets your gaze, smiling at you. you gasp as he throws you a subtle nod, like something out of a teen movie. your right hand clutches at katrina’s shirt sleeve, and you shake the material vigorously between your fingers. she looks to you, and notices the deep flush and dilated pupils.

“he’s looking at me. i think he has a crush on me. oh my gods what do i do? i know my mother’s the goddess of marriage, but i’m not ready for this,” you ramble.

katrina laughs, again. luke looks your way, again. you start to panic, again.

“relax,” katrina says, “he’s your boyfriend.”

her tone is teasing, but you don’t pick up on it. all you feel is shock. your mouth falls open, and your head swivels between the curly headed boy and your best friend.

“you’re lying,” you conclude.

katrina shakes her head, “i’m not.”

before you can refute her claims, the dragon king himself is in front of you. he slides into the empty seat on your left hand side, throwing his arm casually over your shoulder. there’s a can of something in his other hand, and he lifts it up to his mouth for a swig. you watch, with deep fascination, as his adam’s apple bobs while he swallows the liquid. when he’s done, he leans down to your ear, lips ghosting over the piercings that adorn it.

“hi,” he whispers, pulling at your golden hoop helix piercing with his teeth.

you're stunned into silence. all that you can muster is a small gasp, and you turn to katrina, wondering what you should do. she’s already staring at you, but so are these other two guys, and a girl who you barely recognize. you point to luke with your thumb, asking a silent question. katrina nods, and one of the guys, another brunette, hides his laugh behind a red solo cup.

you turn your head again, making eye contact with the cute guy next to you. you just stare at him for a while, and he holds your gaze the whole time. his right hand, you realize, is tracing circles on your exposed shoulder. the pad of his thumb is calloused and rough against your soft skin, but you like to contrast. you lean into his touch, shifting closer to him on the wooden bench.

“ouch,” you mumble, lifting up your hand.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“i think i got a splinter,” you explain, holding up your palm for him to see.

he inspects your hand, and there’s absolutely nothing there, but replies, “don’t worry. i’ll take you to the infirmary tomorrow.”

you nod, and he kisses your palm, right where the supposed splinter is. his lips are soft, you think, but then why is everyone giggling? you look around, but none of the four people surrounding the two of you provide any sort of explanation.

“i know. my girlfriend makes me use this lip balm she really likes,” he says, and you’re still confused.

“huh?” you ask, head tilting.

“my girlfriend gave me this lip balm. it’s from glossy or something,” he answers, holding up the tube.

you snatch it from him, looking at the label. even drunk, you know a high quality lip balm when you see one.

“glossier! i love it there,” you exclaim.

everyone laughs again, even the boy next to you this time. you look at him, a shy smile on your face, as you unscrew the cap. you squeeze the tube, and lift the lip balm to your puckered lips. you rub them together, smacking them a couple times. luke doesn’t take his eyes off you; you don’t take your eyes off him.

there’s relatively no distance between you two now, but you can’t bring yourself to care. luke doesn’t seem to mind either as he shifts his arm and way that pulls your body even closer to his. the little space that remained is gone, and your thighs are pressed together. you want to be touching him in some way, and lift your left leg to drape over his right one. you nudge his left calf with your converse, gaining his attention. you giggle at that, stifling your laughs with his shoulder.

“she’s gone,” he observes.

“oh i know,” katrina answers.

“you smell so good,” you say, adjusting your head so that your cheek rests against him, and your eyes meet his.

the two boys, the ones who you can’t recognize at the moment, burst out laughing. your eyebrows furrowed at that, a soft huff escaping you as you cross your arms and lean further into luke. you close your eyes for a minute, basking in his warm presence and the smoky undertones emitting from his shirt.

“how many drinks have you had?” he asks, large hand rubbing up and down your back.

“two,” you answer confidently, holding up two fingers.

katrina scoffs, “try three cups of jungle juice and whatever else at the pregame.”

“you pregamed?” luke asks, voice low against your ear.

“mhm. cause what if they didn’t have any drinks i liked?” you reply, holding your hands up in defense.

he chuckles at your words, humming in agreement as he kisses your forehead. that action, for some reason, registers as oddly intimate in your mind, and so you’re pushing him away. in your drunken state, you can't comprehend that he’s your boyfriend.

“i shouldn’t be doing this. katrina says i have a boyfriend,” you slur, shaking your head.

“no, you said you have a boyfriend,” katrina replies.

“well either way!” you yell, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

“isn’t he your boyfriend?” one of the boys asks, pointing to luke.

“he can’t be. he’s too hot,” you answer confidently.

everyone laughs at that, except for you and luke. luke’s cheeks are flushed red, but he looks at you with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. he smiles at you, gently shaking his head in disbelief.

you shrink back into yourself, slouching down in his arms so that the back of your head rests against his shoulder. luke’s hand fiddles with the hem of your jeans, fingers ghosting over your hips, and you squirm. you shove his hand away, covering your face with your own.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, bending down so only you can hear him.

“i embarrassed myself,” you whine, peeking at him through a gap in your fingers.

luke chuckles, “it’s okay baby. i still love you.”

you light up at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck. you pull his face down to yours, smacking kisses all over, only stopping to giggle from pure, unfiltered happiness. normally, you save the affection for the private confines of your cabins, but all of your reservations are out the window at the moment.

luke smiles brightly at your actions, dimples and everything, as he squeezes your hips three times. it’s your silent code, an unspoken way for the two of you to communicate your love and appreciation for one another, and you smile happily at his use of it. you hug him again, burying your face into the crook of his neck. you can tell that he’s been smoking, and maybe that’s why his eyes are a little red-rimmed. you don’t mind, however, and opt to keep your head resting there. his arms wrap securely around you, cradling your body the way someone would hold a toddler.

“tired?” he asks, rubbing a hand down your back.

you want to say no, but the giant yawn betrays you.

“c’mon, i’ll bring you to bed,” he says, patting your thigh to signal for you to get up.

you agree, holding out your hand for him to take. once your fingers are safely stowed away in his palm, you walk up to katrina.

“goodnight tree,” you mumble, hugging her tightly.

“g’night,” she replies, squeezing you just as tight.

with that, you let luke lead you towards the hera cabin as you focus on not tripping over your own feet. you stumble on the stairs, and luke squeezes your waist, holding you steady. he’s your rock, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

he opens the door, waiting for you to enter the cabin before following. you look around, and your eyes land on the giant statue taking up a majority of the room. you gasp, hands covering your mouth, as you meet your mother’s cold and calculating stare.

“i don’t think she should be seeing me like this. can we go to your cabin?” you ask, turning to face luke.

“it’s a statue,” luke deadpans, shaking his head.

“but she’s all knowing,” you reply, pointing to the marble goddess.

“you’re gonna be fine,” luke explains softly.

you’re eyes are wide, and you continuously shake your head no. you grab onto luke’s hand, intertwining your fingers together. his hand is rough and worn from all the training he does, a testament to how long he’s been at camp. your mind wanders back to his position as king of the dragons, and you want to ask him if his hands are scarred from the claws of a rival. yet, it doesn’t seem appropriate, so you keep your mouth shut.

“where’s you toiletry bag?” luke ask, letting go of you hand as he wanders around the cabin.

“i don’t know,” you answer, following him towards the area you’ve deemed your bed.

he huffs, standing back from the bed to monitor the situation. his hands are on his hips, eyes scanning the area for your bag with makeup remover, skincare, and other bathroom necessities. you find the pose extremely comical, and laugh. he looks at you over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“what’s so funny?” he asks.

“you look like my dad,” you wheeze.

he pauses, mouth agape like a fish out of water. he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, but ultimately comes up empty handed. just when it seems like he’s about to say something, you’re bounding over to your bedside table, grabbing a bag that’s clearly overloaded.

“found it!” you shout.

luke cringes at the volume, but takes the bag from your hands without further questioning. he marches over to your closet, the one he helped you set up, and grabs a small towel from one of the shelves. you smile at him. he’s so endearing, you think, how’d i get so lucky?

“let’s go to the bathroom,” he says, tilting his head towards the door of your cabin.

you nod in agreement, taking his outstretched hand. luke smiles at you, allowing you to lead the way, despite your drunken state. he admires your beauty in the moment, although he knows you’d argue you’re anything but. your makeup is messy, your cheeks are flushed from all the alcohol, and your top is falling off your shoulder, yet he still believes that you can rival aphrodite. he shouldn’t think that, he realizes, as she’s one of the only gods he still prays to, but he does.

the two of you enter the bathroom, and you're surprised by how empty it is. however, the peace and quiet is nice for a usually chaotic space. you decide on a mirror and sink in the middle of the collection, and turn to face luke, waiting for his approval. when he sets the bag down, and removes the towel from his shoulder, you know you’ve made a good choice.

“alright, let’s take your makeup off,” he says, patting the small of your back.

you fumble with the zipper of your pouch, trying and failing to get the bag opened. you pout, holding it out to luke, with a pleading look in your eyes.

“i’ll help you. you want to sit on the counter?” he asks.

you nod, and turn around so your back is towards the sink and mirrors. you brace yourself, ready to test your physical strength in your drunken state. you fail the first attempt, not even making it onto the ledge. luke watches, amusement clear in his eyes, because it’s not like you to ask for help.

“need a hand?”

“no i can do it! i’m a demigod,” you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

he chuckles at your response, but goes back to digging through your bag for the cotton pads and micellar water. he also takes out your face wash, moisturizer, toothbrush, toothpaste, and other skin care items he thinks you might need.

“luke,” you whisper, tugging on his sleeve.

he hums in acknowledgment, turning away from the array of products to face you.

“help?” you ask with a shy smile.

“i thought you didn’t need it, cause your a demigod,” he teases, crossing his arms.

you’re drawn to his muscles, flexing against his tee and you’re temporarily left speechless. he’s just so hot, you think.

“gods i hope my mom answers my prayers,” you blurt out.

“about what?”

“us getting married. i really want to. i think…if we were in vegas, i’d drag you down to the chapel,” you reply.

luke’s mouth drops open in shock, “you think about marrying me?”

“nonstop,” you answer, finally climbing onto the counter.

he stands there for a minute, unsure of what to say or do. all he knows is that he thinks about getting married to you too. he envisions you, regal as ever, like the true daughter of the queen of the gods, walking towards him down an aisle. it’d be small. you, him, and a handful of close friends, but every single part of it would be meaningful.

“let’s get you ready for bed,” he says, changing the conversation.

“okay!”

it takes him much longer than usual to get you through your bedtime routine, but he doesn’t mind if you don’t. and, you seem pretty content right now. you’re smiling and giggling, making goofy faces at him in the mirror with toothpaste smeared on your chin and a fluffy headband keeping your hair at bay. the whole scene feels oddly domestic, especially when he takes your towel and gently wipes the corners of your mouth. it’s serene. it’s perfect.

“you’re perfect y’know that?” he asks, looking at you earnestly.

you flush, turning away from him.

“stop.”

“‘m not lying! you’re perfect for me,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks.

you pucker your lips, and luke lays a gentle kiss on them. you burst into giggles, engulfing him in a hug.

“i want to change. come back to my cabin? please?”

he agrees, following you to the end of the earth. it was an easy request, nothing too extraordinary.

“let me get my pajamas, and then i’ll be right back, okay?” he mumbles, kissing your forehead before leaving you alone with the eternal glow of hera’s flames.

by the time he gets back, you're standing in one of his tee shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. he’s just wearing a tank top and flannel pants, put he comes up behind you to wrap you in his arms. you away for a minute, dancing to a song only you two can hear. then, you wiggle out of his grasp, climb into bed, and pull the covers up to your chin.

“come lie with me,” you beg, patting the spot next to you.

he wraps you up on his arms, pulling you flush against his chest. once your breaths even out, he sneaks out of the bed, waiting just a second to make sure you don’t wake up. quietly, he pulls the candy out of his pocket — two blue raspberry jolly ranchers.

“please hera, let me marry her. aphrodite, keep her by my side, whatever it takes. please.”

and for the first time in a long time, luke castellan makes a genuine offering.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo @hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @maraschinocherry3 @used2beeeeee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcilla @obxstiles

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan pjo #all american bitch series #cobrakaisb writing

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