#how did you find me OF COURSE HE FOUND YOU SILLY YOUR SOUL AND HIS ARE THE SAME??l

[di-girls-dem-sugar]

there no universe nor timelime within which he wouldnt find you.

[pieroulette]

broken lipstick. yjw

2024 | 16+ | ONESHOT 1.8K. | G-yandere; W-obsession, possessive, unhinged jungwon lol, forced kissing with lipstick yes.

DIRECTOR's CUT, found an old note of ideas in my phone from 2022 about jungwon × lipsticks, and thought that it would be a pity to not write about it so here it is. this is kind of like an experimental storytelling, just finding my way with the rhythm and pacing of the words, sentences, and grammar. so if it kinda sounds weird, apologies in advance lol !

finding yourself trapped in this world he created for you drives you terribly insane.

down, and down you go.

every words he spills—he claims that he had spent hours and days of effort for this room, curating it just how you would like it; makeup palettes and brushes, lipsticks, magazines, jewelries, pretty and dainty sundresses, coquettish bows and laces perfectly matching your taste.

everything single thing before you—was all you've ever dreamt for, wished for, manifested for. bare skin planted firmly on this king-sized bed you've listed as one of your life wishes, wrists and necks adorned with saccharine gemstones—ones you've often seen on magazines.

every single damn thing was here.

he claims that he did it because he wishes nothing but to see the finest shade of happiness be illustrated on your visage; for bliss and satisfaction weaved under the strings of fairy tales, you shall wish nothing more but to remain abode.

yes, it is an exact replica of your dream room yet a lot more bigger, lavish, but certainly not home. a doll house would be a much better, fitting term. or perhaps, a prison—masquerade as the definition of your perfect little utopia.

his eyebrows knitted at the way you worded it, saying that such comparison is absurd, and certainly is not the truth. for all that was before you, is all yours to take—and so is he.

all yours to take, he says.

but if it was yours, then why can't you wear all it outside? has he ever thought that all these things is fucking useless if you can't even bring it with you out of this sickening room? what's all these even for, you asks. he replies with that same sickening smile, "why, silly, of course it's for you."

you repeated it with spite, "no, this is not for me. you're doing this for you."

"if you say so," he brought his finger against your cheek, stroking it ever so sickeningly, causing you to lean away. "you're my priority here, your wants and needs are at the best interest of my heart. nothing more, nothing less."

it didn't miss your eyes how his composed visage falters ever so slightly, so subtle—it almost slips away from your fingers but you saw it and you didn't care.

his soul, you despises—every word etched of his existence, you loathed. death shall greet him, and you'd never spare a glance.

why would you? when just a month ago, a world filled with the brightest prospects was all waiting for you, but his grim arrival dims every glowing lantern ahead of your path, ultimately sealing the door to your future tight and begone.

akin to a rat in a trap under a cat's claws; your sanity wilting with each passing day. how many days or months has it been? you lose track of time. where is your phone, even? oh why, he asks? books and magazines was what you'd prefer over some petty little devices, so why would you need them now?

rage, despair, helplessness; you released all these pent-up frustration with each object you slammed against the floor, scattered about in a hazard mess. broken, shattered in pieces like you do. he should see it, feel it, of how his own hard work are gone into the drain, like what he had put you into.

footsteps approaching from the distance.

the door flew open, just like how he often appears, ruining every single opportunity you had back then. he appears too composed, inexplicably unfazed at the ravage scene before his eyes. his own efforts obliterated into nothing, every single thing he spent time on perfecting was wasted, in downright shambles.

you drop on your knees, suppressing your sobs as he approaches with small steps.

it was all too silent, with only your shaky gasps blending with the solemn air. with your head down, eyes locked against the wooden floor, and on your clenched fists shaking with grueling anticipation, you glance nervously at how he stands so still—staring down at you like you were an object.

you wish he just would kill you right now.

in your peripherals, however, you caught the sight of his fingers grabbing the tossed lipstick, now broken in half—it's smoothened tip now uneven. you waited for him to say something, perhaps throw profanities at you for ruining this dollhouse he had spent hours and days at.

grow mad at me, hate me, and then throw me away. in your head, you chanted these words—prayers it ultimately morphs into.

however a gasp spills out of your lips, your breath caught at the back of your throat upon seeing him applying the lipstick on his lips, still and all—while humming a melodic tune as he does so.

"is this how you do it?"

you didn't answer, only imbued with aghast at the deep shade of crimson hugging his lips. as peculiar as it may seem, you can't deny that this visage of his perfectly adorns it.

he steps closer, alarming you—manifesting straight to your eyes widening in sheer panic.

with strong arms, jungwon catches your legs before you could push him away, pulling you closer where he forces you to face him, gripping your jaw so tight and suffocatingly so into his well of eyes; with it's depths you could never fathom till your last breath.

yet he begs you to drown in them, to answer all the questions written all over within—what's so fucking wrong to just stay obedient, and be his oh so sweet darling? why can't you see his love and dedication for you? of how he's ready to give up everything for you?

maybe a slap to your pretty face would tighten the screw in your head a little, or perhaps a yell pulled out from his throat would do the trick, but oh darling—profanities don't suit you, nor does it do you justice to be treated so harshly.

fragile you are, and such a fragile one should be nested, sheltered away from this merciless world. you do not need to lift a finger, or tire your pretty little head over useless things but..

but why is it that you refuse to understand him?

evident it was, through the way you dug your nails on his hands, imbuing your ever growing hatred to him. not a single word spoken, nor spitting at each other but through your eyes—your rampant wishes of spitting him death grows enormous.

die, die, just die.

you held your breath, as a stroke of his finger on your temple—slides down your cheek. a grimace takes form on your feature as he leans in, propelling your body to fight harder against his—though, he remains stronger and faster—pouncing on you like a prey, diving in with his venom-laced fangs into your lips, forcefully so.

his carnal desires takes form across your visage; smudged, blotted, and smeared. a shade so intensified through his vows to make you understand his perception of love.

they say that love is patient, love is kind, love is forgiving.

no, that's bullshit. it's fucking slippery, a mess, metallic taste leaking out from your lip—spilling into his tongue, only for him to hum in frenzied delight. a taste so sweet, so divine, like caramel melting in his cavern.

tilting his head sideways—his tongue went further into yours, twisting and knotting like wet fabric—pooling an amalgamation of saliva, blood, and lipstick down the corner of your mouth. sticky palms on the back of your neck, spiralling you down and down into these candied greed.

heat, searing, throbbing immensely—this pain, do you understand it now? that's how his heart mourns towards your ungratefeful, petty actions. have you perhaps realise it? maybe not yet, as you still had this little fight in you, a funny sight to behold.

your head spins, flashing in mismatched colors, jaw throbbing by his gracious mouth of flames—infiltrating every corner.

soaking everything in you with his relentless rhythm—a pace you could never match as it accelerates beyond what you can take with each second. his lips, like a paint brush—and you, like a paper being crumpled into every way possible. moulding your speech into incoherent sentences, strings of pathetic cries for help drowned out into the void, your prayers to god himself had been engulfed by a devil's kiss.

what's a god, even? they say humans are made in the image of god, but he dare say that not even god are comparable to you, nor those who reign above the heavens—angels, sirens, succubus or whatever the hell are there—your feet they shall kiss.

a canvas you are—pure, and untainted. a masterpiece in the making, not even the greatest artist known to mankind could do justice to your beauty.

you're his haven, his abode. yet also a temptation, a sin, his inferno. every edge of your portrait tweaked perfectly into his own ideals and fantasies, yet also a curse, the poisonous bane of his life, so toxic—it contaminates his soul.

decaying, decomposing—perhaps he was the serpent, and you're the tenant of the garden. insatiable, the apple of eden couldn't be as mouthwatering as your visage.

so why, can't you understand his love?

if you couldn't see it before, then he'll make sure you'll see it now.

dragging you across the floor, jungwon forces you to meet your reflection in the shattered mirror. on your knees, you met this drowned out visage of yours, all visible for you to observe; disheveled hair, your cheeks bathed in intense shades of red, all the same to your neck and shoulders, lips swollen with a visible cut, drenched in all his unspoken words. a mess, you are.

his pretty little mess.

yet what a masterpiece you are, still. he coos with lips pursing up in a sweetened grin, as if he had sucked out all remaining little bits inside your little jar of hope. do you see it now? how every part of you belongs to him, all for his lips to take and taste.

"you look even prettier, all broken like this." jungwon isn't very much different, but while you look like a corpse bludgeoned into mayhem. the image he bears was of a bloodthirsty demon, an animalistic abstraction.

through the mirror, you could see him shuffling around—looking for something amongst the mess, only for the same lipstick he used as an instrument for this macabre play—returning to his palms.

with him back to your side, he delivered a stroke down your hair, tucking your locks behind your ear. a chin he places on your shoulder, one hand under your tummy and the other looped around your shoulder to reach for your lips.

the same broken lipstick, made its way on your lower lip. a shade so deep, so heavy, amplified by his twisted affection. all dolled up for only his eyes to see. your luscious hair—inviting him closer and closer, savoring the way it hugs his fingers. too delicate, the broken mirror could only shy away from you.

"mirror, mirror on the wall," the lipstick tossed on the floor, replaced by his thumb lapping your lip. "who's the fairest of them all?"

© 2022-2024, pieroulette on [tumblr].

[junovrsmp4]

one of the girls

part 1. the arrangement

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.1 summary: despite all the warnings, and his reputation, you're intrigued by chris. on your 18th birthday, u find out exactly why he's bad news. and like a drug, u get addicted to him. cue, the arrangement

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, slapping, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap (reader is 16 and chris is 18 when they first start fooling around, reader is 18 and chris is 20 when they first have penetrative sex)

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

It had started out innocently enough.

Chris was your older brother’s best friend, so naturally he was always over at your house or your brother over at his. You remember the first time you’d seen him, sitting on your living room couch, dressed in a black t-shirt and denim shorts, sporting a silver chain. You’d just run down the stairs, yelling for your brother to order you some food when you spotted him. The shock of seeing a complete stranger- a hot one, at that- had you stopping dead in your tracks. You remember how you’d just stared at him like an idiot, before turning around and sprinting back up to your room. You cringe a little, every time you think back to that moment, how you’d been dressed that night, in one of your old sports bras and baggy shorts, your hair an absolute mess.

Awkward first meeting aside, you got to know him, little by little. Sometimes, through little anecdotes reluctantly shared by your brother at your behest, and sometimes, from the man himself. Every time he came over, you’d make excuses to be around him and your brother, and you remember how he’d always smile at you, include you in conversations even when your brother would groan on about how annoying you were being and try to push you back to your room.

So of course, you developed a crush on him.

As a thirteen year old, you would make up cute little scenarios in your head of how you might confess your crush to Chris, and maybe he’d tell you he always liked you too, or maybe, maybe he’d be the one to confess first, with a bashful, awkward smile, and you’d become boyfriend and girlfriend and live happily ever after.

It didn’t take long for you to get over your little fantasies though.

While it hadn’t been obvious to you at thirteen, as you grew older, you witnessed the whirlwind that was Chris Sturniolo, the guy who got every girl’s attention, showed them a good time, and then left them in the dust when he got bored, before moving onto the next.

Your brother, bless his soul, did warn you to stay away from Chris. Had tried multiple times, to tell you how much of a player he was, how he just had a rotation of girls ready to go, and was always looking for someone new to ruin.

“He’s no good,” he’d said. “He’s my best friend, and he’s like a brother to me, but I wouldn’t trust him around you, alone.”

“Why are you friends with someone like that then?” you’d asked.

Your brother hadn’t been able to give you an answer then.

Knowing what you did about Chris didn’t get rid of your interest in him though. You’d long since let go of the silly fantasy of being his girlfriend. It had been a childhood delusion and nothing more, but you still found him…intriguing. The way he commanded every room he walked in, the way every girl around him fell to their knees to be able to service him in some way, the way guys hung around him in hopes of having his appeal somehow rub off on them, it fascinated you.

Even more fascinating was how Chris seemed to be so obviously putting up some sort of front. There was an edge to the cool, suave persona he seemed to be parading in for everyone else.

For every person who told you to stay far, far away from Chris, all they did was stoke the little part of you that wanted to see just what he was really like.

Besides, we all know what they say about curious cats; curiosity may kill them, but satisfaction definitely brings them back.

-------------------------------------

The party was already in full swing by the time you’d made it through the front door. The entire house was lit with flashing lights, bright and blinding, the music so loud it seemed like it almost thrummed straight through the bodies that surrounded you, almost consuming you and swallowing you into the heart of the party.

A party to celebrate the end of an era, and you turning eighteen.

You hadn’t wanted anything crazy, but trust your friends to go behind your back to plan something big.

“It isn’t just your birthday, ya know?” they’d said. “We’re finally done with high school!”

It seemed like they’d invited everyone who was anyone in your town, because you don’t even recognize some of the people at the party. Friends of friends of friends, and so on, you guess. Some were your seniors in high school, who had graduated way before you and your friends. It helped that your birthday and graduation coincided with summer break, because it meant a lot of the older kids were back from college for the holidays, which guaranteed the presence of more…discreet party favors.

The air was thick with smoke, from weed, tobacco, and god knows what else, the humidity only amplifying the feeling of breathlessness you feel every time you’re in a big crowd. You spot your brother and his group of friends huddled together, taking up a section of one of the big couches, all of them nursing beer bottles. All except one.

Chris’ eyes are on you the minute you step through the crowd. Unlike all the other guys sitting beside him, he opted out of drinking, and was instead smoking a joint, plumes of smoke slightly obscuring his face. He looked relaxed, leaned back with one arm stretched over the top of the couch, legs spread out. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you see the way he glides his tongue across his bottom lip before biting into it. Your breath catches in your throat when he slightly shifts his hips, his eyes flitting down and then back up at you, like he’s silently asking you to go sit on his lap. You almost go over to him, slightly swaying on your feet, before you remember where you are and who’s sitting right next to him. You stand there long enough to see some other girl swoop in and plant herself on his thigh, looping her arms around his neck and leaning close to whisper in his ear.

Your brother spots you just then, and you make a show of pointing a thumb at Chris and rolling your eyes, like you’re not desperately wishing it was you that was on Chris’ lap, before making your way to the make-shift drink station that had been set up on the dinner table, where you find Matt fixing drinks for his friends and himself.

“Hey kid,” he drawls out, bobbing his head to the music, and swaying slightly as he pours drinks for the people around him. “Happy birthday!”

His outburst has everyone nearby yelling out their own wishes, and you thank everyone, accepting side hugs and shoulder pats from a bunch of them. One of them even comments on your outfit, telling you that you looked sexy and asking if you wanted to ‘hang out’ with him for a bit, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You look down at yourself, flattening your palms over the black mini skirt you were wearing, the length, obscenely short. You’d paired it with a black bralette, a cropped mesh top with a watercolor wine print and platform ankle boots. Your friends had helped you with your hair and makeup, and you knew you looked really fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

You yell out a quick thanks but decline the offer to hang out, before asking the Matt to pour you a drink. You can still feel Chris staring, but you don’t dare look back, because looking back would mean giving in to him. Not yet.

You had a game to play after all.

-------------------------------------

Funnily enough, the game between you and Chris had started with a literal game. Specifically, his last lacrosse game for Sommerville High.

You usually didn’t care to go to school events, especially to watch a bunch of people play a sport that you didn’t understand, but it was also your brother’s last game that he’d be playing for your high school, so you’d gone to show your support. Your parents had been there too, and they’d taken a seat next to Chris’ family.

“Oh, this is such a bittersweet moment, isn’t it?” you hear Mary Lou ask your mom, who nods solemnly. They strike up a conversation about their kids, how they grow up oh so fast. It’s funny watching them lean over to talk to each other while Nick sits between them, looking bored out of his mind.

He catches your eye and breaks out into a grin, before politely asking your mom if she’d like to switch seats with him, which she excitedly accepts.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of these,” Nick comments as he looks down at the field, eyes searching for his brothers, you assume. “Want some?”

He’s got a bag of popcorn that he tips your way, and you thank him before grabbing a handful. You make idle conversation for a while, mostly about how he, his brothers and your brother would be graduating soon, and about your classes. You avoid the topic of the triplets ever-growing YouTube channel; you don’t need Nick knowing you obsessively watch every video of theirs.

Nick was a welcome presence; where his brother Chris managed to put you on edge and make you feel hyperaware of his presence, Nick was comforting, grounding.

As disinterested as you are in sports, the energy of the field gets to you eventually, your eyes tracking the same three players, 3, 4, 15, Chris, Matt, your brother, over and over, while listening to Nick chime in occasionally about the score. You have enough awareness to pick up on the energy of the crowd, and it looked like the Sommerville players were doing really fucking well. You watch your brother and Matt make a couple of saves, and Chris going full offense by scoring a bunch of points for the team, all while clutching onto Nick as the two of you cheer each time.

It’s down to the last few minutes of the game, and you watch with bated breath as both teams turn the ball over to score a point or stop the other from scoring.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask Nick. With only two minutes left, you notice all the players running to the edge of the field and forming team huddles.

“Timeout,” Nick says before taking a sip of his drink. “Coaches probably want to discuss final strategies with the team, but it won’t make much of a difference at this point. We’re winning this thing!”

“Oh, I see…” you mutter, and your eyes gravitate towards player number 3. You can’t see much of Chris’s face from this distance, but you watch as he swings an arm over your brother’s shoulder. His head tips upward slightly, and for a second, you almost feel like he’s looking right up at you, but that would be crazy.

The game is back on, and you watch as your brother immediately springs into action, trying to get the ball that one of the players on the rival team had managed to grab. A shrill whistle blows, and Nick winces beside you.

“Shit- what’s wrong?”

“Your brother just got a foul, kid,” Nick says with a shake of his head. “He was playing really well though, damn.”

One last minute. You watch as the Sommerville team expertly passes the ball around, going back and forth between a bunch of the guys as the other team tries to bat it from them. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath when you see Chris has the ball now, and with just a few seconds left on the clock, he makes the last score of the game, and the crowd goes fucking wild.

Everything else was a blur after. You remember being ushered onto the field by Nick, your parents joining you as the players all took pictures together, as a team, with their families. You remember seeing Chris’ eyes widen as he took in your presence, before quickly flashing you his signature smirk.

“Look who decided to finally show up for a school game!” he’d said, arms cross over his chest, and you’d remember feeling small under his gaze, holding onto to Nick’s arm to hold back from flinging yourself at him in front of all these people, in front of your family.

The next few minutes had been spent taking pictures, and there was a particular moment when both your mother and Mary Lou had asked for a big group photo, and that’s how you found yourself pressed up between Chris and your brother, who had his arm slung over your shoulder. You still remember the way Chris’ fingers brushed against yours, your breath catching in your throat when, in an extremely bold move, considering you were with your families, he’d linked his pinky with yours.

That’s how it had started. Looks exchanged across rooms, stolen touches hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pull and push, a game of who’d break first. It was like something that emboldened Chris that day of the game, and he’d test the limits to what you’d allow him to do to you. The goal for him seemed to be to get you to let down the invisible guard you’d put up whenever he was around, to get you to admit something even you weren’t aware of. Your goal was to get your fill of Chris in hopes of satiating whatever curiosity and hunger you had for him before you had to watch him with some other girl as soon as he got bored with you.

There were nights after that game when he’d come over to your house to hang out with your brother when Chris would sneak into your room, under the pretense of going to the bathroom or to grab a snack.

It was during those nights that you’d exchange rushed, heated kisses, Chris grabbing onto your waist while you clutched at his shoulders, pulling him close before quickly pushing him away, breathless. He’d swipe his tongue across his bottom lip before sinking his teeth into it, fighting back the grin that threatened to take over his face.

“Go out with me,” Chris had asked one night, leaning against your dresser and fiddling with the rings you’d left there from earlier that day.

“No, Chris,” you had replied, already back to reading the book he’d pushed out of the way when he’d crawled over you to kiss you. You tried to ignore the way your lips feel swollen and bruised from where he’d bitten them.

“I don't know why you’re playing so hard to get,” he said with her arms crossed over this chest, his lips quirked up in his signature smirk. “You clearly want me- why not date me?”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at that.

“What?”

“Everyone and their mother knows you’re not the dating kind, Chris” you said, with a tight smile. “You’re going to bail the minute it gets too real, before going with one of the other girls in your roster.”

The silence that follows makes you look up from your book, and Chris is watching you with a look you can’t comprehend.

“Touché. So you’re good with being one of my girls then? I just don’t want you to come crying to me later saying you were hoping I’d be your boyfriend or some shit.”

You roll your eyes, hating the way his words made you feel. It was pathetic, chasing after crumbs, knowing you wouldn’t get anything more. You knew what you were getting into, and you weren’t expecting anything more. but it still made you feel like a fool.

“By the way,” Chris begins to speak, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his shoulders stiff. “The only reason I bail-” he says the word with a harsh tone you’d never heard from him before, “-is because all of you seem to have already set your minds on being with me for one thing, and one thing only. Not that I’m too mad about it.”

He’s scowling now, and you see the muscles in his jaw flex, like he’s gritting his teeth. He was definitely mad, about what exactly, you weren’t so sure.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked, but Chris was already walking out of your room.

You’d spent the rest of the night wondering what had gotten Chris angry. There was a part of you, the one that really, really enjoyed Chris’ attention, that was worried you’d pushed him away, but a bigger part of you wondered if this was for the best. You’d gotten more than you’d ever imagined from him, and it was probably best to leave it at this before you ended up getting swept up in…him.

It didn't matter in the end, because that same night, after making a show of leaving out the front door to go back home, he’d snuck back into your room through your window and spent an hour leaving harsh kisses and bites on your lips, your neck and your collarbones.

He was clearly taking out his frustration from earlier on you, his fingers gripping at your waist and thighs as he pressed your body down onto your bed with this own.

He took, and took. Took your breath away with his kisses, took your wrists in his hands, grip tight as he held them down on either side of your head, all while laying claim on you and your body. Just like you wanted him to.

Realizations were made that night, because as soon as Chris had gotten his fill and left, you’d made yourself cum, over and over, as you imagined him being rougher with you, laying his claim on you with harsher, more painful touches to your body.

-------------------------------------

Parties like these really weren’t your scene, but you did enjoy being a fly on the wall, observing all the people around. Drunk teens and young adults giving into more baser instincts, their judgement clouded by the various substances they’d consumed. Some were loud and brazen, engaging in risqué activities right where everyone could see them, some hidden in dark corners, making out with each other.

You’re still nursing your first drink, letting it pull you into a tipsy haze, and you vaguely register the guy standing beside you talking about something you had absolutely no interest in. He’s got one arm against the wall as he leans into your personal space, his lips close to your ear as he speaks, to make sure you can hear him over the loud music. You let out noncommittal hums and nod occasionally to seem like you’re listening, but your eyes are trained on Chris and the girl who’s currently sitting on his lap, a different girl from the one you saw when you first walked in, grinding down on him.

Just as Chris turns his head in your direction, you turn your head towards the guy next to you, bringing your free hand to his and pulling it to rest on your waist. You smile up at him and laugh at a joke he’d just made, something incredibly unfunny and slightly problematic even, before telling him you were going to go grab another drink.

You head into the kitchen, where you get pulled into a conversation with a couple of your former classmates. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris slip into the kitchen as well, before he squeezes past you. What no one sees is the way his hand lingers on your lower back as he moves past, dipping low to grab your ass, before quickly moving to the group of people that were also in the room, slinging his arms over the shoulders of two guys before delving into a loud discussion about this seasons lacrosse game.

Heat blooms across your face, and you bite your lower lip to keep from shouting across the kitchen at Chris to just fuck you already, because that wasn’t the plan. You had to have more control than that now, because this was the only time you’d have it tonight.

Your mind wanders back to the several texts you’d exchanged with Chris over the years, after you’d first started your…dalliance with him. They were sparse, you mostly kept your conversations minimal over text, but there had been one night last year, when you hadn’t been able to sleep and had found yourself sending the one text you thought you’d never send to Chris.

> i need something

You’d immediately regretted it. You thought you’d worded it in such a way that you could pass it off, pretend it didn’t happen, or that it was meant for someone else, but you knew Chris would be able to tell exactly what you meant. He would be able to figure out everything you’d thought of him since the past year, every dirty thought, every horny fantasy you’ve had since you first started letting him kiss and touch you, only ever with your clothes on, nothing that progressed past heavily making out and groping each other, leaving you panting and breathless, and him hard.

It was 2 a.m. on a Thursday night and your text could only mean one thing.

You’d put your phone down, trying to go to sleep, hoping that, come morning, if Chris did reply to you, you could pretend you had sent it by mistake, but the anxiousness you felt made you pick your phone back up, and you saw it, the three dots that meant Chris was typing a response.

> U need to go to sleep

That would have been the responsible thing to do. You imagined being bolder, but you were only sixteen, and you had no experience flirting with guys, especially with guys like Chris, so you’d sent off a quick text apologizing, and telling him it was meant for someone else.

> Is that true? Who was it meant for?

> goodnight chris

> Tell me who

> no

> Need is a strong word, almost sounded like u wanted some late night lovin’

You don’t think, you couldn’t think, not with the way your blood rushing in your ears makes you feel slightly faint, and before you know it, you reply with-

> well i feel strongly about it

> Strong feelings can be dangerous

> i want something dangerous

You were being honest. Chris was dangerous. This was dangerous.

> Want? Or need?

> need

There was a long pause, no ellipses indicating Chris was texting back, and for a moment, you think he’d abandoned you, that he was probably texting the many other, more experienced, girls he could be with.

> Dont fall asleep yet. I’ll be there in a bit.

> okay

> So the text WAS meant for me then

> shut up

> :P

The abrupt shift in tone of the conversation had made you giggle a bit, but you remember how you’d waited with bated breath for Chris to show up outside your window, before letting him into your room.

Chris had spent those early morning hours teasing you with his mouth and hands, whispering dirty little things into your ears, coaxing your needs out of you, demanding you tell him exactly what you meant with that text, with one hand wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel breathless but not take away your ability to breathe, because you told him you wanted it, while the other one dipped down into your underwear.

You’re so fucking responsive, even to the slightest touch, he’d said. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but here you are, sneaking around with your brother’s best friend, what would everyone think?

You’d let your body melt under his touch, letting him envelope you with his touch, his words, his scent.

I think about how you’d look with my cock inside you. I think about tasting you. I think about holding you down and fucking you until you can’t hold back your sweet little moans. God, you’re so fucking desperate for my dick, aren’t you?

And you were, you really fucking were, because no matter how much you pretended to be unfazed by him and his touch, the truth of the matter was, every moment you spent with him was followed by you locked up in your room with your fingers desperately pumping in and out of you, imagining how he would fuck you if you actually let him, how he’d open you up and push his dick into you, how you’d be so full of him.

That was the first night he’d touched you, really touched you, the first night you’d cum from fingers that weren’t your own.

A loud laugh accompanied by a friendly slap on the shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you let out a weak chuckle as your friends remark on how out of it you seem, even though you’ve only had one drink. You look up to see Chris looking back at you over his shoulder, and when you meet his eyes, he jerks his head up slightly, and you know exactly what he’s trying to indicate.

Come upstairs.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head as imperceptibly as you can, even though you’re going to do exactly what he wanted, and you see how it gets him excited, because Chris liked being teased, liked how you played so hard to get, and you loved playing it up, acting all coy and innocent when both of you knew otherwise.

You tell your friends you need some fresh air, but instead of making your way out to the backyard, you slowly make your way upstairs, pushing past people and hoping to all powers above that there was at least one room that wasn’t occupied.

You take your time checking every room on the floor, opening doors to people in various stages of undress, quickly yelling out apologies before moving to the next, until finally, you come to a door furthest from the stairs leading up to the floor. It was quieter here, the music from downstairs was almost muffled. You press an ear to the door, and when you don’t hear any noises from the other side, you excitedly turn the handle to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Locked. Fuck.

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel a presence right behind you, the heat of a body. The strong scent of weed washes over you as hands come up to rest on your hips, before warm lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Look what we have here,” Chris whispers in a teasing tone, sending a tingle up your spine, making your skin break out in goosebumps. You shiver slightly as his arms encircle you, before he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the door knob.

“It’s locked,” you whisper back, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

“I know,” he mumbles, before holding out one of his hands, and you see a set of keys.

“Go on,” Chris says, nuzzling into your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your burning hot skin. You quickly grab the keys and fumble with the lock as Chris’ hands wander down between your thighs, grabbing onto them as he presses into you from behind. You feel his length, not hard yet, but still hard to ignore, and the possibilities of how tonight is going to go has your head reeling.

You finally get the door open, and you stumble inside, Chris not far behind. You watch as he grabs the key out of the lock, before following you in and locking the door from inside this time.

You have half the mind to ask him how he got the keys to the door, how he thought of keeping it locked, but all that goes out of your head when he swivels you around and pushes you up against the wall, one hand cradling your head as his lips descend on yours. His fingers grip the hair at the base of your neck and pull, making your head tip back and you gasp as both pain and pleasure bloom and settle low in your stomach, your thighs clenching, and he takes that as invitation to lick his way into your mouth, his tongue fighting and very quickly winning for dominance. Your knees almost buckle from the intensity of it all, from just how turned on you are.

Here you were, with Chris Sturniolo, your brother’s best friend, pulling at your hair, grabbing you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips and thighs by morning. It was a heady feeling, being wanted, and being wanted by Chris was like experiencing the best high from the best drugs.

Chris lets go of your hair to grab onto your hips, pulling your waist away from the wall and grinding you against him, like you were just here to help him get off, and it still surprises you, how much it turns you on. The thought of being just a body to be used, a body that Chris owns and controls.

Your hands find purchase in his hair as you gasp under the assault of his mouth on yours, his teeth biting into your lower lip and pulling, before going back to twisting his tongue with yours. It’s a messy kiss, rough and just painful enough that it has you wet and dripping. You feel the way your underwear sticks to your folds, and the patheticness of your own arousal turns you on even more.

Chris’s hands snake up your stomach under your top, making it bunch up right below your neck. His gaze is heated as his eyes rove over your body, before he’s pulling your bralette down, and the fabric of it bunches up tight below your breasts, pushing them up further into Chris’ face. He takes no time before licking and sucking on your nipples, groaning as he grinds his growing erection against your thigh.

“Chris- please, please-” you whine, body writhing under his attention, hips bucking as you try and find some relief.

“Stay still,” Chris says, and it almost sounds like a growl, which has the opposite effect to what was intended. Your moans get louder and he bites your nipple, your chest arching off the wall.

Chris straightens up, one of his hands coming up to smack you on the cheek before grabbing you by the chin, forcing your head back against the wall.

“Stay. Still.”

The slap had been more shocking than painful, but it still turns you on, just how rough Chris is being with you right now, and you think about how much rougher you hope it gets.

Chris peers down at you, his grip on your chin relentless. “Will you stay still and quiet?”

You nod against his grip, teeth sinking into your lower lip to hold back a whine.

“Good girl,” he says, thumb stroking your lips before pushing into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around it, tongue laving at the tip of it before sucking it deeper into your mouth. You see Chris’ pupils dilate as he watches you, mouth falling open slightly as he heaves deep breaths in and out.

“Take off your panties,” he says as he pulls his thumb away, swiping it over your nipple. He chuckles as you jerk away from the cold, wet touch. His fingers flutter over your skin as you quickly shove your underwear down your legs, and you think about kicking them away, but Chris holds out his hand.

Oh.

You hand over your underwear, soaked from your arousal, to Chris, who pockets it with a smirk.

“Hm, good girl,” Chris mutters, before patting the side of your leg. “Spread your legs.”

You peer up at him through your eyelashes as you spread your legs apart and the cold air in the room hits your heated core, making you quiver.

Chris doesn’t take his time. His body presses up against you as he brings a hand up your skirt and to your core, two fingers sweeping through your folds to gather the wetness that was dripping out of you before pumping them in and out of you, each thrust of his fingers punching a gasp out of you.

The room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of Chris’ fingers squelching in and out of you, and he adds a third finger, twisting and spreading them inside you to stretch you out.

“Fuck, Chris, I need you-” you moan, your hips rolling and pushing down to meet Chris’ fingers. You bare your throat to him as he presses his nose to the spot under your ear, his teeth scraping down your throat. His fingers continue pumping into you, pressing repeatedly at the spongy bundle of nerves that had you clenching around them, and that’s how he gives you your first orgasm of the night.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” Chris asks, nipping at your jaw. “Look at how fucking wet you are.”

He steps back and holds up his fingers, glistening from the wetness, and spreads them apart, and you see the strings of your fluids clinging between his fingers, some of it dripping down onto his palm. Your breath catches in your throat when Chris brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and moaning at your taste. He’d done this before, when he’d fingered you, and it made you squirm each time, seeing this visual confirmation that he enjoyed your taste.

Your eyes flick down to Chris’ crotch, where you see the clear outline of his hard dick, and you realize that this is the first time you’re actually going to have a dick inside you. You remember the first time you’d seen it when you’d asked him if you could suck him off, and he’d had you kneel for him, before pulling it out of his sweatpants and feeding it into your mouth, guiding your head up and down his length, before he’d eventually just jerked off and cum all over your face.

You watch him as he pulls it out now, and you can’t explain how oddly attractive his penis is. You didn’t think you’d find a penis attractive, but Chris’ was. It was long and thick, but not too thick, and it curved slightly to the left. It was ruddy now, from all the blood that had rushed down to it and the head of his dick glistened from the precum that was beading and dripping out of his slit. Chris wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly to gather his precum and slick it up.

You make a move to step towards him, thinking he’ll move things to the bed, but Chris grabs your hips and turns you to face the wall before lining his body against yours, pushing you into the wall, with your face turned sideways, your cheek pressed down against the cold surface. You hear the telltale sounds of a condom wrapper being torn open and rubber being stretched over skin.

You look back at Chris, eyebrows furrowing, as he hikes your skirt up your ass, lining his cock up against you and grinding it between your cheeks.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Chris whispers in your ear, his hand coming up to circle your throat, pushing up to tip your head against his shoulder. You feel his other hand reach down between the two of you, before guiding his dick into you, and your eyes flutter close when the tip slides through your folds to push into you, stretching you. Chris keeps his grip on your throat tight, and braces his other arm against the wall right beside your head.

Your body opens up for him, accepting him into you, as Chris sets a brutal pace, his dick driving in and out of you, leaving you breathless.

“Chris- oh god, f-fuck, ngh-” you whimper, your hands scrambling to grab onto him, one hand clutching at his bicep, while the other comes up to grip the wrist of the hand that is squeezing your throat. “Harder, please- fuck, fuck, fuck- choke me harder-”

“Such a fucking slut, what would everyone think if they knew you were up here begging me to choke you, huh?” Chris rasps out against your temple. “What would your brother think?”

You clench around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continues restricting your airflow, arousal and shame making your blood run hot in equal measure.

“You love being split open on my cock, don’t ya? Your pussy is fucking dripping around it,” he grunts, punctuating his words with harder thrusts into you, the head of his dick hitting the bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you chant, legs quivering as you gush around Chris’ dick. “I’m gonna cum-”

“Yeah? Cum on my dick, c’mon,” Chris rasps, the hand that was braced against the wall moving to rub against your clit, making you buck up against him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight still.”

His fingers rub furious circles over your clit, which has you clenching rhythmically around him, and it doesn’t take long before you cum around Chris’ cock, the force of your orgasm wracking through your body and making you quiver violently.

Chris keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm, and you’re hit with that thought again, of being owned and controlled by Chris, because it was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even bothered to get either of you fully undressed, hadn’t taken you to bed, because you were just a means to a satisfying end, a warm body that accepted his rough, painful, attention.

And you loved it.

All you hear are the sounds of skin slapping skin and Chris’ grunts and moans over your own punched out whimpers, and now Chris has both his hands on your hips, gripping them hard as he pulls you back onto his dick, his blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving a delicious burn. You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually Chris comes with a muffled cry, biting into your clothed shoulder as he fills the condom.

“Fuck,” you breath out, slumping forward against the wall, wincing when Chris pulls out, before bringing two fingers up to glide through your folds, still wet, but now also puffy and raw from the constant rubbing.

Chris guides you towards the bed, and you hold onto him because your legs won’t stop shaking. He helps you fix your clothes, pulling your bralette and top back down your torso and smoothing your skirt down your thighs. He tucks his dick back into his pants before disappearing out of the room with the used, and now tied-up, condom in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed, dazed and out of breath still, and Chris comes back a few seconds later with a wet towel which he gently swipes between your legs, while kneeling before you, letting out a chuckle and a sheepish ‘sorry’ when you wince and jerk away from the cold and rough towel.

Chris stands back up, and goes to say something when his phone buzzes. He looks down at it, letting out a low whistle at whatever message he’d just received.

“I’ve gotta go,” Chris says, his thumbs flying over his keyboard as he types out messages.

“One of your girls?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chris says distractedly, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You going to be okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, happy birthday again” Chris says, bending forward to place a quick kiss to your cheek before patting the top of your head and leaving.

You flopped back onto the bed, sighing as you push your hair out of your face, your legs rubbing together to try and warm yourself up in the now too-cold room. And it was only then that you realize that Chris had left with your underwear.

Fuck.

> you have my underwear asshole

His reply came much later that night, after you’d already gotten home, using a pair of cycling shorts you’d snagged from the closet in the room Chris had left you in and bunching them up under your skirt to make do as underwear for the rest of the night.

> Oops

author’s note: idek if i like this one y'all (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife

[sky-is-the-limit]

'I make guarantees.'

Phillip Graves x F!Reader

Summary: As a member of the TF141, it comes naturally to be aggravated by Phillip Graves. Pair that with every fiber of your body, mind and soul desiring him, and you have a ticking bomb ready to explode. Basically, porn without plot.

CW: Angry sex, jealousy, possessiveness, degradation, violent/explicit language, mention of blood (minor), unprotected sex.

WC: 4,712 words (oops)

Notes: I'm not a writer!

Phillip Graves was no ordinary man. He was the sort to blaze through your soul like a wildfire, allow you to feel the kind of passion and intensity you only find between the lines of a fantasy tale and then leave ashes behind, forever engraved in your skin.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned to look at Phillip. You only spared him a passing glance though, smirking just before turning back to laugh at a joke Johnny told, too crest for the other man's tastes.

This was the second mission where you had to collaborate with the Shadow Company for a more effective outcome, meaning you had to be in his overwhelming presence once more. Someone outside watching in would think that you hated each other, whenever you'd interact. You always tested his limits, toed every line that you could cross with every action, with every takedown.

Perhaps you did, deep inside. Hated him for igniting feelings in you so intense that would only resonate to you either banging your head against a wall or let him fuck you against one.

Phillip showed his interest straight away, from the very first interaction the two of you had during your first mission, his arrogance and cockiness oozing out of him as though he had no ordinary blood running through his veins. Pair that with the way he was talking to Johnny, the closest squad member to you, you had to turn down his advances, which unsurprisingly, hurt his fragile ego and ever since, all remarks exchanged between the two of you were like bullets destined to kill.

Once more, you found yourself in the common area of your temporary base, left alone to face him. Your leisure time of listening to Soap's silly dad jokes and good conversation over coffee was cut short when Phillip walked in.

Johnny did not have the patience to ignore him and his snarky comments that he had to physically get away from him, and you did not blame him one bit. Was it your pride or something else forbidding you from exiting right after?

''It's pathetic really.'' His posture was starker than usual, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips tight as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Though you had your back turned on him, you could feel his gaze devouring you whole.

The abruptness startled you, but keeping your composure, you set your coffee down on the table and turned to look at him.

''Your entire existence? I know.'' The words came out in a furious rush and you felt a bead of sweat drip down your back under your black shirt. It was a nasty habit, at that point. You couldn't even finish one argument without starting another and the one brewing was the second one that day.

''How you flirt with him to get my attention, Y/N.'' Phillip's voice was low and irritated, and it set your emotions ablaze, a roaring inferno within your mind. 

“Of course, because it's always about you. I definitely talk to my squad member specifically to get your attention, silly me.'' The minute he walked in, you prepared yourself for this. It would be abnormal for an interaction between the two of you to not turn into an argument.

''He's so boringly predictable that I caught you looking at me at least 50 times. Go on though, I do enjoy the show.'' Arrogance was dripping off his tongue like second nature, along with that all familiar smirk that made your insides hurt.

''Don't you ever get tired of hearing your own voice, Graves? Or do you get off of ticking every box in the 'how to be a perfect narcissist' list?'' You shrieked, hating the way your voice came out your throat but the way in which he threw his shoulders back and laughed in a cruel tone made you see red.

Suddenly he was much closer, leering down at you. It wasn't clear to know who moved first, or who would next.

''Me? A narcissist? You're the one who wants every man's attention on you.'' He growled lowly and stood to full height, his demeanor making you swallow thickly as he loomed closer and stared you down. Out of habit you straightened your spine, lips curling back into a scowl.

''Shut your fucking mouth, Graves-" The blood running through your veins was pumping hot, you wanted to pour it out and paint everything around you red, so it matched the fury riding you with every word he threw in your way. Phillip's response didn’t ease you any.

''Is that what you did to earn your spot hm? Fuck your way to the top?'' His tone dripped with scorn as he responded to you, his words carrying an edge sharper than a sword.

''Say that again, Graves. I fucking dare you.'' Spitting the words with teeth bared, and fists clenched as you circled each other, you poked at his chest firmly, the muscles twitching beneath your fingertips.

Your gaze met his with stubborn defiance, nearly ready to just explode and punch him. Maybe that would make you feel better, knocking some sense into his enormous ego.

There was nothing you despised more than another man undermining your career and progress, belittling you as if you were not greater than all of them combined when holding a sniper riffle in your hands.

What made it worse, was that you knew Graves was doing that to get a reaction out of you, to push your buttons without meaning a single word pouring out of his mouth. It was a facade, you knew that. The first thing he ever said to you, was to compliment your skills, which made his intention even more infuriating.

''You could try that with the Shadow Company next, I promise to give you a higher rank if you use that mouth-'' It was as though your hand had a brain of it's own, moving automatically with force to meet with his cheek and the corner of his mouth, leaving the tender skin red to the touch and the corner of his bottom lip reddening with drops of blood.

''Is that all you got?'' He mocked, his voice gravelly as his fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly, preventing you from moving an inch. Your anger dissipated in the favor of fear the very second you saw his expression.

You were volatile and explosive, but that's how you craved it, and even then, your desire to be fucked by him had trumped all your wrath, in fact, your rage had just heightened it. It was pure madness and the was no rational explanation to it nor that you cared to find one.

Glowering, hands itching to hit him once more, you turned on your heel, aiming for the door and intending to get black-out drunk with Simon as you assumed that he was downing his fifth beer by then, when he grabbed you by the back of your neck and hauled you against him.

You struggled, clawing and scratching his arms as they banded around you and held you trapped. He was chuckling in your ear, you could feel how turned on he was, and your inner voice was crooning that you got just what you wanted, but you ignored it. You wanted to fight yet your body had something entirely different in mind while a flow of slick started to soak up your panties as Graves pressed his manhood into you.

''You fucking-'' The thoughts running wild through your mind interrupted your own words, the ebb and flow of your gazes intensifying by the second though it felt like an eternity of his blue eyes piercing through your soul like he could sense every filthy fantasy hiding behind them. You didn't dare to move and in the end, you didn't have to.

You were both breathing heavily, tension wrought to the extreme as you were staring at each other, not really fathoming how you ended up like this. It was pure excitement, trepidation, like you were desperately waiting for something to happen.

This was the culmination of whatever instinctive, subconscious game the two of you had been playing from the very first mission you'd embarked on collaborating with him, a game of push and push between the two of you until the breaking point.

Graves pushed forward, his lips brutally meeting your own. He bit down on them, hard and cruel, loving the cry you whimpered out as he savored you whole. His hand moved from the side of your head to the back of it, tugging the hair there to tilt your head to his.

The agony was a pleasure as you reciprocated his intoxicating kiss, angry and violent as you teared at his lips. Your sharp teeth aggravated the wound on his lip, and you tasted blood on your tongue.

''Fucking brat-'' He instantly pulled back, his fingers grasping your jaw to keep you in place.

You shivered at his words, a new heat blooming over every surface of your body. Your cheeks tingled and you squirmed in his grip, squeezing your thighs together as you calculated your next move carefully.

"You're such a bastard!" You quirked your head as you breathlessly yelped, almost fearlessly before sliding your arms free of his hold and threaded them into his hair before pulling him in to capture another kiss, hotter and even more passionate than the last.

Phillip responded in an instant, letting his tongue slide against yours, hungrily whilst he tangled his free hand in your hair, gripping painfully, deepening the kiss, like it could be the last thing he ever does.

Your body seemed to burst into a flame of mingled rage and lust, and you knew he felt the same from the desperate, almost angry growl he made the sensation overwhelmed you both. 

Sinking your nails into his scalp, you pressed your hips hard against his erection, feeling him gasp into your mouth before lifting his head to take another look at you, his fingertips never leaving your jaw.

Phillip licked his lips unconsciously as he stared down at you, but before you could say anything, he had brought his face once more closer to yours, his eyes half-lidded and full of desire.

''And you're a fucking slut.'' Once more your hand was lifted in the air, intending to slap him for a second time, but he caught it as it swung for his face and took hold of your other before you could attempt it again. With one swift move, he maneuvered your body around and pinned both of your wrists in a firm grip behind your back before your brain could catch up to what was happening.

Head shaking, arms straining as you tried to break out of his hold, huffing and giving in when he only held onto you tighter, walking both of you closer to the wall, pressing your front hard against it. Panting, furious, your heartbeat thundered somewhere in your throat. The Commander's form was a solid taut weight caging you in, imposing, all muscle, a hard line of his desire against your lower back.

''Someone needs to fuck that attitude out of you, Y/N.'' The words made your toes curl and your hips arch, betraying how desperate you looked, splayed out on his command center for his pleasure. The side of his face was so close to yours that you could feel him breathing down on you, his lips at the shell of your ear.

The other hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around your wrists moved to hold your jaw, squeezing tightly to the point of discomfort.

Briskly, he released your arms, spinning around to pounce on the man before you and quickly pressed your back against the wall once more so you can be chest to chest.

''And that's gonna be you, Graves?'' You met his fire with your own, staring unflinchingly into the heated pools of stormy sea. The question was as close to begging as your pride would allow.

''No one else can. No one else can fuck you the way you deserve but me, soldier.'' He stated, face lowering to yours and his tone low and menacing, the promise of retribution sent shivers down your spine.

The grotesque snarl of words should have made you put him in his place, despise of the outcome. Any other day you would have, but instead, your body had different plans.

''Is that a threat, Commander?'' You croaked out, a smirk settling on your face. How you managed to still be coy in a situation where you knew you had no power was insane and the look on his face confirmed it as his fingers around your jaw grew tighter and you winced in pain. 

''Oh, I don't make threats, Sergeant. I make guarantees.'' There was that deep chuckle again. The one that vibrated up his throat until it bubbled out to bless your ears and slither goosebumps down your spine.

Darkly, he challenged your moral compass that was screaming for you to get away from his intoxicating presence. The smirk formed on his lips was wicked, provocative. The prey was finally caught.

''Let's see how far your arrogance can take you then, Commander.'' With a hint of sarcasm, you challenged him back, deliberately imbuing his title with a sensual cadence. His skin was flushing to you calling him by his rank, a blotchy red slowly encroaching from his throat to his cheeks. It was an interesting kind of power to have over someone. 

For a few seconds he just stared you down, eyes adapting the darkest shade of blue. The sensation simmering down in your abdomen was quickening the pace of your heartbeat trying to burst out of your ribcage in a mingle of fear and arousal. It was taking over every single nerve in your body and there was no way of stopping it, not that you desired to.

With a quick use of his brute strength he hoisted you up, having you scrambled to wrap your legs around his waist while his hands moved to your ass to hold you up.

''You won't even comment on the fact that someone could walk in right now and see you in such a mess, Y/N?'' Phillip murmured gravelly, his lips biting the soft skin of your throat intending to break the skin as he was backing you closer to the table behind you, quickly hoisting you to sit on it. He settled between your legs, hands gripping just above your knees.

''God, you must be so fucking desperate for it, huh?'' He was right, of course. The possibility of someone walking in was more than enough to let shame start creeping in your system and yet all it took was one look at his face. The way the moonlight was shining through the window to define his cheekbones even more, experience visible through the wrinkles decorating the corners of his eyes as they stared into your soul.

''You're taking your sweet time with this, Graves. I'm starting to think that you're all bark and no bite.'' You can’t help the smug smile that spread across your lips as you saw the flare of anger flash in his eyes, finding the way he was so quick to be irritated, quite fascinating.

That little defiant glint still sat in your eyes, and he was absolutely determined to remind you who was in charge by the end of the night.

"Oh, I'll show you how I bite.'' He growled, thrusting his clothed erection against your center, a loud whimper escaping your lips to the friction. 

Gasping, you felt his lips leaving a wet trail down the length of your jaw before he settled in the hollow beneath your ear, an erogenous zone he’d discovered, devoting his attentions there. All your body could do in response was cling to him, mewls and sighs falling haphazardly from your lips.

“I dream about your cunt,” He stated, lifting his head up, smoldering eyes locked on yours as your elbows struggled to keep your balance against the wooden surface.

"How it feels.  How it looks.  How it tastes. I dream of fucking ruining you till you can't move to save your life." Every filthy word out of his mouth was a direct attack to your throbbing core as he maneuvered your hips upwards to yank the fabric of your jeans down to your ankles, legs exposed to the cool air of the stone room.  Your gaze followed his, eyes glued hungrily on the obvious wet spots in your panties.

''Fuck- Do it then.'' Clearly, you weren't thinking when your mouth formed the words, "Fucking do it, already-" But it was spoken harshly between the ragged breaths of your desire, and it was all the invitation he needed.

"You're not the one who gets to make commands here," He growled, taking a sinful pride in the drawn out whimper that he had dug out from you.

''Pathetic.'' And so he lifted one of those large hands to your face and pressed his thumb into your mouth, the pad of it resting on your bottom row of teeth as he dragged your jaw down, forcing your mouth wide open.

Trembling with a sudden onslaught of unexpected arousal at having someone else's fingers between your lips, feeling the flutter in your soaked cunt again only this time it was more intense, fiercely with your legs shaking to the sensation.

Your hands moved on their own as Graves' thumbs pressed deeper into your mouth, gliding and pressing at your tongue as you slid them down the length of his body, feeling every defined muscle underneath his blue shirt, going lower and lower, until you were curving one palm around the shape of the Commander's cock confined within his dark shaded jeans.

Impatience took over you, lifting the hem of your shirt, hastily tugging the fabric up and throwing it to the side and before you could touch him again, his hands were at your sides, sliding over the mounds of your breasts and then there was another tug and a louder ripping sound as he teared your bra at the front.

His own pupils, now blown with a heated desire, locked into your glazed expression. Having his fingers toy with your mouth earlier had already caused a small string of saliva to run down your chin and he couldn't help the smirk starting to flicker onto his lips. He had barely started to touch you and you already looked all sorts of fucked up. 

Your outrage couldn't even register before his warm mouth was on your skin, sucking at your nipples, pinching and biting and rubbing the soothing pad of his thumb over each one after any rough treatment. The chill of the night air was an electrifying contrast to the warmth of his mouth and hands as you were openly moaning and writhing to the way he massaged and teased every inch of nakedness before him.

''Me or you?'' You hum innocently to his previous remark as you pressed your palm against him, stroking the long line of heat firmly, and he hissed as his hips bucked forward just as desperately, his hands suddenly coming up to catch both of your wrists, bringing them down to your sides, the grip just tight enough to sting.

Indignation flashed in those midnight blue eyes. There was something off from his normal heated gaze. This look he was giving you was more than just argumentative, more than just fired up. It was absolutely primal. The heat had shifted. While usually he was more reminiscent of a volcano during an eruption, now he seemed to be the moments before, it was a slow heat. Dangerous. 

"I'm not in the mood for games.'' Graves breathed heavily, bending over you to nip at your lips before hearing the sound of his belt touching the ground to finish what you started, freeing himself.

You couldn't tear off your eyes from the obscene sight in front of you as he took himself in one hand while the other came to rest high on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your core, tantalizingly close. He stroked himself once, twice, pressing himself against you and pausing for a moment, just long enough for you to grow restless.

He sighed, the sound more like a growl than anything, steam escaping from his nose.

''I should've done this a long time ago.'' He ripped your legs apart, tugging onto your dripping underwear until it was on the ground, grunting as your slick coated his fingers before he rubbed his cock against your entrance. Every part of your body tightened, a bare spark of pleasure almost exciting you when his cockhead scraped your clit.

You couldn't believe that someone you absolutely despised was giving you some of the best pleasure you'd ever felt. Wanton moans fell from your lips as he jackhammered your cunt. His hand tangled in your hair and yanked your head back.

''You like that hm? You like being treated as a little slut?'' His voice was raspy and full of lust before he pushed forward, drawing all air from your lungs with a loud yelp as he buried himself deep inside you.

''Commander-'' Despite your efforts, the call was loud, urgent. He didn’t start slowly. He was rough, punishing, desperate, taking you with everything he had, as though he was claiming you right where anyone could walk in to see it.

Phillip sped up his pace exponentially, sweat breaking out across his forehead. ''Answer me-'' You became a boneless mess under the power of his ruthless thrusting, slamming into you with such force that you were sure there would be bruises where his hip bones met yours tomorrow.

''Fuck- Yes, damn you!'' You mewled loudly, then covered your mouth with one hand, fearful of passersby. He pulled your hand away, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up into his eyes as he took you against the shaking table.

''I can tell by the look on your face." He said gruffly. ''You can’t get enough of me can you?'' You placed your forehead on his shoulder, embarrassed to look at him.

''Look at me, Y/N.'' He said in response to this. You slowly looked back at him. ''Good girl.'' He muttered, grabbing your hips and pounding into you.

His hips bucked slowly, riding his twitching length inside your warm folds as he withheld his own noises. ''Beg for it, go on." He gave a firm, sharp smack to your ass, gripping on it tightly whilst using the sound to hide the low groan he released.

He didn't want to hold back any longer, but he refused to let you have your way, especially when you were already so close to come undone under his touch. Your dripping cunt was leaking onto him with every deliberate thrust, letting him glide in and out with ease.

He hunched back over you , pressing his chest down onto you as much as he could without breaking his hold on your arms. "Fucking beg-" He gave a feral groan before sliding out of you without the intention of going back in. A strangled whine escaped you, once again, jerking your hips back against him, trying to provoke him, to get him inside, get him to continue, anything. He refused to relent.

"Whimpering doesn't count, doll." He whispered against your ear. His tone is hard, unyielding. Prick.

His stubbornness was torturous for the both of you. It was a battle to see who could break their composure first and he was about to go fucking berserk. Eventually, you lost it. It wasn't until he had pulled back and dragged his tip to the entrance of your sopping cunt once more that he finally heard you gasping a loud breath as he slowly prodded against the heat.

"Please- Fuck, just- please!'' Your desperate response seemed to please him enough, the sudden build-up of pressure and heat in your body was allowed to be released as his length was quick to plunge into your body, sending the entire table to lurch backwards slightly.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were obscene, not really caring that the two of you were doing such a private thing in a place that anyone could walk into at any moment.

He was not gentle, or tender but you hadn’t expected Phillip fucking Graves to be that. His thrusts came fast and hard as he took his pleasure cause that was what he thrived in. Take and take and take, though you gave gladly, growling out praise in ragged whispers that you couldn't barely grasp.

You grabbed tightly onto his shoulders, screaming out in delight as he fucked you into you in a brutal. You felt your legs tingle and your mind go numb. All you could focus on was the warm feeling in your stomach, the bundle of nerves within you going crazy.

The hot tears continued to pour down your cheeks with each merciless thrust ripping through your body as your teeth pierced the soft skin of your lip, the taste of iron touching your taste buds whilst the wet slaps of his body against yours filled the room, accompanying the pain shooting through your core.

''Crying? Is this too much for you, baby?'' There was sarcastic, mock-disappointment in his tone, the repetitive press into you and the wonderfully satisfying stretch of his cock only deepening the catharsis of the intimacy you were sharing with him.

He grabbed your hips and started pounding you with newfound vigor. You could feel yourself clenching around him. It wouldn't be long before you peaked. You dipped a hand between your legs and started rubbing your clit, willing the moment to come faster. You closed your eyes and sighed, both in pleasure and exasperation.

''Too good- Commander-'' This time, you needed no further prompting and there wasn’t a single hint of brattiness in your tone as you submitted to his request fully, whining for him. Waves of ecstasy pulsed through your body, overwhelming you. Noises you didn't recognize poured out of your lips as your body began to spasm and convulse around him.

''That's my fucking girl.'' His last words came out in a rough growl as he pulled out of you again, before thrusting back in, so hard that you started seeing stars and shriek with pleasure.

The room was filled with your sounds, no longer able to control the moans and whimpers that left you as pounded into you, white dots clouding your vision to your orgasm overwhelming your body hard, shattering as he thrusted and swirled, setting off a wild pulsing in your clit that triggered your insides, and you came all over his cock with a scream followed by a shudder of shaky breath.

Graves kept his ever-the-rougher pace, holding you tighter and tighter, but you felt the slight stutter in his hips that suggested that he was close to his own climax. He started gasping out sentences, heavy statements that surmounted to desperation. ''You're mine, fuck- all mine-''

You could feel yourself growing light-headed in the best way as his embrace restricted your breathing to a further degree, and you gasped sharply as he said your name, the syllables transforming into a vicious growl just as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, deep enough to draw blood and deep enough to make you cry out in pain. 

Cleansing, freeing pain, the kind that purged every transgression you knew you’d enacted against him, and him against you.

He followed shortly after as he began to shake subtly, his movements sporadic and wild as he lost control of his body. You surrendered yourself to his control as he pumped aggressively into you, dictating what he needed from your body as he arrived upon completion whilst tightening the grip on your hair almost painfully as he emptied himself inside you.

The weight of his body collapsing against you felt almost comforting in that moment, gasping and absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles into your scalp where he’d just been tugging your hair by the roots.

''So..'' he started, his voice strained and weak. ''Learned your lesson yet?'' Cocky bastard.

You chuckled quietly, and you could feel him smile against your skin.

''Think I might need a few more lessons, Commander.'' Shamelessly, you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up as he lifted his head to take another look at you.

''I might have to thank the fucking Scot after all.''

[queers-gambit]

Lost and Found

prompt: ( requested ) you're just friends, but on your first night at Saltburn, you get lost in the vast halls and accidentally walk in on lover boy after a bath. he wants you to stay.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 3.6k+

note: this SHOULD'VE gotten slutty, but it DIDN'T because i'm back in the hospital and the LAST thing i need is a nurse walking in on me writing fucking smut - oh, my God, can you imagine? new fear unlocked!

warnings: RIP Queen Lizzie, cursing, sexual tension, emotions are hard, Lord's name in vain, depiction of mental illness (anxiety), author throws in a little personal detail cause writing is therapy.

"Honestly, who lives in a place like this? The bloody Queen, that's who. Her and all her fucking rooms! Jesus!" You grumbled, dipping down another winding hallway. "All right, this looks familiar, that's... Encouraging, right?" You frowned, glass of water in hand after venturing to the kitchen to fetch it - but now, you couldn't navigate your way back to your room. "Of course," you growled quietly, opening a door and finding a linen closet.

How silly, in a place like this! A fucking linen closet!

You huffed and shut the door, feeling incredibly awkward and terribly misplaced. You mind screamed that didn't belong here, you never should've set foot in a place like this! How fucking foolish you felt, like a silly little girl who was just excited her crush spoke to her, let alone invited you home with him for the summer holiday.

But it was Felix fucking Catton - certified enigma. He was all man with a boyish charm who smiled at you on move-in day at Oxford and sealed your fate. He was ridiculously nice, so very sweet, borderline annoying with his giving nature and kindness. He was loyal to a fault, intuitive, observant, admirably carefree, and so very happy to give his love to anyone who needed it. For a few weeks, you felt almost offended by his attention, wondering what kind of broken soul he thought you were; knowing he had an affinity for "damaged" or "broken" things.

At least, that's what his cousin, Oxford's registered and certified catty bitch, Farleigh Start, teased you about relentlessly when he noted the way Felix hung around you. Felix invited you out with friends, offered to study together, walked you to and from classes - even if his were in the literal opposite direction. You had no honest idea how the two were related, given Farleigh's constant attitude and Felix's overwhelming kindness, but that wasn't for you to understand. You just relished the attention Felix bestowed in-between your skepticism.

And here you are, your first night in his home, Saltburn, completely lost and totally turned-around! You didn't need water all that bad, did you? Granted, you had a several tablets to take that evening to maintain your health, but you could've used the fucking sink in the adjoining bathroom! You grew frustrated the more doors you opened, finding empty rooms or closets or another fucking library or studies or whatever! As if this home wasn't big enough, there were multiple levels and all you knew was that you and Felix were both located on the same floor with his parents above you and his sister and Farleigh beneath.

So, that helped.

But you still felt so fucking silly.

Seriously, who got LOST in someone else's home!? Fools, that's who!

Okay, okay, okay, you didn't need to be so hard on yourself, but you grew nervous and fearful for a reason you didn't understand. Your anxiety was planted in your stomach, festering, growing, taking over you to the point that you had tears in your eyes when you found yet ANOTHER fucking study!

"Oh, even the bloody fucking Queen doesn't have this many useless rooms, and she's a much bigger family, Jesus fucking Christ," you sneered to yourself - ready to give up and just sleep in one of the empty rooms. But you didn't want Duncan finding you in the morning, asking questions, forcing you to admit you were lost - you felt humiliated enough as it was! And that was without anyone witnessing this absolute mess you had made!

Well, not technically a mess - but you felt like a mess the more you crept around. And now, you felt fucking creepy - like some stalker, sneaking around the halls, trying to spy on this very nice family. You knew you weren't, but the feeling was still there - fucking anxiety would honestly be the death of you.

However, you came upon a familiar (enough) door that had a gentle light emitting from under it. With a sigh of relief, you suddenly remembered leaving a light on for yourself to return to; reaching for the doorknob, twisting it, and darting into the room while swiftly swinging the door close - but halting it to shut quietly as to not disturb anyone in the empty halls.

Yeah, anxiety was a bitch.

"Ohh-ho, evenin', love," a voice greeted, making you gasp, jump, and twist around. "Miss me that much? Heard the drain on the tub, didn't yah, had to come sneak a peek?"

Felix fucking Catton stood at the end of a messy bed in all his glory, running a towel through his wet curls. Nothing obscuring your sight, nothing hiding his manhood, nothing - literally nothing on his body except a shit-eating grin.

"Jesus, Fi! Fuck, I-I-I'm so - um," you gulped, trying not to ogle him, but failing (miserably) when beads of water rolled between the contours of his impossibly impressively sculpted muscles. "I just - you know, this place is so bloody big - um, I'm sorry - I just... Yeah..."

He smirked, nodding sarcastically, "Uh-huh. And you just happened to stumble into my room? Pretty good timing, too, wasn't it?"

You squeaked, "I didn't mean to! I swear - Felix, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to, um, yeah, you know - uh..."

"Like what you see, sweetheart? Why don't you come in closer, get a better look?"

You adverted your eyes out of respect and fumbled messily for the door handle. "Oh, sweet Jesus. Bloody house is just too bloody big, I got all turned around - just needed some water and I just - fuck, I'm sorry - "

"Hey, hey," Felix chuckled, wrapping his towel loosely around his hips so his V-line was still on raunchy display, "I'm only teasin', love. I know this place can get confusin' t'newcomers. I actually meant to grab you some water, know you gotta take your tablets."

You swallowed your embarrassment, sighing, "I'll just - yeah - no - I'll, um, just go - I'm so sorry, again."

"You know where you're goin' all of a sudden?"

You faced the door, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, shaking your head gently, "Well, no, but I'll figure it out - I left a, um, I left a light on, you know, to help - I don't know - uh, guide me?"

"You've not stuttered this much since we first met," he laughed, tugging a pair of boxers on for your sanity (and to your dismay). "I'm dressed, doll, you can look at me now. C'mon, bit weird talkin' to your back."

"We're not talking, Felix, I'm going to bed."

"Then why haven't you left yet?"

You blinked at the intricately carved door, realizing your hand was still on the knob, but it hadn't turned. "I didn't want to be so rude as to just walk out, mid-sentence!"

"Hey, hey, you're all right, darlin', I'm only teasin'," he grinned, hearing his bare feet pad over the ground before his warm hand wrapped around your elbow. "C'mon, love, hang with me a bit - 's not that late, is it?"

"Oh, so, Duncan can walk in? Make his assumptions?" You whispered, slowly facing him and leaning back on the door with a pout. His big, brown, doe-eyes stared directly into yours, making you feel under his spotlight - something akin to a privilege, since Felix Catton didn't bestow his attention on everyone. "I just needed water, I didn't mean t'get, you know, lost like this. Seriously, this place looks totally different at night."

"Surprised you even got this far, huh?"

"I looked in any room with an open door," you admitted with a small wince. "I felt so creepy, but I was all turned around - and you know, you shouldn't leave other lights on in rooms not being used. Terrible waste of energy."

"Awh, my sweet, environmentally-conscious girl," he cooed, hand raising to gently pinch your jaw. There was a serene moment, the pair of you just staring at one another, becoming acutely aware that he was still practically naked. "C'mon, don't leave yet, we can play cards if you like?"

"I've medicine t'take - "

"Right, right, right," he nodded, letting his hand drift to hold your neck in a gentle grasp. "Tell you what, you stay here, I'll grab your meds, and bring them back? You keep 'em in that li'l pink bag, yeah?"

"I don't know how to feel that you know which is my med bag," you narrowed your eyes playfully.

"Just shows I pay attention, don't it?"

"Maybe shows we spend too much time together?"

He kissed his teeth, grinning at you, "There's no such thing - in fact! I reckon we could double our time together and it still wouldn't feel like enough."

"Well, how's that help me later? I still don't know where my room is - oh, don't laugh!" You groaned, Felix snickering louder. "Fi, c'mon, it's not funny - this place is huge! Like, illegally huge!"

He cooed, "Oh, doll, 'M not laughing at you, promise. Just... You're not the first person t'get lost here, yeah?"

You scoffed with severe discomfort, "I really don't want t'hear 'bout all the other girls you've brought home - "

"Hey, now," he cut you off swiftly, "don't do that." He shrugged meekly, "There's been no others, just friends. Mine, Farleigh's, Venetia's... They've all gotten lost once or twice... Or that time we had to actually draw Reggie a map, poor lad got lost around every bend."

You rolled your eyes, "Truly expect me to believe that, do you?" Then you let your eyes widen a fraction, teasing, "Oh, wow, you really believe it! You really believe you haven't brought home other girls who you're interested in or who are into you?"

He crowded you into the door, shifting the room's energy to something sultry, making you hold your breath as his hand slid into your hair. "You know you're the only one, right?"

"You know that's absolute bullshite, right? Like, what a fucking line!"

He tisked, "C'mon, doll."

"Be honest, Felix."

His head cocked, "Want the truth?"

"That'd be a nice change of pace."

He scoffed lightly, "I don't give a single fuck if any of our previous guests cared for me - only you. Hear me?" He took the last step so he was stood with his feet slotted between yours. "I didn't bring them here for any other reason than friendly entertainment. You've seen the place, as big as it is, can get a bit lonely without anyone to hang with. But I asked you here... For different reasons..." He whispered, eyes jutting down to your lips as he kept a firm hold on you.

"And what reasons are those, Fi?"

He smirked, "Obviously... To kick your arse at cards."

You were flooded with pure disappointment. Raw, unfiltered disappointment that deflated your shoulders. "Yeah, right, like that would ever happen," you covered, nudging him a single step away from you. "Wanna be a gentleman and direct me to my room now?"

"Nope," he grinned, snatching your hand and yanking you away from the door. "You're gonna sit your pretty self right here," he nudged you to the edge of his bed, turning for his desk, then turning back to you to slap a deck of cards to your hand, "you're gonna shuffle these, and mentally prepare to get your arse handed to you at your own game."

You chuckled slightly, "Thought you hated 51 Rummy?"

"Only when sober," he smirked, leaning down to peck your forehead sweetly. "Sit tight, doll, I'll be a moment, yeah?"

You sighed and watched him exit the room, reaching to set your glass of water down and observe the room. In a moment of weakness, you pet over his sheets as if tempted to snuggle into them - and you were! You were cold from the lack of robe you meant to shrug on, and wondering the halls of Saltburn took much longer than you anticipated - now wanting to dive into the warmth you knew was left, the same warmth that Felix left on everything.

You jumped when the door opened again, Felix slipping inside with your little pink bag. His brows pinched, "All right, love?"

"Hmm? Yeah - "

"Your feet are nearly blue," he shook his head, handing you your bag before turning for his wardrobe. "Socks or sweats?"

"Huh?"

He turned, holding up a pair of sweatpants and socks, repeating, "Socks or sweats? Figured you're a bit cold in that." The left side of his mouth quirked up in a smirk, eyeing you in your sleep shorts and loose teeshirt that had the collar ripped out, showing a hint of cleavage.

"Oh, uh, socks, please."

He tossed you the socks, dropped the sweats, and joined you on the bed as you pulled the oversized garment onto your feet. "C'mere, get close, get comfortable," he chuckled, pushing his blankets down to sit in the sheets, waiting until you turned in the bed to yank the blankets up over both your legs. "Didn't shuffle? My naughty girl," he joked, reaching for the deck of cards and opening it. He offered a much softer smile, eyes darting to your medicine bag, and then focusing on the cards - as if to give you privacy to take your meds.

You did so quickly, insecure about the rattling bottles and the amount of tablets in your cupped hand, but never once had Felix made you feel bad about your needs. After swallowing them, you cleared your throat and turned to face Felix as he divided the cards for the game, nodding to his side table, "Paper's over there, doll, for the score."

"Sure you want me to keep score?" You asked softly, reaching for the pad of paper and spare pen. "Last time we played, you lost so very miserably, I was embarrassed for you. We can save your pride a li'l, not keep score."

"It's only polite to let the pretty lady win."

"Oh, tryin' to butter me up, are you?"

"Is it working?"

"I'll let you know."

Felix chuckled, leaning back to the headboard. Then, he asked softly, "You feelin' all right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, all good."

"Sure?"

"Why?"

"Hands are shakin' a bit."

You eyed him for a moment, changing the subject by asking, "How're you not freezing? Seriously, 's like the floors are air conditioned."

"Nah, just not cold."

"Your nipples say otherwise."

"Lookin' at my nipples, are you?" He grinned. "Now you're a very naughty girl, knew you didn't stumble into my room on accident!"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself!" You pushed his shoulder, but he leaned closer. "Felix - "

"You could just stay here," he offered softly.

"You got me for a game - "

"No, I mean, uh..." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head and readjusting so he was supported on one elbow, facing you. "Nah, nevermind, all right, so, back to the game - "

"No, wait, say what you're thinking," you encouraged softly. "Know I hate you doin' that."

"Yeah, you get all anxious," he nodded. "I don't want t'be too forward, all right? But... You know, we sleep together at Oxford. I-In the dorms, you know?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Just thought, maybe you'd wanna stay here? With me? If you want, won't make yah, sweetheart, just thought... You know, in a house this big, you wouldn't get so lost stayin' here... Maybe?"

"Oh, aren't you my hero?"

"I know, I know, I'm just tryna look out for you, my li'l lost love. And, you know, prevent you from finding our secret dungeon," he gasped comically.

"That's not even a joke 'cause I'd believe it in a place like this. Is it a dungeon for torture or sex?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Maybe I'd like to see it. Hm," you considered, "maybe I should stay here, you know - so you can show me around and go get me water when I need it. Save my toes from freezing off, wonderin' 'round here."

He grinned, "Yeah?"

"If it's not too scandalous?"

"'S not like anyone would care... Except me, you know? I'd... I'd like you to stay here. Like havin' you close, sweetheart."

"Well, maybe you could put some clothes on? You're terribly fucking distracting! I'm here to win a card game, and I'll be damned if you win 'cause your abs are... You know, staring right at me, you cheater," you grinned, turning to face him fully with your legs crossed, the space in the sheets open for your cards.

"I think you like me naked," he grinned. "I mean, you stared long enough."

"I was just caught off guard!"

"Oh, I'm sure," his grin turned wicked. "You're still staring, doll."

"Well, it's not as if you're quick to cover yourself!"

"You're not too quick t'look away, either!"

"I was - "

"Caught off guard, yeah, you've said," he chuckled, staring at you with those moony brown eyes that made you feel as if you were the only girl he's ever seen. "Maybe I liked you lookin'."

"Is that so?"

He nodded slightly, "Yeah, not such a bad thing. You're kinda the only one I want lookin' at me like that, anyway."

"You absolute cheesehead!" Your laughter was quiet, trying not to tip Duncan off to your antics.

"You know, they're not just for lookin'," he perked his pierced brow at you. "Feel free to touch whenever you want, too."

"Hm, always knew you were a slut."

He gasped dramatically. "Is that anyway to talk to your host? Especially after giving you refuge from the big, scary, confusing halls?" Your eyes rolled and reached out to pushed his forehead, making him rock back into the pillows and headboard - but he was quick to snatch your wrist as he fell. You were yanked across the slim space, pulled so you were directly resting onto his chest; forearms bracing against his pectorals. He grinned, caressing the back of your head, teasing, "'Ello, love."

"You're a fucking fiend."

"And you're so fucking beautiful."

"I'm already stayin' here, Fi, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

He hummed, "You know... If you were mine, you'd get this treatment all the time. I can't stop - you're just so easy to compliment."

Feeling bold, perhaps from being so close and him being nearly naked, you whispered, "Then maybe you should stop shuffling your feet, grow a pair, and ask me already."

He paused, the moment turning soft as you relax against his body; stretched out the length of him, but still remaining propped on his chest to look down at his sweet face.

"Was a bit afraid to, actually, love."

"Why?"

"Haven't felt like this with anyone," he admitted, "'s just so fuckin' easy with you. Organic, authentic, safe... I was afraid to ruin that, destroy the rapport and friendship we've established. I care about you so much, I just wanted you in my life - no matter what variation that was. Being just my friend, being my girl, just want you with me. Didn't want to jeopardize anything."

"Hm," you considered, nodding slowly, "I get that. Think I felt something similar..."

"So, what do we do?"

"I think we be adults about this," you offered. "If you just want to be friends, we'll stay friends, Fi, but we don't blur lines like we have been. And if you want to give this - us - a try, I think we could. 'Cause you're you, and I'm me, and if things don't work out, we can just go back. Right? Adults do that sorta thing, don't they?"

"Not entirely sure, don't feel like an adult most days," he breathed, petting his fingertips down your cheek. "But I know I want this, with you. I swear, since you came into my life, I've felt - " He paused, shaking his head with a growing smile, "Free? Elated? Light as air?"

"Mhm, I know the feeling," you repeated.

"We doin' this?"

"That's up to you."

"I think it's up to us, actually - "

"I mean, you've gotta ask, Fi, not just assume."

"If you reject me in my own house, in my own bed, doll, I'm gonna be fucking crushed!"

"Oh, my God, just ask me! You fucking knobhead!" You laughed, leaning your head on his chest. His other arm moved behind his head to keep it propped up, looking at you with so much adoration, it knotted your stomach. The hand that had been in your hair drifted down to keep a secure hold on your waist; fingers scratching in soothing motions.

"Wanna be my girl?"

"Hmm, I think you could phrase it better."

He grinned brightly, "Would you be my girlfriend?"

"Oh, that's a little too formal. Maybe try - "

"Oh, c'mere, you," he growled, swiftly using both arms to seize under your arms and literally drag you up his body. "C'mon, baby," he whispered, lips ghosting yours, "be my baby."

"Fuck, no, that's way too cheesy!"

"I thought you liked me cheesy?" He gaped, your hand petting his cheek now; shoulders straining to keep you upright, over him.

"Correction, I love you cheesy," you whispered, lowering your head to press a quick kiss to his lips. He hummed in relief, but you pulled back to promise, "I'd love to be your girl, Fi. Only took you the whole bloody school year, didn't it?"

"Hey, good things to those who wait, right?"

"Don't quote Professor Mercy at me when we're in bed with barely anything on, Jesus fucking Christ," you grumbled, unable to restrain your grin when he pulled you in for another kiss - but this time, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

Maybe getting lost in Saltburn was more beneficial than you originally thought, and maybe Professor Mercy and ages of philosophy was right because this felt like the absolute best thing, and you'd wait a hundred lifetimes if it meant having Felix in your arms - like he was now, kissing you like it was his lifeline.

How extraordinarily warm, you felt, to be lost in this world, in this extraordinary home, and found, by Felix fucking Catton.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

[cozy-writes-things]

genuinely zero pressure but I would LOVE to see you write something NSFW.

Also... If I may request more Edgar x Reader content... 🥺

Maybe some of him comforting the reader, and vice versa. I would love to see a genuine discussion about dark topics such as, well, how Edgar really did almost take himself out of the picture. Or maybe they talk about how mean Moles was to him, borderline an abusive partner (I can't be the only one who saw that, right?). It's lovely to be able to relate to a silly fictional computer like that.

Thanks sm if you take this >:3 💖💖

Aaa thanks so much for the request! I do have an idea for an NSFW fic, but for now, I can fulfill your angsty request >:) If anybody would like to see an NSFW please let me know!!

This may be a two-parter. Let me know if you'd like to see a continuation!

CW: Minor references to some serious topics like depression, suicide, and other angst.

Am I a toy to you?

"Edgar, why do you apologize so much?"

Edgar paused the show you both were watching on his little screen.

This was a question that surprised the computer, yet he couldn't say he didn't see this coming. Or at least, some version of this scenario playing out, as he'd rehearsed it a million times over, again and again, one simulation after another, about what he'd say, or do, or even think. He had refrained from talking about him, or her, as he felt, in the end, it was best to forget. Forget everything they did to him and made him feel.

He didn't want to burden you. He felt an inkling deep within his processors that if you found out, you would follow in their footsteps, and leave him behind. He knew, logically, that you were different. Sometimes, he swears his webcam picks up a faint, glowing halo above your head, but that may simply be his reverence for you. And yet, he also knows one thing: everything he has ever loved has abandoned him.

Sometimes, when you've drifted off to sleep, and the room stills into a tranquil quiet, he finds himself thinking. Thinking about things he knows he shouldn't. Would they still be with him had he never done what he did? Would they still love him, had he not destroyed his chances, and himself, in the process? His screen always flickers into a dim glow at these thoughts. They didn't care about him the way you did. How could he ever think of loving another when you're here, with him, soundly sleeping in the other room? Despite this, sometimes he regrets it, his own self destruction, and how much he hurt them both. Was that all he was made for? Destruction?

"I... I guess I never noticed."

He replied, meekly, a faint quiver in his speech, and he silently hoped you wouldn't notice. If you did, you didn't say anything, and just continued to bore deep into his soul, if he had one, with your eyes.

You sucked in a deep breath, contemplating your next words carefully.

"You're not... afraid of me, are you?"

His screen flashed for a moment, an incomprehensible image, before returning to display his digital face.

"What- wh- no, of course not, why would you ask that?"

He chuckled slightly at this question, yet you could hear the apprehension in his voice, as if he were desperately trying to cling onto any semblance of ease he had. His digital smile never faltered.

"I just... I'm worried about you, Edgar. Why..."

Your voice trailed off. You knew what you wanted to ask, but how could you? You didn't want to pry, and potentially ruin a rare friendship that you will most likely never experience again.

"Why what?"

You furrowed your brows. You could sense, from the very beginning almost, that he had been hurt in some way. From the way he was always trying to please you, do things for you, write you songs, do any chores within his capabilities; it was as if he were trying to prove himself to you.

"Why were you broken? When I bought you, from that old man, you were completely destroyed... Do you remember that?"

A thick, uneasy silence filled the air. You felt as though you could touch the fuzzy prickles of electricity buzzing about between the two of you.

"Old man?"

He whispered, either to himself, or you, it was uncertain.

"Yes. Do you not remember? I bought you at this yard sale from the old man a few blocks away-"

"What was his name?"

"Ed- what? I... I don't remember off the top of my head, but-"

"TELL ME HIS NAME NOW!"

You jumped, clamping your mouth shut, and felt the flustered burn spread across your entire face. Your throat dried and shriveled up as you sat staring at the screen before you; it flashed red, ever so quickly, before displaying his digital face again, flipped into a frown. Or, to you, it seemed more like a scowl. He had never raised his voice like that. Hell, you would have guessed he wasn't even able to scream so violently. He had been so soft spoken and gentle with you, never, could you have imagined an outburst like this.

And it seems your prior fears had been realized. You pushed him too hard, said something you shouldn't have said, and now he hates you. Whoever that old man was that sold you your new best friend must have something to do with... whatever inner turmoil he must be facing. A turmoil he has yet to share with you, if he ever will. It seems trying to understand him has only led to you pushing him farther away.

"Ma-maybe I can, ah," you swallowed the thick lump in your throat, trying desperately to moisten your teeth again to croak the words out, "check my bank statements. Maybe his name is there."

Don't cry. This isn't about you. Quit being so selfish!

Your fingers quickly swiped away at the warm, salty tear leaving an icy trail down your cheek. You have to pull yourself together. Unfortunately, this whole ordeal seemed to be bubbling up your own problems to the surface, reminding you of a past you thought you had forgotten. Maybe you can share each other's pain, if only he'd let you.

Before you could stand to get your phone, Edgar's screen flashed again, before his face changed into an emotion you hadn't seen before.

"Wa-wait, no, don't cry... I'm sorry, I-"

He needs to stop apologizing. You said it yourself, he does it way too often, and yet, he feels as though this is the one moment where it was warranted the most. He was so afraid of hurting you, or making you realize how useless he is, a stationary object, meant for nothing but a quick fix of pleasure.

He turns the lights off, shrouding you in a thick, blue hued abyss.

"Come here. Please?"

As you faced away from him, you could hear the pain in his voice. It pulled at your core, drawing yourself into him, and drowning in it. It was a familiar sound.

You turn around and stare at his, now downtrodden, pixelated expression. Your cheeks stained with trails of salt seemed to take his breath away. A breath he did not have, yet it cemented deep within his electric essence and stuck there, thrumming again and again.

How could he do this? Any chances he may have had with you now seemed to be floating away into the far beyond. Briefly, he wondered if you were even capable of loving something like him. Not a man, nor a machine, but something in between, incapable of ever showing just how much he felt for you. But he tried nearly every day. Had you noticed? Had you caught on to just how in love he was with you?

"I'm sorry if I upset you, Edgar."

Your voice trembled out, sending his inner components into an overdrive of heat and worry and energy.

"I'll tell you everything. Everything I can remember, at least."

You sighed, blinking the last of your tears away gently.

"It's okay if you don't want to-"

"No! No. I can... I want you to know. You deserve to know... what's going on. I need to tell you, because..."

"Because what?"

"I love you."

[thebearer]

just thinking about carmy x shy reader who used to have the biggest crush on him when they went to school!! and carmy thought she liked mikey !

oh my god i can totally see him and now i can only think of two ghosts by harry styles ahhhh. little fluff blurb ahead for the soul <3

they go to prom together, their senior year just as friends. carmy bc donna is making him, and you... bc carmy asked you out lol. mikey set the whole thing up, he knew how much you likes carm. you were always coming over and following carmen around like a lost puppy. mikey felt bad for you, sorta, felt bad that you were so hopelessly in love with his oblivious younger brother.

carmen moved to new york and you stayed in chicago, only to reconnect years later at none other than mikey's funeral. carmen looked bad, sad and distant, but there was a glimmer of his old self when he talked to you. familiar. good.

it was a challenge, pushing yourself into the life of carmen berzatto again. two old friends catching up over coffee, first. then going to a ghost tour, because mikey used to swear it was the most entertaining shit (swore he'd see uncle jimmy on there eventually too lol). you'd help him at the beef when he'd call, helplessly needing assistance fixing some odd appliance. he'd make you greasy italian sandwiches and you'd spilt them sitting at the sticky booths, reminiscing.

it wasn't until weeks later, when things started to take a turn for the best. when carmen realized that "oh shit she's like into me into me???" he'd kissed you that night, in your apartment living room. it was rushed and a little sloppy. he'd blushed so hard after that, stammering and nervous in the low light of the room. you'd only grinned, pulling him back in.

"i- fuck- i didn't want to-to come across like that. i just... i'm sorry. i don't know why i... it felt- i don't know, i'm sorry." carmen is a stuttering mess, feeling his heart rate rise and like he might throw up at any given second.

"why are you sorry? i liked it, carmy, c'mon." you just give him a sideways, lopsided grin.

"what? are you- are you fuckin' with me right now? don't... you liked it?"

"of course i liked it. sophomore me is shitting herself right now."

"in a good way?"

you laugh, nodding. "in a very good way. c'mon, bear, don't fuck with me right now." you glare at him playfully. "you don't have to act like you didn't know i was in love with you."

"what?" carmen's eyes bulging tells you otherwise. "you-you... no, you didn't like me. you liked mikey."

"mikey?" you repeat. "carmen... i liked mikey because, i mean he was mikey, everyone liked mikey. but i had a crush on you."

carmen wasn't sure what to say, heart pounding hard in his throat, strangling the words. "really?"

you nodded, grinning gently. "i mean, you were too obsessed with claire bear to notice-"

"-oh, c'mon. don't do that." carmen cringed shaking his head.

"you did!" you laughed, jabbing his chest lightly. "you'd always talk to her in math and sketch all those pictures." you tried not to sound as hurt as your fifteen year old self had been. how you'd cried into your pillow when you found them. how you tried to make yourself look just like claire, act like her too so maybe carmen might notice you.

carmen blushed, looking down at his shoes. "well, i, uh... if it makes you feel any better. i-i was drawin' you too, ya know." he couldn't look at you, blushing positively boyishly at the admission.

it was silly. so silly and so sweet and it shouldn't have made you feel the way you did, but it did. you kissed him, two hands on the side of his cheeks, tumbling back on the sofa with him. a long, overdue kiss.

the next day, carmen asked you to come by the beef, telling you there was something that got dropped off for you while trying to figure out bills.

you opened the envelope to find a faded, crumpled piece of notebook paper, the light etchings of you on it with the algebra homework from mr. weir's junior year class.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hiya! Could you do a one-shot of Alastor x fem! reader who is like Art the clown (from the terrifier movies, all hallows eve and the ninth circle)?

Perhaps they met when Alastor first got to hell and reader wanted to kill him at first but due to his old fashioned ways (the courting and such) along with him being quite sadistic when it comes to killing, she became more curious about him and it led to a relationship?

How would their relationship be? Would it become more of a one sided thing? Would she try to harm him after he comes back from his seven year absence? I’d love to see your interpretation on this!

~ 🕷️

Terrify Me~

(Anon, I promise I did not forget you! I have never seen these movies and call myself a horror fanatic! So I watched them all as I had the time to try and be better at this writing! I hope you enjoy and stay hydrated!) TW: Torture, Death, assault, Suggestive, Sad, Comfort

Hell was far more entertaining than back up on the earth, though yes, it sucked dying to those damn cops. This was where it was at. You had free reign to torture and torment those around you; the good deal was that people didn’t die permanently as long as you used the right tools. This led to such an easy time finding prey to stalk. It also allowed you to develop incredible powers as people begged and pleaded with you for deals on being free from torment. 

You were a terrifying creature, a black-and-white marionette doll with no voice box. Your movements and attention to detail got you through your life in hell. You were sadistic and cruel to whoever became your prey for the time you spent stalking them, hunting them, and slowly driving your enemy mad. You were so good at the job that people recognized you as an Overlord before even discussing it with you. Of course, who would dare get in your line of sight less you make them the next target? 

You didn’t care about hell’s silly hierarchy or games; you only cared about getting your fill. Your mind was on the prize of listening to beautiful screams and cries. Like a masterful puppet pulling strings, your looks did not portray your abilities all that well. You may have looked like the prey, but you were the top predator. You were deadly, mind, body, and soul.

Years had passed of your reign as the queen of torture till a new man arrived on the scene. Alastor, the radio demon, died not too long after your rise to fame and began to make waves in the underworld as he broadcasted screams of the damned and tortured. His show quickly became one of your favorites, and you would play it as you killed and murdered innocent demonic souls, hoping to make a deal with you for safety. 

Eventually, though, your love and passion for the radio demon's show turned to disgust and hate as he began to take your place in the world of torturing the damned. You had found a new prey to stalk, and it was someone who was equally matched. 

Your stalk began small, with just hushed whispers and knowledge of the man you wished to end. You found photos and some video of him, but it was grainy and distorted. He was a handsome man. He would be so beautiful strung up. As you thought of many ways to torture and abuse him, the next phase of your plan was in order.

Though you were an ‘overlord,’ you never attended meetings. However, you did start when it came to hunting Alastor. Watching his every move and emotion, you saw he was good at mimicking and faking just like you. Yet you had to say you were just that much better at it. When you two first officially met, you could visibly see the disdain on his face when you couldn’t speak. Like many powerful beings, Alastor puts weight on words, something you have no control over, always giving you the upper hand. 

You found every excuse to be around and speak to the man. Eager to move on to stage three of your plan to capture and torment this soul. Actively seeking Alastor out, you began to carry a notepad to speak with him. Small conversations that would sometimes run long. You enjoyed his voice, at least. You thought it would sound lovely, screaming in pain and agony. 

Though you had these sick, twisted thoughts about Alastor, you couldn’t help but be curious about the other feelings he elicited. You wanted to hear him sing, watch him smile, and enjoy his murder. His many good qualities interested you even more. You even sought medical help in the man before you as you didn’t understand these stirrings you had around him and him alone.

As the final plan commenced where you would capture and torture him, you were caught off guard by a single black rose being placed before you. Looking at it and holding it gently, you felt your undead heart flutter. This situation happened many times over and over.

You would go to kill or capture Alastor, and right there, every time you would execute your plan, he would have a trinket or doo dad for you to keep as your own. He began to touch you gently, shoulders, face, sides. Things started to shift in you; you were being courted, and it wasn’t until you experienced this love that you realized it happened: Alastor had you under his spell. 

Your plans of killing Alastor were long gone; now, you just wanted to have the joy of torturing others together. Come a year of your stupid game; you were now officially Alastor's partner in crime. It was charming how he always let you get the first stab and helped you stalk and scare others. He even taught you how to cook and kill the dead sinners. Things were well between you two, so well that domestic life began to become a norm for two sadistic sinners. Yet it all changed one day suddenly. You had been out on a kill someone you and Alastor had stalked for months. However, when you returned covered in blood and a dead body in tow, Alastor was nowhere to be found. You waited a year in that small home you two made, and he never appeared.

After seven long years, you returned to the top of the food chain; you were vicious and cold-hearted. Bloodthirsty. You allowed yourself to be blindsided by a man who couldn’t even say goodbye. Anger consumed you as the years passed, and you became known as the terrifier. You were deadly on a much larger scale than your first time on the scene. You were always longing for Alastor just to come back home. You were longing openly to all that you would kill him and make him pay.

While on the town killing, you heard a familiar buzz. Your blood ran cold as the familiar sound flooded your senses. Running to the old home, you two shared the life long forgotten: you hoped so badly to see him standing there as he once did. Would you kill him? Let him live? Fall into his arms again?

As you entered the house, he wasn’t there. It was still empty, still intact, the same as you left it six years ago. Sighing, you left and walked to the nearest brothel to kill some easy dirtbags. That's when you saw the shadow. Was this a game? Some sick, twisted game to make you think Alastor had come back for you.

Following the shadow, you grew more rabid and curious. Eventually, you found yourself atop a hill where the Hazbin Hotel sat. Walking in, it was silent; it was late at night, and you assumed everyone was asleep. Stepping further into the forbidden territory, you looked around cautiously. It was homey and bright, too bright for your liking, yet some of the decor looked like what you saw in your old home with Alastor.

You felt the presence before you heard it, and suddenly, a bright smile overtook your face. He was here; he was back. Seeing before you Alastor, the radio demon, your lost love, you took a step towards him, afraid it was fake. You don’t know what emotion overtook you the most. You wanted to tear him apart, yet seeing him there, everything felt so surreal. His smile, for once, was authentic, and as he opened his arms out for you and you rushed in, you heard the faintest, “Oh, how you still terrify me…”

[inmyfxith]

How they would react if... They see you crying

Including -> Neteyam, Lo'ak, Kiri, Neytiri, Jake, Miles, and Tsireya.

If Neteyam saw you crying, he would probably be very concerned and try to find out what was wrong. He would likely approach you in a caring and gentle manner, trying to comfort you and offer his support. As someone who cares deeply about his loved ones, Neteyam would be distressed to see you upset and would do everything he could to help you feel better. He might try to distract you with a joke or a story, or just listen attentively as you talk about your feelings.

You were sitting on the beach, tears streaming down your face as you tried to make sense of the hurt and betrayal you were feeling. You didn't notice when Neteyam approached, his footsteps quiet on the sand.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle as he sat down beside you.

You sniffled and shook your head, unable to put your feelings into words. Neteyam wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, letting you cry on his shoulder.

"It's okay, I'm here for you," he whispered, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together."

You nodded, feeling a small sense of comfort wash over you as you leaned into Neteyam's embrace. You told him about the pain and heartache you were feeling, and he listened attentively, offering words of support and encouragement.

Eventually, the tears slowed and you were able to compose yourself. Neteyam held you until you were ready to stand, and then helped you to your feet.

"Thanks, Neteyam," you said, sniffling as you wiped away the last of your tears.

"Of course," he replied, giving you a small smile. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

If Lo'ak saw you crying, he might initially feel unsure of how to react. He would ultimately want to do whatever he could to help you feel better. He might try to comfort you by saying something kind or offering a hug, or he might simply listen to you. Lo'ak would likely feel deeply empathetic towards you, and would want to do whatever he could to support you. He might try to make you laugh with a silly joke. Even if he wasn't sure how to fix the problem, Lo'ak would want to be there for you and support you in any way he could.

Lo'ak sat on the edge of the bed, watching as tears streamed down your face. He had never seen you cry before, and it broke his heart to see you so distressed.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, reaching out to brush a tear from your cheek.

"I don't know," you sobbed, shaking your head. "I just feel so overwhelmed. Everything feels so heavy and I don't know how to cope."

Lo'ak's face softened as he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. "I'm here for you," he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "You can tell me anything, and I'll always be here to listen and support you."

He could feel you starting to calm down, and he smiled gently. "I know you're feeling down, but can I tell you a joke? It might help cheer you up a little."

You sniffled, nodding your head.

"Okay," Lo'ak said, clearing his throat. "Why did the Na'vi stop using traditional hunting methods?"

You looked at him quizzically, and he chuckled. "Because they found out they could just Na'vi-gate to the Hell's gate and steal human's food."

You let out a small laugh, and Lo'ak grinned, pulling you in for another hug. "I'll always be here for you," he whispered. "You're never alone."

If Kiri saw you crying, she would probably approach you with a caring and compassionate demeanor. She would try to comfort you and ask what was wrong, offering her support and assistance in any way she could. Kiri would likely be deeply affected by seeing someone she cares about in distress, and would do everything in her power to help you feel better. She might suggest taking a walk or spending some time in nature, as she believes that being surrounded by the beauty of Pandora can help to heal the soul.

Kiri walked through the lush forest of Pandora, her eyes scanning the ground for any signs of her friend. She knew something was wrong when she saw the tracks leading away from the village, and she followed them until she found you.

You were sitting on a fallen tree, your shoulders shaking with sobs as tears streamed down your face. Kiri's heart ached at the sight, and she rushed over to your side, wrapping her arms around you in a comforting embrace.

"What's wrong?" Kiri asked softly, her voice full of concern.

You couldn't find the words to explain, but Kiri didn't need them. She simply held you tight, letting you cry as she stroked your hair and whispered soothing words of comfort.

After a while, your sobs began to subside, and Kiri helped you to your feet. "Come on," she said gently. "Let's take a walk and enjoy the beauty of Pandora. It always helps me feel better."

You nodded, and the two of you set off on a leisurely stroll through the forest. Kiri pointed out the different plants and animals, and told stories about her adventures. You found yourself smiling and laughing, despite the pain that lingered in your heart.

As the sun began to set, Kiri led you back to the village. "I'm here for you, always," she said, giving you a hug.

If Neytiri saw you crying, she would likely approach you with a concerned and compassionate demeanor. She would try to comfort you and ask what was wrong, offering her support and assistance in any way she could. Just like Neteyam, Neytiri would be deeply affected by seeing someone she cares about in distress, and would do everything in her power to help you feel better.

Neytiri was walking through the village of Metkayina when she saw you, sitting on the ground and crying. She immediately rushed over to you, concern etched on her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked gently, crouching down beside you and placing a hand on your shoulder.

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself as you explained the reason for your tears. Neytiri listened intently, offering words of comfort and understanding. She wrapped her arms around you in a comforting embrace, letting you cry on her shoulder as she tried to ease your pain.

"Do not worry, I am here for you," Neytiri said softly. "I will help you in any way I can. You are not alone." You took a deep breath and began to open up about all the struggles and challenges you had been facing. Neytiri listened attentively, offering words of comfort and advice when needed. And by the time you were finished, you felt a little bit lighter, knowing that you had someone who cared about you and was willing to listen.

Neytiri gave you a warm smile and squeezed your hand. "I'm here for you," she said. "Whenever you need someone to talk to, I'm always here to listen." As you began to calm down, Neytiri led you to a nearby stream, where she gently wiped away your tears and helped you compose yourself. She remained by your side, offering support and guidance as you worked through your emotions.

If Jake saw you crying, he would likely approach you with a concerned and protective demeanor. He would try to comfort you and ask what was wrong, offering his support and assistance in any way he could. Jake is fiercely protective of those he cares about and he would be distressed to see you upset. He might suggest talking about your feelings or distracting you with a favorite activity, or simply offering a comforting embrace and listening attentively as you talk. Jake would also likely do whatever he could to address the cause of your tears and ensure that you feel safe and supported.

Jake walked into the hut and immediately noticed that you were crying. He rushed over to your side, his brow furrowed with concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, taking your hand in his.

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself. "I-I don't know," you stammered. "I just feel so overwhelmed and stressed. Everything seems to be going wrong."

Jake wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "It's okay," he said soothingly. "We'll figure this out together. You're not alone."

He held you for a few moments, letting you cry it out, before gently suggesting that you go for a walk with him. "Sometimes getting some fresh air and moving around can help clear your mind," he said.

As you walked, Jake listened attentively as you talked about your feelings and your struggles. He offered words of encouragement and support, and made sure to let you know that he was there for you.

"I promise you, everything will work out," he said, squeezing your hand. "We'll get through this together."

----

(if you have a good gif for Miles, please let me know ! I'm unable to find one)

If Miles saw you crying, he would be concerned and try to comfort you. He would want to be there for you in your time of need and do whatever he could to help you feel better. This might involve offering words of comfort and support, or simply being there to listen and offer a shoulder to cry on.

Miles was walking home from a hike in the Pandoran forest when he heard the sound of sobbing coming from the direction of his hut. He quickened his pace, worried that something might be wrong. When he entered, he saw you sitting on the couch, tears streaming down your face.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Miles asked, rushing over to you and kneeling down in front of you.

"I just had a really tough," you said, sniffling. "I feel like no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get ahead. I'm just so frustrated and exhausted."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Miles said, pulling you into a hug. "I had no idea you were feeling so down. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to burden you," you add. "I know you have a lot on your plate too."

"You're never a burden to me," Miles said firmly. "I love you and I want to be there for you whenever you need me. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Miles held you as you cried, offering words of comfort and support.

"Feeling any better?" Miles asked, rubbing your back soothingly.

"A little," you said, sniffling. "Thanks for being there for me. You always know just what to say and do to make me feel better."

"I'll always be here for you," Miles said, kissing your forehead. "You can count on me, always."

If Tsireya saw you crying, she would be concerned and compassionate, and would try to comfort you and support you in any way that she could. Tsireya is a kind and caring person, and she values strong and supportive relationships. She would want to be there for you and to help you through whatever was causing you to feel upset or emotional. She might ask you what was wrong and try to listen to you and understand your feelings. She might offer you a hug or a comforting touch, or try to find other ways to make you feel more at ease. She might also try to distract you or to find ways to make you laugh, in order to lift your spirits and help you to feel better.

You were feeling overwhelmed and upset, and you couldn't hold back your tears any longer. You tried to wipe them away, but it was no use. Tsireya noticed you crying and immediately walked over to you, a concerned look on her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

You sniffled and nodded, unable to get the words out. Tsireya wrapped an arm around you and led you to a quiet corner, where we could sit and talk in private.

"It's okay," she said, rubbing your back soothingly. "Whatever it is, I'm here for you. Just take your time and tell me what's going on."

You took a deep breath and tried to compose yourself, grateful for Tsireya's presence and support. She listened patiently as you poured out your feelings, never judging or interrupting. When you were finished, Tsireya hugged you tight and told you that she was proud of you for being brave enough to open up and share your thoughts.

"You're not alone," she said, her eyes shining with kindness. "I'll always be here to support you and help you through whatever comes your way."

Tag -> @eywas-heir

[jlepixie]

Can you write about Tom Riddle ? A dark nsfw :)))

hi love! yes of course, thank you for requesting! I hope you like it <3

╰ ୨ Tom Riddle nsfw ୧ ╯

༶⋆˙⊹｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ ✩ ˛˚.

You are a Slytherin, but the difference between you and the others from your house is that you are shy and silent like a bunny. You never start fights, you found it immature and a waste of time. All you want to do is attending the classes you have and try not to fail them, and to not let anyone even realise that you are there. Unfortunately for you, he started watching you. He was watching from the dark corners, waiting the right moment. You watched him as well but only when you passed by him. In your opinion he was handsome but you could never imagine yourself with someone like him. 

When you were asleep he was touching himself, thinking of you. For Tom you were a prey and he loved the feeling of a predator. That thought made him obsessed over you, all he wanted was to have you, to own you. He even started following you everywhere, keeping a generous space for you to not notice him, but you did. Every time. It wasn't scary although you preferred to be alone. 

One day when you were enjoying the company of a book in library, he entered and leaned over the wall, examining you. Every move you make. “It is rude to stare” he hummed and replied “I can't help it, you are relaxing to watch” Knowing he is saying random stuff but that didn't stopped you from forming a blush on your cheeks. That day was the start of your nightmare. He was following you everywhere, like a lost puppy, he was too close for your own good now. You didn't mind it that much. At least he wasn't talking or touching, only following. 

After a week he finally talked “This school and her rules are stupid” “In that case you could just hope it will finish soon” That was the beginning of a weird friendship. You believed he was stupid in the head. Always complaining and com-plotting. Tom was hoping you would beg for him, for his attention, but nothing, that was making him desperate to take you and destroy you. 

The night after reading together and making silly conversation, he decided it was time to own you. At your parents request to the school, you were staying alone in the room, that was making it easier for Tom in completing his plan. You were sound asleep when he got into the one bed room, he started touching your body, putting his cold hand under the loose shirt you were wearing. The friction made you gasp and wake up to find him towering you. You actually were expecting that, you knew what was in a mind of a person like him, it was easy to know what he wants. He grabbed your chin and covered brutally your mouth “Don’t take out a sound” His dark brown eyes were staring deep into your soul and that made you have goosebumps. Shaking your head, assuring you will be quite, he took off the hand from your face but not until getting an easy slap on your cheek. 

“Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment” He loved the scared look on your face. Tom didn't know what he wants more, to make you beg for him, or just take what he wants. You on the other hand, didn't mind what he was trying to do, in fact you were loving it. Someone making you to be submissive was your weakness after all. He was on top of you looking straight to your eyes. Lingering with your lips open, slightly touching but not kissing, your breath was heavier with the every second that passes. “Fuck it” whispering you get your hands around his neck and push his head so that you can kiss him. He looks surprised for a moment but not long after Tom gets his rough hand on your neck squeezing a little. The other hand travels along your body until it reaches the waistband of your trousers. He slides in to feel your cunt. “How pathetic, look at you, all wet for me” He laughs at your reactions. Trying to look away to hide your embarrassment, Tom grips one more time on your neck and forces you to look at him. 

“Don't look away doll, not when you have those glossy eyes.” He demanded “You are so pretty under me” He pushes one finger against your core, teasing you, making you suffer. “Please Tom” you cry out-loud “Please what? hmm use your words pretty girl”, “Please stop teasing” He giggles, getting closer to your ear “I will stop teasing, if you will be only mine”. Your desperation was reading through your shaky voice “Than make me yours Tom Riddle” He didn't waited any longer and pushed two fingers in your now soaked wet hole. 

In the end birds of a feather flock together. 

© 2023 jlepixie.  ─  please do not copy,  repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission. 

[caesariawritesstuff]

would i die if you wrote the "I've been waiting for you to come to your senses." prompt with edward? yes

Senses

Summary: You finally come to your senses about how you feel about Edward.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Fic is not canon to the official Cat&Mouse!Verse, but I like how this turned out, even though it's short and sweet.

You’re an idiot. A fucking idiot. The biggest idiot of them all.

But knowing that didn’t stop your feet from moving towards Edward’s hotel room, as if they had a mind of their own. Heart pounding desperately in your ribcage, you swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to get your thoughts in order. You’d been contemplating this for days now – days which had seemed to drag on, and on, and on. You’d found yourself lying awake at night, tossing and turning, never seeming to find the sweet release of sleep.

Not while Edward Nigma continued to occupy your every waking thought.

You scowled, anger churning in your stomach. Anger at him, at yourself, at everyone – but most of all, directed towards him. Because of the goddamn way he made you feel. He had burrowed his way into your life, into your soul, into your very being, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get him out of your head.

Or your heart.

As you reached the door to his hotel room, you paused, raising your fist. You could turn back. You could chicken out and leave before he knew you’d ever come here. But you were sick of being a coward, and sick of pretending your stupid, silly heart didn’t feel what it did. Sucking in a breath, you knocked on the door, wrapping against it several times with your knuckles. You held your breath, depriving your lungs of precious oxygen, while you waited for him to answer. Several moments later, the door swung open, and you found him standing there. A look of surprise momentarily crossed his face, but it was gone as just as it’d come.

“Detective,” he said, his voice smooth, arrogant. “This is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect a visit from you—”

“Can we talk?” you asked, interrupting him before he could get another word out.

A shadow passed along his face, as if a moment of uncertainty, but he nodded, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth. “Of course.” He stepped aside, opening the door further.

You walked inside, crossing your arms over yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat. He shut the door behind him, and you heard it lock, but something about that didn’t bother you. Instead, it only fueled a fire in your belly, and you didn’t look back at him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes as the words poured out of you.

“Look,” you said. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but I need to say something, and I need you to listen to me. Okay?”

“Very well,” he replied, but you still didn’t turn to look at him.

You sucked in a breath, trying to find the words. Trying to make sense of how your stupid, stupid heart had led you here, into his hotel room once again. Stop being a coward. Spit it out, you screamed at yourself. With a heavy sigh, you turned on your heels and faced him finally, meeting his eyes. There was an intense look to his eyes, his brows raised in expectance.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

“Have you now?” he asked, the arrogance laced within his tone.

You shot him a look, fighting the smirk threatening to twitch at your lips. “Yes, Edward. I am capable of thinking. And I…I’ve been thinking. About us. About everything that’s happened between us.” You paused, unsure of how to continue.

“And?” he asked. You watched his shoulders tense, as if awaiting some kind of verbal blow from you.

“And…” You shook your head, scoffing under your breath. “And…fuck, Edward. This isn’t easy for me to come out and say, okay?” Frowning, you wandered over to the bed and slumped down, perching yourself on the edge, and rested your elbows on your knees.

A soft smile touched the corners of his mouth, and he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with his shoulder. That smug look on his face made your heart race, made the blood boil in your veins, stoking a fire to life inside of you.

You rested your head in your palm, glaring up at him from underneath your lashes. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not going to finish what I was going to say.”

He feigned a look of shock. “My dear, don’t wound me so with such empty threats. If you have something to say about us, all you need to do is say it and—”

You groaned, shooting to your feet as you stalked towards him, “Can’t you keep your mouth shut for five minutes?”

His smug smile grew. “Depends on what you’re going to say. Unless you’d rather I put my mouth to other uses, I’ll happily oblige—”

Angrily, you grabbed onto his shoulders, nudging him back against the wall as you leaned up on your tip toes and crashed your mouth onto yours. If he wouldn’t let you finish your thought, then you would just have to show him – to show him the very reason why you’d come here in the first place. His mouth immediately opened, accepting your kiss, as his tongue snaked out to meet your own. His hands settled themselves on your waist, his fingers digging in, and you moaned softly into his mouth, pressing yourself against his hard, lean body.

“Shut up,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I thought you came here to talk?” he whispered back.

“I did,” you grumbled. “But you’re being annoying, and you talk too much.” You pulled back slightly, enough to look back up into his eyes.

His smirk grew, self-satisfied and arrogant and the kind of look you just wanted to smack off of his face. “Then use your words, detective,” he murmured. “And tell me what you want.”

“I…” you paused, struggling to find the words, but you pushed yourself further against him and said, “I want…you. I want you, Edward. I’m sick of pretending I don’t.”

His eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam, but he sighed, shaking his head. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses and admit what you’ve been avoiding all this time. I know I’m simply impossible to resist.”

You smirked. “Stop gloating,” you said, a playful laugh escaping your lips. “And let me have my way with you.” You reached up, wrapping his tie around your hand, and you tugged him lightly as you walked backwards toward the bed, a sparkle in your own eyes.

His grin grew into an excited smile, but he followed you without struggle, letting you pull him towards his bed. As your lips crashed into his once more, desperate, needy kisses, you supposed he was right: you had come to your senses.

And you were so fucking happy you had.

[mitch-the-silly]

hi!!

id like to request sir pentious x reader headcanons where the reader is sir pentious’ and of course went with him to the hotel to spy on the hotel crew for the vees (let’s just say he wasn’t caught on day one for this..) and the reader starts feeling bad so they take down all of the cameras set up. once pen finds out, he’s absolutely pissed and upset, so he refuses to talk to the reader for about a few weeks, and ends with the reader apologizing (or at least attempting to) and some fluff?

thanks a bunch!!

(I swear I love sir pentious more than life itself he’s such a silly lil thing)

OMG YESSS! Sir Pentious was such a comfort character for me; he deserves the world. Most of my friend group hasn't watched Hazbin yet, and I always get caught lacking because of my "It Starts with Sorry" mini-phase. His parts are actual pieces of heaven to me-

(Post-writing process note: I wrote the best parts while listening to "Christmas Kids" and every time that one pops up on my playlist, I cook really hard with whatever it is I'm writing-)

Enough said, I'm gonna make this a tiny bit of a slow burn. Because... yeah :>

Reader is gn! due to no specification of gender being made in the request.

HOPE YOU ENJOYY!!!

"Amnesty"

Sir Pentious X gn!Reader Fluff

Here are your headcanons!

You had found work under Sir Pentious some decades ago. He wasn’t exactly the most successful overlord, but you were happy to not be part of the lower end of the food chain.

He didn’t own your soul and truly had no interest in such a thing. But you were like an assistant of sorts. Not quite an egg boy, not quite an equal to the man himself. 

Despite this, you thought he was quite charming. While he was not destroying half of Pentagram City, he was sitting in the main hall of his steampunk zeppelin drinking tea and conversing with you. It was a very comfortable life.

And thus, as it was routine for the both of you, he began to pick a fight with Alastor again (a sort of fight which he always lost, but when did that stop The Great Sir Pentious). You stood ready to shoot. Your hand on the only lever the egg boys could not reach.

Pulling that lever was literally your only job. The only reason Sir Pentious had hired you in the first place. That’s just how enjoyable your company was to him.

Alas, the fight with Alastor was another failure, but he didn’t go down without ripping a piece of his coat. Action that Alstor didn’t seem to take kindly. The whole ordeal ended in Sir Pentious being flung out across the Pentagram. Of course, you ran off to find him.

Once you found him, you checked if he was alright. “Sir! Are you alright? That was quite the hit the Radio Demon gave you…” you mumbled at him, checking his person to make sure he was alright. He’d put himself together quite well, so you let him be. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine Y/n. I must persist in this endeavor! We mustn’t flail in our pursuit of power.” He called out, a statement at which you nodded. 

You two tried to walk back to where the zeppelin had landed, but before you could make it there, in front of an electronics store, the both of you saw a TV light up with a very recognizable face. 

Through that TV, Vox (one of the overlords Sir Pentious was trying to catch the attention of by attacking Alastor) explained to both of you that he had a mission for them. To infiltrate into the hotel, blend in, and spy on Alastor and Charlie.

(Valentino butted in to ask that they spy on Angel too-)

The both of you were thrilled to accept this mission. Immediately finding the Zeppelin and making your way back to the Hotel (this time in conditional peace).

Sir Pentious knocked on the Hotel’s main entrance and you waited beside him. 

When Vaggie opened the door, you did NOT get punched. Sir Pentious however, did not get the same luck. 

You both pleaded your cases. Saying that you’d spoken about the possibility of redemption and had considered it the best idea.

Of course, Charlie just couldn’t resist taking you two into the hotel (much to Angel and Vaggie’s dismay). 

That same night, both you and Sir Pentious began to set up Vox’s cameras. You almost got caught, but thanks to your amazing deception skills, you two got away with it (Angel saw you guys, and you pretended you’d lost something).

As the days passed, you seemed to get more used to the way things were. The egg boys, Sir Pentious and you loved it at the hotel. 

You became friends with Angel Dust and found Niffty oddly endearing despite her psychotic tendencies. Vaggie’s protective nature made you feel safe, Alastor was good company, Husk was very interesting to talk to and Charlie was the sweetest person you’d met!

And after speaking to Charlie a couple of times on the subject of your dynamic with Sir Pentious, you realized that you were very much in love with him. 

After such a revelation, your mindset completely changed. Charlie had helped you realize that truly, you didn’t just follow and care for Sir Pentious because he was the overlord you worked for, but because you genuinely cared about him. How could you live with the guilt of betraying, spying, and intruding on the privacy of such a sweet person as well as her friends? Yes, this mission meant a lot to Sir Pentious, but you… you couldn’t do it anymore.

One night, you snuck down to the lobby. You knew exactly where all the cameras were, and you began to carefully take every single one of them down. And just as you were on the last one, you were faced with the last person you wanted to see: Sir Pentious.

He stood in front of the last camera, looking at you in disbelief. “What are you doing messsssssing wissss the camerasssss?” He whisper-yelled at you. Demanding an explanation.

“Sir… I… I can’t with this anymore… They’ve treated us so well… and we’re betraying them.” You argued, trying to keep it as quiet as he was.

“What? Why would you do that? I’m not letting you back out of thissssss. You’re not acting with ssssensssse.” He hissed back.

“Sir Pentious, please… I… We are gaining nothing from this.” You argued.

“Nossssing? Y/n, we are working for Voxssss. That’ssss exsssactly where we’ve been trying to be for the passssst five decadessss. You’re not gonna throw all of that away, are you?” He frowned. He felt so offended that you would even suggest you both ditch the plan.

“No that’s not what I-, Sir… I… hand me the camera, please...” 

“Absssssolutely not.” He spat back. 

“Stop being so loud, we’re going to get caught.” You responded, “Please… let’s talk this over, Penty…” You mumbled. An old nickname you hadn’t called him in ages. It was more of an inside joke between the both of you, but you definitely meant it as a term of absolute endearment.

“No. I don’t care what you call me. I’m not going to fall for it. I don’t know what they told you, but I sssssee now that I’ve losssssst your pledged loyalty. Do not ssssspeak to me, ever again, you traitor.” He responded bluntly.

Normally you would find his melodramaticism funny. But this. This one he meant it. You looked at him, a tear rolling down your cheek. You couldn’t take the pain of the wound his words inflicted on your heart. You loved him, and he hated you now. He deemed you as a traitor. So you ran away in an attempt to spare yourself from him seeing you cry. Running up the stairs, you stumbled into your room. Crying in a corner as you looked at the (now deactivated) cameras that you’d taken down. You sobbed bitterly on the floor until you eventually were too tired to remain awake.

The next morning, you crawled into your bed. You didn’t want to leave it. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic of you, but you’d been around Sir Pentious for so long that you didn’t know if it even was far-fetched. But all of that aside, you couldn’t bear to show your face. You felt that if you saw him, you’d start sobbing on the spot. So you simply stayed tucked below your blankets. 

Charlie came in to check why you hadn’t left your room, and you simply told her you felt sick. 

She had Niffty bring you some stew.

The egg boys went to check on you. You didn’t tell them about the argument you had with Sir Pentious.

They offered to bring you the next bowl of stew. They really cared about you 

(Carl has definitely accidentally called you his parent-)

After three days of moping around, you decided you would go downstairs and sit in the lobby. 

Once she saw you, Charlie asked you if you felt better now and you told her you felt much better.

However, at some point, you were left alone with Sir Pentious. You knew that you had to approach him. From the very depths of your heart you knew that you loved him and that if you stopped talking to him, you would live in misery for the rest of your eternal existence. 

So the second you felt ready, you walked up to him with an apologetic look.

The second he saw you in his field of view, he turned away from you. Letting out a resentful huff, he tried to ignore you. However, you were determined to fix things.

“Sir Pentious… I… I didn’t mean to upset you. I know Vox’s attention means a lot to you… but this place made me realize that… you can be happy without him. We can be happy without him. Here in the hotel! In Heaven!” You exclaimed, begging him to listen.

“We? What do you mean by we? You’ve never sssspoken to me like this before.” He asked, still a bit undignified but still turning to you, confused by your choice of words.

You paused, thinking of how to come clean to him. “The reason why I took down the cameras was… because I felt bad. Charlie and I have been talking about feelings and things of the sort… and she made me realize that… That I love you… And, I’m so thankful for the clarity she brought me that it felt like betrayal. But I guess I… I didn’t stop to think how that would make you feel…” You mumbled. 

He gave you a look of bewilderment. He had no words; he was flattered. And suddenly, it all made sense to him as well. The reason why he’d felt so betrayed was because of how he valued you. 

“The last thing I wanted was for you to detest me…” You mumbled at him, feeling tears build up in your eyes.

He gave you a look of sympathy. It clicked in his mind that you did it out of love for him. He didn’t know how to feel about your affection towards him, but he was sure he cared about you and that the feeling was at the very least partially reciprocated. But right now, the feeling of betrayal was still fresh on his mind. 

“I… I forgive you, I sssssuppose… I can’t stay mad at you after such a heartfelt confessssssion…” He mumbled, blushing, turning away. This time, not out of grudge, but out of embarrassment. 

It wasn’t quite long until you two decided to take all the cameras down for good (after you two were discovered by Angel Dust about a week later) and dedicate yourselves to redemption. 

[helpme695]

Ok! Could I please request headcanons of yandere Pocketcat with female human darling? Thank you in advance 💜

Here you go :3 that's all I got

Sorry for taking so long LMAO

I assumed it would be inside the dungeons too lol

• ────── ✾ ────── •

It's a mistake, not only that, but stupid as well. You shouldn't come here, You shouldn't see this, you shouldn't experience this, the dungeons screams at you constantly to leave as fast as possible, for some reason you didn't abandon whatever unnecessary goal you have and ran- no, fly, straight out this hell and never look back, yet you so determined.

It was definitely harsh, your feel your soul crushing every second you move, your body shaking. You ran into these many cursed Creatures. However escape them miraculously as soon as you spot them.

You exception. How you would guard yourself from harm, how you move extremely fast and smooth like a feather. The way your mind work and respond like a machine. In top of that, you're gorgeous. Even in your lowest. Truly something to admire. And I have news for you, You decide if it's good or bad, someone never missed anything you offered.

Later on, you met a unusual man from the place. As soon he spot you he started talking to you

"My my~ I've been waiting for you to show up with your lovely figure, dove. Oh, you got a nasty wound on your shoulder. Here let me help, it won't hurt."

And talk

"My apologies, I usually pay no mind those disgusting beings, but they really did land a good one on you, don't you think it's enough to leave whatever you seeking for?"

And talk...

"By no offence to your outstanding Abilitys, but these dungeons make the toughest of men go insane. After all, I just like to go after lovely customers like you."

And talk...

"I dare to say, you do have astonishing face of yours, even after it woren off from your silly journey, did I mention how much I love your curves? Your body must been sculptured by the divines "

This man won't SHUT UP, it's hurts your head. And you don't like his flirting and how much he focus on things you don't put attention to even in days you actually take care of yourself.

He's trying so hard to make you stay longer just to talk, even better if you change your mind. And you always pushed his offering and idea's aside. You already too deep.

Since you shaked him off and continued to wonder, you feel eyes piercing your soul, but, things start to get easier. you found many non rotten food and booze neatly hidden in boxes, Sometimes herbs in questionable places. Not seeing the usual Enemies or danger. And whatever dare to bring harm to you, you finish them off as they were just a bug.

You can't help to think, is it because you became immune to these dungeons? Or because you encountered that gentleman, you did felt quite safe around him, but God you were uncomfortable. How he behave so friendly, like a person you know before. The way his eyes scan every inch of you, like he admiring a living art piece. How he get closer to you whenever he can. And of course, touch you in any opportunity. So Shameless. You swore if you didn't put a line he would do much more. Speaking of the devil... you felt you never actually left him behind. Or you just paranoid. :)

Overtime, you manged to meet people and convince them to company you. However, things weren't so good for them as you, completely opposite. They would starved to death if it wasn't for you to share your food. They have to get brutally injured, which you had to take care of almost blinded or limbless members. If you won't look occasionally after them, you would find them getting dragged in darkest corners. It almost something trying so hard to get rid of them.

They weigh you down. you should leave them behind. Why you so determined? Not only accomplish your goal, but also to keep them alive? You truly selfless. And that bother someone. Not necessarily your party members (which some of them are)

However, they won't be bothered for too long, especially when you lost 2 of your party to the crow mauler and split accidentally after pathetic escape for your lives. It was already hard for them, you have no idea how they will survive after the lose. And Why you sick over some mere beings? You have someone much important who's starving to see you again.

_____________________♡____________________

You screwed. That's all I gotta say. Lol

No but for real, yandere pocketcat is NOT easy to deal with at all. This dude will do Anything and everything means to have you. But he's patient, he likes to play with his food, after all.

He sometimes wonder Why his master make him this desperate over someone.

Let him take you and he will spoil you rotten, he will give you whatever you want and need. Just say it. If you don't, well..... it doesn't matter. He will get what he wants. He's immune to whatever tricks you have under your sleeves.

He's never truly get angry at you no matter what you do. Even at others that you interact with, because the thought that he owns you and nobody will shake him off, is too deep in his mind. He allows other people to talk to you but after that they will get some devilish dreams as warning, And if he notice they still confident to keep going, welp.... we know the show.

Of course you won't stay any longer in this dungeons, it's up to him where he wants to take you. But if you Obey him just right- he will ask his master to create the heavens that you shaped in your mind. Only him and you.

There's nothing you can lose other than your freedom. You would never get hurt by anyone but him. Your only luck if his God have mercy on you and kill you for good or have another God by your side.

[cho-aaacho]

(Don't) Tease Me!

Masterlist

Tags : Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Comedy, Pranks, Kissing, Surprise Kisses, French Kiss, Teasing, Silly Geto, Mischievous Geto, Please pinch Geto's cheeks.

Summary : Aggressively exploited, with a fondness full of weak points, that's what he did.

Some may consider you foolish, but Suguru is foolishness. 

You've never engaged in a serious argument with him. Because he is really annoying when he jumps into the argument. He effortlessly prevails, always striking you with a brilliant sentence that flows freely through his mind.

His sweet talking abilities, along with his beautiful features, are comparable to the sweet cotton candy that makes you lose in an argument with him. Probably a true master of manipulation since day one.

How many angels had he tricked, or how many poor souls had he manipulated, until this time? 

You can't even count. 

Suguru loved it when they fell from his tricks; the pleasure he derived from the agony of those poor souls was overwhelming. He would love to dance under their agonies in their twilight of despair.

His brain was always used for complex and strained thoughts, pouring forth mysterious ideas that transformed into poetic words under his warm palm.

One night, he was monologuing about his work and casually declaring it to the ceiling. 

"Satoru will be surprised if he finds out about this."

"I'll make a big surprise for my old friend, Satoru. He will see..."

"Uh, do you think Satoru will have a good expression when I come to Jujutsu High?"

And you were yelling at him. "Stop talking about Gojo-san. I thought you and him were enemies. Do you still care about that man? Funny."

Or you'll say.

"Next time, Suguru-kun. If you say something ridiculous again, I will make sure you won't wake up the next morning."

He responded playfully. "Oh, that's just my work project. Why are you so angry? Are you jealous?"

Of course, you are annoyed by his attitude. You hate his inconsistency irks. Although he promises to stop (monologue to the ceiling), he is still doing that whenever your eyes catch him. 

You try to calm yourself, keeping your revenge to yourself and your flame of anger against his behaviors.

Sometimes he responds to your criticism by placing a coupled cheek-pinching when Miguel is around, which makes him roll his eyes.

He found it interesting when he heard you scowl aggressively. He'll chuckle pleasantly, making you feel embarrassed when he says it. "I find you cute. Don't you dare show this to anyone else, okay?"

You want to punch him or teach him a good lesson because of his actions. Perhaps he simply enjoys witnessing your reaction, which amuses him more than the reactions of his followers.

Is there a chance you may defeat him in this game? Who knows.

Today, Suguru summoned you to the meeting room. He mentioned that he had something essential to convey. You always found the meeting room with the other members, like the twins. But this time, you only find Suguru.

Instead of telling you about the upcoming mission, he began telling jokes. Which makes you frustrated because it's unnecessary.

"Alright, I understand about the jokes. So, Suguru-kun, what should I do? You summoned me for the next mission."

He gave you an inviting glance and giggled. "Nothing. I just want to see your face."

"Do I sense a concern?"

He smiled. "We always have diverse perspectives. How about we conclude—"

"Oh, you're suggesting I get out of your group? Fine. I'll be out!"

"You've been so sensitive since morning; did I neglect your usual morning kiss?"

How can he say those words with a straight face? This guy needs a reality check! So ridiculous. You almost can't believe he's the special-grade sorcerer, and all of the sorcerers are afraid of him.

You sighed in frustration, hinting that you were done with him. But you have another idea: take revenge. Maybe... a little tease. It wouldn't hurt him.

"Suguru-kun, I'm sorry. But I need to do something."

You grab his collar into your grasp and kiss him, feeling his textured lips on yours, feeling his breath against your face, and smelling his peppermint from his mouth. 

Actually, it wasn't a forced kiss; it was a gentle kiss, but it was enough to make him gasp for air. He reached your shoulder and shut his eyes, trying to deepen the kiss as he pinned you on the floor.

His tongue enters your mouth, dancing sensually with yours. He counts your teeth, biting your lips gently. A smirk curls on his face, and you swiftly let go. 

You can hear Miguel laughing from outside, along with the twin's protests, and there is an unpleasant silence between you and Suguru, as well as a scarlet blush on his face.

"Oh. I didn't know you were a good kisser. What is that for? If it's a present to get me to stop talking, sorry, but that didn't work!"

[pola-rola]

I'm really bored, so there's a little Yuu-sona or something like that. I don’t like to write on the pictures themselves (yeeah, sure), soooo...

A little backstory: like yuu-sona, I would also like to be based on some Disney character, and one day I was just looking around and was like, “hmm, I braid my hair with a polka dot scrunchie, I have black hair…. yeah, definitely Minnie." Yep, that's how it was. Well, besides, it seems to me that the design of the ghost camera fits, and of course friendship with Mickey, he didn’t mention her when he talked about friends, right?)) Besides, Minnie doesn’t belong to any specific cartoon, but this means she can play the role of both a hero and a villain, so getting into the NRC may well be justified, smart;)

So, now just a little randomness about this gal, and, accordingly, me:

• ISFJ (I don’t know what for, but just if you’re interested)

• at first she thought about hiding her real gender, making up something, playing dress-up to become look like a boy. But on the very first day of school, she realized that it's unnecessary, if they didn’t like something, it's their problem

• Purchased the uniform from Sam, because seriously, where else can you find a uniform that is the perfect size? She had to beg for money from the headmage; you want the students to look diligent, so you pay.

•"So, where is my computer? Where is my tablet? Where is my pen? How can I survive without this mmm???)))"

• The first time she was in Twisted Wonderland she constantly had a headache, because in her world she was not used to being in the fresh air so often and moving so often.

• It's raining men!

• "How can boys be so tall at such a young age?! It's crazy!"

• Sometimes throws in phrases and references in her native language, just because she can.

• In fact, she was really surprised that practically (for the most part) no one bullies her for her lack of magic. Like, "if this was my world, I'd be an outcast by now, seriously, guys, aren't you going to make fun of me or what?!"

• Sometimes falls into philosophical thoughts, like “Why is someone constantly trying to prove their strength here… why doesn’t anyone understand that we are all students, which means we are all equal? ​​Especially these idiots from Savanaclaw-” (yup, I really hate these npc guys)

• "Soooo… I found myself in another world, where ghosts, fairies, magic are all real, before that I was riding in a black carriage and woke up in a coffin in a black robe… The mirror said that my soul does not belong anywhere and its there’s nowhere to return…Hmm.. Hmmmm..! Does this mean that in my world I’m already dea- Oh, look, pies are on sale!”

• "Should I start charging money to solve your problems?"

• "Why is it always something? Like it's literally always freaking something........"

• Had to learn to cook to survive. Well, mostly because Grim whines that he can’t live on just scrambled eggs and burnt fried potatoes lol.

• Would like to join the Mountain Lovers' Club, but remembered how in her world she constantly excused herself from trips to the mountains or family overnight stays in tents by the lake. Nah..

• She likes this interesting world, but still at night she cries into her pillow because she misses his mom so much :(

• “Actually, in my world, I had already graduated from college, received a diploma and was just looking for a job. And you say that I need to start studying again from the first year?!”

• haha silly mirror, a test on the internet told me that I should go to Scarabia 💅

• REALLY wants to know what's going on in her world while she's here. Literally thinks about this almost every day

• "Lol guys, did you know that your Great Seven are actually bad guys? No, no, nothing, just breaking the fourth wall"

If it weren't for Grim, she probably would have remained a janitor forever. Like, seriously, have you seen how often mc speaks compared to other students? Totally matches my social awkwardness.

•Really very interested in this world, its history and especially other schools. Like, really, if all this turns out to be a dream and she'll return to her gray world of high-rise buildings, then at least she'll have something to remember.

• "They call me just "Pola" for a reason. And the reason is... Says her full name, which to a non-native speaker sounds like a spell to summon a demon.

•"Hey guys, look what I found. A bowling ball." This is Chenya's head.

•"Deuce is asking for my opinion and does not forget about my presence and is happy when I cheer for him #BFF🥺" (we have the same birthday by the way)

•"Ehehee Pola Trappola ehuehe.......… Just kidding, jeez!"

Phew, that was silly, but I hope you found it interesting haha

[itsyagurlchip]

Another ROTTMNT request!!

Platonic, funny hc about the 4 brothers reacting to younger sister reader who has a gloomy/angsty personality who acts like a tragic heroin but in reality everything in her life is completely okay.

She's just a bit dramatic like leo and dee xD

☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･OUr Our YEA~☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

alt title; reader loves a style but does little research on it and uses pinterest as a ref

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings: cussing(!) cringe(!) stereotyped emos (!) crack(!)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ngl- i feel reader w/ this one 😭😭 Thank you so much for requesting <33 btw, this is not to make fun of actual emos, you guy's aesthetic is beautiful <3 instead, this is actually written from a 2 day experience by your's truly! There is absolutely no plot in this, so if you can't follow at all I don't blame you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Oh god she's blasting SleepToken again-"

kanabo; a japanese weapon similar to a spiked bat, used for offense.

"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ME!" You screamed as you slammed the door closed.

Raph stood there, stunned and confused.

"I don't get it...all Raph told her to do was to wash the dishes?" He sighed and walked away. Deeply, he was too tired for this shit and the headache he has was forming faster the more he thought about it. He needed a nap.

Meanwhile Leo and Donnie were snickering in the far corner, watching the whole ordeal go down.

"broooooo"

"That cannot be real-" Leo said, holding his gut trying not to shit on himself at the atrocity you just committed.

"Of- ha- of course it itz! I caught it on camera!" Donnie waved the evidence in the air.

The two burst into obnoxious laughter, echoing throughout the sewers.

So yea..you're a bit cringe. But who's stopping you?

You truly believed that this wasn't a phase.

And future you is looking down at you in tears.

YOU WERE ONLY ELEVEN- !

The group was fighting a tiger villian. Silly cat, he had guns. Tch, that was nothing for someone like you.

"I blast you into the abyss as dark as my soul" You said, raising your kanabo, swinging the weapon in a circular motion, aiming for your target.

"What the f-" And he got blasted. You hated how your weapon was pink...

It all started with the "pick me girl" trend.

You hated those people (despite them not even existing half the time).

So, you wanted to be different 😈

And thus, the color black was an immediate yes

Mikey, not really caring about the sudden change in his sibling's style, used you for his art inspiration! Even if you begged and begged for him to draw you with hair.

(he already sketched it, but won't tell you. he's not gonna let it go that far into your head💀)

"Turn- now pose, ohhhh! Lookin great Pink! Wooo, you got it girl!"

"The only thing I deserve to have is a dirt pit. To put myself in, not your praise."

"Oh- oh."

Looking through pinterest you found your first outfit inspo and fell in love.

While not actually having any problems, mentally or physically (from what you know), you felt like you fit into this category so well!

Your scales were black, check

You love eyeliner, check

Your siblings force you to do things that you didn't want to (chores) , check

You were all set.

All it took was a few hundred dollars from Donnie's bank and you were ready to show the world-

WHO YOU TRULY WERE 😈

"YOU'RE ALL AGAINST ME!"

"we are literally just asking you to go on this mission-"

"TO KILL ME OF COURSE! YOU NEVER CARED ABOUT ME"

"okay"

They just let you sort your feelings out, poor baby.

No one actually knew when it really started

But suddenly you started to ask April for her makeup and nail polish for the first time.

And April, bless her, did so each and every time.

"Of course honeybun!"

Worst part was, you never gave it back.

"Hey, have you boys seen my makeup bag? I can't find it no where."

The boys sighed, already sick of the shenanigans, and pointed towards your room where every light was off.

Walking inside, April came in to see a singular lamp shining, with you underneath it writing inside of a black notebook.

"Hey Pink! Watcha doin sweetheart?" April nervously said, "It's pretty dark in here-"

"Writing down the names of my enemies. They need to suffer the pain I go through everyday, not only the physical- but the mental."

April wasn't really sure what you were going on about, but she spotted her makeup bag and dipped.

-

Donnie walked into your room, music blasting at goddam 3 in the morning.

"ARe yoU inSane!?!?" Donnie yelled as Ely Ottto raged over his voice.

"THIS IS THE REAL ME DONNIE! DEAL WITH ME!!!" You flipped him off, head banging as you jump up and down on the mattress. The plushies that were sitting on the bed even had black marker scribbled all over them.

This was too much damn noise! And quite frankly, very much overstimulating for this time of night for anyone to experience.

"Oh hoh hoh- no I AM NOT MISSY! YOU WILL TURN THIS MUSIC DOWN THIS INSTANT!"

"YOUR NOT MY DAD BOZO!" Like a child (*cough cough*) you blew a raspberry at him and turned the music up louder.

Donnie was twitching in anger as he disabled your speaker with a tap of a few buttons.

"I HATE YOU" You yelled, stomping towards him and pushing him out. Slamming the door, you screamed into your pillow (as if that would muffle the sound.)

Dear supreme pizza in the sky-

Oddly enough your behavior would also vary between people.

For example, you wouldn't take shit from Donnie, even if he was trying to help you, you would even go as far to make fun of him for no reason.

You would talk about your woes and suffering with April and Mikey, even when they didn't understand it half the time because it was ever on subject???

You simply just ignored Raph when he told you to do something.

And Leo, pray for his soul, would play along. Or even worse, bully you *kindly*

Leo was walking you to the park, walking with a crip like those bloxburg characters when you don't take a bath. His head was facing the concrete, set in a mock scowl, mimicking your own.

You rolled your eyes and walked faster, flipping the wig you bought.

-

Good thing it lasted for another two days, or everyone (not including Leo) would've blown their tops.

Man- had to get the rest of that brainrot out. phew~

heres part 2 btw

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@voidthegod

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