#i beg you. put a knife to his throat and make him speak

[chaika-jpeg-shitpost]

"elias didn't explain anything to me again :,(" im gonna kill that man with my bare hands

wait. okay. okay. wait. does chise literally not know she transformed into a dragon

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run pt 2

By the time the five of you are in the house, you’re soaked through once more, teeth chattering when the cool air of the house hits your skin as Gaz opens the door, holding it open long enough to let the dogs trot in.

“Hey! Shake over there!” He shoos, flinching when Maggie sprays him with her shake off.

“Let’s get you taken care of pretty.” Price murmurs, and you push weakly at his chest, struggling to get down. Your mind is foggy, exhaustion fighting to take over, but there are four strange men now standing in your living room, and that seemed more pressing.

Price grunts, but finally gives in, setting you on your feet, and you put as much distance between yourself and them as you can. “What do you want? What is going on here?” You demand, trying to ignore the shake of your voice.

They glance at each other, having a silent conversation, and you glance towards the stairs. You had an old cell phone, and the service this far out was absolutely shit, but it was a chance-

“We would like a place to stay.” Price’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and your eyes shoot to look at them, and a shocked laugh tumbles past your lips.

“A place to stay? After what just happened? For god’s sake I don’t even know you!” You laugh, slightly hysteric, and Price takes a cautious step towards you, holding up his hands. “We didn’t mean to scare you sweetheart, honest. Didn’t think anyone lived here by the looks of it.” His tone is soft, comforting. He approaches you slowly, and you back away until your back hits the wall.

“How did you even know we were in there?” Ghost speaks this time, eyes trained on your face and you try not to crack under his gaze.

“You spooked Sebastian. In the six years I’ve lived here nothing has ever spooked that horse.” You glare, anger flaring when the four of them laugh. “You think scaring my stallion is funny?”

“No little bird, just…” Ghost trails off, chuckling and you can feel your eye twitch ever so slightly.

“It’s cute how protective you are over some animals.” He finishes, and he can tell his words are winding you up, the crinkle around his eyes indicating he finds this amusing. Bastard.

“They might just be animals to you,” You start, your frustration seeping into your words as you straighten your back. “But when I found this place they were starving and on the brink of death. I worked my ass off to make sure they made it. I worked for their trust after some asshole abandoned them here to fucking die. They are my herd, this is my land!” Your shoulders heave, sucking in a deep breath as you try to calm your racing heart.

They stare at you, quiet and you close your eyes, clenching your fist as you struggle to maintain yourself. “You broke into my barn and scared my animals, held my own knife to my throat and invited yourselves into my home. Why is god's name should I let you stay here?” You ask, opening your eyes to stare them down, and for the first time tonight, they seem to crack under your gaze for once.

“Have you… Do you have any way of hearing the news?” Price questions, wincing and you frown. “The radio when I’m cleaning the barn. Why?”

They hesitate, looking between themselves as they shuffle their feet. Your eyes bounce between them, trying to think back to anything of importance that a reporter has broadcasted as of late.

Missing sheep from a town more than four hours north of you, a four way pile up down one of the highways,a break out at the prison, a wheeler transporting 60,000 gallons of wine tipping near the river…

A break out at the prison.

You freeze, all air leaving your lungs as you stare at them, four wanted criminals standing in your living room. You feel your knees buckle.

They notice your realization, hesitation crossing Price’s face when he notices your stiff figure.

“Please. Let us explain ourselves.” He all but begs, and you feel your hands shaking.

“You are wanted criminals!” You hiss, and they cringe, their previous bravado has disappeared.

“We will explain everything to you, we swear. Just… Please give us a chance.” Soap steps forward this time, big wide eyes trained on you. They’re just as soaked as you are, and in the light of the living room you see the bags under their eyes, the tension in their shoulders. They look exhausted, and not just from this night. There’s a haunted look behind their eyes, and you curse yourself when you feel your heart ache ever so slightly.

You make a noise at the back of your throat, turning to head up the stairs.

“Pretty where are you-“

“You’re soaking my floor. You can explain it to me after I’m out of this damn gown.” You mumble, hearing one of them mumble ‘damn shame’.

“I heard that!”

After a few moments you come back, a box of clothes in hand and they all raise a brow. “Thought you said no one else lived here?” Gaz asks suspiciously when they notice it’s a box of men’s clothes. You roll your eyes, shoving it into his hands.

“They’re my ex-husbands, I took it by mistake when I moved my boxes.” You huff, crossing your arms. It’s your turn to raise a brow at their shocked expressions. “What’s with your faces?”

“What kind of eejit divorces such a gorgeous lass?” Soap asks, and you feel insulted, till you realise he’s not joking. They all look you over, and you feel your face warm at the way their eyes darken. Turning away, you clear your throat, pointing up the stairs.

“The guest room is down the hall, it has a bathroom and towels. Leave your clothes in the tub.” You order, making your way towards your bedroom. You feel the stairs shake as they bound up them, and as they pass, Price give’s your hip a little squeeze and you swat at his hand.

“Thank you pretty.”

“I haven’t said yes yet. You were just ruining my hardwood floors.” You sniff, smacking his hand once more when he doesn’t let go.

“You are testing my patience most of all.”

“You haven’t made us leave though.”

“I can change that very quickly.” You snap, pulling his hand off your side and he takes the opportunity to pull you close, leaning down next to your ear.

��But I don’t think you will, will you sweetheart?” He whispers, and you bite your lip, pushing at his chest. “For god's sake, go change you old perv.” You hiss, wiggling in his grasp and he flashes you a grin before letting you go.

You slip into your room, locking the door before pressing your head against it. What have you gotten yourself into?

You quickly take a hot shower, letting the scalding water bring warmth back to your stiff joints. You towel off quickly, slipping into an oversized hoodie and some old pajama pants.

You can still hear the shower running down the hall when you step out, a boom of thunder sounding in the distance. You slip down to the kitchen, grabbing one of your mugs. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

How could you be so foolish as to be letting escaped convicts use your bathroom?! God the feds were probably spread to every point in the world trying to track these men down. You can’t remember much the broadcast had said, just that there were four dangerous men on the run from one of the maximum security prisons a couple of hours away. How on earth did they wind up here?

You’re so lost to your thoughts you don’t hear the stairs creak, staring out into the backyard as you mull things over in your mind.

“‘Ppreciate the clothes lass, loads better!” A cheerful voice spooks you and you jump, dropping your mug to the floor. “Shit!” You curse, a matching ‘ah hell’ leaving Soap.

“Didn’t mean to scare you again bonnie, I’m sorry.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. You’re surprised to find genuine guilt there, and he gives you a sheepish look. “I’ll clean this up for ye.”

“Gone and lost us our chance Soap?” Gaz asks, frowning at the glass on the ground but Soap just waves him off. “Accident, scared the poor lass.”

“We keep doing that, she'll never give us a chance.” Gaz smiles at you, soft and sweet but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the bags under them worse after having cleaned up, and you feel that strange ache in your chest again. You glance at Soap, who is picking up the shards with his bare hands and you frown, swatting his hands away as you kneel beside him.

“Are you trying to hurt yourself?” You scold, and he gives you a surprised look before smiling, shrugging as he gently stops your hands from piling the remains of the mug. “Could ask the same of you bonnie, hands like these are much too pretty for such sharp things.” He mumbles, scooping up the shards without a care.

The two of them eye you nervously, and you can feel knots in your stomach. Taking a deep breath, you motion towards the living room. “Sit. I’ll make something to drink.” You offer. They raise a brow and you glance at the ground.

“I’m sorry, I just thought-“

“No need to apologize, it’s just…” Gaz starts, trying to find the words and glances at Soap.

“We’re honestly surprised you didn't run for the nearest house possible when you had the chance.” Soap says bluntly, and you wince.

“No one around for miles.” You admit, and their faces fall slightly, shoulders tensing and you clear your throat. “I said I would hear you out. I plan to.” You say firmly, turning to walk into the kitchen, just to bump into a large chest.

“I gotta worry about you keeping your mouth shut little bird?” Ghost asks, arms crossing over his chest as he stares you down.

“I do have a radio that connects me to the closest ranger station. And another for the Police station in the little town 3 hours north.” You admit, and you see his eyes flash, but you hold up your hand before he speaks.

“No. You aren’t taking it.” You snap, and his eyes narrow, exhaling sharply.

“If they don’t hear from me periodically they get worried. It’s a small town, everyone knows one another and I do have to take trips to the store every month or so.” You don’t back down from his dark gaze, but your palms feel clammy.

“They ever check up on you unannounced?” Price is last to arrive, voice stern as he levels the same cold glare as Ghost and you swallow, standing straighter, Gaz and Soap looking between the three of you nervously.

“Not unless I ask them to or I haven’t called in a few weeks. Takes too long to get out here.” Your voice shakes towards the end, slipping between the two looming men.

“You’re all here, you can start talking anytime.” You quip, and Ghost scoffs. “Got a mouth on you don’t-“

“You are asking to stay in my home. Watch it.”

He snaps his mouth shut, glaring at you and you turn your back to him. Price clears his throat, his gaze heavy on your back as you turn on the stove.

“Listen. There has to be some type of trust for this to even begin to work. You haven’t hurt me, and besides that oaf holding a knife to my throat,” You and Simon glare at one another, but he breaks first, eyes crinkling in the corners. “You’re a feisty little thing.” He laughs, crossing the kitchen to plop down at the kitchen table like he owns it.

“Besides that, you haven’t given me any reason you’re here to harm me or rob me, considering you have no car. You could easily overpower me and keep me locked in one of my own rooms and you haven’t. That’s a good start.” You finish, hands shaking slightly as you start to make your tea, and Price gently takes the kettle from your hands.

“But you’re still scared.” He states, and your shoulders stiffen. “Four men are in my kitchen asking to hide from the police. I’ve only put together who is who with your little code names by listening to you talk to one another. I’m sorry for being a little frightened.” You spit, jumping when you feel his large hand on your hip.

“Oh if you don’t quit that-“

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you pretty.”

“Okay! I think we all need to take a minute, yeah?” Gaz announces, him and Soap staring at the three of you nervously. You pry Price’s hand off your hip, again, pushing him away.

“Start talking, now. Before I let Soap and Gaz stay here and let the two of you rot outside.” You huff, taking a seat at the table and they seem surprised.

“I told you, I put together who is who, and those two,” You point, glaring at Price and Ghost as you speak. “Have been very respectful and kind.”

The two of them perk up, lapping up the small praise like thirsty dogs as their chests puff out.

Price frowns, keeping eye contact with you as he slips into the chair opposite of you. “We’ll behave.” He mutters, cutting a look at Ghost when he makes an offended noise in the back of his throat.

“We’re sorry. We didn’t mean any of the harm or fear we have caused you, really thought this place was abandoned. The boys and I appreciate you hearing us out when you have absolutely no reason to. And I… apologize.” He clears his throat, casting you a glance over before meeting your eyes once more.

“Haven’t been around such a gorgeous little thing like yourself in a long time. Forgot my manners.” He grins now, causing heat to bloom in your chest and you splutter, narrowing your eyes at him as you fight the heart crawling up your neck.

“Story. Now.”

“Oh come on pretty, am I at least forgiven?” He asks, and you know he’d deny that he’s pouting, but it still makes a small smile tug your lips.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“I could sweet talk you some more.”

“Much more interested in why you were in prison.”

Price sighs, but there’s a smile on his face as he relaxes in his chair.

“Better settle in. It’s a bit of a tale.” He crosses his arms, settling back.

“I’ve got all night.” You shoot back, resting your chin on your hand as you get comfortable.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[mandobatemans]

nsfw miguel o'hara (spider-man 2099) headcanons (f!reader)

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!

warnings: biting, edging, knife play lowkey but not really, bondage, size kink, breeding kink, oral (m & f receiving), if i missed any lmk, NSFW UNDER THE CUT

word count: 599

also posted on ao3

•fangs. let's talk about them.

• you’re kind of obsessed with them

• you like to lick his fangs while you’re making out, dragging your tongue over the sharp teeth while he’s gripping your hair in his hand

• when he has his mouth on your tits he bites the flesh there ever-so-gently, holding eye contact with you the whole time

• that sends you right over the edge

• speaking of edging, in a perfect universe, miguel would be able to hold out and edge you for hours

• but your begging and whining is just too pretty and goes right to his dick, so he always gives in fairly quickly

• he can put up with a lot of shit, but with you moaning underneath him, he’d give you anything you asked for

• his talons.

• imagine knife play but it’s with his talons. yeah.

• those things can tear into metal but your miguel would never let you get hurt

• you mark each other up all the time. he scratches up your back just as much as you scratch up his

• being a spider-person comes with certain responsibilities around powers. that being said, he will use webs as an assist in your bondage play

• who needs rope or a tie when you have high-tech webs?

• if you EVER told another spider-person how he uses his webs in the bedroom, he would vehemently deny it. he has to set a good example, of course

• LOVES pinning you against surfaces: the wall, your bed, upside down on the ceiling, you name it

• you guys have had sex upside down on the bedroom ceiling before. there are perks to sticking to walls

• little bit of a size kink. like, dude is HUGE. he’s convinced (and you aren't complaining) that his shoulders were made so your legs could be thrown over them

• the first time you sleep together, he’s extremely gentle with you, letting you set the pace as you adjust to his size

• once you've been together for a while, though, assuming you’re okay with it and up for it that night, he’ll push right into you without giving you time to adjust and set a punishing pace the second he’s seated in you

• sometimes he’ll put his hand on your belly to feel his cock drilling into you through your stomach

• he could eat you out for hours

• holds your legs open with all of his strength and licks and laps at you until you’re screaming his name and gripping at his hair for leverage

• he has powers, yeah, but his real powers are the duo of his nose and tongue, one rubbing your clit and the other exploring your cunt

• he’d prefer to pleasure you, but won't say no to you returning the favor

• it takes everything in him not to fuck your face, you just look so pretty with him down your throat

• when you give him the okay, he loses any ounce of composure he had and is thrusting into your mouth until drool and tears mix on your chin

• when you open your mouth wide to show him you swallowed, he praises you, calling you a good girl in Spanish or English, depending how quick he recovers from his orgasm

• probably has a breeding kink too

• cums in you, collects what drips down your thighs on his fingers, then finger fucks it back into you

• he desperately wants you to have his baby

A/N: guys i will write 100 more of these if you want me to. i have miguel brainrot and i have it BAD.

[nikaizkool]

As much as I’d like to believe Wilbur is a non kinky person (idk why) I saw this edit and it was like “you like that” “Hmmm” like those edits and oml so here is some ppl choking you 😉😉😉

•Wilbur

He’d wrap his hands around your throat lightly but firmly, like blocking your airways a bit. He’d probs be topping while doing this so I’d imagine him taking a hand off your throat to move hair out of his eyes so he can see the look on your face or to move your hair off your neck/chest so he can leave hickeys he doesn’t make them to noticeable just to spare the teasing of his friends. Speaking of teasing I’d feel like he’d tease you in the beginning by edging you

•quackity

He’d wrap one hand around your neck lightly while fucking you, hed sloppily kiss you and like leave very VERY noticeable hickeys on your neck, like wil he’d also tease you but instead of edging before actually putting it in he’d pull out mid “coitus” and make you beg.

•schlatt

Fucking daddy dom dude he’d be spitting in your mouth and using both hands each to choke you with while fucking pounding you. He’d definitely degrade you and maybe? Maybe knife play if he knows your ok with it.

[chosoisamalewife]

Loved the Sukuna post. Now... Hear me out...

Bottom Sukuna..

male reader..

some nsfw and sfw hcs

Bottom!Sukuna x Male reader

A/N : ANON I LOVE YOUR BRAIN (the sfw is just more domestic headcanons, I love making big scary mean men domesticated 😁😁😏😏)

A/N : I might have been listening to flesh by Simon Curtis while cooking up the nsfw part

WARNINGS : OOC!Sukuna / Power bottom!Sukuna / Top!reader / a lot of kinky shit / mentions slapping / choking / knife knife / blood play

This man will not show an ounce of submission in public

However remember when I said he loves for you to trace the marks on him. When he is super relaxed a slight pur can be heard. (I HEAD CANON THAT HE PURRS JUST HEAR ME OUT PLEASE. I BEGGING YOU)

However it's not loud and can only be heard when he speaks but you can feel it. Low rumbles in his chest

If you have any hobbies he would act so uninterested but he is full of shit

He would slyly ask about them and take note of them

Only trusts uraume alone with you

Finds everything you watch fucking stupid and boring. He would literally groan anytime you put something on. Would he sit down and watch with you…….yes but will he complain for a bit…..of course he would

Like I said previously he is a pretty good cook but if you are even better than him he would just watch you cook. There is something captivating about you being focused and concentrated. (He will probably get in the mood for some fun 😏)

NSFW

For him to even consider you topping him would take alot of convincing. "You topping me? Do you view me as some type of weakling" He would laugh loudly in your face

Before you get to chance to top him you have to prove to him that you can take him. That you can handle him.

So that means an all night session with him. He will ruin you all night and if you pass then you will get the glorious victory.

Let's just say he was shocked when you succeeded. He tried everything to make you tap out but nothing seem to work.

POWER!BOTTOM

He wants you to FUCK him.

He wants you to treat him like he does you, well at least try to

"Don't go gently with me now. I'm not weak , I can fucking take it"

When you finally gripped his hips and started to pound into him he would let out a manic laugh. It startled you a little bit but you carried on

"There you go fuck me like a strong man"

When he tops you he mostly groans but when you fuck him for the first time he literally growls and grits his teeth

He can not let your hear how good you are making him feel

But you will feel it

Ooooooh lord God help you because he will leave SCRATCHES on your back, anywhere

He will dig his nails into any part of your skin so please have antibiotic ointment on hand. Love watching the blood trickle from were his nails have been. Will lick your blood

DO NOT TEASE HIM OR TIE HIM UP because if you do that just means hell when he tops you again

When I say treat him like he does you, slap him, fuck his throat, overestimate him, choke him, bite him. Everything be ROUGH

AND I MEAN CHOKE HIM, this psychotic mother fucker would smile while his lungs aren’t getting air

Slap his face, thighs, ass everything. He lives for the stings

The only time he would beg you while bottoming is for you to sit on his face or to cum in his throat

Put a knife to his throat as you pound into him, he would think you are the sexiest thing to ever walk the earth

Maybe even cut him a little bit , collect his blood on your fingers and shove them in his mouth 😏😏

CAN LAST ALL NIGHT, you will probably run out of energy before does so could luck

I want to give him the most coma inducing diabolical earth shaking galaxy destroying supernova creating backshots. 🤸‍♂️🤸‍♂️

[boom-butterflyeffect]

WARNING/S - smut, mentions of killing/stabbing, knife play, choking, mr.ghostface kink?, mask kink?, <3

you heard a bang as the lodge door slammed shut, instantly getting your attention as you shot up from the bed. you swore youd locked all the doors before getting into bed and the only other person with a key was josh but hed had to stay late at the smaller cabin, Jessica and Mike's "love den", as he called it. "last minute preparations, babe", he said.

slowly creeping around the corner of the bedroom door you peaked out to see.. nobody. the long hallway was completely.. empty. so you went back into the room and grabbed your boyfriends baseball bat, then made your way into the kitchen followed by the living room. once again seeing.. nothing.

hand falling to the side as you sighed to yourself. maybe you were just way too tired and imagining things, the religious watching and study of horror media finally getting to you, you thought, just before you felt two hands reach around you, grabbing your mouth to silence you and your waist to hold you against them.

you tried as hard as you could to fight them off, not even being able to see who it was that had grabbed you until you heard the familiar laugh of your boyfriend as he let go of you.

“its me, kitten!” he lifted the ghostface mask to reveal a very amused grin on his face and you shook your head at him.

“JOSH! you scared me to death!” you yelled at him, looking down at his baseball bat still in your hand.

“if i was a real intruder id definitely have had to kidnap you.” he said, using the knife he was holding to motion to your clothes. or lack of.

as youd been in bed you were literally in just a small thong and a cropped scream t shirt, how ironic. you roll your eyes, moving closer to him as his arms wrap around you and you pull the mask back down over his face.

“you look.. hot.” you told him and heard a laugh from under the mask.

“you want me to fuck you like this?” he jokes but quickly notices as your eyes change at his words. “oh you do.. you want me to put this knife against your throat and make you beg for you life, kitten?”

“josh..” you whisper out, barely being able to find your voice over the shock you were in from your boyfriends words. youd always had a thing for the ghostface character, among others, and hearing your boyfriend speaking this way was doing something to you.

his hand reaches out and grips onto your throat, pinning you against the nearest wall as he presses the knife above his hand. “what kitten?” he asks and you cant even think, never mind speak to reply to him.

“you better start talking or im gonna have to make you, and im sure you dont want that do you kitten?” he asks, moving the knife to trail down your tummy causing a whine to slip from your lips. “oh maybe you do.. hm? you like how my knife feels against your pretty skin?”

“josh please..” you whine and he laughs, shaking his head at your reaction.

“youre such a little whore. i bet you loved how you felt when you thought i was someone else hm? did it make your little pussy wet to think about me forcing this knife into your skin.. making you beg for your life?”

your breath fell from your lips in a scattered fashion as your chest rose and fell quickly. you couldnt even imagine, he couldnt even imagine, how wet you were right now, how wet he was making you. cheeks reddening as he spoke to you.

“go on kitten, b.e.g.” the knife was pointed in to your skin, pushing hard enough to draw a little blood on to it.

“please jos-please dont kill me mr ghostface, i really want to be in the sequel.. ,you can do anything you want to me,.. ill do anything.” you pleaded so desperate and you could practically feel his smirk as he pressed a leg between your aching thighs.

“i know you will but its cute of you to remind me.. now shut the fuck up and go sit on the bed.” he ordered and you quickly did as he told.

you walked back into the room and sat on your knees on the bed, facing him as he walked over to you with a smirk before pulling the mask back down. his hand palmed himself through his pants as he made his way over, your mouth almost watering at the sight.

“you wanna suck my cock?” he asks and you nod your head, already desperate to please and he chuckles. “good slut.”

he undoes his pants, leaving them around his thighs before he grabs a fistful of your hair, dragging your face to meet with his already hard dick.

“s.u.c.k. now”.

you immediately take him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip before your head dips lower taking in more of him.

he groans as your cheeks hollow, and you look up at him,.. well the mask.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” he grunts out, pushing your head down to choke on his cock. “good fucking kitten gag on my cock.”

you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second as he continued. josh had never yet been this rough with you and you couldnt lie. you really liked it and you could tell that he did too.

he drags you off and your head up to meet his mask. "you want me to cum down your slutty little throat before i slit it open? hm is that what you want little whore?" he asks and you practically whimper.

"please mr.ghostface." you nod and he pushes you back down, you latching back onto his cock instantly.

he holds you hair again, fucking into your face due to his desperate state now. he twitches in your mouth before spilling down your throat and you swallow without hesitation.

"thank you mr.ghostface." you smile up at him in the most innocent way possible, attempting to rub your thighs together for some release.

"stand." he orders and you scramble to your feet in front of him and with no warning he rips off your top and drags down your underwear. "so fucking perfect, id be insane not to want to cut your pretty little throat wouldnt i? hm?" he asks and you nod.

"stupid slut." he laughs before pulling you to sit on his lap, his cock directly below your aching cunt.

"what do you want babe? tell me what you want." he coos, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and you sigh.

"i want to ride you.. please." you almost moan just at the thought he nods.

"go on then kitten, maybe if youre good i wont have to kill you, hm? ill keep you around as my own little toy." he questions and you dont even answer.

you quickly sink down on his cock, moaning out loudly as you finally feel him inside of you. "josh o.h m.y g.o.d." he groans, gripping at your hips and forcing you to move.

you bounce up and down as he uses a hand to grab at one of your boobs. "perfect, youre so fucking perfect." he grunts and you smile down at him, pressing a kiss to his mask. "and so so cute." his hand trails up your back to tug at your hair.

"mi..-mister im close." you moan out, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach.

"hold it." he spits, his nail digging into your hip as he begins to thrust up into you, helping both of you to get closer.

his free hand grabs your throat, fingers tightening around it as he fucks you both to your highs.

"go on kitten show me how much of a good girl you are cum all over my cock." he tells you and you cum immediately, your nails dragging over his all black clothed chest as you moan loudly, screaming his name over and over.

"fuck." he grunts, as he lets go of your throat letting you fall against him as the two of you come down, breathing heavily for a few minutes.

"babe.." josh asks, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and you hum, tracing patterns over his chest. "you okay?" he asks, continuing to play with your hair and you nod, exhausted.

“you never told me you into ghostface hm?” he laughs and you shrug.

“i got too many horror crushes.” you confess.

“oh yeah?"

"wait.. does beetlejuice count as horror too?" you quiz to no one really.

josh laughs.

__

idk im bored

jesus fucking christ anon.

Josh definitely would, especially around Halloween time since he has an excuse for dressing up in the costumes.

was not expecting a smut oneshot in my inbox, but i am not mad about it at all, good lord.

[hawkinshorror94]

AN- I really enjoyed this request because I truly am. SIMP for dadstarion.

Hope

“You’ll be what drags him back to me.” Cazador murmurs examining your chained up form, his smooth hand picks up your chin so your eyes meet his “Especially with that second little flutter in your belly.” His mouth splits into a wide fanged smile, a predator’s smile. He pats your cheek softly before letting your chin fall back to your chest. His spawn had done well drugging you, keeping you complacent and quiet till he came and then he could finish the ritual. He’d decide what to do with you after.

“She’s pretty, Astarion.” Cazador laughed as his hand tightened in your hair to quell your squirming. This was your first day sober in the Szarr mansion and everything felt overwhelming, the smell of iron and rot hanging in the air like a noxious fog. The smell made your already queasy stomach lurch and the hand tightened in your hair didn’t help anything. 

Your eyes watched Astarion, begging but you weren’t sure for what. For him to save you, for him to stay put because this is exactly what Cazador had wanted all along. Seeing Astarion immobile on the stairs leading to the dungeon angered Cazador and he showed it kicking the back of your knees till you kneeled before him. 

“Tell him your little secret,” Cazador purred as he pressed the knife to your throat. “Maybe that will get this dance started.” When you didn’t speak he pressed the knife harder into your throat till you felt a trickle of blood running down your skin. “Tell him!” He roared and you flinched back from him, the knife digging more into your throat than before.

“I’m pregnant” You cried out and he finally threw you away from him because now Astarion was moving, straight to his death. You scramble away as Gale helps you to your wobbly legs. 

“Get to safety, we have this, we have him.” Gale assured as you wiped tears that streamed from your eyes as you nod making your way towards the stairs. You watch in fear as the battle plays out below you, fear clutching your heart and throat. You should be down there, but unarmed and with no armor, you’d be dead in minutes. So you have to have trust in your party. You have to have trust in him.

His fingers are covered in Cazador’s blood as he clutches your face, his fingers shaking from adrenaline, sadness, fear, and relief. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod. You would be okay now. Now that he was there “Is what he said true?” He whispers barely loud enough for you to hear and you nod again a whispered “yes” leaving your dry mouth. 

He presses his lips to your forehead and holds you there for a long time. Time slows around you and it’s just him. The feel of his cool lips on your warm forehead and then you feel a light tentative touch to your lower belly over your tunic. And you hear a shuddered gasp leave his lips and he finally moves to kiss you, the hand on your belly never moving. He had freedom now, he

had friends, he had you and now he had a baby on the way. The endless tortures and his own sins had accumulated to this, true happiness and peace. 

“Elaris, if you don’t stop running in my house.” You snatch the little girl up as she giggles squirming in your arms “I’m going to feed you to some awful beast in the Underdark.” She tickles the girl’s sides as she laughs.

“I hear dhampirs taste like ham.” Astarion chimes in from the kitchen table as he watches the exchange between mother and daughter. You look down at the wide eyed girl, your own eyes staring back at you.

“Papa, I don’t taste like ham.” The girl huffed and crossed her arms over her chest in your arms. You stifle your laughter as her little lip rolls out.

“Then perhaps chicken,” Astarion says standing from the table making his way over to you both. “Or maybe Rothe ribs. Or maybe goblin toes.” He continued and the girl squealed with laughter again as Astarion grabbed her from your arms. As if on cue, the new baby cried in from the bassinet in the sitting room. You start to make your way to get him and Astarion catches your wrist. 

“We’ll get baby Helios, won’t we?” He looked at the girl who was clutching his side. And she eagerly nodded. You can’t help but feel the corners of your mouth upturn into a smile.

“Thank you.” You say as he pulls you close to him and his daughter, the feel of love radiates around you like a blanket on a cold night. 

“No, thank you darling.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to yours.

(Much to Elaris’s disgust.)

[angelsdean]

THE RESURRECTION OF DEAN WINCHESTER

Another body was placed before him on the rack. A fresh one. Soul unbroken. They wept, dripping light onto the blood-soaked dungeon floor.

The knife in his hand stung, hellfire shot down his throat, turned his insides to ash. He could not speak, had not spoken in a decade. Not since he finally uttered that broken, "Yes."

A clammy hand slithered over his shoulder. Hot, putrid breath against his cheek.

"Go on, boy. Make me proud."

He lifted his knife. His caged heart sobbed. Rattled. Squeezed itself, vice-like.

It beat outside his body. Or, his chest had been gouged open long ago. A gory window in, putting it right there for all to see. Alastair just laughed. He loved this part. Seeing Dean tear himself in two.

"What's the matter, Dean?" he cooed, pressing up close. "You know you love it." Alastair lifted Dean's chin with a finger. "Got a freshie, just for you. They always scream so pretty, no?"

Dean shuttered his eyes. It did nothing to change the scene. Please, he cried, inside. Please, end this torture. Someone, please.

He'd been begging for an eternity. Salvation never came. Still, he prayed, small and childlike. Four years old, asking for his mother. Forty years in Hell, asking for this fire to stop burning.

"Do you need me to break you a little?" Alastair continued in that same false sweetness. "Will that get you going?" His hands were all over. More hands growing and groping. Dean shook as knives were plunged into him. Twisting hooks. Two hands 'round his neck. One finger probing at his caged heart.

Dean sobbed, screamed out. His own light leaked onto the floor, out of the dark void that had come to mask his soul.

He couldn't hurt another soul. He couldn't stand it. He let the knife fall. Clattering like a thunderclap. Light continued to spill out, filling the room. Alastair increased his onslaught, displeased by Dean's disobedience.

"I will put you back on the rack," he roared. "I will take you apart piece by piece. You will never be whole again. Deep down. You know it. You are rotten to the core." His hand shot through Dean's guts, scooping him clean, leaving him empty.

A ringing filled his ears. Dean couldn't hear himself anymore. Even Alastair's voice faded away. The room continued to fill with light. Different now. Blue-white mingling with the gold of Dean's soul.

Opening his eyes against the brilliance he caught glimpses of massive wings and shifting heads, changing colors and claws. Millions of eyes looked at him. Dean shut his own eyes once more, and the image he'd seen fizzled away, incomprehensible to his mind.

Then the being gripped him. His shoulder burned at the point of contact, but it was a pleasant burn.

The searing sensation zipped through him. Warm and cool all at once. The cage around his heart fell away.

He was pulled upwards, like a fish on a hook, shooting through the water up towards the light.

For the first time in forty years, he felt no pain. Breaking the surface, he drank his first breath from the being that enveloped him.

Then, deep and clear as a bell, a voice proclaimed: DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED.

➥ supernatural september prompts: rotten, reanimated, between heaven and hell, trueform

[etherealxwitch]

warnings: cnc, ghostface!eddie, reader being chased, degradation, teasing, begging, pet names, name calling, mentions of a knife kink, public sex, creampie

Corner after corner, you look for a hiding place to take a breather. What you thought would be a nice night out took a turn when a masked man took a great infatuation with you. You were separated from your friends and all the other groups wanting to enjoy the haunted house. At first, you thought this was normal, but now you were away from everyone, and it wasn’t normal.

“Did you really think you could get away that easily?” You were pushed against the wall, trapped between it and the man in the Ghostface mask. “A pretty girl like you should’ve thought better.”

You looked up at him, barely able to see the wickedly dark glint in his eyes because of the mesh of the mask. Words were trapped in the back of your throat as he kicked your feet apart and placed his leg between yours, pressing it right against your cunt.

“Have you been this wet all day? You’re starting to make a mess.” His voice was low and a bit raspy, speaking next to your ear. “Or do you just like being manhandled?”

“I-“ You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you are, but the feel of his leg flexing against your cunt has your skin starting to sweat and your mouth going dry.

A rough hand ran up the sides of your body, forming goosebumps in its way before stopping at the base of your head and pulling your hair. “I knew I picked the right girl from your group, knew you’d be the perfect slut to let me do whatever I want.”

“No…” You tried to shake his head, but he only pulled harder, making you wince in pain (and a little bit of pleasure). “I-I’m not a slut.”

“So that isn’t your clit throbbing that I feel?” With his other hand, he quickly pushed past your pants and panties, quickly finding your clit. “God damn, sweetheart. You’re fucking soaked.”

There was no denying it now, not with his fingers toying at your clit, running slow figure eights on it. You tried your best to hold back the moans, biting your lip so hard that blood hit your tastebuds.

“Don’t be shy, baby.” His fingers dipped lower, teasing your hole as it clenched around nothing. “No one will know that you’re screaming over my fingers scissoring you open. I gotta get you ready for my cock, don’t I?”

You whined at his words, your whole body betraying you. “Please… don’t.” You weren’t putting up the best fight. Your body knew what it needed, and so did you.

He turned you around and pressed your face into the wall. “Stay still, got it?” You heard him unzip his pants before he pulled down yours enough to have your cunt out. “I wanna hear how pretty you scream with my cock deep inside you.”

Without warning, he slid into the hilt. His heavy balls pressed against your clit. It took you by surprise how fast he was, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Fuck- such a tight pussy.” He grabbed your hips and fucked you up and down on his cock, his eyes never leaving where he disappeared inside you.

Thrust after thrust, your head became fogged from how good his cock felt, filling you up with every inch of it.

“Y-yes! Right there!” You couldn’t think about how wrong this was when the tip of cock dragged perfectly against your g-spot.”

“That’s it, keep squeezing my fucking cock.” He brought his head down to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “Maybe I should’ve- shit- brought my knife and carved my initials into your pretty skin, make you remember this night forever.”

You moaned loudly over his words, your eyes closing as your legs began to shake. “Oh- oh my fucking god.”

“You gonna cum already?” He brought his hand down in a swift spank, the skin of your ass sting. It had incoherent words falling from your lips. “Pathetic.”

You don’t know if it’s being able to feel every vein of his cock as he fucks into you so hard that you’ll see bruises from his hips tomorrow morning or if it was the way he called you pathetic, but you couldn’t hold your orgasm back any longer.

Your back arched as you dragged your nails down the wall, and pornographic screams fell from you as your orgasm shook every inch of your body. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop- please!”

“Soak my cock, sweetheart.”

“E-Eddie!” You couldn’t keep up the act anymore, not when you were cumming so hard.

“God fucking dammit- I’m gonna cum, baby.” His head rolled back as the clenching of your cunt spurred on his own orgasm, pumping you full of his cum. “Take every fucking drop.”

“You feel so fucking good,” you could feel him fill you up, giving you everything he had. “Thank you, thank you.”

After taking long enough to catch his breath, he pulled out of you, watching his cum leak from your used hole. You both fixed your clothes in silence (apart from the screams of scared people coming from hallways over).

“You seemed actually scared there for a moment.” Eddie took off the mask before pulling you into his arms and resting his chin on top of your head. His lips swollen from all the biting he must’ve done while he was deep inside you. “I had to catch you off guard.”

“Trust me, you really did.”

He lifted your chin with his fingers and kissed you slowly, tugging on your bottom lip. “Who knew you’d be such a slut for public sex.”

[unseededtoast]

One Bright Morning | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: After experiencing the most traumatic moment of your life, Spencer helps guide you through the darkness into one bright morning that changes the both of you. (Based off of "First Light" by Hozier)

Cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings: Violence, angst, light smut. Poorly edited

a/n: Howdy y'all, this is my second Spencer oneshot based off a Hozier song and honestly at this point i think i might just create a Spencer fic for every song on Unreal Unearth. Anyways, here's my masterlist if you wanna check out my other stuff:)

"Hello?" You hear his voice as the door swings open, and the soft lighting from inside his apartment illuminates his figure as if he's an angel. 

"Please." Is all you can say through your cries and he wastes no time before he's helping you inside of his apartment. 

Your forehead is slick with sweat, your stomach tied into knots as you pace back and forth. Shaking hands push away the hair falling into your face and you know you have to do something soon, or the little girl is going to die. Your mind swims in all the information the team has collected about the unsub so far, trying to identify any leverage you can use in a last ditch effort to save the hostage's life.

"Does anybody have anything?" Your voice is thick with stress and tension, a bead of sweat rolls down your back. The quick pitter patter of your heart echoes in your ears and it's almost like a ticking time bomb.

"We've tried every angle we can think of." Morgan answers, equally as stressed out. But you can't accept that answer, there has to be something.

"What if I go in? Offer myself for her? He might think he can use me to get out of this situation." You're already taking off your bulletproof vest to carry out the mission, but Hotch puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you from taking it all the way off.

"No, it's too risky. We know he's suffering from hallucinations and if you walk in there he might just kill you." He explains, but you fight his hand off your shoulder. Maybe it's just the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you can't understand why the team isn't doing more to save the girl.

"And if we don't do anything she's for sure going to die." Before he can protest, you shove your vest into his hands and make your way to the house across the street.

The team had tried to negotiate with the unsub, feeding him false promises of a safe getaway and immunity, but he hadn't taken them. He explained that in order for the victims soul's to be saved, they had to die before they could "commit an unforgivable sin". He's convinced he's saving their souls, but what he's actually doing is mutilating young girls in their own homes and leaving their bodies for their families to find. Unfortunately for him, you and the rest of the team had interrupted his salvation of this girl and unfortunately for the team, he had taken the girl hostage and is unwilling to let her go.

The house he's blockaded himself in is a typical, unassuming suburban home. The landscaping is manicured to perfection, the lawn is trimmed neatly, but behind the white door is a deranged murderer with a knife to an eight year old's throat. Your feet quickly carry you to the door and with heavy, shaky breaths, you knock on the door and speak to the unsub.

"I want to be saved." You tell him, hoping to appeal to his delusion. There's a loud crash in the house and you hear the girl cry out.

"Please, I want to be saved." You say with more urgency. Twisting the handle of the door, you slowly make your way in, not seeing the unsub or the little girl anywhere in immediate view. After a few seconds of silence, you hear the girl's muffled cries.

"I know you can save me. Please, help me." You beg, making your way towards the sound. As you round the corner into the kitchen, you see the unsub holding the knife directly over the girl's carotid artery. Your eyes dance from the blade to the psychopath holding it and see nothing but pure evil within him.

"Don't move another step. I know you're one of them." He yanks the girl back, further into his hold and you put your hands out in front of you to show him you're unarmed. Your head shakes, denying his claim.

"They're wrong. They don't understand the mission." Another small step is taken towards the man, and for a second you see his resolve starting to falter.

"No, they don't. I'm just trying to save them!" He cries out, seeming to be in agony. Another step is taken towards him. You're only ten feet away from him, if things keep going well you might just be able to get the girl from his grasp.

"Save me. Please, I want to be saved." You boldly take two more steps forward but freeze on the spot when he jerks back with the girl, pressing the blade more tightly to her neck.

"You can't be saved. No, not you. You've already committed an unforgivable sin. But she can still be saved. Yes, she can still be saved." His gaze moves from you to the crying girl, his voice becoming more stable.

You see a sick smirk crawl its way onto the man's face, and he glances at you from the corner of his eye before he readjusts his grip on the blade. As if time suddenly begins moving in slow motion, you see him tilt his head back like he's experiencing euphoria and his arm makes one clean swiping motion. Reaching out in a last ditch effort, you try to still his motion, but it's too late. You were too late.

Your body knocks into the man's and sends him tumbling to the ground. The fountain of blood released from the girl's neck splatters your face, she chokes and gurgles as she falls to the floor. Ignoring the man, you collapse beside the girl, holding your hands to her neck in a frenzied attempt of saving her life. You get tunnel vision, the only thing you can see is the girl and how the light slowly dims in her eyes.

At some point, you must have screamed out and alerted the others, because several pairs of hands are dragging you away from the girl. You fight them with all the strength you have left, reaching out for her small body, desperately trying to help her as her crimson blood drips through your fingers.

A team of EMTs rushes into the house past you and you see them leaning over the girl before you're taken away from the scene. You feel your chest tighten, your heartbeat race, and you're not able to form a coherent thought. All that consumes your mind is the little girl and how you were right there. You were right there and you still weren't able to save her.

-----

Days later you walk back into the office, running on maybe five hours of sleep since the incident. You had been given instructions to take three days off before coming back in and you know the team had to deal with the fallout of your shortcoming. In fact, you walked in with your badge and gun in hand, fully prepared to be suspended.

The atmosphere in the office is noticeably tense. Everyone is quiet with their heads down doing their jobs. Without greeting your team like normal, you duck your head and make a straight route towards your desk, trying to make as little sound as possible when you take your seat. Placing your gun and badge beside your computer, you see a single file laying on your desk. There are usually about ten.

Trying your best to keep your composure, you open the file and are met with a blank incident report. Unable to think about filling it out, all you can do is blink back at the white paper. What do they expect you to say? Thankfully, you're ripped from going down that rabbit hole by a hand touching your shoulder. Looking over, you see Hotch with a somber look on his face.

"Why don't you follow me?" His voice is quiet, and you agree wordlessly, following him into his office. As you walk through the office, you try to commit it to memory just in case this is your last day here.

Once you reach Hotch's office, you take a seat in front of his desk and wait for him to say something. You're keenly aware that you deserve to be suspended and reprimanded for you actions, or lack thereof, seeing as how you blatantly ignored orders.

"None of us blame you." His words shock your system, eyebrows drawing tightly together and lips falling apart in confusion.

"But-" You try to condemn yourself, but he holds up a finger to stop your words.

"All of us here have lost someone. Some more than others. It comes with the territory of the job, this is only your second year and you have a lot to learn. But with that said, you did ignore orders to not engage. For that, we cannot let you back in the field until you're deemed fit again. You're to stay here and help from the office while we go to case sites." Your mouth feels dry as he speaks, and you can't understand why your punishment isn't more harsh. An eight year old girl died because of you and all you're getting is a slap on the wrist?

"But-" You try to convince him again that you deserve worse, but he cuts you off again.

"Don't say anything. Go back to your desk and do your job." He orders you away, and this time you listen to him. Your walk back to your desk is a blur, mind fuzzy with questions you don't have the answer to. You feel several pairs of eyes on you, but you ignore them and go back to staring at the blank white paper that waits for you.

-----

Hours pass by, and you've made no progress on the report. You thought that maybe a change of scenery would help, and so you relocated to the break room with only the paper and a single pen. The team is already preparing to leave on their next assignment, and all except you and Spencer are going. Spencer had volunteered to stay behind and help Garcia, which he did on occasion.

You hear the team approaching the break room, preparing to leave, and so you quickly grab the pen and act like you're writing something useful. They come in and grab last minute snacks, telling you that they'll be back in a few days and you give them the best smile you can muster and watch with a tired soul as they walk out to catch the next monster.

"You know that's not true, right?" A voice behind you startles you, causing you to jump and drag a line of black ink across the paper. Spencer is standing behind you, coffee cup in hand.

"What?" You ask, not having the slightest idea of what he means. He takes a seat beside you at the table, his eyes locked onto the paper you had been scribbling your thoughts on.

"What you're writing. It's not true." You look from his face down to the paper to see what exactly you wrote. You're not entirely sure yourself.

She died right in front of me because I was slow. I was too slow and she's gone. She was right there. Right there.

The words accurately reflect the rhetoric that's been repeating itself inside your mind around the clock. You can't seem to find the lie he so obviously sees. You've  been working with Spencer for two years now, and his mind still amazes you. But even geniuses are wrong sometimes. With a shake of your head, you bite the inside of your cheek and stare at the words.

"It's exactly what happened though." You confess, clearly remembering how the man had time to enjoy slitting the girl's throat. And you were still too slow.

"You tried to feed into his delusions, it was the only play we had left. And you were probably the best one to approach him, seeing as how you most closely resembled his victims." He explains with a wave of his free hand. Your eyes meet his and you see that he's being sincere. You've never been good at expressing your emotions, and so you try to deflect the ones bubbling up inside you.

"Spencer, are you saying I look like a ten year old girl?" You know he's only trying to help you deal with your fresh trauma, but you can't help yourself from making the comment. Used to your antics, his mouth flattens into a straight line.

"You do not look like a ten year old girl but seeing as how you're the youngest one on the team it was the best we shot we had." He follows up his explanation. You appreciate the effort he's making to make you feel better, you just wish it worked. With a sigh, you crumple the paper up and toss it across the room, barely missing the trash can.

"Don't say anything, I'm getting it." You preemptively dismiss the comment you know he's about to make. No matter how many times you try to sink a paper ball into the trash, you always end up missing somehow, and Spencer is always there to keep track of just how many you've missed.

"One hundred forty three." He quickly says before quickly moving out of the break room. A ghost of a smile finds its way onto your face and you pick up the pen you left on the table, going to search for a new report page.

-----

Unfortunately, by the end of the day, the report still had not been completed. You're unable to look at this case objectively, and you entertain the idea of asking Spencer to do it for you. But that would still mean you have to tell him what happened, and you know there's no chance those words can find their way out of your mouth.

The clock on the wall indicates that the work day is over, and so you close the blank paper inside the brown folder, vowing that tomorrow you will finish it. You don't want to stay here, but you also don't want to go home. But you guess it doesn't matter, no matter where you are you know the nightmares will find you in the dark.

Everyone leaves the office, save for you and Spencer, who's working over to finish his case backlog. Though in your two years here you've never known him to have a backlog. His insane memory is always allowing him to fly through reports three times faster than the rest of the team. But you're too tired, physically and emotionally, to delve into why he has a backlog now.

Realizing you've been staring at your desk for the past thirty minutes, you decide you can't stay here overnight. Standing from your desk you rub the drowsiness from your eyes and weakly smile to Spencer, who looked over to see what you were doing.

"See you bright and early." Your voice is soft as you push your chair back in.

"Wait, let me at least walk you out to your car. It's dark out there now." He says, standing from his own desk. You shake your head, not wanting to inconvenience him.

"That's okay Spencer, I'll be fine. But thank you." You try to dismiss him, but he's already got his jacket slung over his shoulders.

"I was just finishing up anyways." He says, and you're skeptical of how much of his statement is the truth. But you don't fight it, and let him accompany you to your car. After hours the office is eerily quiet, and you find yourself being thankful he wanted to walk you out.

"At least let me take you home, as a thank you." You say as you two walk out of the office doors into the parking lot. The chilly fall air infiltrates the thin shirt you're wearing, your breath evaporating in the air in a translucent white cloud.

"Sure, thank you." He says with a smile and the two of you climb into your car.

Spencer gives you directions to his apartment and you find out he only lives two blocks away from you. How you had never known this is a mystery. But had you have known you would've made the effort to offer him a ride more often. You park your car just outside of the building and look over at him, his hazel eyes illuminated beautifully by the amber glow of the streetlamp.

"I live just down the street." You break the silence as he unbuckles the seatbelt.

"And after all this time we've never seen each other outside of work." He points out and you smile,

"Well, this counts, right?" He lets out a small laugh and goes to open the door, but stops short of swinging it open. His lips open and close a few times, like he can't decide what he wants to say before he looks deep into your eyes once more, like he can see your mind through your pupils.

"You know, if it ever gets to be too much to deal with, you can tell me. I know how torturous thoughts can become." You're at a loss for words, but manage to nod your head. Spencer isn't known for openly extending empathy to very many people, in fact, you've only seen him do it twice so far. It's a break from the normal dynamic you two share and it throws you off for a second.

"Yeah, thank you." You say as he opens the door, leaving your passenger seat. He waves goodbye before he enters the building and you make sure he gets in before leaving for your own apartment, his words lingering in your head. What had happened to him to be able to understand such torment?

-----

A girl cries in front of you, her crimson tears flowing down her face and puddling on the floor. She's begging you to help her, to save her. Each time she's within reach, she slips right through your fingers and her agonizing screams ring inside your head.

Just like last night, and the night before that, and the night before that, you're awoken with a start. Panicked eyes stare down at your hands, expecting to see them coated in a thick layer of bright red blood, only to find that they've been scrubbed clean. In fact, they've been scrubbed so viciously that there are scratches from your nails evident on your knuckles.

Your head falls into your hands and you take in a shaky breath. The clock on your bedside table shows you that you've only managed to get two hours of sleep. But hey, it's more than last night so you guess you can't complain. Dragging yourself out of bed, you decide to get a shower, knowing that you're not going back to sleep.

As the scalding water trickles over your body, your mind is once again a chaotic mess. The girl's screams echo in your mind accompanied with questions about your effectiveness as an agent. If you were unable to save a girl within your reach, how good of an agent can you really be? How many more people will die as a result of your incompetence? Dwelling on that answer is almost enough to send you into an episode, but the hot water runs out and the cold shocks your system.

You step out and wrap yourself in a towel, but are unable to shake the thoughts away that easily. If you couldn't save that girl, how many do you expect to save? If you couldn't save her, then you won't be able to save others. And if that's the case, why are you still on the team? Your purpose is to protect and save people who are targeted by deranged killers, and if you can't fulfill that purpose, then what exactly are you doing? Wouldn't it just be better to give up your spot for someone who's more competent? Someone who can actually save people?

Your body moves as if it's been put on autopilot as you get ready for the day, hours earlier than what is necessary. Instead of holing up like a prisoner in your own home, you pull your shoes on and grab your keys, deciding to go for a walk and then head into work early.

It's still too early out for most people to be heading into work, so the streets are practically yours for now. A dense fog has settled across the roads and the crickets chirp all around. It's almost serene. Your feet begin wandering down streets with no real path or destination in mind, the coolness of the air helps keep you awake.

For about an hour you meander the streets until the clock on your phone shows that it's almost time to leave for work. When you reach your car, your gaze freezes on your passenger seat. Though you commute to work alone every day, the car feels empty now.

You don't drive yourself to work right away. Instead, you find yourself parked outside of Spencer's building, waiting for him to walk out so you can offer him a ride. It doesn't take long before he's walking towards your car, confusion clear on his face.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, opening the passenger door and getting in.

"I just figured you might enjoy a break from public transit." You smile softly at him before merging into traffic and taking the two of you to work.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for the remainder of the trip and once you park in front of the office building, you stop him from getting out by reaching a hand over the middle console and resting it on his bicep.

"How did you know that I was having bad thoughts?" Your voice is raw and you're sure you look exhausted. You're sure if your superiors found out about these thoughts that your punishment would be extended, but you're far too curious. He sighs,

"Persistent intrusive thoughts about a traumatic event are common. In fact, these thoughts can lead to insomnia and a change in normal daily functions." He explains like he's reading the words straight from a textbook. But you know it's more than that, it has to be. The way he offered his help yesterday was more reminiscent of someone who's lived through something similar. Empathy cannot be learned from a book.

"Right. Do they ever go away?" You don't push him to give you any answers about his own trauma, but you desperately want to know that these thoughts will eventually go away. Spencer glances down at your hand gripping his jacket,

"Sometimes they leave for a while. But, they don't ever leave forever." His answer is not what you had hoped for, but you know he wouldn't lie to you. You release him from your grip and clear your throat, turning your car off and getting out.

You know if the roles were reversed that you would suggest he seek out professional help. It's only the most logical way to deal with this sort of thing, but you know that you can't face a doctor and tell them about how you relive that girl's death every night. They'd surely diagnose you with something and you'd be kicked off the team.

But maybe being dismissed from this job would be the best thing for you. If you're unable to move on from this incident, how can you expect to function like everything is fine? And if something like this happens again, what will happen? Will you crumble completely?

As you step into the elevator, you can't help but wonder if the loss is worth it. Not only the loss of victims, but the loss of yourself as well. You feel the change within you, like a piece of you is fractured beyond repair.

Spencer and you part ways and begin your workload for the day. The blank white paper still waits for you. ----- The rest of the team had made it to the next site and had called Spencer and Garcia for their help. Of course, you used this as an excuse to abandon the report on your desk, insisting that you can be of some help to them. They're both geniuses and you know there's nothing you can do that they can't, but they let you join them anyways.

"Look for white males, aged twenty to forty, who recently experienced a severe head trauma." Derek speaks through the speaker and you watch in amazement at how fast Garcia is able to filter through hospital records.

"I've got one. Sending it over now." She drags and drops the file into a message and sends it off to the team.

"What would I do without you, baby girl?" You can practically hear Morgan's smile through the phone. His playful ways with Garcia had landed everyone in a presentation about inappropriate work relationships last year and you can clearly see they disregarded every piece of information shared there.

The phone clicks and goes silent, leaving the three of us crammed into Garcia's office and you can't help but feel like you're inconveniencing her and Spencer. You stand from your seat and dismiss yourself, telling them you're going to work on a report and to holler if they need you. You know they won't, but at least you offered.

Sitting back down at your desk, you grab your pen and convince yourself that you're going to write at least one good sentence. You need to have this done by the time Hotch gets back and at this rate you won't even have it done by Christmas.

Taking a deep breath, you tap the pen against the desk before putting it to the paper. You hold it there for so long that an ink blob begins bleeding through the document, and so you start moving it across the paper.

At approximately 4:47 pm EST on October 16, 2023 the Behavioral Analysis Unit from Quantico, Virginia, responded to a hostage situation that resulted in two deaths.

You stare at the sentence you had managed to write and wonder if you can just leave the report as is. Technically it is what happened. But you know that you have to fill in the details. Perhaps that part of it can wait just a little longer.

Deciding you've put in all the effort you can manage for now without slipping into another downward spiral or gruesome memories, you decide to go waste some time in the break room.

There's not much to do, but you make it seem like organizing the coffee mugs in the cupboard is the most vital mission you've encountered to date. And thankfully it keeps your mind distracted from everything falling apart inside your mind.

-----

Garcia and Spencer don't call on you to help them for the rest of the day, much to your dismay. You were hoping they'd at least take pity on you and let you do something insignificant. But perhaps they don't even trust you with the most menial tasks.

You sit at your desk at the end of the day and see others leave the offices, bidding each other goodbye for the weekend. The rest of the team will be back on Monday and you still only have one sentence written in your report that's sure to exceed ten pages if you do it correctly.

"Hey, staying late again?" You hear Spencer ask as he returns from Garcia's office. Spinning around in your seat to face him, you nod your head.

"Yeah." You reply without much enthusiasm, glancing back at the paper. He must think you're completely inadequate at your job because you've been unable to complete a single report in two days. If he's been secretly tasked with keeping tabs on your progress for Hotch, surely there is no good news to report.

"Why don't you take it with you? Work on it over the weekend?" He suggests, and it's not a bad idea. It would surely beat sticking around an empty office all weekend. But truthfully, you're not sure an empty house will be much better.

"You're probably right." You pick up the file and get ready to leave the office with Spencer, who has his belongings in his arms. The two of you walk down to the parking lot and he starts heading towards the bus station.

"Hey, I can take you." You offer, stopping him in his tracks. He looks between you and your car, almost like he's not sure if he should take you up on your offer. But eventually, he walks over and takes a seat in the passenger seat.

"Thank you." He says, fastening his seatbelt. You back out of the parking spot and make your way towards his apartment. Thankfully he says nothing about the fact you took the longest route possible.

"Any fun weekend plans?" You ask him as you pull up to the curb, stalling to keep here as long as possible, so that you're not left alone with your mind. He rests back in the seat slightly and puffs out some air as he shakes his head.

"What's fun for me doesn't always fit other people's definition." There's a small smirk on his face and you know he's either about to devour an entire book series in two days or learn an entirely new skill. He's always looking for ways to expand his knowledge, and you admire that about him.

"Well, as long as you enjoy it then who cares?" You shoot back, watching as he gathers his bag up in his hands and opens the door. 

"Apparently our coworkers. But thank you for the ride, see you Monday." He bids you goodbye and you watch as he walks into the building. You don't leave for your home right away, instead you lean your forehead against the steering wheel and become frustrated with yourself. Since when are you scared of being alone with your own thoughts?

-----

"Save me. Save me. Save me. SAVE ME!" The girl screams in your face, blood dripping out from her mouth and onto your body. Your hands desperately try to stop the bleeding, but it's no use and soon her chanting ceases and she crumples to the floor. Her dull eyes stare widely at the ceiling and you're left covered in her blood. You're acutely aware of how it's sinking into the crevices of your skin, drying in your hair, becoming part of you. 

Just like every night for the past week you awake from the nightmare. A sheer layer of sweat covers your body and you can't take it anymore. These nightmares are driving you out of your mind. You haven't slept for more than three hours straight over the past week and you start feeling like you'd do anything to be released from your own thoughts. 

You push yourself out of bed and into your bathroom where you splash cool water on your face. You're well aware that you're getting into a very bad headspace, and being alone is doing nothing to help the situation. If you keep heading down this path with no help, there's no saying how much of yourself you will lose. Or what your thoughts will drive you to do.

Bloodshot eyes stare back at you in the mirror and you hardly recognize yourself. The dark circles under your eyes make you look like a cheap halloween decoration, your cheeks are sullen. You look miserable. You are miserable. Tearing your gaze away from yourself, you put some decent clothes on and grab your keys off the dining room table. 

The air outside is crisp, dew gently rests on the blades of grass and the moonlight illuminates the sidewalks. The nocturnal animals sing their songs, their tunes carrying throughout the night. You almost feel a part of them, the nighttime animals, as you just meander the streets for another night with no destination set.

You turn down an empty street and hear the thumping of music approaching from the main road. Probably teenagers enjoying their weekend night without parental supervision. The music gets closer and closer and you see their headlights start casting a shadow of yourself on the sidewalk. 

"Catch!" You hear a boy yell from the car out of the window, and you turn to see what's going on. 

Before you can process what's happening, you feel something collide with your chest and your skin becomes wet. Looking down you see that they had thrown a drink at you, some sort of syrupy mess but you're not concerned with what it is; just what it looks like. Dark red syrup covers your hands and your shirt and you can't stop yourself from starting to hyperventilate. 

Your chest begins rapidly heaving, your hands start shaking and it feels like your knees are going to give out. It looks too real, and it's on your skin. It's seeping into your skin and it's on your clothes. And it's on your face and in your hair. It's everywhere. 

"No, no, no no no no.." Your repeat to yourself, trying to rid your skin of the syrup, but all it does it smear and glide across your skin, spreading itself all over you. Your nails claw at your hands trying to get rid of it but it just won't leave. Panicked tears fall from your eyes and you look around, seeing that you're all alone in the middle of the street. 

Without thinking, you start moving towards a familiar building. Your body is on autopilot and it feels as if you're practically flying down the street. It could've taken you twenty minutes to get there, but it felt like five seconds. Once you're on the doorstep your sticky, red-laden fist knocks on the door. You can hear your rattling breaths as if it's from a distance and your vision begins to contort, making you dizzy. You knock again, having enough knowledge that you need him to open the door before something worse happens. 

"Hello?" You hear his voice as the door swings open, and the soft lighting from inside his apartment illuminates his figure as if he's an angel. 

"Please." Is all you can say through your cries and he wastes no time before he's helping you inside of his apartment. 

He takes the jacket off your shoulders and helps you step out of your shoes, a vivid look of worry plastered all over his face. 

"What happened?" His voice is concerned as he places his hand on your back, leading you into the kitchen. He wets a cloth and gently starts to wipe the red from your trembling hands. With each pass of the cloth, your skin regains its natural color and you feel your breathing begin to level back out. It's leaving your skin, it's washing off. 

"I was outside and someone threw something. And then I don't know what happened, it's like my brain just snapped and I couldn't control myself, all I knew is that I had to get here." You try to explain it to him the best way you can, still feeling an adrenaline buzz. You half expect him to give you some clinical diagnosis, but he remains quiet.

His warm hand envelopes one of yours as he wipes the remaining syrup from your arms. Your face starts to feel stiff from the drying tears, and your eyes move from your skin to Spencer's face, who is standing less than a foot away, tenderly cleansing your skin. Guilt washes over you as you realize that you've just interrupted his weekend, intruded on his free time. 

As your senses start to clarify, the guilt intensifies and you pull your hand away from his grasp. You can't believe you actually ran all the way here because some teenage kid threw something at you. How juvenile. He takes a step back from you and scans over your body, sending a self-conscious pang down your spine. 

"I um, I'm sorry Spencer. I shouldn't have come here and I'm sorry if I interrupted your weekend." You tumble over your own words and go to leave his apartment, already mentally kicking yourself for knocking on his door. His hand on your shoulder stops you from walking to the front door, and he gives you a certain look you've never seen on him before. His eyes are tender and soft. 

"Don't be sorry, I'm glad you came. I told you I was here to help." His voice is kind and gentle, and you're grateful for him.

"I can go back home, I think I'll be okay." You can't help but feel as if you're still inconveniencing him and make one more move towards the door which gets stopped by him again. He shakes his head, 

"No, it's okay. Go sit on the couch and I'll get you some clean clothes to change into. What kind of tea would you like?" Your heart swells at his tenderhearted words. Your feet shuffle against the hardwood floor and you position yourself at the edge of his leather couch, careful to not get any of the stickiness on it. 

"Um, anything is fine, thank you." Your throat begins feeling scratchy, probably from how violently you sobbed the entire way over here. He nods before disappearing into his apartment and your eyes travel around his place. You've never been here before and you're curious as to what he's like, what his tastes are. 

It's not far off from what you expected. The color scheme is simple, the walls an earthy green and the lamp in the corner emits a soft amber glow. In true Spencer fashion, there's also a multitude of books, both laying on a coffee table and adorning bookshelves. It's calming. 

He walks back into the room and hands you a change of clothes, which feel warm, as if they just came from the dryer. Spencer shows you to the bathroom and tells you that he'll be in the kitchen while you get changed. You strip from your clothes and try to fold them as neatly as you can, not wanting to make more of a mess in his home. He had given you a simple sweatshirt and sweatpants, which you already know are going to be too long, but you're thankful nonetheless.

The sweatshirt easily falls over your head and it smells like fresh laundry and Spencer. You breathe in the smell and it makes you feel secure. And just like you thought, the pants are far too long, but you roll up the legs and make it work. Before you join him in the kitchen, you try to rinse out the red syrup from your hair, knowing that if you don't get it out now that it'll be ten times harder to wash when it dries. 

Once you're satisfied, you open the door and quietly walk back down the hall to the kitchen, where Spencer is standing with two mugs in his hands. He looks over you once and offers you one of the drinks. Steam rises from the top and you smell the chamomile. The warmth of the drink soothes your throat, and you follow Spencer back into his living room, resuming your position on his couch. He sits at the other side and you look over at him, feeling an intense sense of gratitude. 

"Thank you, Spencer." You whisper, not wanting to disturb the stillness. He places his mug on the coffee table beside an open book and his lips curl into a soft smile. 

"Anytime. I know you'd do the same for me." He says and you nod, knowing he's right. You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find just the right words. 

"I don't think I'm okay. I don't feel safe being alone with my thoughts. I can't sleep without seeing her." You admit to him, no longer caring if he reports this to Hotch on Monday. You chew on your bottom lip with anxiety, feeling exhausted from suffering. Expecting to find him looking at you, analyzing you, you delay meeting his gaze only to see that he looks empathetic. 

"I know what you mean. I barely slept for two weeks when mine started." His voice is raspy, yet gentle. Your head shakes as you take another sip of warm tea. 

"How do you deal with it?" You're desperate for answers, knowing you can't keep functioning this way. He sighs, 

"One day at a time. I put off confiding in someone for a long time, probably too long. But this isn't something to deal with alone." The two of you lock eyes, and for the first time since the incident, you almost feel at ease. 

"Am I going to be kicked off the team?" There's worry evident in your voice, and you're scared of his answer. 

"No. If they got rid of everyone who has dealt with trauma from the job there would be no behavioral analysis unit." He says with a small smile, trying to lighten the heavy mood. You take another sip of tea and allow yourself to relax into the leather of his couch. His presence alone is enough to make you feel safe. 

"Are you going to tell the others?" You ask, looking down into the tea, watching it swirl gently around the ceramic. He readjusts on the couch. 

"No." He says, much to your surprise, but you're thankful he's not reporting back to Hotch about how you've been doing. 

The two of you let the conversation fall back into a silence, and you finish off the tea. Your body feels relaxed and warm, your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Leaning back into the comfortable cushions, your eyes close and you take a deep breath, thankful for the little moment of peace. You're not sure how much time passes, but you feel Spencer tapping you on the shoulder. Fluttering your eyes open you see him standing beside you.

"Follow me." He quietly instructs, gesturing for you to go with him down the hall. Without thinking of why, you blindly follow his orders. He leads you into a dark room, his hand on the small of your back to guide you through the shadows. Spencer sits you down on a bed and an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, you can't let him do this for you. 

"Stay here tonight, I'll be in the living room." His hand leaves your back but you reach out and grab his wrist before he can leave. 

"No, Spencer, this is your home. I can't." You tell him and stand from his bed, which is admittedly very comfortable. He turns to face you fully and sits you back on the bed, his hands on your shoulders. 

"Please?" He asks, and you're not sure why he's being so generous. He's already done more than enough for you tonight, and now he's giving you his bed. The man doesn't like to shake peoples' hands because of germ transfer, and here he is letting you stay in such an intimate place of his? You can't wrap your head around it. 

Though you feel sleepy, there's an uneasy feeling in the back of your head and you know what will happen if you go to sleep; you'll see her again. You reach your hands to rest atop of his on your shoulders and look up at him through the darkness, just barely able to make out his features. 

"Stay with me." You whisper and let his hands go so that he doesn't feel trapped. In the darkness you see his shoulders tense, and you wish you could take your words back. But to your surprise, he nods his head and makes his way around to the other side of the bed. He pulls the covers back and slowly gets in, and you lay down, keeping a respectable distance between the two of you. 

Your heart pounds in your chest and you reach across the soft blankets for his hand, needing it to ground you, to remind you that you're not here alone. His larger hand engulfs yours and his thumb traces soft circles on the back of your hand. Your eyes close and before you understand what's happening, you fall asleep. 

-----

Bright, almost blinding, sunlight breaking through curtains stirs you awake and you open your eyes to find that you're not in your own room. Your mind takes a moment to remember where you are and your muscles relax when you realize where you are. But the relaxation is short-lived as you realize that it's not a pillow in front of your face, that you're in fact resting your forehead against Spencer's chest, your hand still entwined with his. 

A moment of pure fear strikes you and you try to untangle yourself from him without disturbing him. Surely if he woke up and saw this he'd be uncomfortable. Gently, you try to extract your hand from his, but instead of being able to separate, he squeezes your hand tighter. Your eyes trail up from your hands to his face, seeing that he's already opened his eyes. 

"I'm sorry I don't, I didn't mean-" You try to manage the fallout of your actions, but he shushes you. 

"It's okay. How did you sleep?" His voice is deliciously raspy, and it distracts you from answering the question for just a second longer than it should've. 

"Um, good. I didn't see her." You admit and lean back so that you can more clearly see his face. His curly hair is disheveled and his eyes are still clouded with drowsiness. His soft, pink lips turn upwards into a smile. 

"That's great." He says and closes his eyes once more, keeping your hand in his. Your tense body eases once more as you realize that he's not uncomfortable. You know him well enough by now to understand that if he were uncomfortable, he wouldn't still be here. 

You rest your forehead against his chest again, savoring the warm and comforting smell of him. The two of you are entangled with one another under the cozy blankets, and you're perfectly content with staying just like this for as long as possible. 

As you drift back off into a sleep, you feel Spencer move around and feel his soft lips press a delicate kiss to your forehead. Instinctually, you lean into him, nuzzling your nose into the space where his neck meets his shoulder. 

-----

Sometime during the afternoon, the two of you decide to get out of bed. You're very aware that a rosy color adorns your face, feeling flustered from whatever transpired between you and Spencer. You had always been attracted to him, not just for his looks, but also his intelligence, but you never thought he'd reciprocate those feelings. But after last night and this morning, you can't help but wonder what's actually happening. 

The two of you sit across from each other at the dining table, drinking coffee and eating mixed berries. You catch him stealing glances at you, and he catches you doing the same. You're too afraid to bring it up, scared that whatever is happening will be dismantled. So instead you're perfectly content just enjoying the moment.

After breakfast, you move into the living room where he picks up his book from last night and you pick one of them off his shelf. The synopsis sounds interesting, and so you curl up on his couch with it. Unlike last night, you no longer feel like you're intruding on his space, it almost feels natural to just coexist with one another on this Saturday morning. 

He finishes the book in record time, and you had only reached page twenty of yours. You watch as he files the book away on his shelf, and instead of reaching for another, he trains his gaze on you. Your fingers close the front cover of the book, waiting for him to say something. 

"You said you didn't see her last night, right?" He asks, breaking the silence. You nod your head, 

"I didn't see her last night." You confirm and he smiles, joining you on the couch. He's sitting so close that your knees brush against each other and it sends a warm feeling up your spine. 

"It's one of the harder parts of the job, I think. Nobody tells you about this side of it when you join. And nobody really talks about it either, everyone would just prefer to suffer in silence so as not to be perceived as weak. But without finding an outlet, it'll eat you alive." He speaks, resting his hand atop your knee. Your eyes stay glued to his hand as you add onto his statement. 

"I considered leaving the team because I felt like I was going insane. I thought that if I couldn't save that girl, then what good am I to anyone else?" You reach out for his hand and he looks over to you, hazel eyes shining with an unfamiliar light in them. 

"It's hard, but you can't focus on those you lose. You have to remind yourself of how many you save. To get yourself out of that darkness of guilt, you just have to remember the ones that are alive and well because of you. You've been on the team for two years now and you've already saved countless people, both directly and indirectly. Don't let the job strip you of your humanity." He tells you, looking deep into your eyes. You swallow, digesting his words and your eyes are unable to look away from him. 

"It's so hard though. She was just a child." You say with exasperation. He squeezes his hand on your knee in reassurance. 

"She was, but so many children get to live because you stopped him." His voice is sincere and your eyes water at his words. Your mind conjures images of children with families, alive and healthy. 

Spencer raises a hand to the side of your face, and you lean into his touch. His thumb comes up and brushes a lone tear from the corner of your eye before gently stroking your cheek. You reach out and pull him into you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he circles his arms around your waist. He hold you tight, and you never want to let go. Spencer is warm, comforting, and you know that from this moment forward, you won't be able to survive without him. 

Pulling away from the embrace, you rest your forehead against his, the two of you meeting each other's eyes with parted lips. Your hands find their way to the sides of his face, and you bring your lips to his. His hands hold your waist, keeping you in place as you move against each other in perfect harmony. 

One of your hands finds its way to his curly hair and you rake your fingers through it, eliciting a soft moan from him. Heat ignites within you and you push your body closer to him, unable to get enough. His skin is soft under your touch and you try to memorize the way it feels, just in case this never happens again. 

His hands move to map out the curve of your waist and your breathing gets heavier with desire. You move one of your legs across his lap, straddling him. He breaks the kiss first and holds you upright on his lap, looking over your body that's still concealed by his clothes. Deep in your soul, you know that this is more than just a random act of lust. 

You lean in to kiss him again and you help his hands remove the sweatshirt from your body. The air is chilly against your skin and you shiver. Spencer kisses your lips and trails down to your neck, and you're unable to contain your breathy moan. Your body aches with desire to have him all over you. 

His hands map out every inch of your body, taking the time to memorize the way you feel underneath him and how you respond to his tender touch. The two of you take your time to make each other feel good, to make each other feel loved and understood. There's no rush to your movements, and you're perfectly content taking as long as you want to touch him, to feel his warm skin on yours as you move in tandem, the two of you becoming one. 

You treat each other as if you're both made of precious glass, appreciating the fragility of the moment. The two of you soak in every moan, every breath, every kiss from the other, and you've never felt more alive. With each movement you find a new way to appreciate his beauty. His beauty is in the tenderness of his touch, the colors of his eyes, the pinkness of his lips. Every inch of him is beautiful, and you know that nothing else on this Earth can ever begin to compare.

Spencer rests his forehead against yours, the two of you out of breath and sensitive. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he moves beside you, cradling you in his arms and placing delicate kisses to your warm skin. The two of you hold on to each other as if the other would cease to exist if you let go. 

Without having to utter a single word, you know that the two of you will never have to face this life alone again. 

[snipersfucker]

Hcs for mirage and make it spicy too 😈

yall so down bad for that robot dick smh (me too)

its nsfw (mirage x human!reader) stuff here so mdni even though i know yall read that 18+ shit anyway but imma just put it here. also, i am a grown ass woman and was still blushing while writing this so. warning: its hella fucking long

mirage headcanons

let's start with something that just popped up in my head:

when he's the dom, he praises you a lot but also i feel like he's the type to slightly tease/mock you? hear me out. "aw, you're gonna cum? yeah? you wanna be good for me and cum?" while slamming into you and ridding you of any thoughts

and while subbing, he's so whiny... like, whimpering, begging you to let him finish (in general or inside you cause i have a breeding kink) but also, he's being a big fucking brat, literally provoking you so that you'd go harder, be meaner to him

loves edging, loves doing it to you, loves watching you squirm and turn into mush with that cocky smile on his face, only using his hands on you

he definitely likes being edged, too. definitely. imagine him with his wrists tied behind his back, you not letting him touch you/stop you from torturing him, him complying even though he could easily break free..... he's a good boy and lets you do anything you want. (whimpers)

overstimulation as well, he just loves seeing you in that state, begging, crying in pleasure, moaning, whimpering, whatever. really.

he loses it when you overstimulate him though, definitely overheating and not being able to do anything other than beg you to stop, even though he's so fucking into it

12 inches. at least tbh.

i don't even wanna imagine what his cum must taste like, it's either washer fluid, gasoline or fucking rainwater he collects inside him so that you wouldn't have to swallow the first two things idk

back to pleasant things:

he'd definitely take you on rides where he just tells you to touch yourself for him in the driver's seat so that he could watch and hear everything

if you're a bold person (me) and came up with that idea first? like, he's driving around, talking with you through the radio, the mood is already slightly sexual, teasing and all (you know how he is), and then you decide to win the war and begin slowly undressing and touching yourself.... i feel like he'd either go completely silent for a moment or be like "damn... didn't know you had it in you". and expect him to literally ruin your insides when you get back to the garage. the positions he'd put you in.....

speaking of positions. he's big. i really like to believe your human body would be able to take him (i definitely would) but i am not entirely sure. do i care, though? no.

so his fav one is cowgirl. you straddling his lap while he's sitting, his servos on your waist/hips, them not moving you up and down but only staying there, allowing you to do anything you want (he doesn't wanna hurt you as any normal person)

missionary, too. mating press when he feels like ruining you in the sweetest way possible.

he'd try most things you'd ask him to do. he's a whore tbh. but. choking is a no, slapping and any other thing that could potentially cause you unwanted pain due to his strength and size is a no for him. wrapping his fingers around your throat just so that you'd feel them there? hell yeah. actually applying pressure? you might die

doesn't mind your hands on his neck, though. he knows you can't do shit to him, he'd let you hold a knife to his throat if you wanted to tbh, he couldn't care less (turns him on)

he looks like he fucking enjoys roleplays and the cringe ones, too. like, police officer stopping him for speeding, him acting all innocent and then he has to get punished for breaking the law or some shit. he just has that face that looks like he likes these things

he'd be so bratty as well. "no, ma'am, i am sure i wasn't speeding. well, you could always handcuff me if you think otherwise....." in that fake innocent tone....

size kink, breeding kink (just pretend his cum is normal like, potential gasoline inside me is a turn off for me personally tbh), bondage... he'd tie you up but again, he doesn't wanna hurt you, he'd prefer if you had complete control over your limbs and all. but loves it when you do it to him as i mentioned earlier

he's gotta prep you real good before putting it in, again because of his size. fingers, lube, your spit, anything. he needs to make sure you're stretched out enough to take him

he'd definitely steal your panties to jerk himself off with them (will be writing a whole fic about it someday)

speaking of masturbation, he's a horny fuck, everything about you gets him going and there aren't enough occasions for you to actually have sex, so he just uses his own hand, imagining you in various positions, even the impossible ones just because.

i don't think they have involuntary boners that show and they have to transform a bit to get their dicks out so he just does it to get rid of the unbearable tension inside him, not because anybody would see him with a hard-on

he cums a lot. the fluid literally never stops coming out of his dick when he finishes. breeding kink goes brrrr once again.

once came up with a funny safe word and told you to use it every single time you feel anything else other than pleasure

his digits are so big, he could easily use just one and make you crumble for him with just pushing it in and out of you

his aftercare probably consists of him holding you after sex, although he's aware that the metal body might not be the most comfortable thing ever. he'd definitely offer to take you on a joy ride afterwards. oh, and praise, too. but would also probably playfully make fun of you for saying horny stuff you'd normally never say to him if your mind wasn't clouded with lust

he's so confident in his bedroom abilities, too, as he should tbh.

i want him to manhandle me but also make him my pet.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

When Morally-Gray Meets Morally-Good

Warnings: violence, several hero whumpers, villain whumpee, torture, blood, betrayal

Sidekick attacked with vicious intent, landing crushing blows on Villain's cowering, bloodied form while Lead Hero watched on approvingly, encouraging it. Second Hero stood close by as well, though she wasn't enjoying witnessing the beating as much as Lead Hero seemed to.

It wasn't fair; Villain's hands were left uncuffed but he was on the ground as Sidekick attacked mercilessly on his defenseless figure while he screamed and wailed in pain, begged for mercy. There was no point to it; it was violence for the sake of violence, in Second Hero's opinion. Revolting.

Lead Hero had claimed it would give Sidekick some battle experience, help him to be a future hero... but the brutal beating Second Hero was witnessing was no training session.

Second Hero kept waiting expectantly for Lead Hero to call Sidekick off the victimized Villain, put an end to the cruel game, but he never said anything, just watching without intervening as Sidekick beat the life out of Villain with blow after blow. Blood painted the tiled floor in smears and spatters, like some horrible form of art.

Villain's agonized shrieks rattled in Second Hero's head, and she shifted anxiously on her feet, knowing the awful sounds would haunt her dreams for weeks. She was shy and timid, and it took a good amount of effort for her to muster the courage to speak.

Second Hero cleared her throat gruffly to snatch her leader's attention.

"Aren't you going to stop them?" She said pointedly, gesturing at Sidekick.

Lead Hero laughed impassively, giving her a surprised look. "Why? Sidekick is getting the opportunity to hone his skills on a real target. It's good practice."

"Sidekick is going to kill them if he keeps it up," Second Hero said in a clipped tone. She was usually the quietest team member, a person of very few words, the one who always stayed out of arguments. Hardly ever even used their voice. But her leader's actions were troubling her deeply.

Lead Hero shrugged, pulling something out of his pocket that she realized was a large pocket knife. He tossed it carelessly to Sidekick.

"Now's a good time to test out your weapon training," Lead Hero called out to him. "Remember what I showed you about the proper ways to hold a blade. Make me proud."

Sidekick grinned viciously, eager to please before turning back to Villain, who was crumpled in a bloody, groaning heap on the ground.

Villain's swollen, bloodshot eyes instantly flicked to the blade as Sidekick advanced on him again, and they went huge with pure terror. He tried and failed to push himself up with his restrained arms, trying desperately to scoot away, or get to his feet and flee. He was slipping on his own blood that pooled on the tiled floor beneath him, and couldn't coordinate his mangled legs, trembling and shaking all over.

Sidekick slunk toward him with predatory grace, a bloodthirsty grin on his face at how Villain recoiled and shrunk away from him, cowering pressed up against far wall with nowhere to go, cornered

"That's enough," Second Hero said suddenly, stepping forward. "We are supposed to be heroes -- not murderers."

Lead Hero rolled his eyes. "What's the big deal? They're a villain anyway. No one cares what happens to them."

"That doesn't give us a right to kick a man when he's down."

"They would." Lead Hero sneered, glaring hatefully at Villain's broken form.

Second Hero's blood went cold at that, her gut twisting with disgust and disbelief. How could the man she looked up to as leader be so heartless? This was a side of him she'd rarely seen.

"I said that's enough," Second Hero raised her voice, scared but for once standing her ground as Lead Hero finally swiveled to give her his full attention, one eyebrow raised in annoyance. Villain's screams pierced the background as Sidekick launched into another vicious attack with the knife while Lead Hero and Second Hero stared intensely at each other for several beats, the charged tension between them snapping taut like a rubber band...

"If you don't stop this, I will," Second Hero growled, her tone filled with grim resolve.

"Don't you dare even think about--" Lead Hero never got to finish his threat.

Second Hero's eyes went dark as she spun back toward Sidekick, who was standing over Villain with the blade to his throat, about to deal the final blow.

"...This 'training session' is over." Second Hero's hand twitched, and a shadow wolf came streaking out of a corner, running up and sinking its teeth straight into Sidekick's forearm with a snarl.

Sidekick screamed in pain and jerked back, yanking his arm out of the wolf's jaws in a mess of ripped flesh.

The injury was sizzling and smoking, the shadows burning hot as they touched him.

"WHAT IN THE--" Sidekick's furious roar was cut short by another wail as a second wolf appeared, streaming darkness and shadows from its fur, that latched onto his ankle, dragging him away from Villain.

"Second Hero, stop!" Lead Hero boomed angrily.

Second Hero flinched, but didn't let up until her wolves had dragged Sidekick to the door, dropping him ungracefully before coming to flank Second Hero as she firmly planted herself between Villain and the two people she once considered her closest friends. It was a terrifying sight, of Second Hero wreathed in dark tendrils of black smoke she could bend to her will with two deadly predators at her sides.

"Enough pain, enough torture," Second Hero croaked, her voice cracking as she glanced behind her at Villain's shivering form curled up on the floor in a puddle of blood. "You're taking it too far..."

"I know what I'm doing," Lead Hero snapped harshly, fuming at her intervention. "How DARE you attack Sidekick! You're on the same team!"

Second Hero shook her head. "No. We're not. Not after what I just witnessed '

"I never took you as being queasy," Lead Hero scoffed in disbelief. His eyes started to glow with power -- fire powers, Second Hero knew -- but she wouldn't give him a chance to use them on her. She wouldn’t let him overpower her.

She flung her hands out in front of her with a shout, and the two wolves streaked forward in perfect unison, lunging at Lead Hero and dragging him to the ground.

Lead Hero struggled fiercely, slashing at the wolves with a blade he whipped out, but the blade passed right through them, because how can you fight something as intangible as darkness itself?

One wolf snapped its teeth down on his wrist, and Lead Hero screamed as his flesh burned at all the points of contact, making him drop the weapon. The other wolf placed its massive front paws on Lead Hero's chest, baring its teeth with ears pinned back as it held him down.

Lead Hero's wide eyes flicked over to Second Hero, who averted her gaze guiltily. It looked like her leader was finally realizing just how serious she was.

Second Hero was used to being looked down upon for her constant silence, her hesitancy to argue against friends or allies. But that also led people to frequently underestimate her. Because while Lead Hero was indeed leader of the team, with one of the strongest superpowers of them all... Second Hero was stronger, when she wanted to be. Lead Hero often forgot that about her, how truly dangerous she could be in the rare moments her anger spiked from submission into aggression.

"You'll pay for this," Lead Hero barked hatefully. He hated that she'd gotten the upper hand so easily, taken him down with barely any effort. It was outright humiliating.

The wolf standing on his chest snarled loudly, and Lead Hero's mouth instantly clicked shut, as he stared up into the amber eyes shrouded by shadows.

Second Hero shook her head sadly. "Always so reliant on force and threats to get your way," she said flatly. "If you learned a little compassion, you'd be an even greater hero."

"That's what makes you weak," Lead Hero spat, finding his voice again despite the menacing beast pinning him down. "You're too soft-hearted to be a hero. Can't get anything done."

"Oh, I can get plenty done," Second Hero retorted. "And the fact that I don't need to resort to violence to do that says a lot about your incompetence, despite your boasting."

That seemed to leave Lead Hero speechless, his mouth flapping as he tried to speak.

Second Hero turned away from him, coming over and crouching down in front of the huddled villain, who instinctively raised an arm defensively to block whatever blow he anticipated.

Second Hero gently grabbed the arm and lowered it to get a look at Villain's bashed face. His eyes were swollen, leaking tears of pure pain down his cheeks, and she could see him fighting winces as the salt from them ran over the open wounds on his skin. Blood streamed steadily from his badly broken nose, flooding down his chin to drip into his lap.

"T-Thank you," Villain wheezed in a raspy voice that was hoarse from screaming.

"I'm sorry I didn't step in sooner," Second Hero said softly. The damage was nauseating to look at. She slipped an arm behind Villain's back, carefully helping him to his feet. But he almost immediately collapsed, slumping against her with a weak moan, and she tightened her grip to keep him from falling.

Second Hero slung one of Villain’s arms over her shoulder to hold him up, practically dragging him toward the door to get him medical help.

"You traitor!" Lead Hero snarled, and started struggling harder under the massive shadow wolf pinning him as she walked past with Villain. “Villain is a monster, he doesn't deserve your sympathy!”

Second Hero paused, casting him a cold, dark glance, and when she spoke, her voice was deadpan, devoid of all emotion. “...And neither do you.”

Suddenly, one of her shadow wolves sank its fangs into his calf, and he shrieked in agony as it viciously shook its head before letting go.

“That injury will prevent you from walking far. Don't try to follow me.” Second Hero turned her face away, and the two wolves backed off from Team Leader and Sidekick, fading into wisps of black smoke.

“Consider this my resignation,” she tossed over her shoulder, and then she was gone, taking Villain with her.

Masterlist

@lumpofsand

@isikedmyself878

@scoundrelwithboba

@iamheretohurt

[ramsayxme]

Ramsay’s Toy

“So, let’s play a game. Which body part do you need the least?” Ramsays voice echoed. You’ve known Ramsay for a few months, your family was taken captive and flayed while hunting near the Dreadfort. You knew three things as facts. 1. Ramsay was evil. 2. Ramsay spared your life. 3. Ramsay wouldn’t spare anyones life unless there was a reason that pleased him. He said that line while beginning his torturing. You peered into the room from the hallway and saw him standing in front of a disheveled man who was strapped to the wooden X. Theon Greyjoy. You recognized him immediately. You sighed as you rounded the corner of the hallway, entering the room. “My Lord…” you quietly interrupted.

Ramsay whipped his head around, teeth grinding together harshly. He looked you in the eyes and his icy eyes bore into your soul. His dark curls covered the tips of his ears. You had to admit, you did find him visually appealing, but you hated his guts. He flayed your family! “What is it?” He hissed through his teeth, looking you up and down. “My Lord, I was hoping to speak with you privately.” Your gaze shifted over towards a crying Theon Greyjoy, and then back to Ramsay. Without saying anything, he huffed and walked towards you, his cloak swaying behind him. “This better be good. I was about to play a game!” He grabbed your elbow and yanked you into the hallway.

You gulped as he pushed you against the cold stone wall. His eyes shifted back and forth between your eyes. “Well?” He asked, impatiently. “Ramsay, I was just wondering if you would allow for-“ “Did you really distract me from playing a fun game with Lord Greyjoy to ask me a personal question?” He interrupted you, clearly irritated. You stared at his chest, your throat felt tight. “I’m sorry, I just-“

“I was really looking forward to peeling him. I have all of this built up energy, and now I fear I want to take it out on you, instead. Terrible timing on your part.” He pulled his flaying knife out of his sheath behind his back. You gasped as he pressed the metal against your neck. The blade was cold and you could feel his angry stare, even though you were avoiding eye contact. “Beg, and perhaps I’ll spare you. I’ve always thought you were pretty, it would be a shame for your blood to be shed because you couldn’t have patience with a stupid little question.”

You made eye contact, which caused Ramsays lips to curl into an evil grin. “Beg.” He commanded, pressing the blade against your skin a little harder. “Please, my lord. Please. I was foolish to interrupt you. Please…” Ramsay sucked in air through his teeth and yelled, startling you. “I SAID BEG!” You avoided the knife and dropped to your knees. You grabbed his ankles and lay your forehead on his boots. “Please, my lord!” You were trembling as you felt his hand move your hair from behind your neck, pushing it over your shoulder. He chuckled gently. “Fine, you may keep your life today. But don’t get too comfortable, I am losing patience with you.” You looked up at him he he held his hand out, reaching out to help you stand on your feet again.

You grabbed his hand, and he yanked you up. “Since you’ve interrupted me, I suppose I might as well just let Theon wait a little longer. Follow me.” He said, his hand still holding yours. He turned and walked down the hallway, nearly dragging you behind him. “My Lord, I have duties to-“ “You are boring me, my lady. You realize what I do when I am bored, don’t you?” He didn’t even turn around. You closed your mouth, and just silently followed him down the hallway. You approached a large wooden door, realizing you were at Ramsay’s chambers. You swallowed hard, nervous yet curious. He pushed open the door, pulled you in, and let it slam behind you.

He smiled as he put his hands on your shoulders. He stared at you deeply as he waited to see your reaction. You stared back at him, nervously. You shifted your weight under his grasp, making him grab your shoulders even tighter. “I am bored. Entertain me.” He whispered, letting go of your arms and walking over to a chair near his fireplace. You froze, unsure of what he was expecting you to do. You dared question him, but you just wanted clarity. “My Lord, what do you want me to do?” Your voice sounded like a raspy whisper in his huge bedroom chambers. Ramsays voice sounded booming. “I don’t know, be creative.” He pulls out his flaying knife once again, playing with it between his hands as he sits down, legs spread wide. “Sing. Dance. What are you good at?” He smirked. That didn’t help you at all, you couldn’t sing and gods knew you couldn’t dance.

Ramsay pointed his knife at you, motioning circles. “Do some spins, make your dress flow in the air. I like to see pretty girls dance.” You immediately began spinning, your dress curling into the air. You were terrified at where this would lead, but you hoped this was entertaining enough for him. “Come closer to me.” He demands. You continue your spins and sways as you make your way closer to him. He grins as you get within a foot of him, your dress hitting his knees as it bounces through the air. “You’re very light on your feet. Very good.” He praised you, talking with his hands which still held his blade. He watches you as you stare at the blade in his hand. “Oh, are you scared?” He points the blade at you, causing you to stop dancing and take a step back. Ramsay chuckles and leans over, setting the blade on the ground next to his chair. “Come here.” He demands.

You walk closer to him, barely swaying now. He reaches his arm out and pats his lap with the other hand. “Come sit on my lap and keep dancing.” He smirks, waiting for you to straddle him. Your face flushes red, but you don’t dare disobey him. You pull your dress up to your knees and you straddle him. As soon as you sit down on his lap, you can feel he has an erection. Before you can say anything, his arms snake around your body, pulling you down on him hard and close. He looks up at you, his eyes look wild. He loosens his grip, but keeps his hands on your waist. “Keep dancing.” He softly said. You were scared when he used a gentle tone of voice with you. You started rocking back and forth on his lap, your hips making awkward circles. You weren’t quite sure what you were doing, so you just relied on his facial expressions. Unfortunately, Ramsay had a solid poker face, and he was just staring at you. You shifted yourself forward, feeling his erection on your inner thighs. You began grinding on him, hips swaying. His eyebrows raised and his eyelids softened. “Oh, that feels good.” He whispered.

“I’m glad, my lord.” You replied, realizing that your breathing was jagged. You also realized in this moment that you were enjoying the feeling of his hard erection on your body. He chuckled at your realization, and pulled your body harder into his. He let out a breathy laugh. “You quite like this, don’t you? And by that look on your face, I’d say you’re surprised you do!” You flushed, knowing that he could read you like a book. Ramsay pushed you off his lap, and stood up in front of you. His trousers gathered at his crotch, and his cloak was crooked. He smiled at you and said “You’re dismissed.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t want to be dismissed. As much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t want it to stop. Gods, you wanted to hate him so much but there was just something you couldn’t shake. You bravely leaned forward, wrapped your arms around his neck, and pressed your lips against his. Taking him off guard, he deeply inhaled through his nose before groaning into your kiss. His lips were soft, which was surprising to you. Without thinking, you pressed your body onto his, causing his tongue to slip into your mouth. He made out with you softly, dare you say gently. Ramsay pulled away from the kiss, his hands on your hips, pushing you a step back. He didn’t smile. “I said you are dismissed.”

You felt frustrated. Clearly, he knew you were turned on and wanted to tease you. You felt a surge of bravery in your chest, possibly radiating from your lower abdomen. You stepped closer to him, closing the gap that he created. “I’m staying.” You said barely louder than a whisper. His mouth broke into a smirk, one eyebrow raised. “You’re persistent. I like that. Tell me, if I allow you to stay, what do you expect will happen?” His head cocked to the side, his face looking as soft as ever. His eyes were paralyzing. You took a deep breath in, “Whatever you want, my lord.”

He quickly brought his hand to your jaw, firmly grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger. He forced you to look him in the eyes. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? I didn’t expect this to be so easy, you are turning out to be such a whore for me. You are more inviting than I expected.” He leans in to give you another sloppy kiss, and you grab his other hand and slide it under your dress. His kisses stop and Ramsays hand instinctively caresses your soft thigh. “Do you think I am entertaining enough?” You whisper, watching his eyes flutter at the feeling of your warm and soft skin that is usually hidden away. “I certainly do…” Ramsay says, his voice trailing into the quiet of the chamber. The only other noise was the crackling fireplace, muffled chatter from outside the windows, and the sucking sound his lips made when he started kissing your neck.

You can’t help it, you let out a moan when he gives a little bite on your neck, right above your collarbone. His teeth are sharp. “Oh, you liked that didn’t you?” He cooed into your ear. You feel your skin catch fire, almost certain it turned bright red. He was so aware of your pleasure. Ramsays lips made their way up to your earlobe. “You know, I could have you right now. I could keep you in here for as long as I want, and no one would come looking. You’d be mine.” You hear his jaw clench when he word ‘mine’. Your breathing is heavy, you can’t help but moan when he whispers to you. “I know you want me, just admit it. You tried to hate me, and it didn’t work. You can’t get enough of me, can you?” You felt your body breakout in goosebumps, he slid his tongue into your ear at the end of his sentence.

His tongue went back into his mouth and he continued. “I could do all of these things to you… I’d have you for my personal use… and then after that?” He returned his gaze to your eyes. “After I am finished with you, you will never speak to me again. You will always look back and yearn for the days when I had you. The last time you truly felt pleasure. And you’ll tell no one, you’ll be powerless. You’ll have this longing inside you that will never escape.” You have a hard time swallowing as you listen to him. “Swear it. Swear by the old Gods and the new, and I’ll make you scream my name tonight, but it will be our little secret. I bring you here when I crave you, but outside of these walls…” he points to the walls around you. “You are no one to me. You are what you’ve always been and nothing more. But in here, you’re mine.” You nod, your mouth open. You feel so weak, but in the best way possible. “Say yes.” Ramsay instructs.

All you do is nod. You feel numb, almost stupid. “Speak.” He commands, as if you are one of his hounds. It works, though. You gently squeak out “Yes, my lord, I promise. By the old Gods and the new, I am your little secret.” He flashes his teeth as he chuckles, stepping backwards. “Yes, you are. My little toy. The little toy that gives me satisfaction. Do you know what happens to toys who no longer bring their owner pleasure?” He asked you, raising an eyebrow. Your lower stomach felt warm as he asserted dominance over you. It gave you confidence. You step forward, closing the gap between your bodies. Your fingers find his hair and you begin playing with his curls. “It doesn’t matter, because I won’t ever bore you.”

“But what if you do? What if I become bored?” Ramsay presses his forehead against yours. “What do I do with you when I am no longer satisfied by you?” You knew what he wanted you to say. You close your eyes and whisper, “Then you throw me away, my lord.” You can feel him grin. “Good. You truly do know what you are to me.” Ramsay brings a hand up to your cheek and caresses your soft skin on your face. He tilts his head, pressing his lips onto yours. You remain limp, allowing him to maneuver your body to his liking. He harshly presses into your lower back, causing a slight arch in your spine. Your hipbones press against his body and he pulls your hair, causing your head to roll to the side. “As my favorite toy, I promise to be gentle. You’re clearly very fragile, I wouldn’t want to break you. After all, if you broke, I wouldn’t be able to play with you much longer.”

You blush, admittedly loving the special attention that you were getting. You lean forward, nuzzling into his neck. His hair curls underneath his ears and he smells like a bonfire. Ramsay suddenly lifts you up, his hands holding you up under your thighs, your legs wrapped around his lower torso. You can’t help yourself, you start kissing his neck with long, sloppy kisses. You want to convey how badly you want more attention without actually having to admit it. “Oh, getting a little needy, are we my lady?” He whispers, the slight sing in his voice confirms that he is enjoying your kisses. Ramsay walks you over to his bed and sets you down on top of the pelt that covers it. After he sets you down, he leans forward over you. “I’m going to make you beg for mercy tonight.” His eyes widen as he waits for your reaction. You feel a surge of confidence once again. “Perhaps you’ll be the one begging for mercy, my lord.”

Ramsay gives a little exhale out his nose, nearly rolling his eyes at you. “Perhaps…” he leans in even closer, his lips resting on your ear. “Or perhaps one of us will have total control. Nobody tells me what to do, especially not in my chambers.” He kisses your cheek before standing up straight, peering down at you. You take a deep breath and stand up, brushing against his body as you stand. “Yes. Only one of us.” You attempt to kiss him, but he shoves you back on the bed. His teeth are clamped shut and his jaw muscles flex. “No, you poor thing. I fear you are terribly wrong.” You lay on your back, flat on the pelt. You know he’s right. He starts walking around the bed and begins to untie the laces on his shirt. “You know, no matter what I command… no matter what I want from you, you’re going to do it. You don’t have a choice.” Your eyes follow him around the end of the bed and over to his pillow side. He pulls his loose shirt over his head, his curls falling back into place. You gasp at the sight of his muscular yet pale body. He is much more muscular than you thought. You feel your stomach flutter.

“Ah, you are clearly attracted to me. I thought you might like to see me like this.” He sits on his pillow side and runs his fingertips up and down his chest and arms, pointing out every muscle. You realize your mouth is slightly ajar as Ramsay smirks. You wonder what he looks like while pleasuring himself. Your thoughts run on their own momentarily, the image of him giving himself an orgasm floods your vision. You bite your lip and crawl towards him. “Do you like what you see?” He flexes his arm muscles, clearly enjoying the attention. He’s so cocky. You feel warm in all of your layers. “Yes, my lord. I like what I see.” You exhale. He lays down on his back, propped up by his elbows.

You crawl towards him, but stop when he sticks his arm out. “Oh no, little toy. You’ve only earned a look.” He raises an eyebrow, watching your face fall. “Did you think you were allowed to touch me already?” You nearly stammer with your reply. “I I I don’t know I just…” he chuckles at your loss for words. “I want you to watch.” His face grows serious. His eyes like daggers. He slides his hand into his trousers and you can’t take your eyes off of him. He starts pleasuring himself softly in his trousers, his head leans back giving a small sigh. “Oh, I’ve thought about you many times while doing this. I’ve been dying to see what you look like under those layers.” He lifts his head and stares at you. “Take off your clothes.” He orders.

He doesn’t have to ask twice. You frantically start pulling your clothes off, each layer feels freeing. You watch Ramsays reaction when you are pulling your last layer off, revealing your naked body. He grinds his teeth, his eyes full of lust. His hand under his trousers picking up the pace ever so slightly. “Yes, it’s just as good as I have imagined.” He complimented you. You sit on your knees and the lust takes over. You run your hands across your skin, breathing heavy. Ramsay still has a clenched jaw as he brings his hand up to his face and spits in his hand, then lowers it back beneath his trousers. You can hear the wet sounds of him rubbing his cock, and his breathing is a little more desperate than before. “Have you thought about me like this before? Don’t lie to me.” He groans, his eyes concentrated on your body. You nod bashfully, humiliated to admit it. Your admission makes him grin. He raises his eyebrow at your body. “Go on.”

You don’t move, unsure of what he is expecting you to do. You look at him for more direction. “Pleasure yourself. I want to watch.” He has a devious smirk on his face as he bites the inside of his cheek. Your breath catches in your throat. You’ve never done this in front of anyone before. You slowly lean backwards, propping yourself up on your elbow as you open your legs. You feel extremely exposed as you feel yourself open right in front of him. He is staring into you, still biting the inside of his cheek. You close your eyes and gently start rubbing yourself. Your face feels fire hot. Your heartbeat could likely be heard in the hallway. You can still feel his eyes burning into your skin. You feel Ramsay shift, the bed gently moving as he lifts himself to his knees and crawls over to you. You open your eyes to see him on his shins between your legs. You stop pleasing yourself since he is so close to you. He immediately grabs your wrist and pushes your hand back to your pussy. “I didn’t say you could stop.”

You begin again, taking in your view. His body was so pale and incredibly toned right in front of you. His hard cock was standing up just inches from you. You let out a moan as you imagine how it will feel inside you. Ramsay reaches out and tucks your loose strands of hair behind your ear. “I like watching this. You’re doing a good job.” Ramsay begins letting his fingertips gently brush against your inner thighs. He rubs your legs as you work on pleasuring yourself. You feel humiliated in the best way possible. “When is the last time you did this?” He asks you. You shake your head. “You don’t remember? It must have been a long time. I bet you’re dying for me to touch you, aren’t you?” You can’t respond with anything other than a needy whimper. “Of course you are.” He leans back on the bed, returning to his pillow. He motions for you to come here with his hand. You gratefully stop touching yourself as you crawl over to Ramsay. You straddle his legs, perching over his thighs, unsure if you are allowed to touch his twitching cock.

“Now, I have seen how you pleasure yourself. Let’s see how you pleasure me, shall we?” He reaches out and grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to his cock. You wrap your hand around him and start moving your hand up and down. Almost immediately, he pushes your hand away. “Spit in your hand. It feels better that way.” You bring your hand up to your mouth and spit as much as you can, which is a sufficient amount considering you’ve been nearly drooling over him. You slip your hand back on his cock, from the head to the base. He moans with pleasure as it glides so effortlessly. “That’s much better.” He laughs softly, his eyes fixated on you. You keep this up for a few moments until you really decide to take control. You suddenly tighten your grip and use more force as your hand slips up and down on his cock. His eyebrows shoot up and his lips release a gasp. “Oh, yes. That feels good.” He groans.

He reaches out and starts gripping your thigh and hip. He’s hungry for you. “Do you enjoy pleasing me?” He moans, his eyes still carving into your skin. “Yes, my lord.” You whine, eager to get some more pleasure yourself. You pick up the pace even more, causing his head to lean back and his toes to curl. “Oh Gods, you’re naughty!” He grunted as he had to control his breathing. “Keep going.” You use your other hand and grab a fistful of his hair near the top of his head and pull his head forward. His eyes shoot open. You grin and demand, “I want you to watch me.” His eyes fill with excitement and he gets that same evil grin on his face. You scoot down on his legs and lean over, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock. You hear him moan as you start licking and sucking on his cock, allowing it to enter your throat. Ramsay props himself up on his elbows and watches you. You peer up towards him and his mouth is open, eyebrows furrowed together, leaning into the pleasure. You feel his whole body relax as you work on him.

You take a deep breath through your nose, you let his cock plunge into your throat. You gag on him as you hear him groan, pushing his hips forward, ready for more. You close your eyes and concentrate as you bob up and down, letting his cock fuck your throat. His elbows give as he lowers his head to the pillow, and his hands find their way to your hair. He grabs your hair and shoves your face down and keeps it there, his cock stuffing your mouth. You gag a few times on him, he clearly enjoys the way it feels when your throat tries to reject him. He groans each time. He pulls your head up, allowing you to catch your breath. His cock is soggy and coated with thick saliva. His cheeks are red and flushed, his eyes cloudy with pleasure. He has sweat sliding down the side of his forehead and temple. You sit back up, his cock wet and excited is now placed between your thighs. You start teasing him, nearly giving him a proper lap dance. You slide your folds on his length, teasing his head at the opening of your pussy.

“You’re looking to take control here, aren’t you?” Ramsay questions you, his voice raspier than before. “Keep going, I’m intrigued.” He places his hands on your hips, and digs his fingertips into your flesh. You start teasing him even more, letting the tip of him enter you, before pausing and pulling it out. He starts grinding his teeth, anxious for the feeling of your walls around him tightly. You decide to really show him how controlling you can be. You get off of his lap, and lay down beside him. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asks through his teeth. “I want you to lick me.” You demand. Ramsay has an evil grin and flips over. You are excited at the idea that you can boss him around. Before you can even finish that thought, Ramsay has grabbed you and flipped you over, facedown into the bed. He presses your shoulders into the pelt and you feel his breath approaching your neck. He straddles you, his cock wet and resting on your ass. “Remember who’s in charge.” He whispers as he guides his cock to your folds. He presses the tip in and pulls it back out. He does this several times, and you are desperate for him to enter you completely. “Ramsay, please.” You moan into the pillow.

“What’s that?” You hear him ask from behind you. “A little louder.” You sink into submission. “Lord Bolton, please. Please fuck me.” You suddenly feel his cock fill you completely, both you and Ramsay moaning loudly at the sensation. “Oh yes, I am going to make you scream.” He says, his voice uneven as he starts fucking you hard. You feel yourself float into your own brain as you experience this intense pleasure. Your body had been aching for this. He fucks you hard and fast, moans escaping your mouth with every forceful stroke.

He slaps your ass very hard, causing you to cry out in pain. You hear him give a satisfied grunt when he hears your cries. He does this again, and you cry out even harder. The sting radiates, you feel as if your ass has a red handprint on it already. Ramsay reaches his arm up and grabs your hair, yanking your head up. You look at him from upside down, peering over your forehead. He is obviously close to his climax, his face red and his eyes glassy. He suddenly pulls out of you and flips you over again, entering you once again as you lie on your back. It happened so fast, but the slight change of angle made you moan wildly. “That’s right.” He exhaled through his gritted teeth. “I’m making you feel powerless, aren’t I?” All you could do was moan in response.

“I told you… I am in charge…. Of you…. Tonight.” He says while still thrusting into you hard and fast. “I want you… to cum for me….” He demands. His eyes lock a glare into yours. He presses one of his hands onto your throat, pushing the back of your neck into the mattress. This unlocked something in you, and you began clawing at his arms. Your eyes were just as wild as his. He grinned through his thrusts, knowing that he was making you insane. “That’s right, let it out.” He nearly choked on his words as his orgasm approached. Yours was approaching too, you could feel the knot tightening inside you. “I… I…” you attempted to squeak out. Ramsay growled loudly as he tightened his grip on your throat. “Do it!” You gave in. You allowed your body to be swallowed in pleasure as the wave of heat rushed over you. It lasted quite a long time for you, and you were unable to keep a fixed grip on reality as your eyes kept rolling into your head, you were being completely surrounded by your orgasm.

Ramsay plunged his cock deep inside you one last time before groaning and emptying himself into you. His body instinctively still bucking his hips into you even further as he pressed down into you. He had released your neck and laid his body down on top of yours, grabbing your hair as he came hard. His breathing was unsteady and heaving. You allowed him to lay on you, collecting himself as his body regained its strength. When he pushed himself up, his cock sliding out of you, he rolled over and his dark curls were damp and stuck to his forehead and neck. He grinned and looked over at you. “Well, I think I’ll have to keep you, little toy.”

[tunastime]

hehe hi myke, thanks for sending this in my dms <3 here's your song! it's quelle suprise, which I originally read the lyrics wrong in because I don't speak french, but I think now after reading it. rarrrg. anyway! this is just such a bop, so not a lot of replays! I found it late in the year (and I know I sent it to you already lol)

(536 words)

There is something very wrong with Etho.

Or maybe there isn’t. Who’s Bdubs to know every thought inside his head, apparently? Who’s Bdubs to think he understands him? Bdubs is a red life now. The sludge of trigger fingers and loose cannons and live-wires all mingles with blood, hot and red, in his veins. It was always red, always hot, heightened now, to a dizzying sting. He can hear it thump around his head when he listens closely, hear it chanting for more. 

He’s starting to piece things together that he thinks maybe he shouldn’t. It’s hard. Bdubs sits on his hands, screwing up his face as he squeezes himself into a small space of his upside-down base. It’s hard trying to figure this out. What Etho's thinking. His heart feels like a creature begging to flee from his chest, slamming against the front half of his ribcage like it might break apart and let it out into the world. At the same time, that thumping hurts, because there’s an awful squeeze in his chest. He’s not been able to breathe right for a while. Probably since the moment Etho laughed at him before he went to kill that dragon.

That’s funny though, isn’t it? Etho promises things so easily, but when it comes time to deliver he’s always finding shortcuts. Like how he didn’t agree when Bdubs asked how much he would give for him? There was no equal half, was there?

Bdubs was making a mistake, wasn’t he? Wasn’t that the worst part?

Well maybe he wasn’t! Maybe Etho was more afraid of Cleo than he was Bdubs—of course he would side with someone who could help him the most. Certainly not dead weight. Which Bdubs assumed he was again. Though Joel and Martyn, and Mumbo when he was there, and Pearl even, were more than willing to help out with whatever needed to be done. And that was easy for them. So why couldn’t Etho say anything? Why couldn’t he just lie to him? What kind of game was Bdubs playing at, that Etho felt so confident that he would never have a task that asked him to twist the knife already in Bdubs’ chest? He’s sorry. He’s sorry. Etho didn’t ask him to put the knife there. He took it from Etho’s hands and put it in his chest and he thought maybe that would make things better, rather than worse.

It isn’t Etho’s fault. Etho’s playing his game. Bdubs knows that. So he’s not mad at him—well, he won’t be mad at him when he leaves the game and Etho crawls his way into his lap and presses his face to the juncture of his neck and says he’s sorry. Because he’s always sorry. Bdubs wonders if—no. No. Bdubs swallows down the taste in the back of his throat. He’s done wondering. And he’s done letting Etho’s excuses sit heavy in his chest like they might be armor instead of eating him alive.

He stands up, fishing the pocket watch from his pocket.

It’s still early. The cracked surface reflects back only a portion of his face.

For now, the clock stays intact. But Bdubs can imagine the satisfying crunch it might make when his heel grinds against it.

(spotify wrapped ask meme)

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Twelve

Day: Saturday, March 9th / 10th* Time: 1:45 AM EST

"I know your father's going to ask, but I have to know now," Lola says. "You listening, Junior? Hey." She thumps his back with the hilt of her knife. "Where's the bird, hm? We've had some time to dig around since we figured out where you were, but there's no sign of her anywhere. Tetsuji says you told them she's dead. He was sure you were telling the truth. Me, I'm not so trusting." "She's dead," Neil chokes out. Lola grabs a fistful of hair to yank him upright. She'd put her knife aside so she can hold him with both hands, and her free hand clenches around his throat so tight he can barely breathe. She pulls him back against his chair, pinning his head to the headrest. Romero plucks the lighter out again, and Neil puts up a desperate fight. "She's dead," he says, almost wheezing through Lola's brutal grip. "She died two years ago after he beat her in Seattle. Do you think she'd have let me go to Palmetto if she was still alive? I signed up because I had nothing left." "Do we believe him?" Lola asks Romero. "Might as well be sure," Romero says. "Right that," Lola says, and holds fast to Neil so Romero can crush the lighter to his face once more. Lola's strangling grip on his throat means the best Neil can manage is a pained whine. He thrashes mindlessly against his restraints. Lola is speaking again, but he can't understand her over the roar in his ears. His world narrows down to the fire in his face. Romero puts the lighter away, but he pushes it in all the way so it'll reheat. Lola loosens her grip enough that Neil can breathe but doesn't let go completely. "Try again, Junior," Lola says. "Answer me and make me believe you. Where is Mary?" "She's dead," Neil says, voice raw with pain. "She's dead, she's dead, she's dead." Lola looks to her brother. "You believe him now?" Romero lifts his shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. Lola considers Neil again, then smacks his burned face as hard as she can. She leans further forward between the seats to get the lighter when it is ready and retreats back to her original cushion with it. Having the lighter behind him out of sight is worse than the pain they'd already put him through and Neil fights to yank his hands free. He tears his wrists open on unyielding metal but he can't stop. "Don't," he begs. "Lola, don't." "I've got questions," Lola says, voice oddly muffled. Neil guesses she is holding the lighter handle between her lips, because she uses both hands to roll his sleeves up. She runs her hands down his bared forearms, fingernails scratching faintly at his skin. She withdrawals a moment later, and her voice sounds normal when she speaks next. "Let's start with your teammates again. Tell me everything you told them."

Art used with permission by Esklinray. Thank you @esklinray!

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

[desceros]

Hatred. That has to be the emotion Leo is feeling, Right?

Leo looks to the Tupperware of cookies next to his bed. Against his better judgement he opens it and pops one of them into his mouth. Immediately the buttery delight of sweetness hits his tongue. Making him swoon, making him cringe. "Too sweet." Leo clenches his hands into fists and presses them into his face. She is taking Donnie away from him, She is touching and taking what should be his to do based on birthright alone. He was the one who taught Donnie how to speak again, was the one who sat at his twins bedside as Donnie shook and cried and begged to be put back in that fucking hellish ship. NOT HER. She wasn't fucking here for any of it. So why. Why did Donnie have to go and choose her over him. What comfort could be found in some girl that Leo or anyone else in the family couldn't already provide. Leo is practically doing this chick a favor by allowing her this close in the first place, and She goes and breaks down every barrier this family has like its an Olympic sport. Healing them all like its easy. Like being helped could have been this easy all along. He should be bitter, he should hate her, and be doing his best to shut her out. Steer her away from the wounds Leo has diligently spent the past decade trying the guard. So why.

Why cant he stop thinking about her. The way she smells, the way she smiles. Why cant he help but want her close where she can be warm and inviting and so, so bright, And kind, trusting. so, so trusting and willing to do anything to be apart of this family. Leo can see it in her eyes. The little glints of past heartbreak and trauma that make her so pliable. Hell, he is half convinced that if April hadn't been the one to find her first she might have joined the first cult she bumped into. So desperate for belonging she would listen and trust any shred of friendship that was thrown her way. So desperate for belonging in fact, that when Leo touches her she accepts it like its nothing. Because what would Leo have to hide, right? He's old reliable Leo, your bestfriend. Totally not the type of guy to rub one out to you while your in the shower. Leo feels himself tense and grow wet at the memory. How the smell of her swirling with the steam in the air had intoxicated him to the point of damn near insanity. He had to do something about it. His hand pressed inside himself as he did his best not to leave a trace of the deed behind. Shame and euphoria heating him from the inside out. God its pathetic, Its maddening. She's fucking and taking his brother from him and Leo cant fucking stop thinking about how she might taste. How she might sound as he sinks into her, Imaging how she might tighten around him as he takes her by the throat and squeezes. His hands painting her throat in pretty blue bruises. He wants to hurt her, He wants to claim her. He wants her. God, he wants her. He wants to hold her close and protect her like he has been protecting the rest of them, with barred teeth and selfishness. He wants to sent her as his and mean it. Fuck, maybe he already does. Maybe he has been this whole time and has just never realized. Every touch, every caress, every teasing remark and every coy little twist of the knife, has actually been him craving something sweet.

Idk what happened the song started playing and I blacked out and then when I woke up I realized I had sent this to your inbox. Symphony Leo save me save me Symphony Leo

ohhhh that hit the spot