#i don’t point fingers or lay down and cry victim

[shibe]

in the middle of a bad ocd relapse and i’m doing all the things i shouldn’t but….❤️

[lace-coffin]

Heyo friendo, can I perhaps request headcannons for Bubba, Tommy, Asa, and RZ Mikey when giving and receiving comfort from their s/o? Bonus points if male or ftm reader cause we don’t have enough ;-;

Thank you 🩵🩵

How would slashers comfort their S/O on a bad day?

Absolutely, MWAH

Reader is ftm 💖

Trigger warning mainly for Asa- power dynamics/exchange (probably) toxic relationships, the usual for him lol

Also tw for raw meat/hacking at meat/blood

Requests are open!

Bubba Sawyer

Giving

Bubba notices you haven’t been yourself today. Usually he’s the first one up at the crack of dawn, busy tending to the small farm you’ve accrued over time on the sawyer family property. He returns back once the errands are done to find you still in bed, which is unusual for you by this time.

Bubba runs their hands over your cheek softly, murmuring to you quietly, prompting you to get out of bed, only to be met with a groan and the duvet being pulled back over your head. After several minutes of looking around nervously and playing with her fingers anxiously deciding what to do she hauls you over her shoulder.

They are absolutely about to traipse you into the dining room in your boxers and sleep vest in your full glory. He places you down gently on your chair and goes to fetch your food.

Drayton eyes you wearily, wondering why bubba just dumped their boyfriend at the dinner table clad in only boxers. Choptop and nubbins however find it hilarious and snicker until Drayton hollers for them to shut up.

If you’re not feeling up to eating then bubba will encourage you by feeding you smaller bites with the fork. Of course this isn’t without chop and nubbins making gagging noises at the display of public affection. Bubba groans in embarrassment but it’s enough to make you laugh and cheer up a little.

She’ll help you do your daily tasks if your finding it difficult, for example they’ll wash you gently and make sure to give you a nice scalp massage whilst washing your hair if your struggling with hygiene.

They’ll try involve you in activities to take your mind off how your feeling, making bone crafts with her and her siblings and even cuddling their favourite pet chicken.

Receiving

If bubba is having a bad day you’ll definitely know about it. They tend to wear their heart on their sleeve and are open with their emotions.

He’ll come to you as his boyfriend first. If she’s really upset and actively crying please hold them and give them a while to calm down before trying to ask what’s up.

Stimming! Please stim with them, it helps them feel better to shake it out by flapping their hands and making fists. They feel more comfortable and accepted if you join in. Mirroring and doing the same activities is one of their love languages.

Staying with them whilst they do their daily tasks is helpful, feed the chickens with them and the pigs. Maybe have a little cuddle session with the piggies.

If she feels particularly insecure that day then you can help do her makeup and dress up with her. Once he’s donned his favourite yellow dress and you your fanciest suit/button up you can have a little tea party or picnic now you’re both feeling cute.

Choptop and nubbins will complain that it’s lame but still insist in coming (they think it’s fun but are to stubborn to admit it)

Thomas Hewitt

Giving

Tommy spends most of his time either in the basement or out chasing victims so he may not be the best at noticing your upset since he’s absent frequently until the end of the day.

Luda may is confused but slightly honoured when Tommy’s boyfriend came to her teary eyed looking for comfort and advice, not wanting to bother Tommy whilst he’s working.

Luda will slip off later and give Tommy a heads up that you need looking after today. As soon as he finds out he cuts his work short, slamming his cleaver into the table and washing the excess blood from his hands before making his way up to you.

Tommy will try help by giving you deep pressure. Laying his weight on your chest to ground you. He traces his fingers over your palm in little shapes and letters, spelling out words of affirmation and hearts to let you know he loves you in a way he can’t verbalise. However if you’re lucky he may whisper a few raspy words of adoration into your chest as you pet his hair.

If it helps you blow off steam he might let you hack at some of the meat in basement with his cleaver, however only under his watchful eye. Your already upset, he doesn’t need you loosing a finger to.

Tommy will make an extra effort to keep you distracted and away from Hoyt since he can be..snappy to say the least. This can mean your spending time with Tommy on the swing out front or reading to him.

Receiving

Tommy is difficult when it comes to emotions. Years of hiding behind a steely facade as he’s taunted by mean kids or even Hoyt has left him closed off and unsure about being vulnerable.

When Tommy is having a bad day it’s more likely to come out as anger, he finds this easier to channel and disperse since he spends a lot of his time running on agression towards victims and knows how to handle it better than sadness.

The first sign things aren’t right is when he’s not back from his basement work for hours after he usually finishes up. Please go drag him out of there or he’ll work until he exhausts himself.

Having a tender hand and giving him room to vulnerable is the best thing you can do for Tommy.

Let him sign to you what the problem is when he’s ready and try help best you can.

He loves it when you let him snuggle into your chest on your shared bed, your fingers threading through his hair, lovingly detangling any knots or snags in his hair. His mask discarded on the bedside table so he can be skin to skin with you.

Spending time with you and Luda may will be therapeutic for him, he may be grown now but he still loves spending quality time with his mama, and with his boyfriend there it’s even more enjoyable. Play a board game together or cards. (Luda will let Tommy win a few rounds because he’s still her baby, but don’t let him know that :’)

RZ! Michale Myers

Giving

Michael will probably know when your having a tough day before you even do considering he spends most of his time silently observing you, he knows your emotions and habits like the back of his (giant ass) hand.

Mikey makes a point of trying to show his concern via acts of service since verbal and physical emotional aren’t his strong suits. This might mean the covers are pulled back from your bed and your handed a slightly burnt grilled cheese for breakfast. It’s not amazing but he tried lol.

Michael knows you struggle with taking care of yourself on these days and encourages you the best way he knows how. Guiding you to the room you need to be in and standing and staring until you do the task, you can try move past him but he’s like a brick wall in coveralls.

He knows when it’s time for you to take off your binder and let yourself relax. Either he tries his tried and true method of stubbornly staring and insisting you do it or he’ll unceremoniously man handle it off you and throw it aside. He’s not complaining about the view either.

Receiving

Michael tends to stay out for longer if he’s not feeling good. The need to shed blood hitting a peak, eating away at his insides and clouding his mind until he can satisfy it. He’ll return home more dirtied up than usual, caked in slowly drying blood and maybe even dirt if he gets into a scuffle with a hardheaded victim.

Mikey dumps his knife in the sink and shrugs off his dirty coveralls in the laundry room, throwing on some comfy gray sweats and a loose white T-shirt. Adorning his favourite paper pumpkin mask.

He’ll seek you out even if he’s still covered in splats of darkening blood and flop onto you with his full weight, demanding your attention. He’s clingier than usual, this gives you leeway to pamper him.

After a round of cuddles try get Michael into the bathroom to clean him up, despite his preference towards gore he doesn’t actually like feeling grimy, not being able to cope with the sensory issues it brings.

He would feel very cared for if you clean his wounds before getting him in the bath. Run your fingers over his scars and marks from past victims, tenderly kiss his top surgery scars.Mikey will melt under your hands if you detangled and wash his hair for him, especially if you tie it into a bun or ponytail for him to keep it off his neck and face, preventing the sensory issues mentioned earlier.

Asa Emory

Giving

Asa knows some days can be more taxing than others, especially in the situation you two share. Anyones mental health would be fragile considering your literally being kept as a pet to a serial killer. He can see during training that you blindly follow along with instructions with a glassy far away look in your eyes. This won’t do, he needs your full attention. He hates to admit it but your his little bug and he hates to see you hurting when he’s not the one responsible for it.

On days when you feel particularly hopeless about your situation or self he’ll be softer on you. Do not misunderstand, he will still demand your cooperation and obedience/submission but the consequences will be lessened or saved for later when you have the energy and attention to react accordingly.

Asa will bring you with him about his day. Sitting you under his desk with the chain from your collar wrapped around the desk leg. Running his hands through your hair and patting your head as he works. After a while you let your eyes flutter shut as you rest your head on his thigh, drifting off to the sound of his pen scratching along paper.

If you’re lacking in energy or unwilling to eat you will be promoted to his lap instead of your usual spot on the floor at your metal bowl. Asa will hand feed you, insuring you get enough nutrients and prying your mouth open with his nitrile gloves to ensure you’ve swallowed it all.

Asa will take you to his bed instead of your trunk or cage/room.

Receiving

After a long week of experiments succumbing to their wounds and dying on him and finicky traps failing, Asa is more than in a shitty mood. After snapping off his gloves and cleaning himself of any lingering viscera he makes his way over to your room.

His eyes crinkle highlighting his crows feet as he unclasps the trunk your contorted into, happier than ever to see his cricket after the day he’s had.

You know he’s had a bad day as it’s much later than his usual visit and he’s lacking the domineering energy he always exudes, to tired and trodden down to be strict.

Asa finds it therapeutic to do your makeup and dress you up (much like the implications with Abby in the collection)

You’ve learned in your years here it’s wise to be on your best behaviour when he gets this way. Being submissive and compliant is a great relief to him when he feels bad as he doesn’t have the energy to argue with you and will just storm out.

Using more honourifics like “sir” or “master” will get you brownie points and help boost his ego. Use “daddy” if your willing to finish what you started 👀

Curling up on him is ensured to pull at his heart strings and help calm him down. Tell him what a wonderful owner he is and how well he takes care of you. Feed into his god complex and worship him. let him know you’re only committed to him and him alone, you don’t need the outside or anyone else, just his attention. Assert his full control over your being and heart.

Not double checked bc eyes feel like they’re bleeding lmao

[phonydiaries]

Pieces into Place - I II

a continuation of Here Lies Adam Stanheight

Summary: Adam wakes up in a warehouse, finally free of his chains and has a lot to think about

OR

John makes Adam an offer he shouldn't find so tempting

---

It was hours before Adam even realized he’d left the bathroom, and it was the pain that first tipped him off. After a time of laying comatose on the twin mattress, his shoulder had gotten to burning again, sending him hurtling back towards the moment of the injury. Strangely, he found that the pain was more comforting than the agonizing numbness that had steadily crawled from shoulder to fingertips in the days since Lawrence shot him. He must’ve cried out once, but within seconds he was out cold again. 

In his lucid moments, which were few and far between, disconnected images floated back to him like polaroids in developer. He didn’t remember standing up or dropping his chain or even seeing where the door to the bathroom emptied out. The feeling of a phantom arm under his soothed him back into strange, murky sleep. In his dreams a woman was crying, holding him, whispering something over and over. He wondered once if it could be Ali. 

Once, the feeling of a curved needle piercing skin was enough to snap him awake. His good hand jumped to smack the needle away but was intercepted coolly by the woman holding it. 

“Don’t flinch.” She muttered, tugging the needle gently through the raw flesh of Adam’s shoulder. Diligently, she rolled his sleeve up and wet a gauze pad with a clear solution before running it carefully along the edges of the gunshot wound. Things went dark again. 

The final time Adam awoke, the unnerving glow of the room immediately set his nerves on edge. In his short bouts of consciousness it had been easy to fill in the blanks, make pleasant assumptions. The mystery woman’s care and the fact that he was no longer watching himself rot in a dingy bathroom had been enough for Adam to assume he’d made it safely to a hospital. His current surroundings made that miscalculation painfully clear. 

The room he laid in now was quite dark, evidently missing the sharp fluorescent lighting of an emergency room. Instead, the space was unconventionally lit with clashing orange and blue desk lamps. He blinked hard as his eyes adjusted, his gaze darting from the stitching tools laid out beside him and the tables laden with drafting paper and odd diagrams. Then there was the man in the chair. 

“Hello, Adam.” 

Adam was a deer in headlights, blood turned to ice. He should’ve known he’d never make it out. Not really. The voice from the tape player echoed in terrible sharpness, all the grain left behind. He was sitting face to face with his captor. 

Moving was almost involuntary, the instinct to get as far away from that man as possible drove him scrambling from the bed and onto the creaking wood floor. His bad arm stretched out reflexively to break his fall and he gasped as it connected with the floor. Searing pain shot up his arm again, the new stitches stinging like tiny teeth sinking into a festering wound. The man moved to stand but Adam cried out in protest. 

“No, you stay there! You stay right fucking there!” He hated the way his voice shook. Blindly, he grabbed for the abandoned medical instruments on the table. His trembling fingers found the scissors and pointed them at the man. The sense memory of the revolver in his hand ran through his mind. He’d hesitated then. Stupid. 

“I don’t have any interest in hurting you.” The man said, the placid expression on his face more uncanny than comforting. 

“Yeah. Right.” Adam stared down the shaft of the scissors, wondering how different stabbing an old man to death could feel from caving someone’s head in with a toilet lid. The face of the woman that had stitched his shoulder flashed to the forefront of his mind. Could she be a victim too, being held captive somewhere? His brows knit with fear. 

“That girl.” He said gravely, stabbing at the air. “What did you do to her?” 

The man’s mouth twitched into what might’ve been a smile if it weren’t so foreboding. 

“Ah…Amanda. I can assure you she’s fine, and here of her own volition.” 

“Bullshit.” Adam spat. 

“She’ll be back to check on you soon enough and you’re welcome to take her word for it.” 

Adam’s eyes narrowed. He realized he was still breathing hard, heart racing, a migraine looming in the distance. He felt dizzy and nauseous. His white knuckle grip on the scissors loosened. The man’s eyes flickered between Adam’s face and the bedside table. He gestured to it vaguely. 

“There’s food for you on the table. You can eat while we get properly acquainted.” 

Taking his terrified focus off of the man felt like pulling teeth, but Adam forced himself to look away. Indeed, there was a plate of toast and a glass of orange juice on the table beside the mattress. Certain poisons were colorless, tasteless and impossible to detect until it was already too late. 

“You’ve been starving for three days. Your own body would kill you without any interference from me.” The man said, as if reading his mind. Hesitantly, Adam stood and took up the plate, returning the scissors to their place on the bedside table. He hadn’t noticed how hungry he was, what with the bleeding out and dawning despair taking precedence. The plate was empty almost as soon as he’d picked it up. 

“I’m John.” The man said, pulling Adam’s thoughts back to the present. “Of course, I already know who you are. Photographer. Voyeur. Informant.” The subtle excitement simmering under John’s speech unnerved Adam. He kept his mouth shut. John continued. 

“You have a unique quality to you, Adam; a talent for remaining invisible to the world. Amanda’s strengths lie in a less… subtle approach to her work. She’s devoted, but she can be overzealous. Your discretion makes you an asset.” John’s gaze was piercing, his tone dead serious. Part of Adam wanted to laugh in disbelief. Part of him was reluctantly flattered. 

“So, you want to… what, hire me?” Adam asked, incredulous. He shook his head. “You’re fucking mental.” 

“And you’re here, injured, under my supervision.” John said simply. Adam couldn’t quite parse if that was a threat, or just a statement of fact. “I don’t expect you to have all your thoughts in order, but I’ll be here when your strength returns.” John stood, pushing his chair off to the side as he headed for the door. He paused before turning the latch. 

“In the meantime, you have some things to think on, Mr. Stanheight.”

✩

Adam was no stranger to nights lost to frenetic caffeine-riddled pacing back at his apartment, but somehow being held semi-captive at an undisclosed location made that all seem a bit mundane. He couldn’t keep from fidgeting while his thoughts raced incessantly. Questions kept leading him back to that woman, Amanda. She was a puzzle piece he couldn’t seem to place. He wrestled with the soothing memory of her voice, offering him his first glimpse of hope in what had felt like an endless stretch of misery. John was a persuasive man, a disturbed one at that, and Amanda was vulnerable. It was anyone’s guess what kind of brainwashing she’d been subject to under his care. 

Mid-pace, a dull glint caught the focus of Adam’s peripheral. A cloak of black and red was haphazardly thrown over one of the drafting tables, partially obscuring the machinery that lay beneath. Adam’s fingers twitched, unsure if he really wanted to know what kind of twisted souvenirs John kept lying around. It didn’t take long for his investigative instincts to win out. He threw the cloak aside like he was ripping off a bandaid. 

At first, Adam didn’t know what he was looking at; a hunk of rusty scrap metal, and possibly the best endorsement for a tetanus shot he’d ever seen. He cocked his head to the side, studying it from a different angle. He tried to analyze its pieces; two massive jaws, a disabled 60 second timer, a discarded padlock lying to the side. He ran a finger across the mottled surface. Something about it was eerily familiar. 

“John warned me you’d go snooping around.” 

Adam nearly leapt out of his skin at the sound of Amanda’s voice. He spun and caught his balance on the edge of the drafting table as Amanda tossed the cloak back over the device. Her eyes lingered on it for a moment, almost fondly. As Adam tried to parse the look on her face, his eyes landed on her mouth. For the first time, he noticed two silvery scars extending in each direction, jagged and raw. Suddenly the pieces clicked into place. 

“I know you.” He breathed. “Lawrence talked about you, you’re the only one who made it.”

For a split second something like jealousy gleamed in Amanda’s eyes. 

“Was.” She muttered. Adam’s head spun. Stockholm syndrome. That’s what this was. Still, he couldn’t keep his morbid curiosity from probing. 

“He kidnapped you. He stuck your head in a set of iron jaws and now… you're working with him?” He pressed, utter confusion written all over his face. Amanda pursed her lips in something not-quite a smile. 

“You really don’t get it.”

Understatement of the century.

“No, I don’t get it!” Adam almost laughed. How could it be that she was making him feel crazy? “You know, a couple more wasted seconds and your face would’ve turned to fucking soup. What am I missing here?” Amanda sighed and shook her head, like she’d had this conversation a hundred times before. 

“The games aren’t random, and neither are the players. He wanted me to survive.” 

Adam’s eyes narrowed. He searched Amanda’s face for some trace of deceit, or any sign of a sane woman underneath that mask, being held hostage by an eccentric lunatic. Her sincerity was frightening. Too honest. Too intimate. She leaned against the drafting table, nudging the cloaked bear trap with her elbow. 

“Nobody’s ever really… seen me. The way John does.” She said softly, tonguing along an old scar on the inside of her cheek. “It’s like he cut me open and looked inside. Saw what was broken and helped me put it back together.”

She made it sound almost clinical. Lawrence’s face simmered at the back of Adam’s mind. Amanda turned her gaze on him, almost accusatory. 

“Has anyone ever really seen you?”

Adam shook his head. Too quickly. 

✩

A night came and went with little sleep. What bits of unconsciousness Adam could scrounge up were fitful and plagued with unpleasant memories. It was bad enough watching Lawrence perform his own amputation once; now he’d seen it several times, in varying levels of gore and agony. He was shocked to find that his meeting with John was actually a welcome distraction. 

Again, he’d been brought some simple food, but couldn’t bring himself to touch it. He picked at the plate like a lazy cat, stomach churning. 

“You look terrible.” John said plainly. Adam offered a wry smile.

“Thanks for noticing.” 

“Something’s keeping you awake then?” John asked, his prying gaze fixed sternly on Adam. The feeling of being so closely monitored sent pins and needles up his arms. It wasn’t something he was used to, and he didn’t enjoy being on the receiving end of it. He shifted awkwardly and pointed his eyes at the floor. 

“I need you to tell me if Lawrence- if doctor Gordon made it out alright.” The words tumbled out. He hadn’t even really expected to say them, but John had a strange way of making Adam want to spill his guts. He slowly lifted his gaze and watched John chew the question. He braced himself for the worst. 

“He lived.” John said. “His whole family lived.” 

Adam felt a wave of relief crash over him, lifting some weight he hadn’t been able to name until now. That pleasantry was disappointingly short lived. 

So Lawrence made it. He’d made it out. Made it out and found his family. Made it out and found his family and left Adam slowly dying in a shithole with nothing but a shiny new bullet hole as a thank you for saving his life. Something ugly began to take shape deep in Adam’s chest. John leaned back and soaked it all in. 

“Do you think he’s grateful?” John asked after a prolonged silence. He made it sound rhetorical, but Adam knew he was expected to answer. 

“Larry? Yeah, sure.” Adam said softly, fingers moving absentmindedly towards his shoulder. John’s eyes darted from the wound to Adam’s face, studying. 

“And you?” The question hung in the air, buzzing with potential. Was he? Grateful to be out of the bathroom, maybe. Grateful to be able to walk, glad his range of motion was no longer dictated by a rusty chain and moldy pipes. But was he grateful to John?

“What are you really asking?” Adam crossed his arms over his chest, trying to mimic his counterpart; untouchably aloof. John’s only reply was a look of intrigued bemusement. It was a moment before he spoke again. 

“You and Amanda. You’re the greatest monuments to my mission. Our mission.” His face softened at this, and he leaned forward in his seat. “Adam, you survived something truly brutal. You displayed an incredible will to survive.” 

Adam felt his chest tighten. This was manipulation plain and simple and yet… It felt good. To be congratulated for living. To be told he’d done something, anything worthwhile, even admirable. He tried not to let it show. 

“Can’t you see- can’t you feel what you might be capable of?” John’s voice grew fiery, his eyes shining with something akin to pride. He was proud of Adam. “In you I see a remarkable asset, someone who could be invaluable to my work.” John paused, his words holding Adam captive, enraptured. 

“The choice is yours in the end. Take my hand, come with us, or continue to squander that survival. Go back to, oh, how did you say it… your ‘shithole apartment’?” 

Adam could only stare back at John. He was losing it. Had to be. 

“I guess I just have one question, then.” He said quietly. John nodded. 

“Go on.”

“Am I gonna have to carry around that fucking puppet?”

[moonlightisdancing]

The Gallery/ s.f.k

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 3650

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI light arguing, mentions break-up, emotional and physical intimacy, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!)

PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!!

playlist of songs inspiring this (x)

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p.s. im sorry for the lack of “black swan” feeling like i lost the plot a little:(

There’s two types of goodbyes. One where you know they’ll come home after a long day and tell you all about it over dinner, and one where you don’t know if or when you’ll see them again. Two weeks ago you fell victim to the second goodbye, except you were lucky enough to know the next time you’d see the “former” love of your life. You still had to pick up some of your belongings from the space you both used to occupy. Although you both claim it was a mutual breakup, it feels very one sided on your end. You couldn’t handle the lack of physical touch while Sam was away for work. He’d been on the road for some time with his brothers doing small gigs across the country while working on some new music. More so, you couldn’t handle the lack of communication while he was gone. You’d worked all day and he worked well into the night, leaving little to no time for the shortest of phone calls. With the band just starting to take off, you couldn’t afford not to work. After a while you found yourself pushing Sam away for reasons unbeknownst to you. Were you trying to be content in the lack of contact? Or were you trying to make the inevitable decision easier? You didn’t know but god did you fucking hate it. All you did know is that you would have given anything in this world to be with Sam while he was away. From the moment he stumbled into your life you were confident he’d be the only one you could entirely and unconditionally love, him being the only one to love you the same. His love was otherworldly, always loving big and often, always loving every aspect of you. If it weren’t for the complex work lives of both, you’d easily spend the rest of your days sharing every intimate detail of your lives together. The fear of holding him back was the only thing to make you pull away.

The pit in your stomach only grows deeper as your feet find their way up the driveway to the door of a home you once called your own. You knock on the door and wait anxiously for Sam to answer. You hear footsteps padding through the hall before hearing the door unlock, watching as it slowly creeps open with Sam’s tall figure peering behind.

“Hey, come in.” He spoke timidly with his voice hoarse from crying, the evidence of emotions solidified by his dark and swollen eyes.

The house was still organized with the exception of a few boxes filled with your belongings strewn about the living room. Sam has always been a very clean and organized person, you were just glad to see he’d been doing okay enough not to allow that aspect of his personality falter.

“I think that’s the rest of it.” He points his finger across several boxes resting in different parts of the room.

“I really appreciate you finishing the packing, thank you.” You walk towards the box next to the coffee table.

You notice on the coffee table still resides a framed picture of your first winter together when Sam had taken you to a Christmas store in Frankenmuth. An aching feeling moves into your chest as you try your best to hold back tears. You ultimately fail when you look around to see he still hasn’t taken down any of the pictures accumulated over the years.

“Sammy, did you want me to take these down for you?” You timidly ask pointing to the photos.

“Nah, I was gonna take them down when I was ready, I guess. The room’s just gonna look really empty without them.” He walks over and lays the picture frame face down on the coffee table before grabbing some boxes.

He helps you bring them outside and load them into your car, you follow him inside to grab what’s left. You pick up the last box, trying to fight the unfamiliar feeling boiling inside. A feeling of emptiness, sadness and guilt washes over you.

“Again, I really appreciate you finishing the packing, this week has been hell.”

“Tell me about it,” He takes the box from your hands and places it on the old piano bench. “Can we talk before you go?” Sam was starting to get teary eyed.

“Of course we can.” You reassure him.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me. I always would have done anything you asked me, even if it meant getting hurt in the end. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and I wish I did a better job at that.” He places his hand on your cheek and kisses you on the forehead. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll always be right here, waiting for you.”

He pulls away but you’re quick to reconnect the point of contact, not wanting him to leave. You still love him but you know this is for the best. You wrap your arms around his torso as he hugs you back, resting his chin on your head.

“Sammy, it’s not your fault. None of it. I should have said something sooner instead of pushing you away. I still have so much love for you, and I hope we can still be friends. Maybe even more again? Once we figure ourselves out?” You let the tears roll down your cheeks, soaking the front of his shirt.

You peel yourself away from him, catching a familiar look in his eyes, one of sadness. In your three years together you’d only seen him like this not even a handful of times, and never by the grace of your own actions. Being in his arms made everything for the first time in two weeks feel so right, but you knew it shouldn’t have. Unsure if anything would ever feel right again, you place your hands on Sam’s cheeks, rubbing a thumb over his bottom lip before kissing him one last time. You’re not sure what overcame you, quickly pulling away to apologize.

“I’m sorry, I don’t- I shouldn’t have done that.” You go to move your hands away from his face, but he gently grabs your wrists to keep them there. “Sam I should-”

He cuts you off to pull you in, connecting your lips to his once more, deepening the kiss. Your hands find their way tangled in his hair as he rests his hands on your hips. Sam slowly drags his hands up the side, dipping his fingers under your dress, feeling you however he can before you’re gone for good. You place your hands on his wrists and slide them out from under your dress, placing them between the two of you with a squeeze.

“Sam, we shouldn’t do this…” You look into his eyes, a place you once found solidarity now filled with nothing but hopelessness.

“Fuck, Y/N, stop doing this to me. You do one thing and say the other. Just tell me, what do you want?” He brings his hands to his face. “Please, just tell me?” He’s begging for an answer.

“It’s just going to hurt you more and I’m tired, Sam. I’m tired of hurting you.” Admitting it was enough to make tears swell in your eyes.

“No! No, not knowing the last time I held you in my arms and told you I loved you was the last time is what hurts. You don’t get to decide what’s going to hurt me!” The tears that threatened his lashline now start to spill over, running down his reddened cheeks. “I’m just supposed to continue through my days knowing you’re not here anymore? Knowing I will never come home to the love of my life again?”

“Sam… don’t do this, don’t say that…” You reach your hand up to wipe the tears from his cheek. If he asked, you’d bleed yourself goddamn dry to give him everything, you just can’t stand the thought of hurting him again.

“Please, Y/N? Just one more time where I’ll at least know it’s the last? I miss you.” He leans into your touch, nervously playing with the hem of his shirt between his thumb and index. “Even if you just spend the night next to me, if nothing else?”

You missed him too, having gotten hardly any sleep the past two weeks on a twin-sized mattress in your parent’s anything but heated basement, the harsh cold of a spot next to you that had been filled by Sam for the better half of some odd years.

“We can do that.” You defeatedly sigh walking towards the bedroom, your inability to deny his natural pull was a spell you knew you’d always be under.

Two weeks ago this would feel like any ordinary night. Coming home from work and hopping into the shower before bed, maybe even a nice bath. Every day for 3 years you did the same routine, and most times you were lucky enough to have Sam throw it off balance, to which he simply became part of the routine as opposed to a distraction. You cherished every moment you had with him because no matter how short or stressful it was, the good always outweighed the bad. Sam shuffles through the drawers and pulls out a pair of shorts and a shirt for you to wear. As your feet make their way into the room you see the bed is still made the way you’d fixed it when you left.

“Have you been making the bed?” You ask hesitantly, knowing he never made the bed because he liked how you fluffed the pillows better.

“No, I just haven’t been sleeping in it. Well, or at all really.” He shrugs as he hands you the clothes before pulling the covers back.

“What? Why not?” You go to walk towards the bathroom to get changed.

“Because it still smells like that perfume I like and I didn’t want it to go away.” He slips under the covers and lays facing the ceiling. “You can get dressed in here, I’ll turn around.”

You look at him with a frown on your face. “You don’t have to do that. Besides, I need help with the zipper on this dress.”

Sam sits up at the edge of the bed and you walk up in front of him. He takes a second to run his hands down your frame before he screws his eyes shut and rests his forehead against your sternum. You find yourself getting lost in his addictive presence, snapping back to reality as you hear him sniffle. You watch as he swipes tears from his eyes with his index and middle finger.

“Hey, you okay?” You place two fingers under his chin, pushing his face up to look at you.

“Far from it, I miss my girl, need my girl.”

“Need?” You ask, placing your hand on the space against his neck and collarbone, your thumb resting on his face.

Need. The thought of him needing you as opposed to wanting you breaks your heart more-so than it already is. The nail in the coffin of your unrecoverable heartbreak.

“I just need you one more time, before it’s really over?” His grip on your waist tightens but is still gentle.

“Sammy…”

“Nevermind it was stupid to ask again, I’m sorry.”

“No, not stupid. I need you, too.” You hesitate as the words leave your mouth, fingers twirling the ends of his hair. “I just can’t hurt you again, Sam. I won’t.”

“Missing you is what hurts me and I’ve done that every day since you left. This…” He pauses to point back and forth between the both of you, “isn’t gonna hurt me. It’s closure.” He pulls you closer to him, your legs naturally parting around his own as you fall into his lap. “Hi, beautiful.”

“Hi, Sammy.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“Cute, I still make you blush?” He runs his hands up your thighs until they meet at the small of your back.

“Shut up and kiss me.” You place your hands gently on the sides of his face, the two of you staring into each other's eyes as you rub your thumbs over his damp skin.

Only in this moment does the weight of your fucked up reality finally relieve itself from your shoulders. Nothing else matters completely dissolving around you as your lips meet his, perfectly fitting like a key to its matching lock. He brings one hand from your back up between the two of you, placing your chin between his index and thumb. You place a hand to the back of his neck, pushing him closer to you. The kiss grows in lust and fervor as Sam slowly introduces his tongue into your mouth. You lean into him until he falls back onto the bed, never allowing your lips to come apart from one another.

“Excited?” He asks between giggles, allowing you to feel him smile against your lips.

“You always get me excited.” You whisper.

“Is that so? Still give you butterflies?” He wraps his arms around you, rolling over until he’s on top.

He positions himself with an arm on either side of your head, looking down to you as his hair cascades around your face. He shakes his head just enough to tickle the tip of your nose with the ends of his locks.

“Sammy, stop! That tickles!” You giggle, reaching your hands up to push his hair away from your face, pulling him into you to reconnect your lips with his.

As the kiss deepens, Sam lowers himself on top of you, pressing his hardened length against you as his fingers tangle themselves into your hair.

“Excited?” You quip, bucking your hips up against his length.

“Always, around you at least.” He looks at you with the look he’d given you thousands of times, like you’re the only girl in the world.

You stare into each other's eyes for a short period, his body still pressed against yours before he breaks the silence.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

“Yes?”

“You ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

Quickly following your response, Sam reaches his hands behind you to free you of your dress, pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor. He unclasps your bra and hangs it off the headboard. You eagerly reach down to rid him of his clothing, with a little bit of help he’s kneeling completely uncovered over you. Sam takes his time planting heated kisses down your sternum, moving his hands to your hips as his lips trail to your center until they meet your aching bud. He presses a soft kiss to you before working his flat tongue over your clit, committing the feeling of you writhing beneath him to memory. He watches your movements through his dark lashes, every detail of the moment permanently etching itself into his mind. He removes his mouth from your mound, moving a hand from your hip to run two fingers through your folds. Sam presses his middle and ring finger teasingly against your entrance without giving you the pleasure of insertion.

“This okay?” He rubs the pads of his fingers against you, waiting for your response.

“Mhmm, now stop teasing me…” You snake a hand down to try and push his fingers into you, but you watch the muscles in his arm flex as he works against your desperate attempt for relief.

“Slow down, angel. If it’s really the last time, I’m gonna make it count. Make you remember me.”

“Do you think I’d ever forget you…?” You furrow your brows.

“I don’t know, you might. I feel like I don’t know anything when it comes to you anymore.” He removes his hand from your heat, sitting back on his calves.

“I’ll always remember you, Sammy.” You sit up on your elbows to keep eye contact. Of all times to have this conversation you weren’t expecting here or now.

“What if you don’t? What if you forget me while I’m gone and I never get my girl back?” His eyes grow with sadness as tears well up again.

“Have I forgotten you the other times?” You push yourself up entirely, crossing your legs and sitting in front of him, placing your hands on his knees.

“No…” He pauses for a second as you watch the thoughts cross his mind, a tear finding its way down his cheek. “But what if you figure yourself out and I’m not there?”

“Not where?” The intimacy in the room shifts to a different form, tears building up inside as you choke through your words.

“In the picture. What if figuring yourself out removes me from the picture?”

“Sammy, you’ll always be in the picture.” You squeeze his knees before hesitantly mumbling the next part. “You created the picture…”

“Created?”

“Sammy, everything we had… everything we wanted, I never wanted before you. I’m not sure there was ever a picture until you came along and painted one…”

“Was it a good picture?” He places his hands over yours.

“The most beautiful, and it still is. But sometimes we have to step away from the picture before it’s finished so we know how to approach it, make it look exactly how we want.”

“I want to fill a gallery for you. Paint every picture just how you imagine, down to the last detail.” He leans forward to plant a needy kiss on your lips, making any words you found quickly leave your mind.

You wrap your arms around his neck and slowly start to pull him on top of you, resuming what you had started, shifting the intimacy once again. As the kissing grows more heated, your legs find their way around his hips, pushing his length against your center once again. Sam buries his face in your neck, sucking on the skin below your ear as he rubs himself against you. The need for some sort of greater contact grows inside of you and with no words spoken other than sweet moans, Sam picks up on your natural cues. He brings his face to yours, meeting your lips with his as he slowly drags himself between your folds, teasing your aching clit with the head of his cock.

“Let me paint you one more time.” He whispers into your ear as he slides himself inside of you.

You can’t remember the last time you had Sam like this, the slight burn from him stretching you perfectly being a more emotionally painful reminder of the one you loved. Sam’s barely 3 inches in, but his pure width makes you hiss at the sensation. He pauses his movement, moving a hand to your cheek.

“You okay? Does it hurt?” He furrows his brows.

“A little, but I’ll be okay.”

“No, no, no, don’t wanna hurt you. Do you want lube?”

You nod yes as he sits up and places his hands on your knees, slowly removing himself leaving you empty. He reaches over into the nightstand on his side of the bed and shuffles around the top drawer.

“I have this strawberry flavored lube we got a little bit ago…” He presents it to you followed by giggles.

“Works for me, I just need you.”

“Okay, okay, sheesh.” Sam pops the cap off the bottle and you take it from his hands, pouring some onto his hardened length.

You take him into your hand as you work the lube down to the base of his cock until he’s fully covered in the sweet substance. You guide him back to your entrance and he pushes into you slowly, watching for any further signs of discomfort.

“Does that feel better?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs as he slowly works himself further.

“Feels so good.” You moan, wrapping your hands around his wrists that are now planted on your hips.

Sam continues thrusting into you slowly, watching your eyes flutter each time he enters you fully. He brings a hand up to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You grab his wrist with your hand to hold him there, allowing the warmth from his hand to keep you grounded. He wraps his fingers around the side of your head, rubbing circles on your cheek with his thumb. You trace his knuckles with the pads of your fingers, taking in every minute detail of his hand. He releases his other hand from your hip and brings the pad of his thumb to your center, working tight, fast circles over your throbbing bud. You begin to tighten under his touch, so tender and sweet with each movement as he brings you closer to the edge.

“Sam, I-”

“I know, baby. It’s okay, me too.” He finally starts to pick up speed as both of your emotional releases come crashing down, tears swelling in his and your eyes.

His cock twitches as he empties every last drop of himself inside of you, painting your walls the perfect shade of white. His body falls defeatedly on you, forehead pressed against yours. After coming down from your highs, Sam removes his now soft member and rolls over next to you. He places gentle kisses along your face before meeting your lips once more.

“I missed you.” You run your fingers through the hair framing his face, looking into his big brown eyes. God those fucking eyes. The realization that you might never have someone who cares for and loves you so much hits you like a train. Your hand moves down to lay on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of each breath as it enters and exits his lungs.

“I missed you, too.” He mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut. “I hope that makes it into the gallery.”

[thescarletsapphic]

Run (chapter 4)

Scarlet Witch x Fem Reader

Rating: M

[restraints] [gag] [fingering] [praise and degradation] [mommy kink] [spanking]

“I’m done being reasonable.”

Mouth forced shut and limbs pinned to the ground, you begin to regret trying to taunt a witch that could definitely kick your ass. Metaphorically speaking.

“Take off your pants.”

Or maybe literally speaking.

You try to tell her that she’s got your arms and legs tied with magic red rings of light- but all that can be heard is a muffled plea.

“I didn’t ask for your protest, slut. Figure it out.”

Awkwardly, you shift your legs back and forth. You even try using your knees to pin the fabric against the ground and gain some kind of traction.

“I said take off your pants, not wiggle your ass in the air. But that is a lovely sight.”

She sighs, impatient. A flick of her wrist and your pants fall to your ankles, revealing the black thong you’re wearing underneath.

“Mmm, gorgeous,” she grabs the lace and snaps it against your skin. You jolt in surprise. “Did you wear these just for me, baby?”

You feel yourself begin to tremble, not sure if it’s the cold night air or your nerves. Wanda takes a step back to admire her work.

“Aw, honey. Are you scared?” You nod your head frantically. “Don’t worry,” She leans in close,

“You’re only getting what you deserve.”

- Smack -

Her hand lands on your right cheek, sending a sharp sting.

“That’s for running your filthy mouth.”

- Smack -

“That’s for disobeying orders.”

- Smack -

“And that’s…that’s just because I felt like it.”

She takes her hand and runs it across your freshly reddened skin. Ever so lightly…and then roughly scratches the area with her nails. You wince in pain.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby. I know you love it.”

To prove her point, she takes one finger and slides it inside your underwear. Slowly, she drags it from the bottom of your pussy to the stop, barely grazing your clit.

“Already soaked.”

She takes her wet finger and puts it in her mouth, sucking it. A low moan escapes her mouth, turning into a chuckle.

“I thought you were frightened? I thought you were just an innocent victim in all of this? You’re dripping cunt begs to differ.”

A whine struggles to make it past your pursed lips.

“What? Do you want something, darling? Do you want me to fuck you?”

You’re whine turns into a groan.

“Then ass up and legs spread, don’t make me do all the work.”

You lift your hips in the air, begging with your body language. It does, however, force your face to dig further into the ground.

“Good girl.”

She brings her hand to your swollen pussy, cupping it in her hand. The friction is delicious, but not enough. Then she slips two fingers under your thong. She takes your slickness and brings it up to your clit, circling it slowly. You moan and wiggle, trying to get more from her.

“Oh silly me, how am I supposed to know what you want if I can’t hear you beg?”

Suddenly your mouth can open again. Without hesitation you cry out, “Please!”

“Please, what?”

“Please mommy, fuck me!”

“There’s my dirty little whore.”

She plunges her fingers inside you, fucking you rough and hard. You let out a gasp and a moan, grinding your hips against her.

“That’s it my love, ride it.”

You bounce up and down against her, any shame you might have felt before replaced by desperate need.

“Ugh, Wanda- fuck!”

“I am fucking you, darling.”

All you can hear is the sound of your wet pussy gushing around her hand. Using her thumb, she rubs your clit at the same time.

“Please, I’m gonna- I-“

“Do you want to cum?”

“Yes please I-“

“Louder.”

“Mommy I need to-“

“Louder!”

“Please mommy I need to cum!”

“Cum for me, baby girl.”

Your orgasm is quick and powerful. It overcomes you with such intensity that your eyes squeeze shut and you scream your throat raw. Wanda keeps her fingers inside you as you ride the after shocks.

As she removes her fingers, the restraints fade away. You pant and try to catch your breath. Once you remember you’re laying half naked in the middle of the woods, you reach to pull your pants up.

“Did I say you could put those back on?”

You stop, turning to face her.

“Oh no no no…I’m not done with you yet.”

END

[sehtoast]

To Be Liked (Homelander x OC)

1.5k | Sad themes, Homie gives a cheer-up talk, pre-relationship, some pining | Part one of hopefully many of random Benlander drabbles | Fic Directory

Something about him was off.

All day long, something wasn’t right. It bothered Homelander endlessly.

What was with that look in his eyes? Why did those smiles look so… fake?

He’d been so excited to head out with Benjamin for the night. Wrap up his stupid fucking duties and spend time with the new-recruit-turned-friend. He loved this. More than anything in the world, he loved zipping around the city with Ben.

He could be himself.

Maybe…

Maybe that was the problem. Had he been too much of himself? Maybe Ben decided he didn’t like the authentic Homelander. Maybe he spilled too many personal details and put him off.

It made Homelander’s gut sour– made his mouth go dry.

There were a lot of… feelings for his one. More than anyone Homelander had ever considered pursuing in the past.

Had he fucked it all up already?

Every little paranoid thought in his mind pointed to it being all his fault, leaving him agitated and irritable as they made their rounds– eventually settling on top of the Queensboro Bridge rather than their usual spot. They watched the sun dip down below the horizon, painting them both an ethereal gold. He filled the silence, but Ben…

Ben only gave short answers, nods of his head while he stared off into the distance as though he were somewhere else entirely.

Homelander didn’t know if he was furious or just fucking crushed.

“What the fuck is your deal?” He asks, words spilling out far more accusatory than he meant. “Someone piss in your breakfast or what?”

Ben cracked a weak smile, shrugging.

Homelander waited, finally moving to take off once Ben left his question unanswered. A strong grip caught him by the wrist, silently asking him to stay.

So he did. Arched an inquisitive brow, staring Ben down all the while. The bug didn’t release him– just sat there looking down at the passing cars with sad eyes.

Obviously he wants Homelander around but…

“I’m not…” Ben began, giving his hand a fluttery shake as if to explain his state of being in an act. “But I’m not good at talking about things.”

About things? Homelander thought to himself. That didn’t seem right– Ben was always quick to respond in their conversations. Always something sweet or witty, an anecdote here or a joke there.

Lost in thought, Homelander hadn’t realized a salty scent began to waft through the air until it hit his nose in a breeze. Was he–

Yeah… He is.

He peeks back just in time to catch Ben wiping his eyes furiously with the back of his hand. Homelander’s quick to free his arm and lay it over the bug’s shoulders, but he’s not sure what to do. Yeah, he knows how to comfort crying victims and sobbing children who don’t want him to fly away, but this?

It’s harder to comfort someone when they actually matter.

“Try me,” Homelander whispers.

“Does it ever…” Ben began, trailing off when his voice grew tight. “D’you ever just feel really… really alone?”

He watches Ben with baited breath, almost afraid to move. Of course I do, he wanted to say. Before he can reply, Benjamin speaks again.

“It’s like…” Ben gives a look of frustration, fingers flexing back and forth as he tries to convey something seemingly impossible. Like he’s trying to dig the words from the bedrock of his heart. “There’s so many people, but none of them…”

He gestures with his hands again, and somehow it makes sense.

“Did you ever watch that stupid show with the cartoon horse?” Ben asks with a sniffle. “S’fine if you didn’t– just, it’s got this line in it, y’know?”

Homelander curls his arm tighter when Benjamin swipes at more tears.

“Everybody loves you, but nobody likes you…”

A trillion pound weight forms in Homelander’s chest at just how strongly those words resonate.

“And I– like, I’ve got friends… family– sort of, y’know?” Ben continues, words hurried, voice tight. “But I’m always convinced they don’t.”

But I do…

“And it’s stupid,” Ben continues. “E-Everything about it is so fucking stupid! I’m supposed to be happy– I’m the happy guy who’s never–” He shakes his head and heaves a shuddering sigh. “M’always so outta place… And now I’m making you be m-my fuckin’ therapist…”

After a beat of silence, and another of Ben’s unnecessary apologies, Homelander speaks up.

“I like you.” He says. His voice comes out timid, and he’s not sure why. It’s like all the confidence and bravado of his usual self has been snuffed.

Like he’s staring at a mirror image of his own insecurities in the form of someone he adores.

“That’s–”

“I do,” he continues before Ben can go on. “I like you a lot.” He doesn’t know what words are coming before they fall off his tongue. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

Ben looks at him with teary eyes, and he has to swallow around a thick wave of emotion before he can continue.

“You’re sweet, Ben. You’re so fuckin’ nice, you make me wanna puke sometimes. Y-You help old ladies cross the street and tie up criminals I’d have rather lasered than let have another chance!”

“That’s Spider-Man, not–”

“Shut. Up.” He demands in a tone wholly unlike himself. “You– I watched you, before all this. To figure you out.” He was digging himself into a fucking crater sized hole by confessing this, but it was too late to go back. “I’ve seen you. How you always tip those useless fuckin’ cashiers even though they only pressed a button. Rushing over to wipe some old bat’s seat and table when she spilled her drink– and it’s not even your problem. Carrying cases of paper at your old job so the others didn’t have to, even when that mouth breather of a boss pretended to never see you go the extra mile!”

Homelander gripped Ben by the shoulders.

“I’ve seen how all those fuckin’ bozos smile at you when you walk away. Watched your friends practically fucking skip down a block after your little coffee hangouts or whatever, absolutely reeking of dopamine.”

He gives Ben a small shake, more so for himself as motivation to just say it.

“And I know how I feel about you.” The words weigh heavy in his throat, but every second that he stares into those sad, dark chocolate eyes pulls them free as though they were naught but strings. “I know how excited I am to see you after I finish all the show pony bullshit they make me do. Every text that isn’t from you is a– it’s a fucking disappointment! I don’t know how these fuckin’ phones work, but I wish I could have a special sound that means it’s from you.”

He hates the sob that chokes from his little spider, but he knows it’s the right kind when it comes with a smile. Somehow he’s doing this right.

“I spend all day thinkin’ about where we can fly off to! If we’re gonna sit at one of our spots or watch a movie at your place– if we’re…”

Ben lurches forward, throwing his arms around Homelander’s neck. The bug cries softly in the crook of his neck.

Homelander doesn’t know what that was. How he, for seemingly the first time in his life, pulled from nothing but the heart. No performing, no falsehoods, no bullshit.

He meant it.

All of it.

”I like you, Ben.” He reaffirms, rubbing a soothing hand between his little spider’s shoulders. “You can take that one to the bank.”

He waits, and waits, and waits, until he’s positive Ben fell asleep on him. So, he does what any superhero would do and flies him home– having his own little inner turmoil about how fucking honest the boy always makes him.

Homelander gets as far as depositing Ben onto the bed, but no further.

“Don’t go…” whispers a pitiful, sniveling little voice.

His heart hammers. For so long now, he truly has been enamored with the bug. Fascination at first, but now..?

So much more.

“Please…”

So he stayed. Let Ben snuggle up beside him, first just clinging to his arm in some silly desire to not push boundaries. That goofy position lasted only moments before Homelander offered him to rest on his chest.

“I’m a cozy guy,” he whispers. “I won’t bite.”

Just as he thought Benjamin was finally asleep, he heard a whisper.

“Hey, Johnny?”

He was the only soul on the planet who could call him that, let alone make it warm his heart.

“I like you, too.” Ben yawned. “You make things good.”

“Hmm,” he hummed teasingly. “I gave you such a big list earlier, and all I get is that I make things good?”

Ben nodded against him, clearly on the brink of falling asleep.

“Love havin’ you n’my life…”

With that, Ben was out like a light, leaving Homelander to let his own little tears finally leak free.

You make things good.

What a wonderful web he’s found himself tangled in.

[randomly-a-fan]

Malon’s Green-Eyed Monster

Part 1

Part 2 (made my @tuttifuckinfruttifriday)

Part 3

Jason has been busy repairing a rowboat for him and his family and friends, so they can watch the fireworks from out of the lake for the Forth of July event. He usually works on it on his perimeter check hour, and when there aren’t any trespassers or victims.

Anyway, this story is about Malon; she’s been looking forward to one thing that comes every year, the circus! Her and her dad go to the circus every year as a special bond. Jason would buy the tickets for her and himself the minute he heard the rumors about the circus. However, this year is so much different. Since Jason was in charge of keeping Justin in comfort until his dad is better, there are a few tweaks. The day of the circus falls on the day when him and his family have to look after Justin. “Sweetie, why not just buy another ticket? that way you can take both Malon and Justin.” MJ suggested. Jason nodded to her idea; if he buys the third ticket, he won’t have to feel bad for taking only one of them.

Although, as he got to the store to buy another ticket, they were sold out. “Sorry sir, better luck next year.” The lady explained. Jason bangs his fist against the counter and caused a dent, which embarrassed him a little, so he gave the lady the amount of money for the damage he caused. Jason wanted to bring Malon, because she is his daughter, and she was looking forward to this event. Justin could stay back with MJ and do some baking, but he’s not entirely close to MJ as he were of Jason, so that could be a problem.

***

On the day of the circus, Jason decided to make his final decision. He explained to MJ on what he believed was right from his perspective. “I’ve heard from Aliza that Rick tries to finish his route quickly so he can take his son to the circus, but, not only he didn’t make his commitment, he’s in a coma... Malon has been gone to the circus for four years now, maybe she’ll understand.” MJ thought. Jason nodded sadly, as she made a good point. However, how will he put this up with Malon? “I’ll think of something for Malon and I to do, while you and Justin spend some time together at the circus.” MJ added with a solution.  

Jason nodded to MJ’s solution, Malon is a very understanding young lady; she has to take it well, right? Jason wrote a note for MJ to read: “Can you tell Malon for me? you could explain things better than me.” Jason wrote. MJ stared side-eyed in an unamused impression. Until Jason gave her the puppy-eyes with hope. MJ sighed in defeat. “You owe me, Jason... You owe me.” MJ warned. Jason nodded and gave MJ a kiss by the cheek near the edge of her lip.

When MJ got out of bed to talk to Malon, Jason was crossing his fingers and toes that Malon won’t take it too hard. But after just two minutes, he heard Malon crying and whimpering. So, he got up and walked towards his daughter, who is laying her face against her mom’s chest as she was crying. MJ stared up at Jason crossly; she’s not angry with him, it wasn’t his fault, she’s just cross that he asked her to tell Malon what her dad is going to do. Jason sat down next to his wife and placed his hand on Malon’s back and rubbed her gently. He was going to wipe her tear away with his abnormally-large thumb, but Malon turned her head the other way, since she’s angry with her dad. “Malon sweetie, you and I will do something fun together; it’ll be our girls day together.” MJ said in a calming voice. Malon replied in a mumbling voice: “Make daddy leave...” Jason overheard what Malon said; he can’t blame her, he wouldn’t want himself in the same room either, so he decided to get himself ready while Malon cools herself down.

MJ looked over at how sad Jason was when he’s not wearing his mask, as he was heading out the door, Jason waved and blew a kiss goodbye. “Malon, don’t you want to say goodbye to your daddy?” MJ asked. Malon shook her head ‘no’ as she doesn’t want to have anything to do with her dad. Jason faced down sadly as he leaves to pick up Justin. While Malon lies on the couch staring at the wall, MJ decided to talk to Malon again. “You see how much your dad feels about this whole mess? I think he’s very sad and heartbroken.” MJ explained. “Well, it’s his own fault for choosing Justin over me; when I’ve been waiting a whole year for the circus to come, and for dad and I do stuff together.” Malon responded. “Malon, he only did that, because his job is to guide him to a positive life; with his dad in a coma, it’s hard for him.” MJ explained the best she could. “But he didn’t have to take the father-role; the more my dad treats Justin like he’s his son, the more I’m starting to dislike Justin... I’m starting to not want Justin for a friend anymore.” Malon mumbled at the end of the sentence. MJ sighed in defeat, she didn’t know how to make Malon forget about her envy or jealousy on Justin.

***

Malon decided to walk over to Archie’s place, to get her mind off that morning. When she got to the Neibolt House, she heard laughter from Archie and Kandy; Pennywise was making the kids laugh by doing the balloon trick, where he on purposely lets go of the balloon, which made Kandy laugh her head off, and hearing her laugh makes Archie laugh. When Pennywise heard the door knock, he sensed Malon’s presence. “Archie, would you mind let Malon in?” Pennywise asked. “Malon’s here? sure!” Archie said as he got off the seat, while Pennywise continues playing with Kandy.

When Archie answered the door, he gave Malon a friendly gesture. “Hi Malon, would you like to come in?” Archie asked. “Sure... What’s going on with you and your dad?” Malon asked curiously. “Mom had a bad cold, so dad is entertaining Kandy, with my help of course. But I think my dad is entertaining me too.” Archie said with a smile when he looked back at his dad and Kandy; Pennywise was throwing Kandy up in the air and making her fly, Kandy loved her dad very much. Seeing Kandy with her dad made Malon think of her and her dad; Jason used to do that with her when she was Kandy’s age. Just thinking about her dad reminded her of what happened this morning. “Malon... Are you okay?” Archie asked. Malon snapped out after hearing Archie ask her a question. “What? Oh... Uh, yeah... Listen, I hate to be a burden, but... I have to go.” Malon said before she turns around quickly out the door. “Malon? Wait!” Archie called out to Malon. However, she didn’t respond back. “What happened to Malon, Archie?” Pennywise asked. “I don’t know; all I said is that my mom is sick and that you’re entertaining me and Kandy... Then she got upset.” Archie explained. Pennywise was also in a doozy; even he doesn’t understand why Malon was upset.

***

So, Malon was sitting on the swing at the nearby park back at home. She doesn’t know what to do with herself; she doesn’t feel the love from her dad that she thought she would. “Not getting the love from your daddy, are you?” Malon looked up to see who it was. When she turned her head, she didn’t see anybody, but then, she faced forward and saw a green girl. “Hi...” said the mysterious girl in an echo-like voice. Malon screamed and fell off her swing. “W-who are you! what do you want?” Malon asked. “I’m you in jealousy; also known as ‘The Green-eyed Monster’... To make it easier for you, you can call me Nolam.” Nolam said. Malon is getting the idea that she’s using her own name spelled backwards as a nickname, so, she’s going along with it. “Okay... But why are you here?” Malon asked. “You want your dad to love you again, right? well, I have a plan. Follow me.” Nolam ordered. Malon knew to not talk to strangers or follow them, but she’s a green version of herself, do you call yourself a stranger? no one knows.

Nolam lead Malon towards the lake, where Jason was fixing up the boat for the Forth of July Fire Works. “That’s my dad’s rowboat; he was repairing it for the fireworks that’s coming up.” Malon explained. “Exactly, that is why I took you there; you can inspect the boat, and see if it floats.” Nolam explained. Malon was shocked. “Oh no, my parents told me to never go out on the lake without supervision.” Malon warned. “Oh, you won’t be going out on the lake, you’re just going on the boat and inspect for any leaks or scratches. That will win your dad’s heart.” Nolam explained with a wicked smile. Malon wanted her dad’s love, so, as longs she’s not sailing out, maybe no one will know. “Okay, I’ll inspect the boat.” Malon said to Nolam before she disappeared out of thin air.

***

MJ was just preparing lunch for when Malon gets back from her visit, until she heard the door knock. MJ saw that it was Pennywise and the kids. “Hello Pennywise, is everything alright?” MJ asked. “Archie keeps on asking me to bring him to Camp Crystal Lake, just to check on Malon; He told me that she’s been very depressed.” Pennywise explained, who was bouncing a little to keep Kandy from getting fussy. “You mean Malon wasn’t with you?” MJ looked around and over, being a little overwhelmed.

Malon made sure that the boat was tied to the docks’ post so she wouldn’t sail out. However, she didn’t realize that the rope needed to be tied with a sailor's hitch, which is something she could not do. When she wasn’t looking, the rope came undone and caused her to float away from the dock.

Archie decided to go for a walk in the woods, while Pennywise and MJ discuss Malon’s behavior. As he got to the docks, he noticed a hanged rope. Then he heard a call from out of the lake. “HELP.” Cried a voice. Archie saw that it was Malon on the boat. “Malon! Is that you?” Archie called out. “ARCHIE...” Malon cried. Malon was panicking, because she never rowed a boat before, and the oars are heavy. “Malon couldn’t see Archie anymore, she assumed that Archie ran back to her cabin for help, but boy is she wrong. Out of nowhere, Archie popped out of the water wearing only his boxer shorts; which indeed was a bit much. (Good thing he didn’t reach puberty yet). Malon didn’t care that Archie was sort of naked, she just wanted to get back to shore. “Step aside Malon, I’ll row us back.” Archie offered as he took a seat where the oars are.

As they were halfway to shore, Archie was asking Malon questions; not just the boat incident thing, but from the beginning. Malon told Archie about how her dad took Justin to the circus instead of her, and how she’s upset about it. Then she explained to him about the Green-eyed Monster that she has met. “I’m sorry you’ve been through that today, Malon. But there’s no reason to try to win back the love from your dad; he already loves you, he had to take Justin to the circus, since no one else would; especially when his mother was in jail and that his dad was always out on the road. Then came a coma.” Archie explained. 

Malon was shocked. “His mom was in jail?” Malon asked in shock. “Yeah... She was arrested for doing illegal drugs and beating him up for no reason, probably have something to do with the withdraw that she was through; that’s why Justin has to live with his for-now parents, while his dad makes big deliveries.” Archie explained. Malon started to open up to Archie’s story, Justin’s life was so tragic; he’s been through a lot of curses, and she thought her curses was bad, she can’t imagine her life if she were in Justin’s shoes. Before Archie and Malon could make it to the dock, the boat had a leak, which causes the boat to sink. “Uh oh!” Both Malon and Archie said, before they sank into the lake, luckily for them that they’re close to land, but now Malon was soaking wet. So, Archie put his clothes back on and walked Malon back home.

When Archie and Malon got into the house, MJ looked over and saw Malon dripping wet. “Oh my God, Malon! What happened?” MJ asked as she rushed over to her. “I... I... I sunk...” Malon said briefly before she sneezed. “We’ll discuss this later, let’s get you dried up and put you into something dry.” MJ said before she walked Malon into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Pennywise looked over at Archie and saw that his pants are wet, almost as if he peed himself. “Son, why are you wet from the underwear area?” Pennywise asked with a smirked face. “Malon was sailing away in a boat out of the lake, so I stripped out of my clothes-- NOT ALL OF THEM... And swam out to row Malon back to shore. And as we got close, the boat sprung a leak and it sank.” Archie explained. Pennywise laughed at the story. “Why was Malon out on the boat in the first place?” Pennywise asked with amusement. Archie sighed before telling his dad about what she has told him.

***

Once Malon got into her cozy PJs, she goes over to her room to rest, requested by MJ, due to the fact that she’s got the sniffles. Pennywise told MJ about what he has heard from his son, and about why Malon behaved the way she did, and why she was out on the boat. “So, Malon didn’t attend to go out on the lake, she was only inspecting the boat, just so Jason doesn’t have to.” Pennywise finished off. “I know, Malon told me everything while crying, I got most of her stories straight, it’s this Nolam girl that got me concerned.” MJ admits. “Malon was just being summoned by the Green-eyed Monster; you’ve heard of them? they come to the ones who are jealous.” MJ nodded as she understood about the myth; but it wasn’t a myth, if Malon can see her green-eyed self. “How do you suppose we get rid of it?” MJ asked. “There’s nothing we can do, and I’m a demon clown who had about the same power as the Satan, it’s something that Malon has to deal with herself; she’ll learn overtime, but I don’t think she’ll be seeing Nolam anytime soon; as she’s starting to get less envious of Justin.” Pennywise explained. MJ thanked Pennywise before he takes Archie and Kandy back home.

So, MJ starts doing the laundry and wash Malon’s favorite dress. Once MJ got the clothes hanged, she felt Jason’s presence. “Jason!” MJ said in surprise before she kissed him. “You’re back early, anything happened at the circus with Justin?” MJ asked. Jason has his little story to tell his wife and daughter; whom he’s looking forward to see when he gets in. For now though, he wanted to relax and sit with MJ on the porch swing, which is a good time for MJ to explain to Jason what happened after he have left.

Jason explained to MJ about his experience at the circus, how it was down-sized, so it wasn’t any fun in Justin or Malon’s age; like, it’s meant for very young travelers. He also explained that how he felt nothing but guilt for not taking his daughter along on the trip, and for bringing Justin instead. When he heard about what happened at the lake, he was crushed; obviously from his experience, it was the most traumatic experience he’s ever been in as a child. But hearing about Malon nearly drowning is what scared him the most.  “Malon did not mean to sink the boat; she was being manipulated by the Green-eyed Monster called Nolam; Green-eyed Monsters are known as a monster of jealousy. So, she was jealous of Justin for winning your attention, which explained why she was trying to fix your boat.” MJ explained. Jason did not give a damn about some old boat; Malon’s life is more important and precious than anything in the world. So he marched right into the house to see his precious gem.

Malon was just about to wake up from her nap, until she saw a familiar face of her dad. “Daddy...” Malon said sleepily. Jason got up and picked her up and placed her on his lap. “Daddy... I’m sorry about this morning, I didn’t mean any of it; I understand that you needed to be there for Justin, until Rick is out of the coma... The worse part though, is that I’ve sunk the boat that you were repairing... All that work for nothing.” Malon said in a guilty tone. Jason only hugged his daughter tighter while rocking her back and forth, he even told her what he has told her mother. Malon nodded in understanding. “Well, even if you did take me to the circus, I wouldn’t care how small and boring the circus was; I just wanted to spend time with you, we’re like best friends compared to me.” Malon explained. Jason gave Malon a note about how he feels about her, that he have wrote before seeing his daughter: ”No matter what happens, you’ll always be my special, special girl; your life is more valuable than some silly boat.” Malon teared up and hugged her daddy tighter. “You’re valuable to me too, dad.” Malon whispered in his ear. Jason heard her and teared up with a smile.

***

The next day, Jason has plans for him and Malon to do together. However, from what happened yesterday, Malon ended up with a bad cold. Which was okay, because Jason is there to keep her company, unless he has to go on his perimeter check, but he’ll always come back to be with his baby girl. So, Jason and Malon watch a movie together, and play some board games. 

Jason even sneaked out some cookies for the two of them to enjoy, that is, until they both got caught by MJ, but Jason offered to take the blame; after all, he’s just trying to be a good dad. “Well, as punishment, you’ll have to do the dishes.” MJ said with a smirk, before throwing a dishtowel at him. Malon giggled to her dad’s punishment, thankfully, MJ lets Jason spend time with Malon until it’s time for bed. He even lets Malon sleep with him in his and his wife’s bed, while MJ sleeps on Malon’s bed for the night. MJ understands why her hubby is being this loving; to make up for not taking her to the circus and abandoning her. She loved seeing Malon and Jason bond, it’s like a remedy for not getting to sleep with her husband at night, or do nighttime activities.

As for Nolam, the Green-eyed Monster, Malon learned to not let her jealousy get the best of her, and never trust a green image of herself.

The End

[f1nalboys]

Costume ; Mickey Altieri

first mickey full length fic i love he sm he’s actually deranged guys!!!! pls make sure to read warnings for this one!

Mickey Altieri x Fem!AFAB!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3837

WARNINGS: nsfw, dub-con (didn’t write it as such but just in case), post scream 1 and pre scream 2 events, ghostface mickey, knife play, blood play, roleplay, costumes, spitting, slapping, spanking, degradation, misogyny and slut shaming, creampie, doggy style, throat fucking, established relationship, home invasion roleplay, murderer/victim roleplay, predator/prey dynamics, mickey has the ghostface costume on for a little bit, glove kink?, oral (amab and afab receiving), multiple orgasms, fingering, underwear as a gag, reader gets cut, chase scene, mickey gets off on crying, mickey is a bad bf and a bad person, manipulation, toxic relationship, unhealthy relationship dynamics, not proofread

“You want to do what?” You were in bed with Mickey, head on his bare chest, curled into his side after a long day and you genuinely thought you had misheard him. He glances down at you and gives you a half smile, kissing your temple.

“I said I want to wear a costume next time we fuck.” He says it so simply, as though he were talking about the weather, that you can’t help but laugh a little. He frowns. “Saying no is much nicer than laughing, babe.”

Shaking your head, you sit up on your elbow staring at him. “Sorry, I was just laughing at the way you said it. What kind of costume? Like, do you want to do roleplay or something?” You were interested in the idea; in your short time dating Mickey, you’ve become privy to a lot more kinks than you were expecting him to have. Blood and knives were at the forefront of your sex life nowadays, but he hadn’t introduced anything knew in a few months. 

“Yeah, kind of. Wanna hear all the dirty details now or later?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. It was late, almost two am at this point, and the two of you had a long day tomorrow. “It won’t take long, baby. Plus, it’ll get you all amped up for when we do it.”

“Who says I’m gonna agree to it?”

“You’re a pervert, of course you’re gonna agree to it.” You snort, settling back into bed, laying your head back on his chest. You can hear his heart beating. “Alright. I was thinking I’d wear…” He grabs his phone from beside him, the light illuminating his sharp features, before turning it towards you. It was a black costume that reminded you of the Grim Reaper, the only difference being the mask. “This.”

You can feel his heartbeat speed up as he puts his phone back. “Isn’t that the Ghostface costume? From Woodsboro?” You whisper, choosing to keep your head down away from his gaze which you can feel burning a hole in your head. He hums, answering your question, and you take in a deep breath. “Oh. How come you chose that one?”

“Because it’s scary. And besides,” His hand, which was wrapping around your shoulder, moves to lay on the back of your neck, squeezing it slightly. Your heart skips a beat and he laughs under his breath. “It seems you kind of like it. Wanna hear the rest of the plan?”

Without waiting for an answer he begins, his voice low and level, his grip on your neck never letting up. “I’d wear it and wait in your apartment for you to come home. You’d come in, no idea I was there, and when you were comfortable, completely oblivious, I’d jump out. Chase you around with a knife, fuck you while you struggle, and you’d like it. Wouldn’t you?”

When Mickey asked a question, he expected an answer. “I don’t know, Mick… doesn’t that seem messed up? I mean, someone killed people wearing that.”

“So?” You sit up at this, staring at him with disgust settling in your stomach. You knew Mickey was morbid, both from his interest in the gory horror films and his interest in true crime, but you had never heard him be so… disinterested. “Oh come on, babe, don’t look at me like that! It’s awful people died, but that was a year ago, the assholes who did it are dead. Why should we let them ruin the costume?”

He sits up too, running a hand through his hair with a huff. Crossing your arms over your chest, you shake your head, your mind swimming. “Shit, Mickey! It’s fucked up, that’s why! We fucking go to school with Sidney and Randy, we’re friends with them, and you wanna parade around in the costume the people who tormented them wore?”

“If we stopped using or liking things serial killers liked, we wouldn’t have shit. I mean, Manson thought the fuckin’ Beatles were talking to him, does that mean we shouldn’t listen to ‘Hey Jude?’” He puts a hand on your cheek, thumb brushing across it in an attempt to soothe your anger. He had a point, you suppose, a weak one but a point nonetheless. “I won’t wear that costume if it bothers you that badly, alright?”

You sigh, exhausted. “Fine. We can do it but not that costume, Mickey, seriously.”

“Yes ma’am.” He wraps his arms around you again, holding you tight, as the two of you lay back down. Your heart is beating in tangent with him and he rests his chin on the top of your head. “Promise.”

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

A few weeks later is when Mickey decides it’s time. You were gone for the day, supposed to come back to his place and crash, which was a plus, since people tended to be out on the weekend, leaving the dorm practically deserted. You texted him to let him know you were close, about five minutes out, and he gets ready.

Donning the costume and knife, he crawls into the coat closet by the front door, leaving it cracked just enough to see when you open the door. His phone, silenced, buzzes as you text him to let him know you’re home. The apartment was dark when you got inside, unusual for a Friday night. Mickey tended to be home on Friday in preparation to party all fucking day on Saturday, so you were immediately on edge, especially since he hadn’t texted you back. 

“Mickey? You home?” You call out, locking the door behind you and dropping your things off at the door. No answer. You flip the light switch on and sigh, trying to ignore the pit of anxiety growing in your stomach. The memory of your conversation with him plays in the back of your mind as you head into the kitchen, getting yourself a glass of water. Could tonight be the night he wanted to try this? 

No, probably not. He’d have given you some kind of warning, you thought to yourself, taking a few sips of your drink before turning around. In front of you, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, was Ghostface. The glass slips from your fingers, shattering onto the floor, and yet the masked figure doesn’t move.

“M-Mickey?” You ask, voice wavering. The figure shakes their head and you glance down to their hand and feel a wave of nausea hit you; a knife. They were holding a knife and they weren’t Mickey. “Mickey if that's you you better tell me right fucking now or I swear to god I’ll kill you.”

You know where the knives are; two drawers to your left. You’d be able to get to it before whoever it was got to you, but after that, who knows what could happen. The only time you’ve handled a knife was during sex with Mickey when he asked you to cut into him, carve your name onto his thigh like he had done to you. It’s a far cry from trying to defend yourself from a killer.

“You can scream all you want, sweetheart,” The person says and you internally sigh; it was Mickey. It had to be, only he called you that stupid pet name. But why the fuck was he wearing this costume? “No one’s around to hear you.” Before you can register what’s happening he lunges forwards, grabbing ahold of your arm and yanking you forwards.

He slices at your arm and you yelp, watching as blood pours from the wound. Mickey goes to cut you again but you dodge it, shoving him as hard as you can before making a break for the front door. You nearly trip as a shard of glass jams into the bottom of your foot, hobbling towards the front door as fast as you can.

When you reach it, your hands are shaking and you struggle to undo the locks. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why’d you have to lock every single one of them? “Gotcha,” Mickey says, grabbing ahold of your hair and yanking you backwards. You fall back, hitting the hardwood floor, your elbow and hip getting a sharp pain through them.

He drags you across the floor, cursing as you attempt to get him to let go of your hair. You can feel the roots being pulled from your head and you’re crying, begging him to let you go. “Mickey, stop it! Stop, this isn’t fucking funny anymore,” You yell before he’s letting go of your hair and straddling you. The knife is pressed to your throat and your struggles cease immediately as the cold metal digs into your flesh.

“Say the word and I’m done,” He mutters into your ear, leaning down, the mask brushing across your cheek. He’s referring to the safe word and he waits for it. It doesn’t come. Under the mask he’s grinning, cheeks red from exertion and hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. “Of course not. A filthy whore like you wouldn’t want to stop, isn’t that right.”

“Mickey-’

“Shh.” The knife digs into your skin a little harder and you can feel the flesh break. You can almost see Mickey’s wicked grin when you let out a soft whimper at the feeling. “You can fight if you want. Makes it more fun for me,” 

“Wait! Wait, hang on!” You say and Mickey does so, surprisingly. You’d half expected him to continue despite your protests. “Please just take the mask off, Mick. I can’t… I can’t look at it.” He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, and you wonder if you had really said it out loud. “Please.” It’s quiet, barely audible, but it works. Mickey rips the mask off, tossing it to the side, before he’s back to the game.

He replaces the knife with his gloved hand, fingers squeezing the sides of your throat, and you can already feel the lack of oxygen. Tears were dried on your cheeks, hiccupping breaths cut off. “Please,” He mocks, other hand dragging the knife down your clothed chest lightly. “Fucking pathetic, y’know that? Here you are, getting off on this depraved fucking game, but a costume is too much.” 

He laughs at his own comment and you feel the heat begin to pool between your legs. You hated this part, where he made fun of you, made you feel awful, as if he weren’t enjoying it just as much. It made you feel dirty, disgusting. And maybe you were. Mickey lets go of your throat and you suck in a breath, lungs burning from the oxygen. You watch as he licks a stripe up his hand, a thing layer of blood coating his tongue.

“Fuck, you taste good, y’know that? Always forget how sweet you taste till I do this.” He grabs your face roughly and you can feel the blood spreading across your face. His grip tightens and you let out a whine, squeezing your eyes shut. It hurt and he was glad it did. “Almost as sweet as that cunt of yours. Want me to touch you? You want me to make you feel good?”

“Yes, fuck, please,” You get out, eyes opening, trying to ignore the disgust that goes through you. It couldn’t be bad if it felt this good, could it? Letting go of your face, Mickey lifts his costume up and you attempt to move your hands out from under his legs. He had them pinned to your side, an attempt to stop you from struggling, and you just want to touch him.

He slaps you, hard, your face stinging. Tears burn at your eyes again and he repeats it two more times. Your cheek hurts so bad now and when he goes to do it again you flinch hard. “Don’t fucking move. I’m doing this for me, you understand? I don’t give a fuck if you feel good or not. Now,” He pulls his costume back up and tosses the knife to the side, just out of your reach, and unbuttons his jeans. “Open your whore mouth.”

Mickey pulls his cock out, having forgone underwear, and sits up. The weight he had put on your stomach eases up and you take in a deep, much needed breath, before he’s shoving it down your throat. He lets out a loud moan as he goes further into your throat, one hand holding his costume up and the other pressing down on your throat. 

He sets a fast and brutal pace, reveling in the feeling of his cock moving in and out of your throat. There’s not much you can do besides focus on not throwing up, gagging as he shoves his cock further down your throat with each thrust. “Fuuuuck, your mouth feels so good,” He grunts, looking down and grinning. You had tears pouring from your eyes, spit and snot covering the bottom half of your face. “And the fucking noises you make, bet you’re, shit! Bet you’re fuckin’ soaked just from having my dick down your throat.”

He pulls out of your mouth, spitting on you as you cough, and another wave of shame goes through you at that. When Mickey got like this it was like he was a different person, treating you like you were nothing but a hole for him to fuck. Your head is swimming, vision slightly blurred, and you don’t register as he throws the costume off of himself. 

“Suck.” He says, shoving three of his gloved fingers into your mouth. You gag at the intrusion, recovering quickly, before doing your best to coat his fingers with spit. You can taste the blood on them. “Good little slut. Want me to use these on you, don’t you?” You nod quickly, swirling your tongue around his digits sloppily. Drool was spilling from your mouth still and you want to beg him to fuck you already but the throbbing in your cheek stops you. 

You try your best to keep still as he gets off of you, yanking at your pants quickly. When they’re at your ankle he gives you a grin, grabbing your shoulder and forcing you around until you are on your stomach. The air is cold on your bar legs and you’re painfully aware of how bad you were aching, how wet you were. It didn’t go past Mickey, either, if his cruel laugh was any indication.

“Fucking soaked,” He grunts and you hear the clink of the knife as he picks it up from the floor. He drags it flat against your ass, following the curve of it down your thigh. You shudder. “You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you? Pathetic, fucking disgusting. What if someone really broke in here, tried to kill you? You’d probably sink to your knees to get their cock in your mouth.”

Mickey slips the knife under your underwear and cuts it, ripping the fabric off of your other leg. “Be honest, you’d use that cunt of yours to get out alive and you’d like it, wouldn't you?

“Yes! Yes, I would, Mickey, please. Please fuck me already I need you,” You beg, near to tears, and he laughs, hand coming and holding your head down onto the floor. He bundles the cut underwear up, holding it over your mouth, and you know what he’s asking of you. Your mouth opens and he shoves them inside, the taste of your arousal filling your mouth. 

“Fucking whore needs her holes filled, doesn’t she?” You nod quickly, wiggling your hips, and he slices the back of your thigh with the knife. You howl in pain, your arms coming to rest by your head in a desperate attempt to keep them from moving. Mickey hushes you as he wipes the blood across your thighs, tracing over the scarred over name on your hip. “I own you. I can do whatever I want to you and you’d let it happen because I’m the only one who can make you feel good.”

He shoves two fingers inside your soaked cunt without warning and you groan at the stretch, the burn, and it only amplifies as he sets a quick pace. He was hitting the spot inside you that had you feeling lightheaded and you can’t help but move your hips back slightly to meet him in the middle. Mickey lets it happen, enjoying how pathetic you looked, face down on the floor covered in blood, spit, and tears and loving it.

You were close, so fucking close, squeezing around his fingers and you cry out when he pulls his fingers from your cunt. Your protests are muffled by your underwear but you let Mickey maneuver you. He positions you so you were face down ass up and he pushes your legs apart, his mouth instantly attaching to your cunt.

Mickey loved eating you out. He loved the noises you made, the way you would grind back against him, the way you tasted. He especially loved the times he got you to squirt and made it a mission to make it happen again and again, covering his face and cock with it. He was addicted to it, to you, and you knew it. 

These were the times when you could have some power back over him. No matter how dominant he’d be, when he got his mouth on your pussy he was putty in your hands, letting you ride his face for as long as you’d like, letting you call him all sorts of names. 

Your moans were muffled and that wasn’t good enough for Mickey. “Take them out of your mouth,” He says, pulling away from you for a few seconds before lapping at your slit again. “Need to hear how desperate you are to cum on my face, sweetheart.” You oblige immediately, yanking the fabric out of your mouth and letting out a loud moan, bucking your hips back against his warm mouth.

“Oh my fucking god, Mickey, fuck! Please, your fucking tongue, just like that. Just like that baby, m’so close, wanna cum soooo badly,” You whine and he hums against you, his hands kneading your ass. He knew everything about you. From the way your cunt would squeeze around his tongue and fingers, how your whole body seemed to shake, how your breathing sped up; he knew when you were about to cum.

By the grace of God he lets you finish, sucking your clit into his mouth as you do so. He doesn’t let up until you’re a quivering mess, jolting with each flick of his tongue. “Fuck you taste so good,” He says, grabbing your hair and yanking you up. The kiss is rough and sloppy, tongues swirling together and interrupted by panting. “M’gonna fuck you right here and you’re gonna love it. Gonna cum in you, fill you to the fuckin’ brim.”

He’s talking to you as if you’re not really there, pulling his jeans down fully, and then he’s sliding inside you, his hips flush against yours. “Fuck! Fuck you’re so big,” You say; while Mickey knew everything about you, you knew everything about him. He loved the praise you gave him after he treated you like this, how you gave yourself to him entirely. He loved when you tried taking control, too, because he loved putting you in your place.

“Yeah? M’stretching your cunt, aren’t I?” His thrusts are bordering on painful, your back against his chest, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way he felt inside you, the filth he was whispering into your ear. “So fucking tight. Gotta fuck you more, should be stretched. This fucking pussy, Christ. Fucking amazing.”

He pushes you down so you are back on the floor with your ass up and he’s hitting deeper inside you than you ever thought possible. “Oh fuck! I’m so close, Mickey, baby, oh god. Please don’t stop,”

“Not stopping till you’re fucking leaking.” He spanks you hard, shuddering, so close himself. His gloved hand wraps around your waist and begins to circle your clit quickly, needing to feel you cum before he does. “Come on, be a good slut and cum for me, alright? Unless you wanna be punished? Hm? Fucking cock hungry bitch wants me to cut into her?”

You cry out his name as you cum, legs shaking, and he keeps fucking you, abandoning your clit in favor of gripping your hips and slamming you further down onto his cock. When he cums he moans, head tilting back. He makes sure he’s fully inside you and you can feel him coating your insides. 

He takes a few deep breaths before pulling out, watching as his cum drips from your pussy. You nearly collapse onto the floor when he lets go of your hips and he laughs. Tucking himself back into his pants he sits down next to you, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, m’fine.” You say. You were exhausted. The adrenaline that started from the second you saw him in his costume was gone now and all you wanted to do was sleep. The costume. The thought has you forcing yourself to sit up, wincing at the cuts and bruises you now have to nurse. “You fucking asshole!

“Huh?” His eyebrows furrowed together, genuinely confused. You grab the mask and shove it at him, standing on shaky legs. “Oh, this. Baby, I’m sorry! I tried finding another costume, really, but I couldn’t! This was the only one they had!”

“Right, they only had your sick fucking costume in stock.” You spit, hissing as you yank the piece of glass out of your heel. It had been there for god knows how long, thankfully not too deep. You limp towards the bathroom, fuming.

He sighs, following after you and grabbing you by your shoulders to force you to face. Him. “I’m serious. I tried to find one that was similar but they were all sold out, swear. C’mon, you’re really gonna be pissed at me for this when I tried?”

Mickey pulls you in for a hug, kissing your temple, and you melt into his touch. “Maybe I’m being overdramatic…” You say against his shoulder. He was thankful that you couldn’t see the big smile he had on his face. “Sorry, it just freaked me out, is all.”

“It’s alright, I forgive you.” Another thing he loved about you is how you always seemed to apologize to him. It made things much easier. “I should’ve told you, though. I’m sorry too, baby. C’mon, let me get you cleaned up.”

“Alright. Hey,” You say, pulling away from the hug and poking him lightly in the chest. “You better throw that thing out, alright? Sid and Randy would have a fucking heart attack if they saw it.”

He nods, turning you around and leading you to the bathroom, mind drifting. Fat fucking chance, sweetheart. He had plans for that costume, after all.

[giacomettislament]

could you do idia, cater and trey as incubus scenarios? i don’t think i have much to specify other than it to be spicy and hot (ꈍᴗꈍ)

bust of diego

“what are you scared of? come a bit closer.”

trey. cater. idia.

content warning(s): explicit content, incubus tattoos, slight degradation, demonic content

—People have always said that little remnants of demons reside inside humans, but when you first lay your eyes upon Trey, you can’t help but think about how the opposite is true. He’s clearly far from being the average being, absolutely nothing like any of your peers or even the sweet neighbor across the street, but there’s something so painfully, beautifully human to him. Maybe it’s your own mind wanting to delude yourself into thinking that you have more in common with this demonic figure than the lust ravaging you like a wildfire, but at this point, even delusion is better than nothing to protect yourself.

“Were you waiting for me?” He asks, his voice like poisoned honey. You whimper under your breath when his fingers wiggle inside of you, your drooling sex clamping down on his knuckles. It’s ridiculous how just being fingered by him is enough to unwind you into this mewling, drenched mess, but you’ve never craved something more.

You nod, breathless. His fingertips brush just shy of that sweet spot inside of you, and god—you throw your head back and cry out. Bucking your hips incessantly against the palm of his hand, you beg for him. “Please- Please, please, please- Don’t tease me like this, you know I can’t take it! I wanna cum- Let me cum, let me cum, please let me cum…!”

“Have you no pride? I suppose not,” he laughs to himself. His eyes glow like the embers of hell itself, and your core twitches dangerously. His other hand presses down right above your crotch, and you blink back the tears. “I’m killing you slowly, sapping that pretty life force of yours… Yet you’re still asking for more.”

You don’t want to think about it. The small yet omnipresent pink mark right under your belly button, in the mocking shape of hearts and a clover. It burned like nothing else when he first magically branded you with it, yet your heart flutters whenever it glows a dim pink and he showers you with the affection that’s ruining you like a parasite.

He is a parasite, for lack of better word.

“I love you… I’ll let you take as much as you want.” You hate yourself for admitting it.

Trey chuckles to himself, thrusting his fingers into you roughly. You scream as an orgasm rips through you without any warning, electric bursts shredding your insides and tearing through your wet groin. Your toes curl against your sheets, and your vision fades at the edges. It feels so good, so goddamn good, you’d give anything to feel this over and over again.

He laughs once more, definitely pitying you. “I know.”

—Cater’s body feels heavy and overbearing on top of you, but the grip he has on your thighs and the whines escaping his mouth has you trapped underneath him. Your entire body burns, slick with sweat and cum, and you’re quite literally drowning in all of his possessive, wanton love.

“That’s it- Fuck, fuck, fuck! You feel so good! You’re the best, you’re the best, your body’s the best…!” He whimpers out. You hiss when his nails dig into your skin, and the tattoo between your hips glows dimly as if to mock you. He’s wasted no time in stuffing you with his sticky cum the moment he got his hands on you, but you’d think for an incubus, he wouldn’t be this needy. After all, how many other people must have fallen victim to his pretty voice and silver tongue?

Cater’s hand shifts from your leg, and he gently grabs your face. Pouting, he forces your gaze back on him, and your stomach lurches without warning when he thrusts sharply into you. A gasp tears through the back of your throat, and the incubus licks playfully at the corner of your mouth. It’s like he wants to literally eat up every moan that you let out for him—Cater’s always been insanely jealous about making sure that your affections belong to no one else.

“Look at me,” he begs, looking like a kicked puppy. His dick twitches precariously inside of you, and his heart twists in cruel loops inside his undead chest. “It’s no fun if you don’t look at me… I hate it when you don’t give me your attention! I’m making you feel good, aren’t I? I wanna know that you’re all mine, all mine for me to fuck and love, even if it’s just while we’re having sex! It’s not as good otherwise…”

He draws his hips back painfully slowly, so you can feel every inch of his engorged cock slide tantalizingly out of you. You feel empty with just his leaking tip inside of you, and you can barely suck in a breath before he rams his entire cock inside. A shriek lodges inside of your mouth, and your insides clamp down on him and squeeze like your life depends on it. The contrast is almost too much—being empty and then being stuffed with his dick—but Cater laps up that shocked expression painted all over your face with a crazed glee.

“You’re supposed to focus on no one but me when we’re fucking, okay?” He sings sweetly. His fingertips threaten to dig into the soft skin of your face, and you’re frozen in pleasure and fear and pain under the incubus. He keeps bucking his hips wildly against yours, grinding down until he’s back to being drunk off of your attention and lust. “Don’t think of anyone but me! There’s no one here that can compare to me- no one that can save you like I can…!”

—He looks so much like an angel but not in the way that most people would say. No, he’s an angel in the most fearsome and breathtaking way possible: eyes as golden as molten lava, hair that burns like the sun, and tattered black wings that protrude from his back as proof of the beautiful, fallen being he is.

Even his name—Idia—sounds like an incantation that should have never left your mouth. Not that it matters now, when you’re bouncing up and down in his lap, your gummy walls struggling to take every inch of his thick, veiny cock. You’ve never seen anything like it, and when he first showed himself to you, you stared at his dick until his blue hair turned pink.

“Fuck- You’re so big…!” You grunt through gritted teeth. Your thighs make lewd slapping sounds against his lap as you work your way up and down, up and down, up and down his slick member. “God- I can barely take it!”

His hands slide around your waist, guiding you as if to help. Do shy incubi exist? You had always thought they were demanding, wanton, utterly shameless, yet Idia here is both that and more. He’s soft-spoken and pent-up, and that feral side you associate with demons only comes out when you coax him bit-by-bit out of his shell. Like a cat, you almost want to say, except if said cat came from the very depths of hell.

“So tight…,” he mutters into your shoulder. His sharp teeth graze your skin every time you jerk your hips up, and you cry out his name when you sink down on his girthy length. You swear you can feel every inch and every vein rubbing greedily against your pulsing sex; every movement of his hips into yours sends electric currents spiraling into your core, and your stomach throbs with arousal.

You want to be filled with him. You want to be filled with his cock. You want to be filled with his cum.

“Do you love me?” The incubus asks, his pleading eyes meeting yours. He’s all you can see and feel in the depths and darkness of your room, and you almost laugh when your sex slides down and takes him in fully. He moans when he feels himself sheathed fully inside you, and you pause, feeling him pressed up against you and stretching your walls out in the way you like it best.

You know the answer he wants, and it rests against the tip of your tongue. You’ve given him so much already: body, soul, and mind. But can you give him your heart? You can’t help but pause, breaking the carnal rhythm that’s bewitched you entirely.

“I don’t know.”

x

[lonelyl00n]

O1 | GIRL OF THE MONTH

Summary: After accidentally entangling herself with the school's playboy (and her friend's ex-boyfriend), Y/N conspires with his ex-girlfriends to break the jerk's heart, while destroying his reputation. Based off the movie "John Tucker Must Die".

00 / 01 / 02/03

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

01 | WAKE ME UP WHEN NOVEMBER ENDS

Let’s face it, he's the man. He’s the seeker for the Slytherin team, he's totally loaded, he looks somewhere between a model and Greek God (just what I’ve heard others say), and he comes from the most notable pureblood families around.

The Malfoy family. Duh!

With all that and his raging teenage hormones, it meant that he always had a girl wrapped around shoulder.

AUGUST

Pansy Parkinson

• House: Slytherin

She had an on and off again relationship with him for the last few months of the school last year, making her Malfoy’s longest relationship. It’s a commonly known fact that even though she broke up with him, she’s still very much in love with him, and some would even go as far as to say obsessed. (It was me I’m that one that says that.)

SEPTEMBER

Padma Patil

• House: Ravenclaw

I actually thought that they were cute. They were almost too cute together to make me remember who Malfoy really is. I said ALMOST because on the 30th of September Malfoy gathered everyone around to watch as he turned his ‘beloved’ girlfriend into a cat. My idea of love truly died that day.

OCTOBER

Ginny Weasley

•House: Gryffindor

Don’t even ask me about this because I’m still baffled by it.

NOVEMBER

Octavia Colibiri

•House: Hufflepuff

And last but not least, his latest victim and my EX-bestfriend, Octavia Colibiri.

I mean it’s not like I’m judging him or anything, but COME ON! FOUR GIRLFRIENDS IN FOUR MONTHS?!

“I know. It’s absolutely ridiculous.” Hermione, the only other person who notices me, says aloud. Laid out in front of us was my bestie-who-totally-ditched-me and Malfoy with her laying on his lap reading a book while he combed through her hair with his fingers.

It was truly a romantic scene, but the reality behind it was not so pleasant.

“I don’t get it, I mean these girls are so smart, yet they go for him.” She continued.

“Cause he’s a total player, he dates girls from different houses so that they never actually learn about each other.” Cho Chang responds from out of nowhere, “And then he tells them that his father doesn’t approve of their relationship and that he’s being ‘forced’ to end it.”

“How did you learn all of this?” Hermione asks.

“I don’t know, just a guess.” She ran off crying. Hermione looked at me questioningly.

“She was his March girl from last year.” I respond.

But even Malfoy couldn’t anticipate what was about to happen next.

“Hey babe, I think I left my pen in Moody’s class. Stay here, okay?” Draco said while standing up.

“Oh okay, I’ll be here until you get back.” Octavia responded. “Thanks babe.” He kissed her cheek and ran off.

“Hey, why’s Crabbe climbing that tree?” Hermione pointed over to the tree that Octavia was sitting under and sure enough Crabbe was climbing the tree with a bucket of feathers. “And why is Goyle carrying a jug of glue.”

“Wait.” We said at the same time.

“Mione, what’s today’s date?” Hermione turned to me with a panicked look.

“It’s November 30th.”

“NOOOO!” I yelled while sprinting over to Octavia. “OCTAVIA GET AWAY FROM THE TREE!”

Octavia looked up at me with a confused expression. “RUN!” I yelled looking directly at her. She ran away right as I got to her previous spot. My relief for my friend escaping the most embarrassing prank in Hogwarts history was completely erased from my mind as I felt a cold sticky substance splash on me, followed by pokey and soft items being tossed on me.

I fell down onto the grass as everybody in the courtyard gasped and crowded around my pathetic body.

Curse those damn poisoned feathers.

My body felt like it was on fire. It was too much for me to handle. As I was getting consumed by darkness the last thing I heard as I was: “Move out of the day you filthy idiots.”

|

Taglist: @budugu

[kavikaslana]

I just read some of your sub Shig stuff, and I didn’t know how much I would love the concept until I read yours!

I really like the thought of his crush trying to teach him some manners. Like just pinning him somewhere, not giving him ANY relief unless he says please. Maybe even calls them sir/mistress? And they’ll stop immediately if he insults them or gets too impatient. They’ll taunt him like, “All you’ve gotta do is be nice. That’s it! Then you’ll get whatever you want.” And UGH HE HATES IT but at the same time they’re making him feel incredible.

~ 🌹

I swear I'm starting to convert more of you guys. Y'all have to be looking through my screenshots at this point, thats EXACTLY my type of shit. Like don't get me wrong, whining for Shig's cute and all but its so much better to have a guy that could literally kill you in one hit on his knees. I don't have anything against him being both, but like personally I like my serial killers whiny and needy, and considering I only simp for Shig, he's the biggest victim. I'm also the only dominant one in my friend group, and they act like its a crime to be the one on top

Boutta pull out my private drafts for this, hold up

Minors DNI. Just because I let y'all follow for the sfw stuff doesn't mean you can get away with reading smut <3

If anyone's wondering what they described, I believe its this one

Sub Shigaraki x Dom Fem! reader

One of your hands was wrapped around his throat, just barely applying enough pressure to keep him from breathing properly. His pale skin seemed to glow under the dim light while it only made yours stand out that much more.

He's not even sure how it got to this point.

Your free hand moved to cup his chin, forcing him to look at you before brushing your lips against his briefly, just long enough for him to lean forward to catch yours, inexperienced lips trying to force his tongue into you mouth

You pull away, pulling him onto your lap, his legs straddling your thighs, your eyes scanning his chest down to his legs. He just looked so pretty, his cock already so hard just from a few simple touches.

"You're so goddamn pretty like this, y'know that, don't you? C'mon, just tell me what you want, I'll do it for you if you ask nicely," you start, taking a moment to give him a quick, sloppy kiss, "It's that easy Tomu."

His words were barely recognizable, only the word 'please' being loud enough for you to hear correctly, everything else sounded like a mix of whines and blabbering.

"What's wrong? You're so quiet. It's just us, no need to be so quiet with me." You cooed, moving his hair out of his face, your other hand grabbing at his shirt.

Instead, he just buried his face into your neck, murmuring something seemingly along the lines of 'just do it already, you're taking too long', his words still quiet and once again, barely recognizable.

This time though, instead of asking him to speak up again, you just assume you know what he wants, slowly unbuttoning his jeans, just watching the visible parts of his face turn red. Small whimpers escaping his lips every time your fingertips get just a little to close to his boxers, his breath hitching at the thought alone.

The second he feels your skin against his bare cock, he almost looses it immediately. A single loud, drawn out moan escaping his pretty lips. It's so hard for him to stay quiet once you start moving your hand, instead, he opts for biting your neck in order to muffle his sounds.

Once you speed up your movements though, its a whole different story. He detaches his mouth from your neck, throwing his head back, holding onto your shoulders for support. His legs go weak, and he'd probably fall on his back if you weren't holding him. The amount of noise coming from him is strange considering he won't talk unless he's desperate, and even then he's awfully quiet. Maybe its just the same little mix of moans and pants, but he's just so much louder.

"My little toy likes that, don't you? You're doing so good... just sit still, I'll take care of everything from here, ok?" You say, pressing kisses against his cheek, pulling away only to have his lips smashed against yours.

His hips involuntarily start bucking into your touch, desperate for anything he can get from you, his tongue trying to squirm past your lips. His arms wrap around your back, one hand tangling in your hair, pulling you closer to him. His legs start shaking just a little bit, and his already sloppy kiss getting worse.

When he finally pulls away, there's a string of saliva connecting you two. He just looks at you, his eyes glazed over and hazy. His mouth hangs open, drool spilling down his face as his cock start twitching, just before you pull your hand away.

"Hey! I-I wasn't done yet! Please mistress, just a little longer, please? I didn't do anything wrong..." He whines, his hips thrusting into thin air, the tip of his cock red and swollen.

He almost starts crying, his voice cracking every time he even tries to speak. Even then, anything he can get out ends up as a broken plea, a promise that he'll listen.

The familiar warmth of your skin against his almost makes him cry, your thumb rubbing the tip of his cock, but nothing more. A cracked whine slipping past him, his mouth moving to press desperate kisses against your neck. Anything that he can think of, he'll try.

"If you wait just a little bit, I'm sure I can give you something better, got it baby? Just be patient, you'll get what you want."

He starts biting his lip again in a pathetic attempt to stay quiet, anything that might get you to do what he wants. You gently push him off of you, laying him on his back before sitting in front of him.

You start removing your clothes, leaving your bra and your panties on. He almost jumps at you, his hands instantly moving to your back, trying to unclip your bra. Eventually, when he finally gets it off, he starts grabbing at you. One of his hands moves down to your panties, pulling at the waistband, but not removing them. His other hand starts massaging your soft mound, cherishing the weight of it in his hand.

"Can I..? Is it ok for me to, mistress?" He asks, dipping one finger under the waistband, slightly tugging them down.

You nod your head in approval, watching as he struggles with getting your panties off at first. Instead of letting him go further though, you push him back, touching yourself. He tries to grab your hand to replace it with his own, but you just slap his hand away.

"Why don't you just watch for now? You can do that for me, right Tomura? Surely my little toy can at least give me that much." You say, slipping a finger into your entrance.

He just sits there, not quite sure what to do. His eyes move back and forth between your hand, and your face. Every time he gets close, you just push him back, reminding him that he has to be patient if he wants anything else.

When he's had enough of you, he grabs you and pulls you on his lap. His fingers start trailing down your sides, one of his hands holding you in place. Your protests fall on deaf ears, his thumb already pressing against your clit.

He only stops once your hand once again, wraps around his throat. One good squeeze, and he snaps out of it, immediately pulling his hand away. Pathetic sobs emerge from him, looking down to avoid your gaze.

You start kissing his neck, caressing his cheek. "I told you to wait. You couldn't even give me that much, could you? How sad. Maybe I should go find Dabi, I'm sure he would listen better than you could."

His arms wrap around your waist as he buries his face into your shoulder. Tears start spilling down his face, his voice cracking every other word as he begs you to stay, to give him another chance, he can do better.

You pull his hands off of you, pushing him onto his back, giving him a quick peck. He wraps his legs around your hips, grabbing at whatever he can get his hands on, clinging onto you tightly.

You sit up, crawling over to his chest.

"How about this. If you be a good boy, and actually wait this time, I'll let you have your fun. If you don't, I won't let you do anything." You say, your thumb tracing his collarbone. He nods, staying as still as he can.

You crawl on top of his face, and he pulls you down, his tongue going to work almost instantly. His tongue laps up your juice, taking a quick dip inside of you. Your soft moans only encourage him, his hands moving to grab your thighs as his nose gently nudges against your clit. His thumb starts to work on your clit as his tongue delves inside of you, his grip on you thighs becoming almost bruising.

You try to get up just enough to reposition yourself, only to be pulled back down, his hand moving to your waist. The obscene sounds coming from him mix in with your quiet pants. Your soft praises encouraging him further as you hand grips his hair.

He groans against you, each sloppy lick seems to excite him more than it does for you. His fingers start rolling your clit between them, each noise you make only seems to get covered by his.

You bite your lip, muffling the groans spilling past your lips, though once you reach your limit, it doesn't help one bit. You scream, your grip tightening on his hair as you finish. He doesn't let you up just yet, his tongue licking up everything you have to offer before releasing his hold on your thigh.

You move in front of his cock, spitting on it before giving it a few quick strokes, watching his eyes widen and his mouth open.

"How about you beg? I'm sure a little slut like you would be willing to do that much. My pretty boy just wants to sink his cock into his mistress, don't you?" You tease, running a finger along the length of his cock.

He nods quickly, his eyes shutting tight as his hands grip the bedsheets. You watch his eyes fly open just from the feel of your thighs around his cock. He moves his head up enough to watch you, one of your hands grabbing his shirt as you line up his cock with your slit.

You start sinking onto his cock, biting your lip painfully hard as he starts squirming underneath you, one of his hands moving to grab your hip.

Once you're fully seated on his cock, he starts thrusting his hips up, pathetic whines falling from him. His hold on your hip tightens, trying to hint at what he wants. Soft whimpers emerge from him as drool starts slipping past his lips once more.

One of your hands tangle in his shirt as you start moving, the noise he makes immediately increasing in volume, his eyes trained on nothing but your figure on top of him. His back arches, and his hands turn white from his grip on the bedsheets.

You start increasing your pace, picking up your hips only to slam yourself back down on his cock. His hand moves to your chest, taking one of your breasts into your hand, increasing his grip there instead. Quick I love you's fall from him. You stop, moving his hair out of his face, giving him a quick kiss as he tries to deepen it with no success.

"Do you want me to keep going? If you tell me exactly what you want, I'm sure I'll let you do it." You say, running a hand through his hair.

"I wanna- fuck, I wanna cum inside you! Please! I'm so close, don't you want to be filled up too? Please mistress?" He begs, his eyes starting to water. You can feel his cock twitching in you, and his grip on you increasing.

You pick up your pace again, watching his expression quickly change. He starts panting, squirming underneath you as his fingers dip into your hips, and you're almost certain that there will be bruises there in the morning.

His moans increase in frequency, and he starts getting louder. His legs go weak as his grip loosens again, eyes shut tight as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours before spilling his seed into you.

His panting slows, and his breathing slows again. He pulls his hands off of you, letting you rest on his chest. He nuzzles his face into your neck, peppering kisses along the side of your neck.

You could've sworn you heard him mutter a quiet 'I love you', but he wouldn't admit it anyway.

[rocorambles]

Reciprocate

Pairing: Akaashi x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Mafia AU, Kidnapping, Rape/Non-Con, Forced Impregnation, Objectification, Degradation, Humiliation

Summary: You should have known better than to think you could ever truly escape from him, especially when you carry something he treasures so dearly inside of you. 

You reminisce on the early days when you had met the beautiful dark-haired man, when you had been swept off your feet by striking blue eyes and a serene composure. 

Akaashi had never been just normal to you and you remember how he had made your head spin with the air of mystery he carried around him, how your heart whipped back and forth between the always surprising mixture of sharp blunt words and eloquent poetry he entrapped you with. He was a man full of surprises, truly multi-faceted and you remember watching in awe at how quickly he could go from easily and agilely maneuvering his toned athletic body in the gym to lazily reading classic literature with a hand posessively but gently wrapped around your waist as you curled up besides him on the couch. 

There are many words you could have used to describe Akaashi. But dangerous? Dangerous was not one of them. 

Funny how quickly things can change. 

Even as careful as Akaashi is, even he can’t foresee unexpected circumstances, especially when you are more entangled in the webs of his life than he ever meant for you to be. And he is forced to reveal who he truly is to you or kill you when you get caught up in things and with people who shouldn’t have ever even known you existed. 

You wouldn’t be the first woman he’s killed and his mind flickers to numerous dead bodies, corpses of prostitutes and other unfortunate women strewn about when things became too complicated, when they threatened his position and the safety of his clan. But he can’t bring himself to pull the trigger, can’t even bring himself to think about aiming at you. 

You’re not like the other fleeting distractions and for the first time ever, Akaashi Keiji breaks Fukurodani policies by revealing everything to you in the hopes that you’ll accept him as everything he is, that you’ll join him for the long run. 

Blue eyes storm over when you don’t look at him with the love and acceptance he expected of you, only fear and disappointment apparent in your eyes, and his hands instinctively clench into fists when you flinch away from him, scrambling to create space between the two of you when he reaches out to reassure you that underneath the terrifying family name and insignia, he’s still just him. 

Fine. You’re scared? He’ll give you something to actually be scared of.

His fingers dig deeper than necessary as they roughly drag and shove you, movements harsh and rough enough to make a very clear point, but never enough to permanently mark you. He likes his possessions as pristine as possible after all. And he smiles at how quick you are to go limp in his arms, obediently letting yourself be led when Akaashi’s silky voice patronizingly tells you what a shame it would be for your beautiful body to be decorated with bullet holes. 

You know who Boktuo Koutarou is, even if you’ve never physically met him. Everyone in your city knows who he is, his name whispered and murmured in the streets, tales of his erratic temperament and ruthless wildness spread far and wide. The Fukurodani clan has always been a powerhouse in the underground world, has always controlled your city with an iron fist, and Bokuto, even by Fukurodani standards, has more than risen to the challenge of continuing his family’s undeniable reign, garnering respect and fear even among the monsters that share his insignia. So even though you’ve never met him, you know exactly who you’re shoved to your knees in front of, who Akaashi reverently speaks to and asks for permission from to keep you at the base as his pet, and you don’t dare open your mouth or raise your head, absolute terror paralyzing you. 

Gold eyes peer at you in interest. Whores aren’t uncommon in the base, lewd moans and slick sounds sometimes making the base seem more like a brothel than the home of illicit dangerous business and Bokuto has always encouraged and rewarded his men with the best cunts money can buy especially after particularly successful or tiresome raids. But for as long as he’s known Akaashi, he can count the number of times the younger man has partaken in those base pleasures on just his fingers and even then, they’ve always been one night stands, brief flings. So he’s surprised, to say the least, when the dark haired man asks to keep you around as his little toy and he has a gut feeling that you’ll become a permanent extension of the family, but how can he deny the man who’s resolutely stayed by his side all these years, who’s pledged his life and loyalty to him? Akaashi asks for so little and if all he wants is for Bokuto to provide protection and surveillance for one more body to be happy, then so be it.     

You’re no stranger to sharing a bed with Akaashi, but this is different. You had always thought that he had been holding back with you, swearing that you saw a hint of something darker gleaming behind blue orbs only for it to dissolve away as you were swept away by sensual languid pleasure and gentle, attentive words. And you hate that you were right, voice going hoarse as you scream at the top of your lungs as you’re ruthlessly taken over and over again, a coldness in the eyes you had once loved that pierces deep within you, animalistic possessiveness in the way he marks you, long slender fingers leaving bruises in their wake as he holds your writhing body in place as he thrusts in and out of your abused lower lips. 

Day in, day out. All you know is a fitful sumber that exhaustion forces you into and Akaashi. His scent, his touch, his voice. You’re drowning in his essence. Dying. No. That would be preferable. At least there would be an end. And you silently grieve, unable to even cry real tears anymore when you wonder when this will ever end, if this will ever end. 

As much as Akaashi would love to permanently lay beside you, duty and appearances do call from time to time and he reclines across from Bokuto, watching the black and white haired man boisterously chat with Kuroo Tetsurou, the current head of Nekoma as scantily clad women surround the two men, dragging fingernails down their chests and shamelessly shoving their breasts into their faces in the hopes of gaining their favor. They sure do seem to be enjoying themselves and Akaashi grimaces when one of the prostitutes begins to loudly moan as she grinds against his leader’s swelling erection which doesn’t go unnoticed by sharp eyes. 

“Akaashi, don’t be so uptight. Why don’t I send some of them to your room tonight to help you loosen up?”

Bokuto knowingly smiles in amusement when he’s promptly rejected. 

“Ah, that’s right. You still have your cute pet. But you know Akaashi, pets are temporary. Don’t you think it’s time to make it a little more permanent? Maybe put a ring on it? Hell, I love kids. I wouldn’t mind having a few runts running around the base, especially if they’re yours.” 

Their conversation is interrupted by a rude scoff and Bokuto snarls at Kuroo’s taunting words. 

“Because God knows Bokuto isn’t having kids anytime soon. No woman could stand bearing his kids and listening to his loudmouth for the rest of her life.”

Akaashi tunes out their bickering as the gears in his mind churn. 

He had kept you on your birth control pills, not wanting to disturb his time with you as he broke you in and figured out exactly what his plan for you is. He knows he loves you, knows there’s no life for him without you. But he wasn’t a dreamer. He’s fully aware just how dangerous his life is, how impossible it is for the both of you to be able to grow old together, how much more likely it’ll be that both of you end up dead side by side in a turf war gone wrong. Yet now all he can think of is what you’d be like as a mother, how you’d look pregnant with his children and when your pills run low, he tears your prescription to shreds in front of your eyes. 

You have more fight left in you than he thought you would and he’s enraged by how much you despise the thought of carrying his children, every desperate plea for him to not cum inside of you while you’re unprotected, a direct insult to him and his love for you. All he sees is red as he breeds you over and over again, stuffing you full of his cock and his seed, never stopping until you’re filled to the brim with the sticky proof of his adoration, stomach heavy and sloshing with his declared affection. 

Turbulent emotions ransack you and you wish you could blame it solely on the hormones raging throughout your impregnated body, but you know it’s deeper than that. It had been so easy to become numb to being used, being known as nothing more than Akaashi’s pretty pet, being the victim of a cold, ruthless stranger you realize now that you never really knew. But it’s agonizing to once again see the hints of the man you had fallen in love with and your heart aches at how gentle and considerate Akaashi is to you once more as your belly begins to swell, a comforting hand rubbing your back and holding your hair away from your face as morning sickness has you heaving over the toilet bowl. And you feel something break and shatter into a million pieces inside of you when one night, as your due date quickly approaches, he kneels in front of you, slipping the engagement ring of your dreams onto your trembling hand. 

“I know this isn’t how you dreamed of any of this happening, but I promise you, once the child is born, I’m going to give you the wedding you always wanted and do my best to be the husband and father you deserve and want. I love you.”

You sob, tightly returning Akaashi’s embrace, burying your face in his chest, wishing with all your heart that things could have been different, that you could go back to those early days, that everything in between was a dream, a nightmare. 

But this is reality and as you cradle your baby bump, you know that you need to do something, anything, now that it’s not just your life on the line anymore. 

For the first time in a long time, it seems like fortune is finally on your side as Akaashi relinquishes his leash on you, trusting that your growing bump will permanently tie you to him, that you won’t even think of trying to escape in your current state. And you play your role perfectly, smiling and leaning into his careful touches, accepting the gifts and attention he lavishes you with, looking to all the world like an excited expecting mother perfectly matched with her doting fiance. 

Akaashi resumes taking up longer projects and jobs, no longer seeing a need to keep as careful of a watch over you or a need to remind you of your place besides him every night. And seeing one of their higher-ups relax makes everyone else careless, no one paying you much attention, no more armed men outside your door and windows when Akaashi is away. 

Really, it’s embarrassingly easy for you to escape, so easy that you wonder if this is a trap, almost expecting Akaashi to appear from around every corner and drag you back to the prison he had created for you, and you shudder when you can almost feel his hands against your skin, his voice murmuring cruel cutting words into your ear. 

But no one stops you and you slowly, but steadily make the long journey to Inarizaki territory, discreetly settling in and making a new home for yourself, starting a new life. Inarizaki and Fukurodani have never dealt much with each other, their territories so far apart that it’s pointless to clash or ally with each other when there are so many other enemies and friends closer to both their homes to deal with. You pray that it’s enough to hide you, to allow you to leave your wretched past behind. 

It seems like your prayers are answered as month after month passes, as your belly grows and grows, as you give birth to a beautiful baby girl. You can barely remember a life outside of motherhood, your heart overwhelmingly full of love and happiness as you watch your daughter grow. And as you watch her take her first few wobbly steps as her first birthday passes, you let yourself finally believe that you can really move on and look forward, locking the blue-eyed demon of your past behind you once and for all. 

Except that demon doesn’t want to be locked up, that demon is far too strong and cunning for your flimsy padlock, and you clutch your daughter to your chest when your door slams open one night and your apartment is swarmed by men with the Fukurodani insignia, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes when one last final figure makes their way past your threshold and you stare into familiar blue eyes. 

As if your daughter can sense your anxiety, your fear, your hopelessness, she begins to loudly wail and bawl, wrapping her little arms around your neck and drenching your neck and shirt with her tears and snot, reminding you just how much is at stake right now. 

You do your best to fake some semblance of calmness, drawing on your maternal instincts to still the quivering of your voice as you gently whisper soothing words in her ear, telling her everything will be fine, telling her that these are just mommy’s old friends, all the while watching your ex-lover gracefully make his way towards the two of you, subtly shielding her little body with yours as he approaches. 

Realistically you know there’s not much you can do if he does mean harm to her, but you’d gladly die defending her to the best of your abilities if it came down to it, already ready to beg for her to be spared and for just you to be punished for your transgressions and your betrayal. You finch when you feel his weight settle besides you on the bed as he sits on the edge of the mattress, heart pounding as you feel his familiar presence, and you quickly turn to face him, only to be completely stunned by the softness in his eyes as he gazes at your daughter. 

Relief floods through you and you hesitantly shift, allowing him easier access to see her, something bittersweet trickling inside of you as long slender fingers gently reach out to caress tear-stained cheeks, as your daughter’s sobs die down and curious eyes peer at the stranger who’s touching her. And deep inside you know Akaashi won’t harm her, will fiercely love her, as he tugs her out of your arms and pulls her into his lap, a sad smile pulling on your lips as you watch father and daughter reunite. 

Deep inside you also know that you won’t be as lucky and your fears are confirmed when Akaashi stands, still cradling your giggling daughter in his arms, blue eyes pinning you down with a look you recognize all too well. There’ll be hell to pay for your actions. 

You feel nauseous, body already aching and throbbing in anticipation of your punishment. But you plaster on a smile for your daughter as she happily plays with one of her favorite toys in the backseat of the car between Akaashi and you, peppering her tiny face with kisses as Akaashi and you tuck her into the gorgeous nursery he’s prepared for her, and wishing her good night as Akaashi leads you back out, continuously waving until the nursery door is firmly closed. And only then does your act drop and you sob as a hand harshly grips your wrist, tears only flooding down more as you recognize the hallway you’re being dragged down, body shaking when you’re shoved into a room and a bed you had tried so hard to forget. 

Clothes are being torn from your body and you thrash around as lips descend upon you, a mouth hungrily molding with yours, yelping when teeth harshly bite on your lower lip before pulling apart. You feel so exposed, so helpless, so vulnerable as icy blue eyes glare down at you, Akaashi’s body pinning you in place as he takes in your figure, scrutinizing every line and curve of your body, mapping every familiarity and difference from the last time he’s seen you. But you lay still, wincing when his grip on your wrist becomes bone crushing when you try to instinctively cover yourself from him. 

“I trusted you. I love you. And this is how you repay me? Running away from me? Keeping my daughter away from me?” 

You open your mouth to stutter out some feeble excuse, but gasp when a hand wraps around your neck, warningly tightening before relaxing. The weight of his palm still against your throat keeps you silent. 

“There’s no excuse for what you did. But I promised you that I’d be a good husband, so I’ll forgive you if you show me how sorry you are.”

You nervously watch as he completely lets go of you, eyes trailing after him as he settles his back against the headboard of the bed, beckoning you over to him with a single finger. And you can’t help but feel like foolish prey walking into a trap as you obey, body quivering in fear as he pulls you in and positions you so that your legs straddle his thighs, back arching and a cry slipping past your lips as he teasingly captures one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks. 

“Still so sensitive.” 

You hate how well he’s trained your body, how easily your body betrays you even after being separated from him for over a year, how well he knows every inch of you inside and out and shame and humiliation lance through you when a long digit easily slides into your already dripping heat. 

“I think you’re more than ready, darling.”

Even past your wanton moans, the clanging metal of his belt unbuckling echoes throughout the room and you whimper as something hard presses against your entrance. 

“Come on, love. It’s time for you to apologize. Do you know how much effort and time I spent searching for you?”

You yelp as the hands resting on your waist dig into your flesh before relaxing and rubbing soothing circles into your skin. 

“But it’s okay because you’re here now, you and our daughter are here now, and neither of you are ever leaving me again. Right?”

You vigorously nod your head as blue eyes sharply stare at you, relaxing when they soften and a small smile plays on his lips. 

“Good girl. Now prove it to me.” 

You almost wish Akaashi had just forced himself upon you, finding it so much more demeaning to sink down on his cock all by yourself as he impassively sits back and watches you. But you’re sure that’s the whole point of this, for you to show your submission and acceptance through your actions. After all, nothing he ever does is meaningless. 

And you truly do feel broken, like nothing more than a good wife, a good pet as you wildly shake your hips, bouncing up and down on his cock in a way that makes your breasts jiggle, pussy clenching even tighter and gushing even more when he orders you to look him in the eyes all the while. 

“You’re making me feel so good, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful. You were made for my cock, made for me. Tell me who you belong to.”

In hindsight you’ll be embarrassed by how quick you are to babble his name over and over again in response. But here and now? All you can think about is the warmth in your chest as he praises you, the warmth in your belly as something pleasant and overwhelming builds inside of you. And Akaashi groans at how tightly you squeeze around him as your peak nears, almost cumming from just the hazed over arousal in your lust-filled eyes, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss and swallowing your cries of ecstasy as you reach your high, body convulsing and twitching in his arms as he holds you steady, lips still locked with yours as he thrusts up a few more times before finding his own release and spilling deep inside of you. 

You slump onto him, exhausted body collapsing and still twitching from the onslaught of pleasure. But as the fog from your mind begins to ebb away, you involuntarily tense at the whispered “I love you” that sounds like nails scraping against a chalkboard, hesitating too long to respond in kind. And you know you’ve made a huge mistake when blue eyes are coldly regarding you once more, shivering from both the cold and fear as he pulls back from you before shoving you onto your back and settling between your legs.

“Looks like you need a little more encouragement to reciprocate my feelings. That’s okay. We have all the time in the world for me to show you just how much I love you.”

[toppersbitch]

Those Stars / Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: Topper goes over the line, but you can never say no to that boy, you can’t lose him.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Drugs/alcohol, slight abuse, talk of addiction, smoking marijuana, fluff, and angst

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"Topper please don’t.”

The blank expression on your face turns to a frown as the blonde boy leans over the table, a dollar bill the only distance between the two. You watch his head move forward with a snort, he stands up with new energy and a sudden cough. He lets out a yell and Rafe pats his back harshly.

He turned to see you staring daggers at him, “Oh come on, don't be a party pooper.”

You rolled your eyes while turning to walk back into the house, pushing past crowds of people.

“Y/n, come on don’t be like this, seriously,” He was walking fast behind you, already knowing he messed up. People began moving out of your way as you rushed for the front door, intentions set on leaving. You reach for the brass knob as a soft and familiar hand reaches for your arm.

"Please,” He begs.

“Don’t.” You pull your arm out of his grip while yanking the door open. The rejection causes Topper’s face to flood with sadness. Your frown stays as you walk out the door. Topper follows behind like a lost dog.

“Leave me the hell alone.”

Topper knew how you felt about cocaine, you hated it. You were fine with the drinking and the smoking, but coke? Coke was over the edge. You had watched Rafe, your best friend since the 6th grade, fall victim to addiction. You weren't about to watch your boyfriend fall too.

You made it to the end of the paved driveway, Topper still trailing behind you. “Y/n!”

He was angry again for sure now, he hated being ignored. He moved fast to catch up to you and grabbed your arm. The tight hold stops you in your tracks. Topper doesn’t anticipate the pause, and stumbles forward into you.

“Can you stop being a bitch for one minute?”

That stung. You continue to glare up at him, refusing to show your true emotions. The mix of sadness and anger growing inside you just waiting to burst.

“What the fuck is your problem?” His fingers dig into your bare shoulder as he shouts “Why do you have to act like this? I’m just trying to have a good time!”

“A good time? You’re trying to have a good time-” You slap his hand away, your arm appearing red and irritated. "That's good for you Top, so fucking amazing.”

You point your finger towards his face, “I made it fucking clear I don’t want to be around that!” You start moving forward, your finger still out. He was slowly backing away from you.

“I made it real fucking clear! Drinking? Whatever!” You gesture vaguely with your hands as you speak, “Weed? Oh go ahead, invite me even!”

“But coke!” Your hand goes back to pointing towards his chest, touching it in a poking motion, “Fucking coke! That’s where I draw the fucking line! I will not lo-”

Topper shoves his hand over your mouth, shushing you. You once again slap his hand away, “Topper I’m not going to let you end up like Rafe.”

His expression softened. He stood there, a frown etched upon his lips.

Your voice starts to break, “I can’t lose you.”

He opens his arms, “You won’t.” He pulls you into a hug as tears begin to brim and spill from your eyes.You breathe shaky breaths against his torso and pull him closer, burying your face in his chest. His arms engulf your shoulders, as he uses his hand to rub your back, the other stroking your hair.

You savor this moment for as long as you can before continuing. “You can’t,” you say, the words barely audible and unsteady. You could feel your body trembling against his relatively sturdy one.

“I won’t,” He whispers, laying his head on top of yours.

Guests came and went from the house party, but you just remained in his arms to cry and calm down.

He knew how hard Rafe’s addiction was for you. It tore you apart watching him waste his money, doing and giving up almost anything for a quick fix. It broke your heart just the same to watch the boy who treated you like a princess, though only ever being friends, become an angry, aggressive, abusive mess.

Once you pulled back, “So, you said you wanted an invite to smoke?” Topper shot a cheeky grin towards you. You gave a playful punch to his shoulder, and he rubbed the spot. He put his arm around you, strolling back towards the house.

“Who’s supplying the weed?” you ask, hoping it wasn’t Rafe, anything from Rafe would be like supporting his addiction.

“I don’t know, not Rafe if that’s what you're getting at,” you smiled up at him, his hand taking yours and intertwining your fingers. “Then, I guess so,” The smile on his face grew even more.

“Right now?” He asked as you two entered the house, the music blaring and the sound of people talking filling your ears once again.

You gave him a smirk, “I guess-“ you paused for a second staring at the ground, “but can we do it alone?”

His face brightened even more, more than you thought was possible. “I know where! Grab the drinks and meet me on the third door down the hallway,” He started running through the crowd back to the balcony.

You knew you got yourself into this one. You grabbed the Mai Tai cans, knowing they were Top’s favorite. You headed up the stairs to the third door, then down the hallway like Topper had instructed. You had no idea whose house this was and why Topper knew what was in the third room, but you didn’t care.

You swung the door open to see your blonde boy working on rolling a joint. He was hunched over a desk, his fingers fumbling as you set the drinks down nearby.

“Fuck,” He cursed under his breath as the paper didn’t stick and unrolled, weed sprinkling the table.

You stand in front of the desk and hunch over, “Here let me try.”

He looked over to you, seeing the red spot on your arm. He reached his hand out to touch the spot, you tensed. You could tell by the tenderness that it would bruise. He then dropped his arm lower so it was around your waist.

He watched, close to your face as you rolled the joint and licked it so it stayed closed. ”Why do you know how to do that?” He questions, grinning.

“I have my secrets” You smile, cocking an eyebrow up.

He turns in the desk chair and pulls you onto his lap.

“Wanna smoke in here and then go on the balcony?” He asks, grabbing the lighter from the desk.

You shrug, “That way no one will know,” you say in a sarcastic tone.

“Yeah, as if none of them will smell it.” You both giggle.

Topper sticks the small end in your mouth, and flicks the lighter on. He puts his hand around the crackling flame and holds it up to the fat end of the joint. When it catches you take a long inhale, holding your breath for a second and blowing out the smoke.

You pass the joint to Topper, and watch as he takes a hit. You smile big at him. He passes it back to you watching as you inhale, hold your breath, and release.

“I love you so fucking much,” he says watching you take another hit. The buzz was beginning to hit, you felt like you were floating.

“I love you too, Top,” He takes another hit, blowing the smoke in your face. Then another, this time grabbing you by the jaw, squeezing your mouth open. He brings his lips close to yours and blows the smoke in. You inhale and release. He’s smiling as you do so.

You grab the joint taking another hit, by now your eyes are heavy, body tingling, brain fogged, and Topper looking as giddy as ever. Topper takes one last hit and then gives you the last one the joint had to offer.

A knock came to the door, “Hey what do you guys have in there?” It was Kelce. You and Topper giggled, standing. “Oh nothing,” Topper said in an odd voice. You burst out laughing.

“C’mon guys share with me,” the words were slurred and jumbled.

“Nah man we finished,” Topper says, setting the bud in the ashtray. “Dammit guys,” You heard footsteps and looked at Topper giggling again.

He took your hand leading you to the balcony, you could hear people splashing in the pool, and yelling over the music. There was a daybed on the far end of the balcony, viewing the ocean.

You both laid down, flat on your back watching the stars. Topper’s hand traced things on your thigh. “Topper?” you questioned, staring straight up at the clear midnight sky.

“Hmm?” he hummed and you felt the bed shift with his movement to look at you. You remained entirely focused on the stars.

“Do you really think I’m a party pooper?” you heard more shifting until he was on top of you blocking your view of the stars.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His eyes look weighted down by his thoughts. But still kind, still my Top.

He continues, “And I’m sorry for saying that.” He rubs his thumb over your slightly bruised arm.

“It’s not okay, but I'm not upset,” you said, your eyes staring into his. HIs head began to droop down towards your chest, his arms snaked around you once again. His legs both moved to one side and he dropped, holding on tight. Your view of the stars resumed and your hand moved up to play with his hair.

You thought you could see the heavens shifting, dancing around in front of you. Topper moved his head to stare up at you again, “What's with you and those stars?” He asked, his thumb drawing slow circles on your back.

“They look like they’re dancing, it's calming. Just watch.” He flipped his body over so he was on his back. HIs head landed on your stomach, and then onto your leg. You continued to comb your fingers through his hair.

You laid for hours, both watching the night sky. Quietness settled in, very late into the night. And long after the party ended, Topper’s breathing finally steadied as he slept peacefully. You let your hand stay in his hair, but stopped moving it. You listened to him breathe, and the crickets chirp, and the waves sway. You found resounding comfort as you watched the stars dance and the tree branches nearby sway. You were entirely content that you wouldn’t lose your boy at this moment.

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I hope this isn't too cringey, this is my first imagine <3 Hope everyone enjoys:)

Go check out my other stuff here

[divinerulerluvr]

Crimson and Leather

After a murder, you and Kai have some fun.

Pairing - Kai Anderson x Fem!Reader

Words - 1.8k

Warnings - smut, murder mention, blood (a little bit), oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, Kai Anderson is his own warning

"I wanted to request some Kai smut. The reader is just as messed up as he is. They are powerful together, he trusts her with everything and values her opinions over any other member. She’s the only one who can bring out the real Kai. There’s a moment where they had just killed someone and she has to clean the blood off of his boots and he is sitting behind her massaging her back and it leads to dirty things." Requested by @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul

A/n - I know it's been a bit since I last posted but I make amends with this. I hope you guys like it because I feel like everything I've written recently has just been... blah. *also, had to resist the urge to name this crimson and clover but didn't*

- - -

Walking in through the door of Kai’s house, you watch as he closes and deadbolts the door. It was a habit he had adapted due to his heightened paranoia.

You guys had just gotten back from killing a couple. It was just the two of you since this was personal business and had nothing to do with the cult. You had always been Kai’s favorite since you were the most ruthless of them all.

He admired your lack of remorse.

Reaching his living room, you set your phone down on the coffee table as Kai removes his bloodied tee shirt. It was late at night and you and Kai were the only people home. Everybody else had left hours ago.

Kai sits on the couch, pushing his hair from his face as his eyes migrate over to you. Your shirt had blood on it as well but not as much as Kai’s had. “Make yourself useful and clean the blood from my boots,” he orders, his voice raspy.

“Only if you ask nicely,” you counter, pulling off your own shirt and tossing it to the ground, leaving you in just a bra and your pants. Kai sighs heavily, irritated at your reply.

“Can you clean the blood from my boots?” he asks again, this time in a nice tone. You smile and nod, leaving the room to get a wet rag. Coming back, you kneel down in front of him, ready to clean his boots.

You didn’t mind. It never bothered you having to do things for Kai. But you’d only do them if he wasn’t being rude about it. That was your rule.

There was more blood than usual on his shoes. You weren’t sure if it was because the guy Kai killed put up a fight or if it was because Kai had taken out a lot of aggression on the man. Either way, the dark crimson blood-soaked the damp rag quickly.

His hand rests on your head, using a gentle touch as he plays with your hair. You allow your head to fall back into his lap slightly, your eyes still drawn onto the black boots he wore.

“You know I’m proud of you, right? Everything you’ve done, everything you offer. It’s inspiring,” he says, his voice softer and kinder than usual. You just hum, leaning back into his touch. “You’re so open-minded. You listen to what I say and you never doubt. Unlike the other women in our cult,”

Kai always said “our cult” and never “my cult” when talking to you. It was strange, given he took high credit for starting and leading it. To hear him give you joint leadership was out of the ordinary. Then again, so was he.

“I believe in you. That’s why,” you reply, finishing off his right boot. You briefly move your head to face him, your head angled up to make eye contact. “I trust your philosophy,”

He smiles, patting your cheek lightly before running his warm hand down to your neck. “I know you do, little lamb,” he says. You move your eyes back to his boots, going to the still bloody left boot and cleaning off the leather.

Kai’s eyes watch you affectionately as you clean the blood, oddly turned on at the sight. The silence lays heavy over the both of you as you finish clearing his boots of any trace of blood. A proud smile falls on your lips as you admire your work.

Looking up at him, you’re met with his eyes already on you. “Done,” you say simply. Half-dried blood remains on his chest, stomach, and arms but you also had half-dried blood still stuck to your skin that had soaked through your thin shirt.

His hand runs down your neck and down the front of your chest, running over the splotched of blood that had fallen into the V between your breasts.

Your breath catches, your own hand running up his leg. Your hand quickly reaches up to his crotch, feeling his already hard dick through the fabric. “Someone’s a little needy tonight,” he comments snarkily.

“Just shut up and take your pants off,” you reply, not ready to put up with his stupid remarks. Kai had a skill at making the environment horny. It was like this weird seed was being planted in your mind going “fuck him, fuck him, fuck him,”

You didn’t care, though.

Standing from the floor, you watch as Kai pulls his jeans off so he’s in just his boxers. He pulls you down onto his lap, forcing his lips onto yours as your legs settle on either side of his thighs. He holds your face in his hands, keeping you secure as he kisses you hotly.

You grind your hips down on his bulge, suddenly desperate for some type of friction between your body and his body.

One of his hands strays from your face, wrapping around your back and unclasping your bra with ease. He pulls it off of you, all while still kissing. He tosses it aside and his hand moves to massage your breast.

Your moans become muffled by his lips, his tongue making its way into your mouth. Your hands go for his dick again but he grabs you and flips you so that you’re laying across the couch and he’s on top of you.

A giggle leaves your lips from the swift and surprising action, your eyes meeting his eyes now that he had stopped kissing you.

He starts trailing kisses down your body, starting with your neck and traveling down your chest. Reaching a patch of your victim's blood, he licks a slow stripe over the dark red stain on your skin. You squirm under him, a strangled moan leaving your lips.

His tongue trails back up your body, stopping at your nipple where he grazes his teeth over the peak tenderly.

After teasing your nipples, his lips crash onto yours again. His hands move down your body and he removes your pants and underwear in a single movement. Your own fingers slip under the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down.

Kai pulls his lips from yours, his hand petting your cheek as he lines up with your entrance. You hold your breath, preparing yourself for him to thrust into you.

He never did it nicely. That was his thing.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he pushes ruthlessly into your pussy. You were wet, but it still hurt. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, his sadistic smile hard to ignore. He loved the way you sounded when he fucked you.

He felt amazing, as usual. The house was dead quiet save for your moans and Kai’s soft grunts. It was awfully intimate.

Your hips buck up into his, his rough yet passionate thrusts making you unreasonably squirmy. “You’re so cute when you’re sensitive,” he comments, his thumb running over your lower lip. You whimper, your head pushed back against the armrest of his couch.

Kai moves so that he’s kneeling back on the couch. He pulls you down by your hips so that he can resume fucking you. He thrusts even harder this time, his tip hitting into your cervix as he uses his leverage on your hips to fuck you harder.

Your hands move to the cushion of the couch, digging into the material to relieve the tension building in your body.

You had gotten embarrassingly close already. You knew if you came now, Kai would make fun of you for it later. The only words you could piece together were “fuck,” and “Kai”. Making it rather difficult to get your point across.

Kai raises his eyebrow teasingly, his hands traveling over your breasts that move with every rough movement he makes. “Words, little lamb. I don’t answer to unintelligible whimpers,”

“I’m… I’m,” you stammer. “Kai,”

“I love hearing you say my name, believe me,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a particularly merciless thrust. “But I need more than that,” You whine, your back arching off the couch as you writhe around.

Your pussy clenches around his dick, your stomach filled with butterflies. “Please, Divine Ruler,” you finally manage to piece together. “L-Let me… cum,”

He smiles, leaning back over you as he kisses you. “Yes,” he says as his lips migrate to your jaw and to the crook of your neck. He buries his face there, his thrusts keeping a steady pace as he pushes you over the edge.

“God!” you cry out, your nails digging into his back as you orgasm. Your ears ring loudly and the world spins before you.

Kai fucks you through your orgasm, making sure you enjoyed every last bit of the feeling. You finally come down from your high, feeling Kai’s thrusts slow even if he didn’t finish. Panting, you regain your senses as the orgasm washes over you.

Your legs still shake, your body still going through the reverberations of your orgasm. Kai pulls out of you, still hard.

Kai moves so he’s sitting on the couch and you quickly get on your knees in front of him. He holds you by your hair, guiding your movements so your mouth wraps around his dick that was still coated with your wetness.

He pushes your head down onto his dick, only stopping when his tip hit the back of your throat. Kai was a head pusher but not in the bad way because you didn’t care.

He helps you get your movements steady before letting go of you and leaning back on the couch. Your head bobs on his dick, your eyes watering as he repeatedly hits the back of your throat.

A low groan leaves his lips, his eyes having shut as he indulges in the warmth of your mouth. “Fuck, your mouth feels so nice,” he exhales deeply, his chest heaving as he gets closer to his climax.

Tears streak your cheeks as you move your head a little quicker, helping him cum. He finally does, his cum filling your mouth.

Kai lets out a heavy sigh, his head falling back as he rides his high for a few more moments. You pull your mouth off his dick, his cum pooling on your tongue. Kai leans forward, pushing his two fingers into your mouth.

You suck on them, your eyes glued on his dark ones as your cheeks hollow around his ring and middle finger. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he smiles. “Swallow for me,” he instructs plainly.

With a smirk, you swallow his cum, the salty liquid moving down your throat. He pats your cheek with his wet fingers, a proud look on his face.

“Go upstairs and shower. I’m not done with you yet, little lamb,”

[jodiie-leighanne]

Sin and Sinuous Part II

This was meant to be the last part, but i have a feeling you will all want a third. So, one is ready just encase. Enjoy :)

Rivers has been back for a month now, and I'm lucky if I get a look in when it comes to Ophelia now it's as if she is oblivious to my existence. Maybe that's it, maybe the bastard made her forget me.

Look, I get you probably have assumptions of the way I'm handling things, trust me I do too. This is new to the whole forbidden love, unrequited affections. It wasn't meant to be this way, it was meant to be me and Ophie, from the day her hues stole my soul, made me willing to sacrifice everything for her. It had to end, what she doesn't know is Lake is aware she was second choice, never the one I wanted. I'm a cunt there's no fluffing it up. I'm married to a sister I'll never love. Daily I have to act as if she is the goddess I would pray to. Whilst hopelessly in love with the other sister, that I cannot pull towards me I have to continue pushing and pushing. She will never be allowed to be mine. Father arranged my marriage to the eldest Jones female; I accepted in a beat. If I couldn't have the one I wanted, I'd settle for second best, I can't let Ophelia move on, I can't let her lead a life without me.

So, I'm her brother-in-law but, still I'm here.

Selfishly I've taken the parts I can get if that means hooking up behind closed doors, slamming every unspoken emotion I have into her with my cock then making her cry after I'll take it.

Our love is toxic, but it's ours. Snapping of digits brought quickly reminded me of my reality

Lake had come home from around an hour ago from a 'business' meeting intoxicated and reeking of cheap aftershave doused in second hand smoke. I, myself, was fairly tipsy at the point I'd pulled out the photo album of me and Ophelia from our short time together, sat down in front of the fire of Jones manor flicking through smiling at what we had. It was beautifully spontaneous. She made it for me the night she caught me on the balcony with her sister. In shock she must have dropped it. I cannot imagine the pain she felt that day, the utter disappointment. You probably already know the Jones family secret, Ophelia is half blood, our families were entwined through business meetings. I never met them until the shared holiday we took. That's how me and my phi began, of course my dad found out agreeing to keep quiet until Abraham Jones - their father decided to spill the beans and that was it our romance was over. I couldn't even tell her, I had to let her catch me. It broke my heart as much as hers. I kept this little piece of us, my wife walked in and found it. Hell broke loose when she realised who really held the flame she couldn't extinguish.

"Draco, are you even fucking listening to me?" She slurred, stood over my seated frame as I tried to avoid eye contact, grazing a finger over the floral bindings.

"What-what the hell do you want now?" I snapped sick of her whiney, she snatched the album clean out my grasp holding it above her head. "Don't you speak to me that way, i am your wife"

I chuckled in an ominous manner, rising to my feet and striding towards her as she backed away. "Act like one then, be seen not heard" laughing she tossed the book into the flames, hues widening as I watched all I had left of us crackling away, fading. The sadness turned to red hot rage. Before I knew my hand rose, striking her cheek harsh enough to whip her head to one side, a cascade of blonde flew to cover the shock on her face as she trembled like a victim. "How fucking dare, you" She seethed, Striking me back with equal force. Shaking my head slowly, biting the inners of my mouth. Digit pointed to the tip of her nose as she wore a victorious smirk.

"Do not lay a hand on me - wife" She scoffed at the hypocritic words; I pushed her hair to one side knuckles stroking the bruises on her neck. "Your neck looks nice by the way, who gave you those?" Her mouth gaped wide, i know she fucks around. She doesn't even bother hiding them anymore. "You'll blow the facade to our parents if you carry on being a slut you know"

Pushing my touch away, she stroked her pink mark flaring on her skin. "River caught you in quite the moment with Ophelia the other day, didn't he? And you think I'm going to blow this?"

"You're a means to an end you know this"

"Fuck you, your nasty little bastard" Lurching towards me again, I placed an arm up to block her. She began punching and swatting whatever she could reach. "We-we are meant to be trying for a baby, we have a duty to our family" A duty to our family? She wants me to bring a child into this. Yes, a month ago when Ophelia overheard us it was something we considered but a lot changed in those weeks. It was never what i truly wanted, not with her.

"I'm not giving you a baby, I'm not bringing a harmless, defenceless life into this fucking shit show" She flinched as I stepped around her edging towards the entrance, swiping a bottle on my way out. "Best get thinking of some lies Lake, this is done"

Thats how I found myself with the pinched drink in one hand, fag in another staring up to the room i know she is in. Phis been staying with River; her parents couldn't care less they never did she wasn't meant to be here. They have been away at their other home for a while leaving their Manor for just me and my wife, not once did they ask about her after she disappeared with River. Nor did they ask about him.

I need to make it right.

The knocks on the apartment door were harsh as I stumbled on the spot, swinging open two wary brown eyes greeted me, eyes I'd come to know so well over my childhood and youth. Eyes I used to jest with, cause havoc with. Once I would confide in when we were destined for similar fates, yet here he stands years on as if I'm public enemy number one.

"Hello Theodore"

"What are you doing here Malfoy?" He sighed, looking back over his shoulder as we spoke, keeping the door as closed as possible to block out the room. "I think you know the answer to that"

"She isn't here"

"That's a lie, her lights on" Once I found out where she had gone, i surveyed the place from time to time. Caught her with a cup in hand sat by the window aimlessly staring into the night. She always said darkness made her feel safe and gave her clarification. Of what I don't know, she would often whisper to the stars. Blushing when I catch her, waving it off as a silly thing she does. Theo sighed again, harder this time eyes cast to the floor.

"Love whose is it? Oh, hell no" River's stare blazed as it bore to mine, meeting equal harshness.

"River calm down" Theo's palm placed on his lover's chest, a new development I wasn't aware of until i began snooping turns out my brother through marriage and my brother through choice grew quiet the connection whilst on a mission for the ministry, I'm not surprised. I know my girl would have accepted this with open arms and beaming glee she never judged or prosecuted. She had time and love for everyone, but me these days.

"Yes river, calm down" I taunted leaning against the door frame, making sure that it couldn't be slammed shut on me.

"You have some fucking nerve coming here, she has been fine without you"

Rolling my eyes i dead planned, "I want to see her"

"No" He stepped in front of the brunette boy, who gave me a look of compassion. Meeting his movements I moved to him, now chest to chest. "I'm not asking"

"You're not seeing her" River's forehead pressed to mine using muscles of his neck to push me back assert his dominance.

"Love maybe you should" Theo pushed to be between us as we now entered the hallway.

"No, you don't get an input in this" His boyfriend barked back.

"River, do not channel your anger at me."

"You're siding with him..."

"Can you have your lovers spat another time please, I need to get my girl", Shoving them out the way so i could slip into the home, that's when I froze there she was hair in a messy bun, a few strands around her face, she is effortlessly perfect. Fiddling with the hem of a baggy shirt that sat above her knees, nervously swaying. Her greens met my blues, and I felt the air in my lungs constrict. "Oh of course you're the reason there's yelling" Her tone was low and venomous.

"Hey baby" I smiled, reaching out for her.

"Don't you dare" A palm slapped mine away, what is it with this family and violence. Dainty digits curled around rivers shoulder pulling him away slightly.

"Theo" Theodore hummed in response, shooting his head up to the girl "take my brother out for a while would you" After many curse words and defiant attempts to stay. They left, leaving just me and her. Not before giving a warning "Touch one hair on her head and i swear mummy and daddy will never find your body"

"Ophie..."

"No, not here come with me" She turned to walk down a hallway; I was hot on her trail. She didn't once look back to see if I was following, she just knew I would.

Turning into a room on the left I realised it was her room, she sat by the bay windows like she had done every time i checked in from outside. I kept my distance perching on the edge of Ophelia's bed.

"Speak then" Caught off guard by her direct approach, she never once looked at me, just fiddled with her nail beds. She always did that when she was nervous, I guess it's time to man up, say it now or lose her forever.

"Baby, look at me" Hesitantly she died, her globes glistened with sorrow. Wetting my lips, I just let the words roll off my tongue, "I'm sorry I never told you there's so much I've kept from you for your own protection, I know it doesn't seem that way, but I promise." I was interrupted...

"Like marrying my fucking sister because your prejudice parents couldn't handle you being with a half blood" Shit, I did not know she knew that. "In a way I get why you married her, to be around me right? To block out potential love for me? To ensure I was faithful and bound to you whilst you are someone else's"

"It's not like-"

"It is exactly like that, you could have said no, thought fuck what they think. You didn't think, what you felt for me wasn't strong enough"

"No, you are wrong" I stood, toeing cautiously towards her, afraid to startle her as her globes remained down.

"Am I?" Water threatened to slip from down her skin as it gathered in the corner batted away by lashes "You are, Ophelia Jones, it's you, you are my muse, the one I dream of praying reality will be similar one day, its suffocating being like this do you think I like bedding Lay whilst all I want is you" Finally close enough to touch her, tucking a stray hair behind her ear she leaned into my palm sighing in contentment, I lowered my mouth to her ear whispering "Run away with me"

"Draco, we can't." She rested her head on my chest, nuzzling into as she breathed in my cologne. "Yes, we can. Give yourself to me baby please"

"You had me, you gave me away. Whatever this needs to end, it has to" She moved back away from me, as I gave in crumbling to my knees, holding her thighs as I pecked the skin, chest hammering. "Please, please, do-don't do this. Fuck I love you" Wavering in my pleas as I sobbed. She fell with me, cradling my torso to hers, "Don't cry Draco, it wasn't meant to be"

"We are endgame, we have to be". In that moment I took our united weakness as a chance, capturing her lips with my own, for a moment she was taken back, her lips rigid against my own. She didn't move, I felt her soften slowly humming into our kiss. It was gentle, intense. My arms sheeted her tiny body hauling her into my lap as Ophelia's arms threaded around my shoulders begging me to be closer, legs wrapped around my hips as I sat in a knelt position. Groaning as she accepted my tongue in her mouth as I swiped for entry. Our muscles danced as each moan of hers was swallowed; it was just us.

Phis hips rolled onto mine as I hardened underneath our barrier of clothes, I could almost scent her the arousal pooling in her knickers. Creating a wet spot, just for me to feast on, the kisses became more hurried, desperate. She tugged at my shirt wanting it off. I separated for a second to obey the need, Ophelia wasted no time riding her own leaving her breast bare, nipples peaked and aroused. Almost flying at her causing us both to tumble to the floor, giggles fled her throat cut off by a moan as I hungrily latched to her nipples. Quickly ridding my boxers as she arches, head thrown feebly attempting to shimmy her underwear down. Skin to skin we meddled as I took her lips again, holding the nap of her neck. Making my way between the plush flesh of her thighs, my cock rubbed her clit causing my head to drop to her shoulder, breathing heavily like this was my first time.

"Do you want this?" I kept myself hovering above her Rocking into Phis core so our sexes would touch. She nodded eagerly, "Use your words baby, let me hear you" I am an advocate for verbal consent, but I also wanted to hear her. Ophelia's voice was intoxicating to me.

"Yes Draco, take me, I want you" No need to ask twice, I lined up my tip up with her opening pushing through, instantly enveloped by wet and warmth. "Fuck, your perfect"

"Give me all of you, I want it all" Smirk, I pulled out slightly only to push back into her harder and we gasped in sync. Bodies remembering one another's as she met every thrust, I gave, hues rolling to her skull.

"Run away with me, be mine", Shivering as I kept a slow steady pace, taking in every pleasurable feeling.

"Yes, I'll go wherever you are" We had barely begun our acts of love, before she was tightening and I was throbbing, we fell apart together. That night, I made it up to her and she reminded me of the hold she has as we went round after round.

After we calmed down, we made a plan.

Another three months had passed since Ophelia and I decided our course of action, I'd filed for papers to leave Lake. Transferred money into a private account. Theo and River were aware it took some persuading sceptically Riv as he is putting one sister's happiness on the line for others. Nether the less, he allowed us to use his flat as our escape and escape we did, weather it was just to be around one another, or carefree fucking and affectionate holds. This is what I want as my forever.

It's the night before our plan to leave, everything's in order my bags are packed ready to leave. When a spark comes from the flu network, stepping it out is my father, mother, Mr Jones and Lake.

She is grinning widely, holding a parchment in her hand, the divorce papers I sent.

"Son. What is the meaning of this?" My father nods to the envelope my wife is clutching with a wiggle of her wrists, fucking bitch knows what she is doing.

"I believe you can read father" The strike of brass hits my right ear causing it to ring within my head, Lucius cane finds its way back to the ground, i look up to see mother in utter dismay as she sends me a pained stare.

"He's leaving me, he has been having an affair with Ophelia" Lay cries out, get the girl an award she is a great actress. "You will do no such thing" Abraham bellows "she is just a whore like her mother that girl"

I snapped within, fist flying at his face, one hand holding his shirt. Mrs Jones fled when she could, leaving her children to deal with this bastard. Only one got what they deserved; the rest were left in the wind to fend for themselves. "Draco, stop it this isn't the way" mums words scored through me as i moved back letting the arsshole drop to the floor.

Straightening up, my father glared at me "You will stay and fulfil your promise, you are not running from this you coward" After the physical and verbal battering of a lifetime, I admitted defeat.

Sulking in my bed chambers, steadily watching the clock tick by as time was running out.  A tap sounded on my balcony window at six in the morning, I knew who it was. Edging to the curtains I pulled them back to see her small frame, covered in large cloaks as the rain beat down around. My Ophelia. Sliding the glass open she stepped through removing her coat. "It's horrid out there sweet, make sure you wrap up, we should probably leave soon." her words halted as she met my sights. Gulping hard, "What's wrong Draco" Eyes scanning over my injuries, taking in the puffy skin and blood shot irises. her lips shook she knew without me saying a word.

"I'm sorry, I am. we -I can't come. I have to stay, me-me and Lake we need to make this work, i can't give it up for a fling"

"No"

"Ophelia I'm sorry it was foolish of us, i need to stay here and be a husband, be a father to potential children" I expected her to scream, hit me, cuss me out she didn't. She nodded, stepping back to the discarded clothing rifling through the pocket pulling out a square of paper. Before extending her hand towards me with no expression she was numb, my brows furrowed as I took it flipping it round to see...

"Looks like you successfully got the wrong sister pregnant Malfoy, Good luck with your life" I stood frozen and broken, tears streaming down my cheeks as she hauled out her wand with a crack she was gone. She and my baby had left me.  

[blzzrdstryr]

Reveries of the Past. Yandere!Childe x Fatui!gn!reader

Wordcount: 3875

CW: Dissociation, graphic depiction of violence, hallucinations, unhealthy relationship and unhealthy power dynamics.

A.N.: I used a lot of my experience with dissociations in this and if it makes you uncomfortable, I would advice not to read it. I also plan on writing continuation for this, as it’s set before the Rite of Descension. P.s. I am not a native English speaker, so could you notify me if there’s awkward wording.

[Next chapter]

There are plenty of times you find yourself reminiscing about the past and now, your mind slips back to your memories, as you look at the horribly mangled body of the treasure hoarder. The stench of blood stuffs up your nose, it’s sickly sweet metallic odor making your gut clench and nausea rise, as your limbs grow heavier and numb. You don’t feel  like you belong in your skin and bones and blood anymore - it’s cold, so cold, yet you don’t feel any of it. You are an outsider, an unwanted intruder in the house that is your body, an indifferent observer looking at the world through the thick glass.

The world around disfigures, shapes and colors changing in the constant whirlwind - they jump and dance around, small becoming large and large shrinking so much it’s barely visible, green shifts to red to blue and to yellow and to million of other colors, and sounds suddenly become muffled, losing their sharpness, but you don’t care about it: the part that is “you” fled to the daydreams of your childhood moments ago, leaving a clinically observing, yet unfeeling being behind. 

Adults would describe you as a perfect child: quiet, obedient and dutiful, you were a stark contrast to the other louder and more free spirited kids. You studied hard, cleaned the house, helped with dishes and cooking and never talked back. 

I can't upset mom and dad because they work so much. I can't play with other kids because if I do, they will make fun of me, I have to study hard and get good grades, because mom said I will have a good job and become rich and help them. 

These particular memories don't feel good to you: they're bleak and boring, yet full of silent shame - they make your throat clog and eyes water, as something burning starts to bloom deep underneath your skin. 

Childe stops beating the still alive treasure hoarder, a blood smeared on the cheek and a dangerous glint in his eyes, and turns his head to you. 

"Hey, how about lending me a helping hand?", there’s a hunger in his voice you recognize, he wants to teach a lesson to the debtors, then. You walk towards him, feeling your knees get weaker and weaker with each step for some reason. A dagger made of ice shines in your hand with cold light. 

"It's no wonder [First] received a vision! My [First] is always so good and smart, there are no children better" the exact words your mother says, as she brags to her friends, showing them the vision you were bestowed with. You left it to her, not caring what will happen to it - despite all the child's wonder you felt before receiving it, the glowing orb doesn’t look so amazing to you now. It feels foreign and ugly, a reminder of what happened seconds before you gained it. 

“You know, when I was a child”, he takes the weapon and focuses on the treasure hoarder’s leader again, “we made a special kind of promise”. It’s tip travels to the hoarder’s hand. “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life”

The sweet voice he uses and the fact that you  know the nursery rhyme too would make you sick in the stomach the other day, but not now. 

You don’t exactly remember how you joined the Fatui - it happened shortly after you gained a vision, when you were still too numb and cold to the outside world after the Event. 

Mom will hate me, dad will hate me too. I can’t let them know.

Your parents say that officials just knocked on the front door one day and offered you an entry into the Fatui and a monthly salary, big enough to stop your parents from overworking themselves. You were terrified back then, Fatuis despite being known as a diplomatic organization are still a mystery to the ordinary Shezhnayan and a direct servants to Her will. The thought of disappointing Tsaritsa or letting down Snezhnaya was enough to paralyze you, but seeing the smiles on your parents faces was enough to make you swear to yourself, that you will work there no matter how scary it seems.

“You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice.” The blade stops between phalanges of the little finger: “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend", he presses it, strong enough to detach the limb from the rest of the body in one swift slash. Treasure hoarder starts to cry and scream from the sudden pain, yet quickly chokes on it as Childe hits him in the solar plexus. The crack of bones feels deafening among the sea of muffled sounds.

Training was rigorous to say the least, you came back to your dorm room absolutely exhausted and after you fell on the bed you were practically dead to the world. Turns out, having a vision wasn’t enough to make you a fighter - you needed to know how to climb, swim, run with a weight to lift and wield a weapon. There were other children and teens with you, they eyed your vision with a mix of adoration and envy, you pretended not to catch it in turn.

“The frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again”, harbinger forces the victim's jaw apart by squeezing it with one hand, the other rapidly forcing a dagger inside the mouth. Treasure hoarder gasps and mumbles, fat tears forming in his eyes. A part of you expects a sound of parting flesh, but none comes: Tartaglia stands up and removes the blade, leaving a shivering and terrified man laying on the ground.

“Well,” Childe shrugs, as if he didn’t just dismember a person, voice back to his cheery tone : “You didn’t actually make a pinkie promise, so consider it a small mercy”. The treasure hoarder cowers even more, snuggling the injured hand close to the bruised chest. “But if you fail to repay your debt I will oversee that the frost”, he points in your direction, a treasure hoarder’s eyes going wide as he notices your vision, “will actually freeze your lying tongue off”, his voice descends again, back to it’s dangerous half-whisper.

You meet Ajax during the winter, he’s close to you in age and just arrived into Fatui grounds. He boasts and shows off to all of you, and you desperately want to retort something acidic to shut him up and rip off that arrogant bravado, yet say nothing, picturing how the tomorrow training session will have him laying flat on his back, too hurt and too tired to move even a single finger. 

He defeats the trainer in less than a minute.

Now, that the treasure hoarder fled, still snuggling disfigured limb, Childe turns attention back to you. “You seem a little bit disinterested here”, his hand on your cheek is so foreign, it’s burning and freezing at the same time, the shock from the unwanted touch almost strong enough to pull you back into reality. He notices your unintentional flinching and unfocused eyes “Ah, you hurt my feelings, [First]! And I thought we already became friends”. 

You say nothing, cold and unmoving, blind and deaf to the outside world, his words register a second too late, and there’s no cliche phrase for you to reply with. He looks a bit baffled and deflated for a second, but shrugs it off, just like he did during teen years, when you deliberately ignored all his attempts at catching your attention.

“Huh, even if you are so cold to me, I still forgive you”, he takes your hand, his touch still too overwhelming for you to process and pulls you back to Liyue harbor, your legs barely bending as you walk after him, like an obedient dog trailing it’s master.

“You know [First], I can beat you up so badly, that you will barely walk”, you put feather aside, stopping writing the letter to your parents as you glare at Ajax with barely masked indignation. He grins, satisfied to finally catch your attention after the whole day of pestering you. “I am aware of that” you reply in an absolutely flat tone, holding yourself from pouncing on him and trying to break the teeth out of that smug smile. He beams even wider, as if sensing your not-so-good intentions, revealing even more pearly whites as if taunting you.

“But I won’t, count yourself lucky”. And he leaves, this short interaction filling you with so much rage that you shake, handwritten letters noticeably becoming sharper and faster, your thoughts clouding around the idea of acquating his face with your boots. 

 Nonetheless, you indeed count yourself fortunate enough, when you see Ajax defeating grown men with bare hands. When you two, the only vision holders among your peers have to spar, he always goes easy on you, prefering to immobilize you rather than beating, making your defeat less painful yet even more humiliating. 

Almost at the end of your trail he suddenly stops and says something, but you don't catch it, words turning into separate vowels and then fusing together into one unintelligible gibberish mess. He leans in, close enough for his breath to burn your neck, and he continues to get closer, until his empty eyes look into yours glazed ones. He seems disappointed for a second and backs down, his breathing no longer fanning your skin. 

Distantly you think that you somehow angered him and he will slap you for it, and do nothing to dodge the hit - you barely feel pain in this condition anyway, but he doesn’t. The road to the Northland Bank is completed in absolute silence, Childe no longer trying to grab your attention, only when you enter Liyue Harbor does he whisper, that you two must look like a pair with all that hand holding. Judging by the volume and tone of his voice he says it more to himself than to you.

***

You come back to yourself in the safety of your room on the third room of the Northland bank. It feels like a rush of sensation, as everything becomes sharper and clearer again, like you just swam to the surface of water from the very depths of it. An invisible bubble around your head pops in one moment, and the world becomes real again, mind and body connecting for once more.

Eyes and ears focused you take in surroundings: the room is neat and lifelessly empty - just a bed and a working desk with a stack of written but unsent letters, along with a small bookcase near, no figurines, pictures or even plants to decorate living place, as you see no reason to adorn the area you use for sleeping only. Indiscernible wallpapers and a small window close to the middle of the bed finish the picture of austerity.

 Once, your memory catches up to you, you can't help groan from the shame and irritation, hiding your face in both hands. Afterwards  always feels both like a disgraceful escape and a warm blanket during the stormy night, a duality that you accepted long ago after joining the Fatui and today is no exception. You curse Harbinger when you remember why exactly you had an episode, and get up from the bed you threw yourself on minutes ago. You come to the desk, taking a clean form of a relocation request from the drawer and writing materials. 

Filling in the blank feels like commiting a felony to you for some reason - you stop several times when you hear footsteps in the corridor, focusing on the door,ready to hide the half written form and say some lie as an excuse. You don't list the Childe-related reasons, knowing that there's nothing that could make any of the Harbingers face the consequence for their actions, and instead you write completely normal and fake causes: health concerns, family matters and so on. Part of you doubts that this will work and you will have the fortune to get away from a certain harbinger as far as possible. Trying and failing is better than never attempting, you think, quickly writing the paper.

Once you finish it, you almost rush to Ekaterina, praying that you won't run into a certain ginger on the way. Sometime ago you caught Tartaglia checking your letters, for a secrecy he said back then, we can’t let anyone know about the coming operation. Childe then instilled that every sent and received letter should be checked, lest Qixing and other Liyuens learned what Fatui had in plan. It sounded logical and sensible, but the paranoid thought that he enforced this policy just to have a glimpse at your feelings never stopped eating at you. From that day on you sent your family the most basic and vague letters, just stating that you’re in good health and mind, still missing them and Snezhnaya, leaving the ones with more private sentiments in your room. 

Her eyes are completely obscured by the mask, but even with that you can’t miss the pointed glare she sends your way - Tartaglia never shied away from showing off, be it his strength, money or his twisted obsession that he calls love. With the amount of time and finances he spends on you and the way he acts like a kicked lovesick puppy in your vicinity, you are pretty sure that at least half of the bank workers see you as a cunning and cruel seducer, so keen and devious in the art of temptation that you managed to lure in Eleventh Harbinger.

As if archons decided to laugh at you, Childe descends from the second floor too, catching the sight of you near the receptionist. He looks unusually somber for a moment, but then he sees you, a smile appearing on his face as he takes the form from Ekaterina's hands. You can just feel how Ekaterina rolls her eyes under the mask, as if muttering complaints about the lovers’ spat and insubordination, having been working with her for some time, enough to have a clue of the inner workings of her mind.

You have to give him that he plays the confusion and regret very persuasively. He asks how he can fix this, says what a valuable team member you are to him and how much you are needed in the Northland bank. You agree to his suggestion - if years of training with Ajax and then work with Childe taught you anything, it is that Ajax is the chaos incarnate and Tartaglia is Ajax’s less tolerable and more unpredictable version, so it’s better not to anger him.

***

In the end he invites you to dine with him at Wanmin restaurant, a place Childe heard from some “xiansheng” as he called them. A bustling Liyue street is open before you two, tall midday sun painting the whole street into bright orange, so unlike the pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya. He orders two Black Back Perch Stews on the chef's recommendations, and hands a bouquet of local flowers in a parody of a normal boyfriend. Any random observer would really see it as a date.

You take the flowers, pretending to pay more attention to  them than to a man sitting near you. Tartaglia is an unpredictability wrapped in human skin, there’s no privilege as being lax and carefree near him, as even Tsaritsa has no idea what he will do next. 

To your mutual confusion Xiangling presents the meal with two pairs of chopsticks. Utensils feel foreign in your palm, you having no idea how to handle them and Childe, by the looks of it too. Tartaglia specifically asks the chef for spoons, while you observe the other clients, noting how they use theirs. Holding one stick like a pen and then placing the bottom one in a fixed position under the thumb you manage to grasp the fish from the soup, albeit clumsily. You consider it a small win. 

The image of a mighty Harbinger struggling in a failing battle with chopsticks would look funny to you, if it wasn’t for the whole "date" you were having. After putting them aside, and seemingly admitting defeat, Childe starts from afar: "You know [First], you changed a lot since I first met you" .

You raise an eyebrow at the starter, it's vague and innocent enough, but experience tells you that he will or at least try to stir the conversation into your relationship with him again. Straightening a bit and finally turning your eyes to him, you pause for a second, picking the least offensive reply you can muster - there’s a swarm of insults buzzing at the tip of your tongue prepared just for him, growing and sprouting since your pubescent years.

“Yes, I got taller”, he laughs it off, like you said some funny joke, his giggles not stopping for some time. "No, I mean as a person. Remember how you used to glare at me for joking? And now you act so unfazed ”

Joking. Is this what he calls it? Shivers creep up your spine when your memory oh so conveniently conjures the images of the aftermath of his jokes.

“Your jokes weren’t funny to anyone but you”. Breathe, you think, there’s no need to anger him. There are pictures of broken bones and bruised bodies and a cacophony of somebody else’s pained screams flashing and rattling in your head, Adults never did anything. Why would they? They had a golden boy Ajax, why would they help the others when they had him? Why would they help you? Bitterness and anger you thought you swallowed long ago rise up to the surface again, and you decide to bite down on the stew - Tartaglia always found a way to turn your words against you and hurt you, no need to give him more weapons now.

“I changed a lot too. I know I was insufferable as a teen”, he must have taken your silence as a free pass to continue whatever nonsense he’s sprouting, “I am sorry”.

The last three words catch you off guard, a piece of fish almost stuck in the throat from the jolt. Ajax takes you by surprise once again, for him to finally acknowledge and apologize for all the pain he caused and years he tormented you?

You blink and look at him intently, his facial expression changing into an unusually somber one. It seems authentic enough.

“Let’s start from the scratch?

You contemplate unsure what to say.

Was he lying?

Looking back, you in a sense are luckier than most of Childe's victims, witnessing his youth, familiarizing and distinguishing the tells of him lying and scheming, observing the way he bloomed into the manipulator he is today firsthand. You see a familiarity in his face and voice, something that helps you from falling to his charms. There's also the added fact that you were and still are an involuntary witness to the way how carnal and bloodthirsty usually friendly Ajax can become. 

When did you catch his attention?

You remember his smile when he first approached you, less teeth and more sincerity that is thereafter,a hand outstretched to you. It happens on the next day after his arrival, almost as cold and unpleasant as the previous one. You brush the limb away like a noisy fly, secretly angry at his arrogant attitude and how effortlessly he endured training. His smiling doesn’t stop, yet you feel a sudden change in the air around you.

Would your fate be different if you took his hand?

You can't forget how your mind disconnected from your body for the second time. It was Ajax again vying for your attention akin to a spoiled child, and like one he threw a tantrum when you refused to give him any. The poor recruit you were talking with was hospitalized the same day, as you helplessly watched the carnage before you. You didn't fight, you didn’t flee, you just froze, like a scared animal, paralyzed by fear, yet somehow too detached from feelings. That day was bizarre: once you felt reality, it was solid and undeniable and then you didn't. The realness of the current diffused, slipped through the fingers like sand, leaving nothing but unreliable and delusive reveries behind.

Will he let you go? 

“People do change and I see that you changed too. I don’t think of you as a teen you were” you carefully pick the words, Tartaglia visibly blooms, thinking that his apology worked, yet your next words snuff out his triumph: “but my memories stay the same. I don’t think we can start from scratch”

You bite the tongue, the second part still coming out too harsh for your liking. The moment of sincerity is interrupted, you see him, changing the masks, unsure what to do. It seems for the first time it was you who caught him off guard. You guess which one of the two standard facades he will decide to show to you, having spent years by his side to observe him masterfully wielding both, the friendly one with a vacant smile that never reaches his dead, dead eyes or the calculating one, distant and devoid of humanity?

In the end he uses none, a hurt still evident, dripping in his tone, face and moves - is it another mask you never got to see or is it real? - “So that is your answer”, he leans in closer, dull cerulean eyes looking right into yours.

You hold his stare, nodding, instead of saying anything and he hums, sitting back and wearing the cold mask, reserved for his enemies: “Just wanted to remind you that I am the Harbinger and you are just a position higher than an ordinary agent”. Despite seeing it so many times, it’s the first time he directs it at you and you have to suppress the shiver. The unsaid threat hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you.

You two are no longer solemn [First] and annoying Ajax, who trails your steps behind like a puppy, no, you are a special agent [Last] and Eleventh Fatui Harbinger Tartaglia, to whom you are personally assigned by Tsaritsa herself. Even possessing vision and delusion yourself you can’t match Childe’s power, and your loss would be easy to overlook if your harbinger wished for it. Honestly speaking, there are a lot of things he could do to you without anyone questioning it, the Harbingers being the second most powerful figures in the organization, right after Tsaritsa herself. You heard the stories of Krupp and other assistants who got missing under Il Dottore, you heard of horrible accidents happening to the people Scaramouche dislikes, you heard about the injuries Signora inflicts on the unfortunate recruits when she is in foul mood, yet you never thought that Tartaglia will abuse his power in the same way.

“Don’t worry” he seems to have taken mercy on you, “I won’t use my position like that, it’s cheating and I like to play the fair game”, despite the seemingly reassuring words , you don’t let yourself relax, knowing him for years.

“Don’t think I will back down though, I am not the type to give up”