#i just have a raging hard on for bo

[bosinclairz]

accidentally told bvh that i like the basement scene for “reasons i cannot say” and apparently i made him flustered my bad bro

[girl-bateman]

There is only room for ONE pretentious cinema critic in this town (blocks you on letterbox)

[karinasbaby]

yang jungwon — love me.

P. fem!reader x bf!jungwon (17+) | W. unprotected sex, jungwon is needy & whiny, kissing, cursing, biting, creampie, mentions of a handjob, breast play, marking, dacryphilia, biting, cockwarming, getting fucked into subspace, pussy slapping, petnames, desperate jungwon & other things i forgot | WC. 3.3k | A,N. wrote this while listening to lights on by normani so i felt n a s t y, anyways this was a request! thank u for requesting <3

in which.. jungwon gets a boner mid cuddling session.

hot.

that's the only word running in jungwon's head. well along with needy.

hot. he felt so fucking hot. and so ridiculously needy.

he felt every nerve ending in his body blazing with heat that's almost borderline painful. fingers twitching to grasp or hold onto something that will ground him before he lost his sanity. his breathing gradually becoming more irregular. the seconds he was counting in his head to get his breathing under control slowly became unusually prolonged before being forgotten completely.

all the blood that should've been pumping in his head to keep his logical side working rushed down his entire body to accumulate in his pulsing cock. he was so fucking hard right now.

and it made him feel so guilty. there was absolutely no reason for him to feel like a dog in heat when literally nothing has happened. the urge to just fuck something almost making him spiral when you're just laying besides him, curled on yourself with your back against jungwon, you're just there.

sure it could've been the way he's been pressing his hips against the curve of your ass, or it could've been the way you were too sleepy and tired to push his cold, veiny hand away when it sneaked under your sweater to cup your breast— fuck. he basically brought this onto himself.

but how could he not practically glue himself against you? you felt so warm. so nice. so cuddly. he loved you so much. needed you so close to him at all times possible. if he could he would genuinely bury himself inside of you. the attempts of him pushing himself down your sweater and poking his head out of your neckline just to kiss you for hours to remain close were nothing.

his arms wrapped around your waist to hold you as close as possible weren't doing it for him. nor was the way his nose was nuzzled into the back of your neck— nothing at the moment could satisfy him.

and he wanted more. needed more. craved so so much more so fucking badly. he felt like if he wasn't inside of you in the next five seconds he might as well explode.

but at the same time how could he? not when you complained about how tiring your day was. not when you already felt fatigued enough to basically melt in his arms when he suggested a cuddling session, fuck and he was the one to suggest it, what was he thinking?

none of that mattered anymore. not when you were on the brink of drifting onto a deep sleep. teetering on the edge of remaining conscious completely. soft, almost unnoticeable whimpers leaving your mouth when you felt so comfortable. so satisfied and comforted in the arms of your lover, clad in his hoodie after a stressful day.

completely unaware of the dilemma jungwon was going through right behind you, unaware of the fact that he was a mere few seconds away from ripping his hair out of his scalp.

well that was until you heard him whimper.

fuck if only he remained stoic. maybe he wouldn't have nudged his raging boner against your ass. the simple friction making the noise leave his throat before he could even process it or try to swallow it down. and you for sure heard him.

he could just play it off, breathing in deeply and ignoring the way his arms unconsciously tightened around you, he tried to speak— “won, are you okay?” shit.

“yeah! i'm fine just— a cramp. yeah i just got a cramp in my leg.” chuckling next to your ear he 'played it off’, trying to not catch your attention further with the way he moved his hips further away from yours. pushing his lower half away from your body in hopes of saving himself from the embarrassment and humiliation of getting hard from cuddling.

“are you sure, baby?” you questioned, clearly not buying his lame excuse. i mean come on, you knew him better than anyone there was no way a simple cramp in the leg would make yang jungwon, your unreasonably strong boyfriend whimper. not when he's suffered through an entire sore body after a long fucking session with you that lasted an entire night (and morning) and didn't even complain one bit.

a cramp in the leg? had him whimpering like a whiny boy behind you?

“yeah, doll. don't worry about it— fuck!” him blabbering on to defend himself somehow backfired instantly as you suddenly pushed your ass against him, his clothed cock coming in contact with the curve of your ass once again making him almost see stars. he cursed under his breath even more when you wiggled your hips against his. making his hardened length twitch uncontrollably in his boxers.

“you're a terrible liar.” you reached behind you, cold fingers sneaking under his shirt this time, tracing the back of your fingers against his chiseled abs. the action making him gasp in sensitivity. closing his eyes, jungwon's arms went limp around you. after neglecting his own needs for hours now he felt like his body was betraying him from the smallest sensual touch from you.

your hand then moved downwards, toying with the hem of his sweatpants, then they went lower. to palm his dick through the two thick articles of clothing. the sensation making your boyfriend behind you gulp. his eyes closing unknowingly as his hips jerked forward into your touch. “touch me, doll. please.” he breathed shakily into your ear before biting the shell of it needily.

you then pushed your hand below his sweatpants, hand squeezing around his throbbing cock to relief him quickly, you could feel the dampening spot of his precum right under your palm while jungwon nuzzled his face closer into the back of your neck. eyes closed and breathing heavy as he felt his body becoming lit ablaze with heat.

“right here, princess.” he moved his shaking hand towards your own, bringing yours inside of his boxers to finally feel your cold fingers around his raging dick. pulsing warm precum that webbed between your fingers while you squeezed and stroked him. “like this baby?” turning your head towards him to whisper the words which had him groaning your name against your skin.

it was so fun to see him so needy like this. so desperate and so turned on. you could tell there was not a singular coherent thought in his mind other than his hard cock and how wet your pretty pussy must be by now. the urge to fuck you against the mattress of your bed building up inside him further. he needed you so bad.

and though you were teasing him by brushing your fingers against his sensitive tip harshly, or with the way your hands suddenly tightened around his length before loosening, you were no different from him. but you pushed the feeling of the pooling wetness in your sticky panties to the back of your head. ignoring your need for the time being just to rile up your cute boyfriend further.

jungwon who usually was in control, so collected and loving in heated moments was whimpering behind you as you palmed his weeping cock. you weren't going to let go of this opportunity so quickly.

“feels good, baby?” you whispered, pressing your ass further against the base of his cock while your hand stroked his tip. the sensation of your movements had jungwon's eyes rolling to the back of his head. nodding along dumbly to your words as his hips jerked more into your hand.

he felt the way his climax was building up in his abdomen, the feeling making his eyebrows furrow in complete pleasure before he tried to desperately push your hand away with his own weak one. not wanting to cum if it wasn't deep inside of you.

“fuck— doll, i'm close. so close. i need to be inside of you right now.” he breathed heavily, his rough voice in making the barrier of your thoughts and need disappear almost instantly. the heat in your core and throbbing of your clit suddenly seemed so overwhelming. you wanted and needed him just as badly as he did you.

with a simple and quick nod from you, jungwon's hands quickly removed both of your clothes, pushing his sweatpants along with his boxers down his legs before discarding them carelessly onto the floor then deciding to move towards your own sleeping shorts, hooking his finger under the hem after lifting himself up to litter kisses down your neck.

once he dragged your shorts and panties down, his arms moved towards your hoodie (that was his), thankful that he decided to stay shirtless today. lifting his hoodie from your body to continue his descent of kisses down your shoulders and stomach.

on usual days, jungwon would take his time to scissor you open with his fingers deep inside of your cunt and his lips wrapped around your clit for hours. but today—he couldn't do that. not when he felt his cock twitching against his abs and the leak of precum reaching his thighs.

he needed to be buried so deep inside of you this instant.

quickly laying down behind you, his arm sneaked under you to toy with your hardened nipple while the other gently lifted your leg open, pushing his hips against yours to finally allow his rock hard cock to push against your wet folds. the feeling of his tip poking against your sopping entrance had the two of your groaning in complete euphoria.

“yeah, baby? feels good?” and there he was. your teasing boyfriend who would go to extreme, unfathomable lengths just to see you begging for his touch, in tears because of his pleasure and your mind reeling because of his actions.

and who were you to deny him of any of this? not when he has you wrapped around his finger, not when he has your body twitching in sensitivity and need right under him.

“so good. so so good. please, baby. i need you so bad.” you begged him just how he likes it. voice desperate and shaky the way you knew had him losing his mind. and he fell right under your spell when he kept thrusting his hips to allow his cock to brush against your wetness.

letting the squelching sounds of your arousals combine with your needy moans. whimpers and whispers of his name fell past your lips, your hand wrapping around his own that cupped your breast, his index finger brushing against your nipple every now and then just to make you twitch in his embrace.

you were growing so desperate under his continuous teasing. his torture that made you crave him more, and right when he began to bite along your shoulder harshly you broke. tears aligning your waterline while shaky begs and mewls escaped your throat.

not able to take it anymore. you needed him so bad. your hunger for him to be so near, so close and so deep in you in every way possible increased by the second. yearning for him to be as snug and connected to you as humanly possible.

and jungwon's resolve finally dissipated, he kissed your jaw one long, tender kiss before he angled his hips against yours, letting your walls welcome him as he pushed his cock slowly inside of you.

and gosh he was so big. no matter how many times he had fucked you, his dick always had you in awe of just how perfectly thick and long it was. his raw length stretching you out so nicely. the burn between your walls felt so delicious to you as you mewled his name loudly.

his breathes altered between needy gasps and shaky groans of your name. your tightness always making him feel on edge, if he could fill you up right now he totally would. but he couldn't ruin your experience like this. not when he was so used to making you cum atleast once before even thinking of emptying his load inside of you.

jungwon knew that you were unbelievably close already. with the way your walls were practically sucking him in so tightly. the way your chest heaved in breaths heavily, his finger tips brushing against your chest and ribs whenever you inhaled in too deeply just to control yourself. yet none of it was working. not when your boyfriend began to thrust himself in so slowly and deeply. allowing you to feel every single vein aligning his cock.

being the tease he is, he decided to push you even further towards the edge. his hand that fondled with your tit now moved down, brushing against your stomach and hip sensually before it settled between your legs, jungwon then suddenly picked up the pace. pressing his palm against your lower stomach to feel the bulge of his cock so deep inside of you.

the feeling of him so close, so deeply connected to you had both of your minds reeling. slowly losing touch with reality as the only thing your brain processed was how close jungwon was to you. both emotionally and physically. he nudged your head with his own, making you turn your face towards him and letting him press his lips against yours.

the two of you now breathing each other's air. so intimately close. drowning in the other's presence and pleasure. sinking further into the euphoria that only the two of you could provide one another. “right there— oh my god.” you whispered against his lips when his middle and ring finger lowered to rub against your pulsing clit.

“fuck— jungwon..” you whimpered his name so sweetly, grinding your hips against his when he began to roll his length inside of you so deliciously, barely pulling two inches out before pressing himself deep into your welcoming cunt again. allowing the head of his cock to kiss your cervix with every thrust. "so good, doll. doing so good for me." his lips brushed against yours with every word.

skin on skin, sweat rolling down between both of your bodies as you connected and pleasured each other so sensually. your bodies becoming one, moving in sync with the purpose of chasing your high desperately. jungwon's tongue brushed against your cheek, licking up the tears you didn't even notice rolled down your eyes as your head was getting foggy with the mind numbing sensation of the tightening coil in your abdomen.

right on the brink of your orgasm with the way jungwon began to slowly pick up the pace, his fingers restless as they abused your clit. pushing you further and further on edge just so you can fall and he can capture you.

“i'm s-so close.” you sobbed against his mouth, eyes closing as the ecstasy just kept on building up and up and up. jungwon nodded to encourage you to cum, to finally unravel in his arms so he can please you more.

“yeah, baby? gonna cum for me?” breathing out heavily, his lips littering wet kisses around your jaw, he mindlessly kissed and sucked along your skin. leaving marks he couldn't even put a name on as he slowly ascended into complete intoxication on you.

minds disoriented, bodies on fire as your hearts beat in sync to chase relief. “gonna cream around my cock like a good girl, doll?”he smiled against your skin, moving his lips towards yours to quieten your sobs as you began to teeter on the edge, completely helpless as jungwon's fingers remained circling your clit, hips still pistoning against yours as the soaking wet sounds of your arousal echoed in the room.

a mix of your wetness combined with his settled in your inner thighs, making the noises sound all the more nasty as his balls smacked loudly against your entrance with every thrust. the pressure building up in your abdomen increasing intensely. in a pace you couldn't even process it but jungwon noticed of course, with the incessant tightening of your walls he quickly kissed you. shushing your sobs as he pressed himself so deep into you.

“go ahead, angel. make a mess for me.” those were the last words you heard before your ears began to ring. your body jerking and shaking between jungwon's arms as he fucked you through your orgasm, his hand that was rubbing against your clit switched to landing slaps against your wet pussy. the sensations of his tip pressed against cervix, the slaps sending jolts of electricity throughout your body while he continued to bite on your lower lip were so fucking overwhelming.

he was everywhere. you felt him everywhere, taking over your body, your soul, your mind and senses all at the same time. driving you into absolute insanity as he tightened his hold on you when you tried to push him away, slowly beginning to feel the dizzying pleasure of being intoxicated. completely high on elation and pleasure.

“j-jungwon— p-please stop-”you stuttered against him, eyes rolling into the back of your head when jungwon only kept increasing his pace, seemingly chasing his own high now. desperation evident in all of his movements as he started to act and move on pure instinct. dazed and completely out of it as he wanted nothing more than the tight coil in his abdomen to snap. his climax to finally wash over him and for him to fill you up with his seed entirely.

“i can't— fuck. i need to fill you up so badly, doll. i need you.” he whimpered against your neck, thrusts turning sloppy and uncoordinated as his cock twitched uncontrollably in your wet walls that milked and sucked him for all his worth. your fingers tightened around the sheets as you felt intense waves of pleasure cascade down your body, unable to differentiate in whether you're cumming again or you're being overstimulated. everything felt so good. everything felt too good. too overwhelming.

broken sobs and choked whispers of his name were all what your throat could produce right now. being fucked into a subspace that made you felt like you were floating and drifting through cloud nine. you felt so unbelievably good with the way jungwon kept his tip pressed so harshly against your bruised cervix, goosebumps aligning your skin as you finally felt jungwon reach the edge of his pleasure before diving in.

a broken chain of fuckfuckfuck made its way past the echoing sound of your heartbeat in your ear. you could process the way he filled you up so well. painting your walls white with his warm load, keeping himself pressed so close to you as his shaky hands tried to keep your twitching leg open, both of you reaching such an unbelievable level of delirium that left your heads aching in pleasure.

jungwon's swollen lips returned to pressing against your shoulder, his hand gently and carefully lowering your leg before wrapping around your waist. he looked over at you, taking in the heavenly sight of your fucked out expression. a sheen layer of sweat making you glow so brightly in his eyes.

his body was so fatigued after reaching the peak of his euphoria, the pleasure and satisfaction running through both of your veins as you laid in each other's embrace to catch your breaths. your eyes remained closed, still feeling the throbbing of his cock inside of you that made you moan his name out breathlessly.

“you alright, doll?” he chuckled softly, hand lifting up to tenderly caress your cheek, cooing when you moved your face closer to his touch, “mhm” you quietly hummed in reassurance, the waves of slumber descending down onto your quickly as you held him close to you.

your boyfriend quickly shifted your positions, turning you around gently after pulling out, he smiled endearingly when you whined at the loss of his length in you, quickly peppering you with kisses as he pushed your face into the crook of his neck just how he knew you liked it. he swiftly pushed himself back inside of you, holding you close when you murmured in satisfaction and content again, eyes shut tightly as you began to slowly drift off to a deep sleep.

“sleep well, doll.” with one final kiss to your head, you both fell into a much needed sleep.

a,note. reposted cuz i love nia ♡ + this wasn’t proofread !

[stark-ironman]

pretty please im begging for dry humping with logan

Desperate

18+ No Minors

A/N: oh look, I finally wrote another one for Logan. Remember you can send in requests for Hugh and Logan!

Warnings: dry humping, cussing, mentions of killing Wade.

"Come with me."

Those three words are the reason you're laying with Logan on his bed, making out. He had a particularly bad day, his mission didn't go too well and Wade being his usual self didn't help Logan's temper at all.. which is why Wade is nursing a baby arm at the moment.

Logan didn't even bother to change out of his Wolverine outfit because that's how pissed off he was but you didn't mind, luckily you loved seeing him in it and it turned you on more than anything in the world. He made sure to take your shorts off though, leaving you in just your shirt and panties.

He grips your hips tightly, grinding them against his own growing erection, swallowing your moans down as he kisses you with so much anger, passion, and everything else he's feeling.

"Lo.. come on. Take the suit off and fuck me." You lightly beg. "Not yet.. I want you to cum all over this suit so I can smell it every single fucking time I have to go on a mission with Wade so I don't fucking kill him." He growls, running a hand under your shirt and groping one of your breasts.

The friction from his pants against you makes your eyes roll in the back of your head, kissing him again as you speed your movements. "There you go, princess. Grind against my fucking dick, let me watch you come undone on my pants so everyone knows you belong to me." He spits, wrapping his hand around your throat.

"You're mine too, Lo..." You moan out. "Nobody can ever take me from you. I'll kill anybody who dares to lay so much a fucking hair on you and that includes that bastard in the next room." You chuckle as you hear Wade say something in the next room.

Logan flips you over, pressing his erection back onto your clothed pussy, grinding hard and fast against it. You grip his shoulders, arching your back as your release starts to hit. Your breath quickens, looking at Logan with pleading eyes.

"I'm not stopping until you're fucking squirting all in them pretty little panties." He growls again, pressing straight into your clit and causing you to scream out, seeing stars from the pleasure and sensitivity he is causing with his hard but calculated movements.

Another orgasm quickly shoots through your body and you feel your release leaving your body. He grunts in your ear, biting down on the nape in your neck as he releases all in his suit.

Logan relaxes against you, letting you wrap your arms around him. "Feel better, Lo?" You ask, kissing the top of his head. "Yeah! Peanut, are you feeling better now? Because if so I have a raging bo-" Logan cuts off Wade by punching the wall.

"We need to get our own place, fast." He says laying back on you.

[fulltacs]

fuck it. free the blocklist.

tw for ableism, death threats, cw for general rage-inducing behavior

this is not exhaustive, this is a starting point. BLOCK these people, do not interact.

- literally anyone who interacts with @/ladygoth at this point. I don’t doubt that she and her friends are responsible for at least half of the hate anons received by darkfic writers

- as for the people who were “protecting” codslut/Myka… they’ve all been in my notifs liking my update post and un-liking sheheals post and deleting anything they might’ve said on the situation. yay, I guess. I may have unblocked you, but the other nosy people following everything certainly didn’t.

- on a related note, anyone who goes by “Myka” or “Hannah” gets blocked ON SIGHT (half-joking). I don’t care if that’s your name (please don’t put your real name on the internet) you better make up a new one 😤

- /bookobsessedram, /mothymunson, @starry-eyedblog , /ghostsbimbo, @ghostlywhiskey and @ghostly-whiskey, /angelofacidx, and @ladyxtiger were all involved in being assholes in the discord as seen here. not pictured: /bjornthebearguy and someone going by “spiders” in the server (not to be confused with /notspiders, my bad). and i’m sorely disappointed in /bunnyreaper, as mod, for letting them continue to chase people off, even though it had been brought to their attention before.

AND ESPECIALLY @simonrillleyyysss and @simonrillleyyyysss2 and @joostyklein (all their known alts). As a matter of fact, fuck everyone who’s friends with them (including /konigsblog). Jordi, G***, whatever the fuck you’re going by, I am so fucking sick of seeing your name in my DMs. So many people messaged me to say it was you and your gang’s hateful behavior that drove them away from the fandom, and I can vouch for some of them because I was there the whole time. What the fuck is wrong with you guys. I have a hard time believing your apology means ANYTHING when you used the discord to lead a brigade on Bo back in January, and CLEARLY HAVEN’T STOPPED being an asshole since then (“I still don’t like soapskneebrace either way”). Bo and Madi were not your only victims, again, there were quite a few others who came forward. You bullied anyone who disagreed with you and at the end of the day you only care about your follower count.

The craziest part is that most of the people we watched you bully are open about their autism diagnosis. And this was just a casual observation I made, not even an accusation, but five minutes later you make your first-ever very casual not-at-all-sus claim of having autism.

do you think we were born fucking yesterday. Trying to get ahead of ableism accusations by suddenly claiming to be autistic, even if true, is not gonna have the effect you thought it would, cause I wasn’t the only person who clocked that as WEIRD. (Internalized ableism is still ableism, btw.)

Just shut the fuck up. For once. It’s THAT SIMPLE. Leave everyone alone. Make your little posts without feeling the need to be assholes to other people.

Fun fact: I have received no death or rape threats in my anon mail, and maybe that’s because I’m not a very big blog. Or maybe it’s cause I know what all your fucking faces look like (hello, internet safety where?). I said fuck all y’all yesterday and I stand by that. Hopefully your time here is met with the same amount of love you’ve shown your peers.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day sixteen: femdom kink

>>> listen my toxic trait is writing a five thousand word naoya fic and using it as textual evidence that i could fix him! also pretty sure this is my first time writing dom reader and it is for the most peggable man alive. this is for the sick and depraved bitches like me <3

>>> starring: naoya zen'in x curvy!f!DOM!reader >>> cw: femdom obviously, misogyny, degradation, coercion, bondage, pegging, cowgirl, creampie, breeding, gojo is hilarious, this cures naoya! >>> wc: 5.1k >>> event masterlist

he watches you for a while. he had heard about you, and was naturally disgusted and in denial. you weren’t even from a big clan, and you’re a woman—there’s no way you were as powerful as they say. you were even on his father’s radar, he’s overheard many conversations about your promotion to special grade and how it was done much too late. you even had his father fooled. what was so hard to understand? women had no place in jujutsu sorcery. women are good for reproducing heirs–having a powerful technique only helps in that effort. in his clan, their women stay home and take care of the children and their husbands like they’re supposed to, and that’s why there wasn’t any impressive females in the work. until you came along, second only to satoru gojo, or so they say. he just had to see for himself what all the fuss was about. 

naoya leaves the zen’in compound to take a brief break from the hei. your name comes to mind, and he seethes with rage at his brain’s reminder of your heralding. how had you risen so far without a humbling? he planned to fight you himself and put you in your place since no one else was willing to do it. he knew you kept close to gojo based off of your mission reports and the way people spoke about you two. everyone assumed you would marry him someday, but naoya was also looking for a bride. perhaps he could show you his power and prove your uselessness simultaneously, if you were pretty enough. that may not even matter if satoru gojo likes you. he would do anything to knock him down a peg too, and taking his preferred spouse would be a great start. 

finding you was easy enough, as he thought it would be. you continued to field missions on your own, but if you were in between them, you were helping out around tokyo’s sorcerer school. he watches you now, sparring with a student. he folds his arms over his chest and sits down on the steps furthest away from the scene. you move with grace and fluidity, outmaneuvering the male student you were fighting, and your grin was clear to see. 

“kusakabe—quicker!” you chide, sweeping his feet out from under him suddenly, pointing your bo staff under his chin. the first year boy chuckles beneath you and shakes his head. 

“damn sensei–i’m learning, take it easy!” he huffs, getting to his feet. 

  “this is me taking it easy—i’m not even using my technique, kid.” you sigh and roll your eyes, stabbing your staff into the ground next to you. “get outta my sight. next?” the other two first years shake their head, having seen enough for one day. “no takers? go find gojo.” you jut your chin in dismissal, watching the group as they trickle inside the school. 

naoya waits until they’re gone. you feel his energy as he comes closer, but you pretend not to. what could naoya zen’in possibly be at jujutsu tech for? you’ve heard plenty about him, and none of it has been good. you imagine this had something to do with his one sided tension with gojo, and that idea humored you enough to ignore his presence in hopes he aggravated your friend some more. but he calls your name instead, and you hesitantly turn to face him. 

he smirks with shallow satisfaction upon further inspection of you. yes, it is easy to see why gojo must be fond of you. you have a pretty face, doe-like eyes and full cheeks, soft cheekbones and jaw, full lips and long eyelashes. yes, you are very beautiful in just your face alone, but he does note the hourglass shape of your figure. your full chest is restrained by that ugly school uniform you wear, but it can’t hide it. your hips are perfect for birthing heirs, and you are strong enough in foundation to handle several of them, he thinks. 

“can i help you?”  you arch your brow, cocking your hip out impatiently. he was busy drooling, and you wonder if naoya has ever seen a woman before. “would you like a picture?” 

your voice brings him back to the matters at hand. he looks unamused, “unfortunately i’m not another one of your adoring fans.” 

“really? could have fooled me. what do you need then?” you tease, tilting your head to the side in confusion. you don’t fool him though, he can hear that matronly tone to your voice. look at you, already trying to cater to his needs. 

“i want to fight you. and then i want to marry you.” he states confidently, mirroring your tilted head out of amusement, though it’s you that starts laughing. his brows furrow in response. 

“are you being serious?” you titter, covering your shocked mouth with your hand. “such an interesting proposal, traditionally men court their potential brides.” you tease him again, now poking at the nature of his clan. but you don’t say no, and that interests him more than the attitude he’ll quickly put into place. 

“you’re far too boisterous for a woman. i’ll beat you, and then i’ll take you as my wife.” he explains simply, tucking his hands into the pockets of his robe. you’re entertained grin doesn’t falter, and he’s astounded by you. most women flounder and argue with him or they stick their noses in the air and just ignore him, but you…you were nodding. 

“deal. and when i beat you, i’ll take you as my husband.” you smirk, knowing exactly how to put this over idealistic man in his place, which just so happened to be under your control. 

“what?” he sneers, confusion evident. why on earth would you make the stakes the same even if you won? 

you shrug a little and examine him the same way he looked over you. he was tall and handsome, a bit more muscle bound than gojo with feline features. having a zen’in would be nice too, you think, smiling to yourself. “you’re a sexy little thing, i wouldn’t mind making you my husband.” you shrug, securing your hair. he was no first-year kusakabe, you knew you’d need your technique on him. 

he can feel heat sting at his face when you say that, having assumed he would need to try much harder to earn the fight and your agreement to marry him. you’re attracted to him already? 

“you gonna fight or you gonna stand there and catch flies?” you hum, cursed technique active already. you know his, but he does not know yours. he snaps back into it, feeling weirdly competitive not only in showing off his power and the value he would have as a mate, but to beat your peacocking. 

he huffs, rolling his eyes at you and jumping into action, clearly waiting on you to attack. you’ll bite, knowing he doesn’t understand the scope of your abilities. you throw your left hand out to release millions of threads. your cursed threads are so tiny they’re almost unnoticeable, and he thinks you’ve walked right into his trap. he uses his technique to phase out of your way, but not before you toss your right hand out and catch him in your webs. you smile, wrapping him up in the spider-like spins like an ant about to be eaten by the black widow. 

“looks like this fight is over, husband!” you cheer, crediting your extensive knowledge on his technique as the winning edge. had the fight been more even, perhaps it would have lasted longer. he looks down at you with a mixture of shock, disgust and…arousal? 

“when will we have the wedding?” you hum, tapping your chin in mock-thought. “i’m thinking the end of the month should give you plenty of time?” you grin, watching him squirm against your threads. you release your technique to spare him some pride. “assuming our deal is still on?” 

he has to have your power for his children. as he’s said before, the sin of the insignificant is the ignorance of true strength, and while he may not be quick to accept his defeat, he’s able to move into the vein of the potential you would bring him as a spouse. you would never fight again, you would never need to, but truly he had never seen someone like you before—male or female. embarrassment settles over his features, and he’ll make it a point to control your mouthiness after this wedding. 

“the end of the month will do. come to the estate by noon.” he looks over your cocky disposition and nearly seethes again, but the bigger picture is clear–so he has to put these feelings of confusion and shame aside for now, so he can reach his goals. 

you chuckle fondly. “i’d like to be married here, i think. i was the winner, no?” your cunning smirk makes his eyes narrow as he agrees. 

“fine.” he dismisses with an eye roll, leaving jujutsu tech’s school grounds with his mind a jumbled mess. you were everything he hates. a loud-mouthed woman who thinks she’s powerful enough to play with the big dogs. but… it seems you can. it isn’t all talk, you are extremely powerful…and you beat him. and he doesn’t hate that you did. in fact, watching you handle him without a sweat made him wonder if even toji would be able to handle you. what did that mean for him all of a sudden?

the wedding is lovely given the time constraints the planning was under, even though the guests in attendance are very confused and unapproving. kusakabe even approaches to make sure gojo didn’t dare you to do this. the zen’in clan comes in limited numbers, though they seem pleased with his ‘choice’ in bride. satoru walks you down the aisle—something he begged to do simply for the pleasure of putting your hand in naoya’s and leaning in to his ear to whisper. 

“good luck. you asked for this, remember that.” he chuckles, clapping him on his back before returning to his seat. naoya thinks about his words for the rest of the ceremony, even when he gets distracted by your perky chest and bright smile. he wonders just what he’s in for as you drag him along with you, his pride commanding him to straighten up and get it together as he makes it a point to match your pace. you chuckle at his neediness, and that won’t be the last time you do so. 

“so husband. did you enjoy your wedding?” you ask, walking him towards your residence only a mile or so away. he chuffs at your eagerness, the conflicting feelings in his gut telling him to be as petty as possible. he turns his head to the side and shrugs. 

“it was a wedding.” he says in non-answer, very immersed in the details of the trees all of a sudden. you hum, still holding his hand firmly. 

“aw, don’t be shy now, it’s just us!” you cheer, veering down a path that would take you towards your house. “personally, i enjoyed it. you look very handsome.” you practically coo, and his heart jumps at your tone. god this was insufferable. but he loves it. 

“it was..nice. zen’in’s would have done it bigger.” 

“and did you want it to be bigger?” you respond, and the sincerity in your question makes him wonder what he does actually want and like. he has always had everything except a connection, and maybe that was his own doing, a product of his environment—but still. you made him think. and after a few precious moments of silence reflecting on it, he doesn’t think he would have liked the ceremony his clan typically performs, nor everyone being there. he doesn’t much care for any one of them at all, so why would he have them at his wedding?

“actually. no.”  he squares his shoulders and straightens his back, seeing a humble little house come into view. “is this..?”

“my house. welcome home.” you smile and push the door open for him. he furrows his brows and cocks his jaw in confusion. “what? you’re my house husband now. close your mouth, sweetheart.” you hum, leaning over and physically shutting his mouth for him. 

“house husband?!” he erupts, his face turning bright red as you drag him into the house. why doesn’t he just fight you back, stop you? is it because he knows he can’t win? that realization alone makes him yank his hand out of your grip and stop in his tracks. you bat your eyes at him expectantly, knowing you had a little brat on your hands. 

“mhm,” you nod, a little grin tugging at your lips. you step closer, balancing your arms on his shoulders and playing with your fingers where they connect. “i made you my husband, silly boy. so i’ll keep running missions and you’ll shut up and do what i tell you to.” you tilt your head to one side, admiring the surprise and rage glimmering in his sharp brown eyes. “doesn’t that sound good?” 

you bring your hands back to his slender shoulders, trailing the touch to his pecs. he opens his mouth to speak, absolutely stunned. never in his entire life had anyone, male or female, ever spoken to him with such brazenness. his cheeks warm with color. no way he was enjoying this. is this what it felt like to be…submissive? his eyes narrow at you in the confusion, but he only sees that same angelic face and divine body, and he doesn’t think he can argue with the notion that obeying you might have its upsides. 

“and right now, i want you to follow me. time for the house tour!” you clap enthusiastically and tilt your head for him to follow you. he does, until he notices you’ve stopped by the bathroom. you lean against the doorway and gesture to the room. “the bathroom of course. you’ll clean this on mondays, should be pretty clean already. i have good hygiene.” 

his eyes widened a little bit once more. you were deadly serious, meaning for him to clean the house while you continued your job as a sorcerer. you move onto the kitchen with a smug grin. his feet move a little more reluctantly this time. you open the cabinet with all the cleaning supplies. “the kitchen should really stay clean. i’ll help you learn—i’m not heartless.” you chuckle to yourself as he folds his arms across his chest. 

you’re worse than heartless. you have to be the devil herself with all of this. you’re a siren at the least, so beautiful he really hadn’t processed all you were demanding of him until now, and he huffs and rolls his eyes at your remark. you smile sweetly still, unphased. 

“you just need a little time to get used to it, is all.” you hum, walking off towards your bedroom. you flip the lights on and make for your bed. he watches you take a seat, the short kimono you wore riding up your delicious thighs at the action. he was losing the plot, he just needed to take control. all women are submissive in the bedroom. “this of course is my room. if you’re a good boy you’ll get to sleep in here with me.” you titter, scrunching your nose at your own humor. 

“you forget yourself, woman. i’ll be the head of the zen’in clan in just a few years.” he scoffs, looking over your seductive positioning with a nod of approval. he enjoyed your attitude, he thinks, he’s sure it will make your sweet cries of his name that much more memorable. 

“the only one forgetting their place is you, husband.” you cross your arms over your chest, that arrogant smile still mocking him. “you can still be their little head as long as you keep my house clean and my bed warm.” 

oh that does it. you’re so patronizing, so demeaning—he stomps over to you, reaching to grab your face. you allow it for entertainment’s sake, looking up at him with big doe-eyes that almost made him forget why he was angry in the first place. but that smirk reappears, and he squeezes your face in frustration. “i’m not cleaning shit. you’re my bitch. you should be honored to be my wife. take your clothes off and shut your mouth.” he releases his hold, waiting for you to obey. 

and to his amazement, you do. you stand up and remove your kimono, watching him the entire time. the fabric falls to the floor and naoya is drowning in your curves and the lusty look in your eyes. you smile at his reaction, eyes trailing to his still-clothed form. even in his haze he understands you, pushing his robes off and wrestling with the string holding his hakama in place. all the blood rushes to his cock as he processes that it worked—you were just giving him a hard time after all, and he’d get his way as always. 

as soon as he’s fully naked, your threads are tied around him again. his eyes widen at the sight of your silvery silken yarns circling his waist and pulling him to the bed. you stand, moving out of your own way as you smile sickeningly at him. 

“wh—what are you doing?” he blinks rapidly, unable to break free of the strong web you were spinning him into. you position him on his back, legs strapped to the mattress and hands tied together above his head. 

“what’s it look like, husband?” you ask innocently, crawling over him like a lioness stalking her prey. he can see the real devious desire in your eyes now, and he gulps. he should have known you wouldn’t give in that easily. “you look so much better like this, you know.” you hum, extending a hand to finger-walk over his abs. the slight touch makes him jump and his cheeks warm. 

“you’re evil.” he hisses, fighting his restraints if for no other reason than to not focus on your soft fingers brushing against his skin. you giggle at him. 

“hardly, babe.” you chuckle, admiring the slight panic and deep arousal in his eyes. “pretend you hate it all you want. i see through you.” you lick your teeth, grinning at his proud length standing tall before you. “your mouth ruins everything though.” you sigh, ghosting your fingernails over his thighs. the touch makes his cock jump this time. 

“what does that even mean?” he huffs, annoyed at how his body responds to your taunting. 

“means you’re sexy, strong, and have a huge dick.” you deadpan, eyeing the good seven inches he presents you, curved and pretty with a cute pink tip. “but your loud, arrogant, disrespectful mouth ruins it.” you further, fingertips dancing along the insides of his thighs. it’s annoying—just enough to stir butterflies in his stomach but not even close to providing pleasure. your hands are so close to his dick, you could just wrap your hand around him and make everything better. he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, too focused on your teasing to hear your words. you trace his hip bones, humming a little. it tickles in the way that he wants more, so he grunts his dissatisfaction. 

you take your hands off him completely, looking at him with a raised brow. he huffs, almost pouting as he looks at you. 

“what are you doing now?” he groans, yanking at his ties in an effort to get you to touch him again. it’s pathetic. you haven’t even really done anything, but his dick already hurts. 

“don’t complain or you won’t get touched at all, kay? you better learn how to put this pride away or you’ll stay wanting.” you threaten, and he knows from your track record that you’re all too serious. he opens his mouth to protest, but you touch him again and he snaps his jaw shut. now your fingers target his chest, feather-light strokes over his nipples or light scratches across his pecs as he’s left helpless, only able to watch your naked body torture his from between his legs. he didn’t know he was so sensitive, but as your touches grow heavier, his eyes fall shut from the pleasure of his stinging chest. 

you can’t tear your eyes away from his leaking slit. it’s starting to drool down his shaft, and you’re giddy from the high, thighs rubbing together at the sight of him unraveling. he’s trying to repress ragged breaths and pathetic moans, but your pinching and tweaking his nipples had him fighting every wave of enjoyment. he can’t help the raspy groan he lets out when you lean over to kiss him. 

it was too short. you sit right back up as soon as he sounds off, and his brow furrows again. “already told you, baby.” you tsk. “gotta get a handle on that mouth if you wanna get fucked tonight.” you hum, picking your words carefully. 

he nods, straightening up against the headboard as much as possible. he doesn’t care, your touch is driving him crazy. he needs relief, and at this point he would do anything to cum. “would you like that? for me to fuck you?” you ask, hands back to squeezing his biceps and shoulders. 

he nods drunkenly again, frowning as he feels you shift away from him. his head snaps over to watch you once he hears the sound of shuffling in your bedside table, mouth gaping as he sees you pull out a glittery pink dildo attached to a black strap. he nearly chokes. you giggle. 

“what, change your mind all a sudden?” he nods rapidly, focused on the size of it, not quite as long as his actual dick but considerably thicker. you tsk again and pilfer for the lube. “i thought you wanted to cum?” 

“i do!” he says with haste. “you just can’t use that on—”

“mkay.” you sigh, sitting back in your spot with the materials beside you. “i’ll ask again in ten minutes.” 

his face contorts at your nonchalance, but once again you keep him from back talking. your slender hand closes around his shaft and his breath is ripped from his chest. luckily, you don’t take that as a sound large enough to stop, your grip sending electricity through his body. his pre leaks onto your hand as you pump him, so you collect it with a few of your other fingers. he watches with parted lips and red cheeks, heart dropping when he realizes you were moving toward his ass. 

you rub your fingers around the puckered hole, slathering the surface with all the precum naoya had produced from your endless teasing. while your other hand slowly strokes his cock, your other experiments lower, a finger slipping into the tight ring. he whimpers at the feeling, tightening around your digit as you lock eyes. you grin, nodding encouragement. you didn’t want to be too nice—he didn’t deserve it, but it was better than starting from scratch if he started bitching. 

your pumps match the pace around his cock and he slowly loosens up for you. you stay focused, giving him another finger and milking the pre from his cock with the tight grip your hand had on him. his lip is nearly bleeding from how hard he bites into it, and you giggle. 

“just tell me when you’re ready for the strap, baby boy.” you hum, eyes a little frenzied from the state he was in. it was all too exciting to be the one to humble naoya zen’in, but you were growing a bit needy at the same time. “it’ll feel so good. you know that’s where your g spot is? bet you didn’t. you zen’in boys are always so uptight.” 

he blinks harshly, only mild protests even coming to mind as the hot sweat of need coats his body. he has to have more. your fingers already felt unreasonably good…but if what you said is true, he supposes there is a reason. his chest heaves as he argues with himself, feeling you shove a third finger in him convinces him to nod vigorously. 

“yes what, husband? i need words, i’m just a dumb bitch.” you snicker, lightly flicking his balls and giggling when he jumps. he grunts again, feline eyes sliding over to the toy on the bed. “g-go ahead..” 

you shake your head, withdrawing all touch. he feels so empty and frustrated he could cry. “better words. don’t you wanna cum?” 

“in you.” he replies, and you hum with a pleased little smile. 

“that can be arranged if you can learn how to beg like a good boy.” you squeeze his thigh, the only link he has to your warm hands that only make him dizzy for more. he narrows his eyes, knowing that you’re only punishing him for his treatment of you, but he hates how much he loves it. he hates how easy all the words you want to hear come to mind, but also he doesn’t at all. he’s insane with need and would jump off of a bridge if you told him to right now. 

“god, just fuck me already–please.” his voice shakes out before his eyes clench shut so he doesn’t have to see you laugh, but to his surprise, you growl a little bit. he opens his eyes, finding you adjusting the strap to fit your wide hips hastily. you fumble around with the lube, trying to see what he would look like taking you. you liked what he said, and he wanted to hear you make your own noises, so he keeps going. “you’re stupid gorgeous, the only person i’d ever let do this–” 

you can’t deny the ego boost that gives you as you direct the tip towards his hole. “it’s cold, i know. you’ll get used to it princess.” you giggle, shoving the tip in and pausing to let him adjust. “i’m so nice—could just give you all of it at once and tear this pretty ass up.” 

he tenses every muscle in his body, the foreign object stretching him open burned and stung, but the ball of heat in his stomach only grew as your hips gently rolled to ease more in and start a pace. he gradually relaxes, sounds of pleasure rolling out of his pouty lips. thankfully, you don’t stop. you brace your hands on his abs and watch his face screw up in enjoyment. 

“see? i told you that you’d like it.” you grunt, voice wavering from the force you’re using to plow into him. “cute little house husband, i think it’s what you were made for, baby.” you snicker, huffing at the way the fabric of the belt you’re wearing rubs up against your unattended clit. 

he can only offer a nod as a reply, this was like nothing he had ever experienced, mouth dropped and eyes blissfully closed. his cock still aches from the lack of attention, but it almost adds to the delight of your hips smacking his. you release the threads around his legs, shoving them to his chest and giggling at the esteemed naoya zen’in, your husband, beneath you in a mating press taking your glittery pink cock. he whimpers at the new angle, so deep he’s writhing against the sheets. 

it’s a gorgeous sound, his deep-but-posh voice reduced to breathy whimpers and moans, leaky cock making a mess out of both of you. “don’t get too boisterous, little bitch.” he moans louder, either from your nasty words or to defy you, and either way you drop his legs and slide out of his ass. he’s whimpering at the loss until he feels you grab his cock. his eyes fly open to watch you hover over him, plunging onto his length once you get the angle just right. his dick jumps immediately, your cunt too warm, wet, and tight for him to handle after all your bullying. he shudders and shakes his head. 

“what? embarrassed?” you say with a little whine to your commanding voice, adjusting to his impressive size sitting against your womb. you’re panting already, mostly from all your hard work—but the need to cum is fogging your brain too. you drop all the threads around his wrists except one, directing the hand to your swollen nerve bundle before you trap the other hand again. “then rub my pussy and make me cum with you.” 

you pick your ass up and drop down again, taking him so nice and deep each time he doesn’t even try to muffle the grunts and groans flowing from him. he follows your order, thumbing at your clit as you abuse his cock, waiting to feel the flutter of your pussy to tell him to bust. “don’t even think about it, bitch.” 

he chokes a bit, looking up at your knowing face. “can feel ya twitching. you’ll cum when i tell you to.” he nods, rubbing at you fervently. you are the goddess he thought you were, but you’re also the devil in disguise, and he’s so in love it's ridiculous, demeaning, and everything he deserves for never realizing the power that a woman could have over him—or period. 

“there we go, there’s hope for you after all.” you hum at his obedience, feeling the tension building in your cunt. he watches you closely, his face still overcome with satisfaction and bi-colored hair messily strewn about his forehead. he fills you up so nicely, and his complete surrender does more to you than his dick. “go ahead and fill me up, my good boy. see if i can give you an heir.” you chortle, abusing his desires for your own twisted game. he can’t live with that, the idea of impregnating you means more than before. he knows it’s the highest compliment he’ll get, and it’s because he knows your allowance means everything. he’s spurting before you can finish your sentence, but you don’t mind, following over the edge seconds later. he’s so pretty when he finishes, whimpering loud and watching your face for approval. your lips are parted and your eyes closed, but you nod anyway. you must feel him looking.  you open your eyes and smile softly, swinging your leg off of him and leaving him tied up while you get yourself all cleaned up. he’s mush, thoughts and heart racing as he waits patiently for you to come back with a warm towel to clean him up and release your webs. so unlike him, but he’s hardly angry—he’s wondering what you want him to clean tomorrow.

[bosinclairsgff]

kkkkk so I’m curious on what some of the slashers reactions to just PURE female rage would be. And not the normal just screaming fit one, like those ones that have extremely hard hitting insults and throwing and maybe hurting someone in that fit of rage >:) (pls do Bo or any of the Sinclairs if u do this ask lmao you can add all the other ones)

Slashers reacting to female rage

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Corey Cunningham, Otis Driftwood

Warnings: Cussing, violence

Corey Cunningham

- Corey Would not know how to handle this situation at all.

- At first he would try to calm you down but if that didn’t work he’d start to get angry.

- “It’s okay y/n, just try to calm down.”

- You just keep screaming and hitting his chest. When he lightly pushes you off of him you immediately start throwing things.

- He genuinely doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t understand what’s happening.

- Corey grabs you from behind and holds your arms down, you just continue to scream and sob.

- “Baby, it’s okay, I’m here, you’re okay baby.”

- He turns you around and cups your face, resting his forehead on yours. You just sob.

- Eventually you calm down and he still just holds you, letting you know it’s okay.

Bo Sinclair

- You were just so tired, tired of absolutely everything and everyone.

- He notices you starting to shake and get very quiet. When he goes to say something, you just start pushing everything off the table in front of you.

- Your screaming, crying and throwing everything in your way.

- Bo just stares in shock, he ha no clue what happened and what’s going on.

- “Y/n! What the fuck are ya doin!” He screams at you.

- He tries to grab you and you just immediately start thrashing out on him.

- Bo doesn’t take to this lightly and slaps you across the face, harshly. You fall to the floor, still sobbing.

- He crouches down to your level and pushes your hair out your face. “Are you calm now darlin, you can’t do that again.” Bo says to you.

Otis Driftwood

- Otis doesn’t take shit, even from you.

- If you started screaming at him and even punching him, he would hit you right back. And it would hurt.

- “You fucking bitch, I don’t know what’s up your ass tonight but you need to calm the fuck down.”

- That doesn’t stop you from pushing him off of you and starting to rip down the things on his walls, and throw anything you can get your hands on.

- That makes him absolutely livid.

- He tackles you to the floor and holds you down. Pinning your arms above your head with one of his hands.

- Otis holds you there until you start to chill out.

- “What the fuck is wrong with you. If you ever pull this shit again, I will knock your god damn teeth out.”

[gffa]

ABSOLUTELY UNWELL ABOUT THIS. This is Kalevala, this is House Kryze.  This is her family’s palace.  The one she left when she didn’t agree with her sister’s politics, the Duchess of Mandalore, Satine Kryze. But now Satine is dead, she’ll never walk those halls again.  Their parents are dead.  And the place is as empty as a tomb, only a lone droid keeping watch, who just lets Din pass by. Bo-Katan would have grown up in those halls, would have seen her parents on that throne, may even have seen her sister on that throne.  Now she’s here, lounging on it like she doesn’t have a care in the world, but everything about her screams of burning fury. She lashes out at Din, maybe there’s some truth that Mandalore were a fractured people, but it’s not Din’s fault, it’s not the Children of the Watch’s fault, it’s nobody but the Empire’s fault.  But she is consumed with her grief and her rage and her hurt, that she let every member of her family down, let her parents down, let her sister down, let her subjects down. Yes, they abandoned her, melted away, and she’s angry about that, but she’s angry that she failed them, too.  Yes, Din’s people weren’t there to help fight, but he’s just the one standing in front of her at this moment, prodding the aching bruises of her failure, so of course she lashes out at him. She’s surrounded herself with ghosts because that’s all she has left--and that place is full of ghosts and nothing else.  Not a single soul there besides the two of them and Bo-Katan could be anywhere in the galaxy, but she went home and sat amongst them, because every inch of that place, every secret room she knew as a child, every hallway, every window, would all be jagged edges cutting into her. “I wish I was good at something other than war.” “Your people need a new kind of leader.” “My sister tried that. I never understood her idealism.” Bo-Katan tried so damn hard to be a leader and it all crumbled to ash.  All she’s good at is war and death.

[thisonehere]

May you do anything with Lord Raiden pleeease? nsfw, sfw, angst, headcanons, ships oh my god, im will glad anything 😹 You’re the best!

Rain, Rain, Go Away

A/n: *slowly cranes my neck around to look at you*

Aaaanythingggg?

Plot: You stay at Raiden's place to wait out a storm, and things get st(cr)eamy.

C/w: smut, fluff reader gets scared, Lao tries to be a wingman (it goes as well as you think)

"It was a dark and stormy night." Raiden ominously says, flashlight casting shadow over his face. "Hm, How original." Kung Lao briskly jokes causing you to chuckle dryly at Raiden's attempt at a story. Raiden sighs defeatedly as he sits the flashlight beside him and slumps over. "Well, do you have any ideas?"

It was at some point late in the night. A thunder storm had caused all the electricity to go out so it was you three huddled together around a few candles, the light that warded off the darkness around you. You've been at Raiden's place many times, but seeing it at night, during a thunder storm with all the power off, it made you a little nervous.

The rain outside fell down on top of the roof giving a strangely soothing sound, which was the. Disturbed by occasional thunder claps. It got so bad that you were too scared to go out in that.

The darkness combined with the sto had scared you a lot. Embarrassing, you know, but you were just scared that you couldn't fall asleep. So Raiden insisted on you all staying up a little bit late until you felt comfortable going to sleep, much to Lao's protest. Yet here all were.

"Maybe, we could play a board game or something." You say, pulling out a lighter to light another candle. "Fine. Truth or dare." Lao asked, side eyeing you. At this, Raiden's head pops up and his eyes fall on you. "Lao, we both know you get carried away with this game." Raiden gave his friend the most stern looks he can give, but Lao just shrugs. "And when I do, I always get carried in the right direction too. So you two in?" You and Raiden look at each other for the answer. "Only if Y/n's okay with it." Raiden stares at you causing you to blush a little. Thankfully, it's hard to tell thanks to the candle light. "I-I'm okay with it."

"Great! Now, Raiden, I dare you to stand on your head." Lao looked over at Raiden with an exited grin. "Wait, aren't you supposed to ask us the truth or Dare first?" Kung Lao rolls his eyes in an cartoonishly exaggerated manner. "Fine, Truth or Dare? You pick dare? Good! I dare you to stand on your head. Happy now?" Raiden shakes his head as he and you stifle a laugh, you don't want to encourage him.

And the game went on as the storm raged harsher and harsher outside. Raiden had Lao to tell the truth, if he actually forgot his wallet or lied to get Raiden to pay Madame Bo. He did in fact lie. You asked Raiden to truthfully tell you if he has full control of his powers. He doesn't know how powerful he can get, but the amulet sometimes lets him send future messages to his past self, but he's not sure when he'd ever use it. Lao dared you admit who you thought was the hottest, with a sigh you gave a list of movie stars and singers you thought were pretty cute, including Johnny Cage. "And me, right?" "You're not a celebrity, Lao." This caused Lao to rear back and gasp to show that he's offended. "You don't consider me, the Great Kung Lao, descendant of the great Kun Lao, a celebrity? How could you, Y/n?"

"*Sigh* Alright, alright, I think you're pretty cute to Lao, Happy?" At this Lao, now satisfied, happily laid onto his back and rested his hands behind his head. "Very." You try to hold back a laugh as you roll your eyes. As you do, you can't help but notice that Raiden is staring at you hopefully, like he's wants you to say something to him. "I think you're pretty cute too, Raiden." You say, turning to him.

Raiden's eyes widen in shock and he avoids your gaze, it's hard to tell from the candle light, but you can swear that he's blushing. "Alright, it's mine turn again." Lao said as he sits back to face you both. "I dare you two to make out." He says, not showing a sign of hesitation or shame. This time, both of your eyes widen so big that it might even pop out. "What!?!" You gasp. Raiden shook his head in disbelief. You both couldn't believe what Lao just said, all you could do was stare at him dumbfounded.

"What? A dare is a dare. Or are you both...Chicken!" At this, Lao made a clucking sound to mock both of you. "By the Elder Gods." Raiden sighs as his face falls into his hands. You also sigh and look away from him. Even though you were still in shock at what Lao dared, you noticed your face was getting hot. You were blushing again. You looked over to Raiden, his face was covered, but you swore you could catch a hint of blush on his face.

The thought of kissing Raiden, no, making out with him, made you feel hot all over. You never did anything like that before, the same can be said about Raiden. You felt your lips tingle, you don't want to encourage Lao anymore, but you have had a crush on Raiden for the longest. Whenever you were around him you were reduced to a pile of giggling and blushing, you're surprised that you got this far being next to him. He has things about where his calm nature make you feel so safe and peaceful around him. Raiden's peaceful spirit was a strange contrast from Lao and all of the other people he was friends with.

"What? Are you really not going to do it? C'mon, the way you two have been looking at each other, I thought you'd jump at the chance." Raiden raised his head from his hands to look at Lao. "You always go too far, I knew this was a mistake." He said in a stern disapproving voice. "Yeah, And I don't even like Raiden like that." You quickly pip up defensively. You're lying of course, you don't understand your feelings for Raiden and why he made you feel so nervous.

Raiden looks over to you as you say this, there is a glimmer of hurt in his eyes. You immediately regret saying this. Lao raised his hands defeatedly. "Well, excuse me for trying to have some fun." You sighed and shocked your head in disbelief, hoping that neither of them how painted red it was with blush.

You all try to move on with the night, but things aren't the same now. Now, there is a tension between you and Raiden, worse than it was before. It's almost painful to watch, and Lao is sick of it.

"Where are you going?" Raiden asked as Lao grabs a candle and rises to his feet. "To bed. You two can feel free to carry on... whatever's going on between you." The idea of being alone with Raiden made you panic. You were already a blushing and nervous mess in front of him with Lao, fears of what you'd do, how you'd embarrass you, how you'd make Raiden like you less and other such thoughts rab through your head. You watch as Lao walks into the dark, the dim candle he held with him is swallowed while by the dark.

You and Raiden are officially alone.

It is here now that this story divides into two possibilities:

Possibility #1: You and Raiden confess your feelings for each other and cuddle *fluff*

Possibility #2: You and Raiden fuck *smut*

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Not Like This

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: angst, angst, angst, angst. if you're looking to feel better after chapter 23 this is not gonna do it. canon violence, mentions of blood and injury, threats of death.

word count: 1,368

summary: chapter 23 of the mandalorian happened, and you had a front row seat.

SPOILERS BELOW THIS CUT.

.

"when i can't sleep at night⏤ i stare at the empty side of my bed, and wonder about the things i would tell you, if you were lying next to me." ⏤A.S.

.

Not like this. Not like this. Not like this. Your heart was racing in your chest, and with every painful beat the words echoed through your skull. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The fingers wrapped around the back of your neck squeezed hard enough that you knew there would be bruises left in their wake⏤ you could feel his nails digging into your flesh⏤ but the pain wasn’t registering. Not yet. Not when fear and panic suffocated you in a haze the way it did. All you could feel was the heavy weight of Din’s gaze under his helmet. He was reassuring you. Din was restricted in whip cords, brought down to his knees by Imperials, weapons carelessly cast aside, and he was reassuring you in the familiar comfort of Mando’a. 

It’s going to be okay, cyar'ika.

No. No, it wasn’t. Moff Gideon’s laugh in your ear told you it wasn’t.

Don’t cry. We'll get out of this.

Were you crying? You couldn’t even tell⏤ you were numb and frozen in shock. This couldn’t be happening.

You’re going to fine. I swear it, cyar'ika. I won’t let them hurt you.

You didn’t care. Your own safety was dangerously low on your list of priorities. If it meant Din got to walk away safely you’d do anything. Literally anything. 

Listen to him. It’s alright. Just do it. He’s going to hurt you if you don’t.

No. You couldn’t. Not like this. Din and you had been side by side for years now. Partners in every aspect. It started with bounty hunting. Then, when Grogu came into the picture it turned into running from the Empire. Searching for the child’s home. The nature of your jobs continued to change and alter, but the love between you both had never faltered. It grew and grew and grew until it could be contained no longer. For three years you had been his partner in crime, but only for the last six months had you been his lover. 

“Take his helmet off. Now.” Moff Gideon growled low in your ear. Seething in rage at how long this was taking, but not enough to just walk away or do it himself. The bastard knew the weight of this and you knew it was why he wanted you to be the one to break Din’s creed in such a violent manner.

You shook your head again⏤ hands curled into tight fists at your side. No one took the Creed more seriously than Din, but you were a close second. It became a habit for you, living with him, and keeping your eyes away from him in moments when he needed to shed the helmet. Even when he removed it for Grogu, you averted your gaze. Din asked once why you hadn’t just looked when you had a chance, and you told him it was because you respected his beliefs and you wanted to do it right. 

And, Din said you would. He swore that when the fight was done, when he finished helping Bo Katan reclaim Mandalore, all three of you would settle. Din would find a safe place for you, him, and Grogu. A place where you could share vows then remove his helmet, creed intact. Somewhere quiet and warm. Somewhere he didn’t have to wear an ounce of beskar on his skin and you could spend the entire night memorizing every detail of him. You had spent countless nights dreaming of that soft moment to come.

Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.

Moff Gideon, impatient and eager for his enemies’ downfall, lifted his hand from the back of your neck to tangle in your hair then he yanked your head back. A cry of pain tore through you as Din lashed out in anger⏤ trying to loosen the Imperials’ hold.

“Take his helmet off or I slit his throat and let his blood pool at your feet.”

He shoved you forward, hand falling away from you, and a sob left your lips. Trembling violently, your hands reached out to settle on either side of the silver beskar helmet you associated with adoration. You loved this man, yet here you were about to forcefully tear a piece of him away.

“It’s alright.” Din whispered. His hoarse, modulated voice making you cry harder. “Do it. It’s not your fault. I want you to do this.” Your bottom lip quivered and you bit down on it hard enough to draw blood. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika.”

With a sharp breath, you lifted his helmet and squeezed your eyes shut. Maybe he wouldn’t notice that you weren’t looking. Moff Gideon could make you break Din’s creed, and maybe keeping your eyes shut now was more a nuance than anything else, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Even when the logical voice at the back of your mind told you that Din could redeem himself once more⏤ if the two of you just got out of this alive it would be alright⏤ you couldn’t do it. Redemption or not, this moment would be gone. You couldn’t unsee his face. An Imperial barked out a sound, and Moff Gideon’s hands were on you once more.

“Don’t touch her!” Din yelled.

Moff Gideon strangled you now, his hand wrapped around the front tight enough to steal your breath, “One last choice, you stupid, stubborn girl. Open your eyes and look at the once Mandalorian or I’ll make sure you never see anything again.”

“Look at me. Look at me!” Din roared, you could hear him struggling against his captors again. “Cyar’ika, please. Please look at me.” He pleaded⏤ begged. “Open your eyes for me, please.”

Broken at the anguish in his voice, you opened your eyes and Moff Gideon made sure you faced your Mandalorian. And, there he was. The man you loved. Sweat made strands of his brown hair cling to his forehead while the rest sat a mess on top of his head from where you pulled his helmet off. Scruff along his jaw that you had felt, but never seen. And his eyes⏤ Din’s eyes were the softest shade of brown and the emotions that swirled in his gaze was enough to knock the wind from you. Panic, fear, anger, anguish, but there was also love. So much love and adoration that it made another sob slip from your lips. You wanted to touch him⏤ to tell him how beautiful he was while your fingers traced every line of his face. 

Your hand lifted to him, but you were suddenly yanked back so he was just out of reach.

“Take him to the debriefing room.” Moff Gideon commanded and the Imperials began to drag him away. You screamed out to Din, trying to lunge toward him, but Moff Gideon kept a tight grip on your arm locking you in place. In all your focus on watching Din get dragged away, you hadn’t noticed a weapon being drawn⏤ not until the vibroblade pierced your side.

“No!” Din’s scream seemed to rattle the room. You collapsed and clutched your side to try and stem the bleeding that would not stop. It gushed through your fingers painting your clothes and the floor red. Din was thrashing in the arms of the Imperials who carried him off and the last look on Din’s face that you got to see was blinding rage. Then he was out of sight.

You laid your head on the ground⏤ eyes growing heavy. Moff Gideon was addressing the other Mandalorians trapped behind the doors, but sound was slipping away and all you could focus on was the silver beskar helmet lying discarded on the floor beside you. The t-shape visor stared back at you almost mockingly. This was nearly how your day started. Lying on a too small cot with Din pressed to your side in full armor. Soft snores escaping from his modulator while you stared at your reflection in the visor and imagined the day you’d get to fall asleep next to him sans beskar.

Not like this. Not like this.

Blaster fire filled the air and you let your eyes drift close.

Not like this.

[next part]

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Need

AN: This was born from my desire to have Hyunjin put his fingers in my mouth, my overall hand kink, and my general down badness for Hyunjin. I was working on another Stray Kids fic but, it got too frustrating so I had to take a step back. I decided to tackle other fics in my drafts in the meantime.

Synopsis: Your boyfriend looks particularly handsome tonight. It doesn't help that he's been running his fingers along his lips and fiddling with his hands in ways that are far too appealing.

Heads up: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, pwp, established relationship, dirty talk, slight praise kink, fingering (f. receiving) and Hyunjin makes Reader suck on his fingers post fingering.

Word count: 718

I will block you if you are minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Normally, you're better at keeping your desires under control.

However, Hyunjin had been distracting you all night with his stupidly handsome face and equally as pretty fingers. Thinking back, you doubted you were subtle throughout the evening but, as you two kiss fiercely against his bedroom door, you can't find it in you to care now.

The party rages on outside of his room as you guide one of his hands to the bottom of your dress, leaving no room for questioning what you pulled him aside for.

Your thighs part for him instantaneously as his hand makes its way up towards your pussy. He groans against your mouth when his fingers make contact with the wet material of your panties.

"Fuck, I knew you wanted me but, you're already so wet," he mutters when he pulls back for air, his eyes lidded with want and surprise.

"It's not my fault you were being so hot all night," you respond breathlessly, hips pressing against his fingers in search of more friction. Nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt.

"I was being hot?" Your boyfriend asks bemused, applying more pressure as he strokes you through your likely ruined panties. Ensuring he pays special attention to your clit. You're always so cute when you get all needy like this.

"Ye-Yeah, so h-hot. You're always h-hot," you manage to breathe out, eyes fluttering at every electrifying stroke of your clit. You were so high strung that it probably wouldn't take all that much for Hyunjin to make you fall apart on his hand.

"Aw baby, I'm flattered," he coos, pulling you into another frenzied kiss while he pushes your panties aside to touch you directly.

Your reaction is instant.

Whining into his mouth as his fingers lightly run along your wet folds. His half-hard cock pressing against your thigh as he groans when he realises just how wet you are.

"Fuck," he mutters against your lips, sinking two fingers into you while his thumb rubs circles against your swollen clit.

All you can do is lean against the door for support and grip his shoulders for dear life at the intrusion. His long fingers curling in ways that already have you seeing stars and the harsh circles on your clit making your legs shake. More of your arousal leaking onto his hand all the while.

"Hyun-Hyunjin- please- I'm-," you're not entirely sure what you're begging for but, Hyunjin seems to understand you just fine. What little self-restraint he had snapping in an instant as he fucks you harder on his hand and, litters your throat with licks and kisses and nips.

One of your hands attempts to reach up to your unoccupied mouth to try and muffle your moans but, he stops you instantly. Usually warm eyes now lidded with want and a tinge of something more dangerous.

"I want to hear you," he says, eyes boring into yours while he brings you closer and closer to release. Intently taking in all your facial expressions and sounds. The obscene noises of your wetness only spurring him on further.

With a strangled cry of his name and your nails biting into his shoulder, you cum on his ridiculously pretty fingers. Your eyes are shut as shudders and tremors render your body immobile for a few moments but, you're sure you can faintly hear Hyunjin saying something. You're too far gone to make out what it is, however.

"You did so good," he praises after giving you a soft kiss. Slowly pulling his fingers from your still slightly spasming walls and your legs quake at the movement.

"Thank you," you say weakly once you remember how to speak and his eyes flash briefly before he presses a more searing kiss to your likely bruised lips.

"If you keep being so cute, I might have to fuck you," he says and, you're not sure if that's a threat or a promise. Before you can respond, however, his glistening fingers tap on your bottom lip. Without much prompting, you take them into your mouth. Hyunjin's plush lips part as he watches you lick his fingers clean. A quiet moan leaving said lips when you slightly gag from taking them too deep too fast.

Looks like he's going to have to fuck you after all.

[soapyghostie]

Hi there 👀

Can I have Thomas Hewitt, Lester Sinclair and Jason Voorhees with Male S/O who gets tense/irritated and angry easily? For example, someone is talking too much and male s/o gets so tense, his body is hard as a rock and he starts breathing heavily.

Hey! Hope you like it!

Thomas Hewitt

Honestly, for once, Hoyt is actually scared of someone. He doesn’t even try to bother messing with Thomas anymore ever since you showed up. Hoyt likes to push people’s buttons all the time, however when he did it to you, he got sucker punched in the jaw and was out like a light. Yeah! That’s what you get for calling Tommy a worthless piece of shit! 

Whenever Thomas sees you starting to get angry, he’ll take you somewhere secluded away from the family and make you take deep, calming breaths. He doesn’t want you to get so blinded by rage that you hurt any other of his family members. 

He’ll make you help him with his chores. You can’t get angry if your mind is busy with something else, right? Thomas has a short temper too and keeping busy helps him stay calm. You don’t have time to worry about stuff that bothers you when there are things to be done. 

Well, apparently chores didn’t work. Yeesh! Thomas thought his temper was bad, but yours is definitely worse. You seriously get angry over the smallest things. It irritates him how easily angered you get. Yes, he’ll be your personal punching bag all you want, but you also become dangerous to the rest of his family. 

He sits you down and you guys identify your triggers. He even suggests you go seek a professional to help you manage your anger. Thomas even gets Hoyt to agree to letting you see a counselor in the next town over. He just doesn’t want to get uppercutted to outer space again. 

Lester Sinclair

Bo doesn’t mess with you or make fun of Lester anymore. When he first got introduced to you as Lester’s boyfriend, he shamed Lester for being gay right in front of your face. You got so angry and Bo could tell too; he could see how tense your muscles were and how tightly you balled up your fists. He was about to tease you when…. WHACK! You gave Bo the blackest black eye no one has ever seen before. Let’s just say that black eye took weeks to heal. 

When Lester starts seeing you get angry, he tells you to hop in his truck and takes you for a joy ride! Yay! Fun! 😃 You guys like to drive to a lake not far from Ambrose. Nature is pretty calming so Lester hopes you’ll find a sense of mind while fishing the lake. 

Your anger gets the best of you around tourists, especially when they make a rude comment to or about Lester. Lester is pretty used to rude comments: it normally doesn’t bother him. However, this one time you and him were taking some tourists to Ambrose when one of them made an awful comment that actually upset Lester. You didn’t hesitate. You threw yourself into the backseat and strangled him: you ended up killing him.

Bo and Vincent had to confront Lester about your temper because it was ruining their scheme. You killing tourists before they even stepped foot in Ambrose would put them on the map for the police to start investigating and they didn’t want that. Bo told Lester if he didn’t get you under control that Vincent would turn you into a wax figure. 

That sent Lester in a panic. He sat with you and talked about your temper. You agreed to go see a counselor to learn to control your anger. Lester takes you every week to the next town over for your counseling sessions and you guys even get ice cream afterwards. 🙂

Jason Voorhees

When Jason first came across your short temper, you guys weren’t even dating yet. In fact, you guys didn’t even know each other at all. You and your friends were all sitting around a campfire on the Crystal Lake property, Jason stalking you guys from in the woods afar. One of your friends decided to tell the tragic story of the Voorhees. During the story, one of your other friends made a nasty comment on Jason’s face and you exploded in their face. 

Flash forward, Jason is pretty aware of your temper and knows every single thing that triggers it. He does everything he can to avoid your temper. All he wants is to not be yelled at. It makes him sad so please don’t yell at him. He’s a sweet boy. 🥺 

Your anger drives you to kill. Everytime you overhear someone talk bad about Jason, you tense up. You're just so blinded by rage that someone would say such awful things about your Jason. He didn’t even do anything wrong to them… yet. Hey! Is that an ax in the tree stump? Dead. After that, you continuously stomp on their head. Jason has to pull you away from the corpse and make you do your breathing exercises.

When he sees you getting angry, he’ll take your hand and out to the lake. He’ll have you sit on the grass looking out towards the lake and you guys will just stay in nature for hours, taking in the fresh air and nature’s sounds.

He makes sure you keep busy. Jason found out that crafts keep you calm: it’s almost like a therapy session! He thinks anyways. 🤔 He does love to do them with you though. His favorite is flower crowns. You guys will make matching flower crowns and you both look cute with them on too. 🙂

[songsofadelaide]

"—ppy Birthday tooo yooou!" The light was dimmed and the only illumination came from the numerous candles set alight on a shiny fruit and cream shortcake, your smile as bright as the sun as your friends sang in the background. "—ke a wish before you blow the candle—"

Click.

"—toru, hurry up before the timer hits!—" "—f my life, my angel, my—" A young Satoru ran to your side and gave your cheek a big-ass smooch as countless golden ginkgo leaves rained in your background. A picture-perfect autumn ahead of a new year full of decisions. "Ahaha! Nooo! That tickl—"

Click.

"—guru, come on over! You too, Shoko! It—" Empty coffee cups were strewn across your shared table with your friends, the sound of both laughter and complaints filling the air as your friends gathered around you and Satoru, his laughter the loudest of them all. "—haha! Ack! No! W-Wait up, Kento! Satoru said—"

Click.

"Oh, so that's what you've been up to, Seiya," you said, breaking the silence that enveloped your son's bedroom as he jumped from his gaming chair and hurriedly minimized the open video player on his PC.

"M-Mom! H-How long have you been standing there?!"

"Long enough for me to know where my missing SD cards went," you chuckled at the evidently embarrassed face of your teenage son, the spitting image of his father in his youth except for his eyes— which he clearly inherited from you. "Now how did you get your hands on these?"

"W-Well, I..." Came the boy's sheepish reply, a nervous hand on his nape as he evaded your curious gaze. His embarrassed expression starkly contrasted with your husband's usual mischievousness and boisterousness, even though they shared the same long, feathery and silvery eyelashes and hair.

"You're not in trouble, dear, if that's what you're worried about," you reassured him as you took a half-seat on the handle of his chair, careful not to rest your entire weight on it. "Now let me see..."

Seiya released his mouse to you, which you used to click on the minimized video player once more. Digicams were all the rage back when you were in high school and well into college and as the only one in your friend group who owned one, you were primarily responsible for documenting every mundane and special occasion whenever you all got together.

"Oh, this was from my 18th birthday," you laughed as you clicked on the following snippets. "And this was when your father and I visited Meiji Shrine before our college entrance exams. Aaand I think this was just a regular day! We just had coffee..."

"Aunt Shoko never really stopped smoking, did she?" Came your son's query as he eyed you browsing through the aged video clips with a small smile on your face. It was clear to him that you were reminiscing now about the days of your youth, encapsulated in slightly grainy and overexposed photos and videos, yet the memories were clear as day.

"Nope. Though she does that thing now. That, uh, vaping thing? Now don't get any ideas, young man."

"I-I won't, Mom! I promise!" Seiya stammered at your slight warning. "I'm sorry I touched your things. I just thought it would be interesting... to see how you and dad were when you were my age."

Oh, but he pulls off those adorable puppy dog eyes just like his father, all right.

"It's hard to believe that he had so much time for you back then! I-I mean he's so busy now! Does he even remember to text you or at least get you a gift every now and then? I-If not, maybe we can go somewhere together? Or do something together?"

"Oh, Seiya. I'll have you know that I am very happy to be married to your father," you gently laughed at your son's little outburst, coiling your arms around his neck as he lazily rested his warm cheek on your chest. "He loves me a great deal and does so much for me. And for you, in case you've forgotten."

"I... I know," came his defeated response. "All the work he does is for us..."

"I don't think Toru is so busy that he forgets us... Do you perhaps miss your father, Seiya?"

"N-No, I don't!" The boy huffed in your arms, his brows furrowed as he attempted to hide his evidently embarrassed face yet again.

"Your father and I love you very much, Seiya," you said with a smile and a soft hum as you tenderly ran your fingers through your son's hair. You weren't surprised when he wrapped his arms around you and returned your embrace. I suppose he takes after his father in clinginess, too.

"I already know that... But thanks, mom."

[m-beloved]

Nothing next to you || Bi-Han x Gn reader

Bi-Han canine poetry series in Reader pov, kinda filler ig. Ooc/poor writing, emotional vulnerability, toxic relationship, light angst, Scott Pilgrim and Laufey reference. Previous part here

You and Bi-Han stood in front of each other awkwardly, avoiding each other's gaze. The two of you were at Madam Bo's, where he was leaving and you were entering. Although you had no hard feelings towards Bi-Han, you knew he still felt slightly resentful towards you for breaking it off with him.

"...I see you still eat here." You said, mentally slapping yourself. Of course he would, why wouldn't he?

"...Yes, I do." He responded dryly, crossing his arms. "And I see that you still slack off work." You flushed in embarrassment, letting out an annoyed huff.

"I finished my work already. I'm just taking a break." You glared at him, as though challenging him to punish you. You had forgotten how much he irked you. "And even if I didn't it's not like you care."

"If you slack off on work, then it is my responsibility. I'll have to punish you." He rolled his eyes, moving to leave before freezing when he heard the words that came out of your mouth.

"What are you going to do? Run away like you did back then?" You sneered, hiding the hurt boiling beneath your skin. You didn't mean to bring it up, but seeing him just brought up the memories you tried to push down. "Run away like how you run from from everyone who's ever cared for you?"

Bi-Han looked away, unable to meet your eyes. He kept his face neutral, but his eyes shone with the faintest glimmer of pain. "...I'm sorry." He muttered out, much to your surprise. This was so unlike him, for a moment you wondered if the man standing in front of you was really Bi-han.

"I was...afraid. I couldn't face you, and I ran like a coward." Bi-han reluctantly admitted, meeting your eyes as his poker face broke for just a moment to reveal his regret. "You made me feel so many things, and I was so unused to it that I didn't know how to deal with them."

"You made me feel like nothing, Bi-Han." You gritted your teeth, holding back the hot angry tears that threatened to leak out. You wanted to know if he loved you, and to learn that all this time your relationship failed because he did? "You were afraid?" You raised your voice, a small crack making it's way into your voice.

"Well good for you then. All I ever wanted was for you to just see me. Not some performance I put on, not the picture people paint of me, but just...me." Your shoulders slumped with defeat, tired eyes staring at the floor with a mixture of sadness and rage.

Turning away, you left without saying anything else. You weren't hungry anymore, the thought of Madam Bo's food no longer making your stomach growl. The further you got, the faster you moved until you were running to god knows where. How ironic.

You had spent so many days reminding yourself how Bi-Han didn't care about you, and yet your nights were filled with dreams where he still did. The cryomancer was once your closest companion, now just another failed relationship that you failed to keep afloat.

Sometimes, when you looked at him a flicker of grief lit itself. You truly love him, you still did. He was once the only person you trusted to share a bed with, someone you wanted to share your oranges with.

But he didn't seem to love you back. You had to initiate everything, deal with all the whispers that you were only with him for his power and struggle with the responsibilities that came with being his partner.

Yet, the most he seemed to do for you was training you or having your back on a mission. And while you appreciated it, a part of you began to wilt whenever he simply kept quiet while you talked to him.

You couldn't take it. You loved Bi-han, but that love wasn't enough to keep your sanity. Whenever you were with him, you felt as though he never truly knew who you were. All those affectionate gestures you gave, he simply accepted and brushed off. If it had continued, you would have sunk deeper into your despair.

So you broke it off. You couldn't take it anymore, couldn't give more. Whatever you did, Bi-Han never seemed to reciprocate. And there was nothing you could do but leave. You didn't want to dwell on the decision, you knew if you hesitated enough you'd change your mind. You loved Bi-Han too much to really leave him, but you needed to love yourself too.

And now, everything was awkward and wrong. You missed his company next to you in bed, the way he peeled oranges for you in the evenings, just everything about him. Bi-Han may not have shown much care for you, but he had his moments and you kept them close to your heart.

It hurt to have something with him, albeit one-sided but it hurt even more when there was nothing. You knew it wouldn't work out, yet you refused to not try. And now, you wondered if you should have simply minded your own business and let Bi-Han stay an arm's length away.

A/n: I feel like this could have been better. It doesn't feel sad enough and I wanna try working on that. Anyways I love Bi-Han so much, he is me and I am him. We are one. (I am mentally ill and relate an unhealthy amount to the version of him in my head.)

[venus-haze]

Who's Sorry Now (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: After nearly a year of being under Bo’s thumb in Ambrose, he’s decided it’s time you get involved in the family business. You never expected to make it this far, and when you finally come face to face with (victims) tourists in town as part of the act, you think it more of a curse than a blessing. Look at the warnings before deciding if you want to read this.

Note: This is mostly a (extremely gross) standalone fic, with some references to events in Howl and Adam Raised a Cain, but it can be read on its own. I took some creative liberties with Trudy's casket again. Inspired by the Connie Francis song. Reader is a woman, but no other descriptors are used. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Graphic depictions of murder and violence. Descriptions of violence involving weapons. Disturbing and sadistic behavior. Misogyny. Physical abuse, emotional and psychological manipulation, major Stockholm syndrome. Sexually explicit content which involves coercion/dubious consent, slapping, degradation, cigarette burns, licking water and cum off of a dirty floor (sorry). Do not interact if you are under 18.

Summer raged angry in Ambrose, its unforgiving heat leaving you drenched by the late nightfall, when you’d sit in the passenger seat of Bo’s truck, head hanging out the window as you took in the rush of cool night air. Sometimes he’d take a long way back up to the house, just to indulge this one quirk of yours, despite the fully air-conditioned home that sat atop a hill. Even Vincent struggled in the heat, emerging from his studio dripping in sweat when he actually went down there. Instead, he opted on moving from air-conditioned house to air-conditioned house, checking on each of the wax sculptures that resided in Ambrose.

It was cooler out when you and your friends had arrived in town, hopeful and unsuspecting, making it not quite a year since Bo tangled you into this tapestry of wax, murder, and violence that had been woven since before you were born. Your few freedoms were hard fought, your body and mind littered with scars of what you’d been through at his hands. 

Still, you hadn’t quite proven yourself to Bo yet. He’d leave you to work on a grueling yet mundane task he’d given you, but you wouldn’t run even if you had the chance. You felt far too guilty and complacent to claim your victimhood. If you were ever found, no one would believe you. You’d quickly be an accomplice, just as crazy as the rest of them. At least, that’s how you’d view yourself from the outside looking in, unaware of the desperate measures you took to survive, even when you didn’t necessarily want to.

There hadn’t been any visitors to Ambrose for a long while, and with the oppressive humidity that veiled the Louisiana swamplands, the brothers seemed glad for the extended break. You were too, since Bo had told you that if you were going to be “working” in town, you’d have to pull your own weight. Sooner or later, you’d kill someone, either out of necessity or him forcing your hand. You silently hoped that the world would continue to forget about Ambrose, that no one would be able to pass through again, and you and the Sinclair brothers would be the final addition to the dead town’s rot. There was no point in hoping.

The town’s dry spell of unsuspecting motorists broke in the middle of June, a sweltering day you spent mostly inside the gas station, standing in front of the air conditioning vent with a sweating bottle of soda. An unfamiliar car chugged along the street, before pulling into the gas station. You didn’t know much about cars, but the loud bang the machine made when it finally stopped didn’t sound good.

You set your soda down, taking a deep breath before walking outside to join the couple who had gotten out of the car and were arguing. They were around your age, and you wondered if they’d recognize your face at all, recalling it from missing persons ads. When the couple looked at you, however, recognition didn’t spark in either of their faces. 

“How can I help y’all?” you asked.

“My car’s fucked, and some weird guy on the highway said this was the only body shop around,” the guy said.

“I’m going inside. It’s way too hot out here,” the girl said, heading inside the shop.

“Sure, let me get Bo. He’s on lunch, but he’d be glad to help,” you said, almost shocked at how easily the lie came out of your mouth.

The guy nodded. “Yeah, whatever.”

Bo spent most of the late morning in the movie theater, claiming something needed to be fixed there. It wasn’t a far walk, but between the heat and their attitudes, you figured the couple weren’t the type who liked being kept waiting. Still, you didn’t run, it was too hot out for that kind of effort on your part. 

As soon as you stepped into the derelict movie theater, you were met with a stifling humidity and the scent of rot. You hated that you knew what that smelled like now. 

The air conditioning, that’s what Bo had been busy fixing. In all honesty, it amazed you that the wax museum was even standing with how hot it got in Ambrose. Every few days, Vincent would have to make the rounds and check on the wax sculptures, touching up any heat-related imperfections, though you knew most of the buildings had air conditioning blasting to preserve his work. The movie theater had without a doubt the most sculptures besides the museum, so keeping it cool was imperative.

You called out for Bo, wandering around the movie theater until you heard him respond from a utility closet. Finding him in this spot, you couldn’t help but admire the way his white t-shirt clung to his sweat-covered body. Thankfully, he didn’t notice your ogling.

“What? You couldn’t even bring me a fuckin’ drink? Jesus,” Bo said.

“There’s two—um—we have customers.”

He grinned, grabbing the mechanic’s shirt that was bunched up on the floor. “‘Bout damn time.”

After using the shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, he pulled it on, buttoning it up as the two of you left the movie theater and walked back to the gas station. Although no one could possibly eavesdrop, you spoke in a hushed tone as you relayed the basic information that you had on the couple. Lester directed them to Ambrose, their car was busted, and they were incredibly cranky. 

You were worried that it wasn’t enough information for him, but he seemed more than pleased with what you already knew. It made sense, he was used to handling this side of things on his own. Again, you cemented your accomplice status.

The couple rushed outside as soon as they saw you and Bo a few yards away, making your way up the street. They were in one hell of a hurry for nothing.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait,” Bo said. “This your car?”

The guy nearly rolled his eyes. “What do you think?” 

Bo chuckled, though you knew him well enough that it betrayed his disdain for the guy already. “Right. How ‘bout you gimme the keys, and I’ll bring it into the garage and take a look at it.”

“Good luck,” the guy said, handing Bo his keys. “I barely got it into town in the first place.”

“Might as well give it a try. Y/N, you mind helpin’ me for a minute?” Bo asked.

“Not at all. You two make yourselves comfortable inside,” you said.

They hardly waited for you to finish talking before making a beeline to return to the air conditioned store. Bo shot a glare at their backs, shaking his head as he got into the guy’s car. As he revved the engine, it made a noise that had Bo smirking a bit.

“Damn, this car’s shot to hell, and I didn’t even do it this time.”

It took him a minute or two to get it a few feet into the garage, and you didn’t have to be an expert to know that getting that car safe enough to drive would probably take a few days. It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be driving it again anyway.

Bo got out of the car, throwing the keys on a nearby tool cart. “You’re gettin’ one of those assholes. I don’t care which one, but today’s the day, darlin’.”

“I—the girl, I guess.”

He grabbed your shoulders, looking at you with an intensity that made you nearly wither to dust in his hold. “No guessin’. You killin’ her or not?”

You nodded. “I will. I’ll kill her.”

“Good. There’s a gun under the counter, should be easy enough to take ‘er out.”

“Okay, okay,” you said.

“Get on back there, then,” he said, giving you a quick kiss.

When you walked back into the shop, the girl had already helped herself to one of the sodas, another unopened one sitting on the counter. They were mumbling between themselves, glancing at the garage until they noticed you were back.

“Can you hurry up? I’m gonna need one of those cans of oil. The one behind the register,” the guy asked as you went behind the counter.

“What do you expect, babe?” the girl muttered. “They probably can’t even read.”

He snickered in response. She hadn’t meant to say it loud enough for you to hear, but you did, loud and clear. Derogatory, meant to bolster their fractured superiority at their helplessness, having to turn to the likes of swampland hicks for help. You supposed that included yourself now, living in unprecedented isolation with the Sinclairs. 

That was a decision you’d made yourself a few weeks—or was it months—earlier in the kitchen of the Sinclair house. You caused a scene, but you got your point across. You chose this life instead of death. You chose Bo. It was one thing when your own life was in your own hands, but the lives of others was a much heavier burden. You loved Bo. You knew you did. Sometimes love meant compromising, though it surely was never supposed to go so far. Then again, no one had ever been in a relationship quite like yours before, you were sure of that much.

You gasped as your hand brushed the gun Bo kept beneath the counter. The guy looked at you, rolling his eyes before turning around, leaning against the counter and staring at the sleepy main street out the shop windows. It’d be so easy, just pick up the gun and put a bullet right through the back of his head, then get his girlfriend while she was still in shock. 

Shaking your head, you grabbed the plastic container next to you, setting it on the counter. They were rude and awful, but that didn’t mean they deserved to die. You were sure there were plenty of times you’d been rude before, short with someone on the receiving end of your bad day. It didn’t mean you deserved what had happened to you. 

Their deaths were inevitable, though. That was certain in Ambrose, but you’d stand your ground. If they were going to die, you wouldn’t be the one to do it. Maybe that made you just as bad, but your hands would be clean. You rung up the oil and two sodas on the beat-up cash register, and the guy turned around to grab the container and leave a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, mumbling for you to keep the change. 

The couple headed outside to see how progress was going on their car. Bo really was one hell of a mechanic, and as much as he knew how to fix a car, he also knew just how to fuck around with one to make it undrivable. In this case, he wouldn’t have to do too much extra work.

You sat down on a crate behind the counter, displeased to find that your soda was room temperature and flat. Sighing, you closed your eyes for a few moments, ignoring the heat-induced headache that you could feel creeping up on you. 

The shop door slamming open, bell clinging rapidly, pulled you from your rest. Was it only a few minutes, or had you fallen asleep? The girl stood in the doorway, panicked and wild-eyed.

“Hey! Holy shit!” 

You stood up, furrowing your eyebrows at the way she rushed toward the counter.

“You have to call the police! That guy out there–your coworker went insane!” the girl shouted. “Fucking do something!”

She pushed you out of the way, grabbing for the phone on the wall behind you, only to hear a dead dial tone on the other end of the line. “What the fuck? What the–”

The bell for the front door of the shop chimed again, and the two of you saw Bo taking up most of the space in the doorframe, sweat dripping down his face, blood splattered across his hands. The screwdriver he was holding was covered in blood too. His eyes were set on the girl as he took a step into the shop.

“We have to go!” the girl screamed, grabbing you by the sleeve and pulling you after her. 

She ran into the garage, an anguished scream tearing from her throat at the sight of her dead boyfriend. When it became clear you weren’t in as much of a rush as her, she started running, leaving you behind. You couldn’t blame her, that’s what you would’ve done too.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Bo growled, seeing the girl run off while you stood around, shocked and useless. 

He shot a glare your way as he raced after her. Maybe she’d get the upper hand somehow and do what you and everyone else who came before weren’t able to. The thought made you tense up. Would she know you were part of this? Would she come after you next? You weren’t sure what you wanted to happen, but as you caught a glimpse of the fresh body of the girl’s dearly deceased boytoy, you decided to head back into the shop for the time being.

You spent the next half hour cleaning the blood off the gas station shop floor, the bleach you poured burning your throat as you mopped up what had come from Bo when he stormed through. Your efforts were premature, because almost as soon as the old floor looked as spotless as you could make it, the shop bell rang again. 

Bo had caught up with the girl, though from the scratches on his face, it wasn’t without a fight. More than you could say. She, however, was worse for wear, her nose bleeding, probably broken, and she had a pronounced limp as she stumbled into the shop, black tears streaking down her face. Grit and dirt were inseparably mixed with the blood that ran from her knee down to her ankle, skin red and raw. 

Bo pushed her onto the ground, and she screamed as her open wound made contact with the freshly bleached floor. Bile rose in your throat as you looked at her, trying to ignore Bo reaching for the screwdriver he’d kept in his pocket. You couldn’t do it. She could’ve been you or any of your friends. Nevertheless, he shoved the tool in your hand. 

He held the girl by the hair, close enough so her throat was pressed against the end of the screwdriver.  “Do it.”

“Please don’t. No, no, no, no, I don’t wanna die,” she sobbed. “Fuck, shit, I don’t wanna die.” 

You didn’t even know her name and you were supposed to kill her. Would that have made it easier? Or harder? Your hesitation didn’t go over well with Bo, as he let out a frustrated growl and grabbed your hand, driving the screwdriver through the girl’s neck. His hand wrapped around yours in a death grip, making you unable to let go of the screwdriver or pull it from her flesh until he thought it was enough.

To add insult to injury, he twisted the screwdriver, and you gagged at the girl’s gurgled agony as blood poured from her mouth. Her hands weakly reached for the screwdriver in vain, because Bo twisted it again, grinning at the pained expression on her face. Panic finally caught up with you as you considered if this was how your friends died–messy, cruel, and torturous at his hands. 

When he pulled the screwdriver from her throat, releasing your hand with it, you almost felt relieved that it was over. By the furious expression on his face, however, you were still in for it. He grabbed you by the scruff of your neck, backing you into the wall and holding the bloody screwdriver against your throat.

“I oughta kill you too,” he hissed. “When I tell you to do somethin’, you fuckin’ do it.”

“Bo, I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I couldn’t–”

Before you could try to explain yourself, he roughly grabbed your arm, his short, sharp fingernails digging into your skin as he walked toward the basement door. He dropped the screwdriver on the floor as he used both hands to get a better hold of you. Your shoes squeaked against the linoleum shop floor as you tried to dig your heels in and prevent him from moving you any closer. 

“No!” you screeched, feeling the strain in your throat as you struggled against him. “Don’t bring me back there! I don’t wanna go back there!”

“‘S where you belong. Vinny was right, gettin’ you into this was a mistake.”

“I swear to god I’ll do it next time! Please don’t–” 

You wailed as he landed a harsh slap across your face, his ring breaking the tender skin of your cheek. In this moment of weakness, he was able to overtake you, pulling you back into the hell you’d worked so hard to escape from less than a year before. 

The animalistic holler you let out in protest was met only by echoes from the concrete. Your fallen comrades plastered on the walls shared your distress as your eyes darted across each of them. You knew as soon as you ended up in such a place that you’d end up one of them. You had your chance, and you blew it. Soon, you too would be memorialized as yet another brutalized girl whose Polaroid graced the walls of the goddamn dungeon.

Bo sneered as he strapped your limbs to the surgical bed that you still had nightmares about. You probably would have thought it was a dream if your face wasn’t stinging from the impact just moments earlier. Nothing that was coming from your mouth was coherent. Nothing you could say would make him have pity or mercy on you. He wasn’t capable of that.

Deja vu swirled through your mind as he cut off your clothes, and you braced yourself for the feeling of his knife on your skin, until it didn’t come.

He clicked his tongue as he looked at you, sobbing and bleeding. “There ain’t gonna be a next time.”

He smacked you again for good measure, and then left to take care of the bodies in the shop. You didn’t see him again for three days. Nothing had changed since you were last down there, he hadn’t even bothered to clean the place out, as if he were keeping it for insurance if things didn’t work out with you.

There was no point in screaming for help, no one who heard you would help anyway. This was between you and Bo. You wondered if he was leaving you there to die, knowing dehydration would catch up with you, and he’d find your disgusting, rotting corpse by the Fourth of July. 

Your mouth was dry, and your whole head was pounding from the lack of water and the heat that somehow made its way all the way down to the basement. You couldn’t even cry, you were so dehydrated–there were no tears, just your pathetic wailing and whimpering until you couldn’t even manage that.  

When he finally came down to check on you, cigarette hanging from his lips and a cold bottle of water in his hand, you could’ve sworn you were hallucinating. He grinned upon seeing you, and for a moment, your heart fluttered, or maybe you were just dying. Regardless, you were glad to see him, even if he had done this to you.

“Fuck, seein’ you back here is somethin’ else,” he growled lowly, setting the water bottle tauntingly close to you and adjusting his crotch. “How’s your vacation been?”

You balked at his statement. Vacation?

“What? You ain’t been doin’ shit the past few days, just lyin’ around here. Seems like you don’t appreciate it, though,” he said.

You shook your head frantically, unable to speak. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, tapping the ashes onto your bound leg. Your muscles flinched, and you hissed in pain. 

Though you knew what was coming next, you still couldn’t mentally prepare yourself for the way he took a long drag from the cigarette before putting it out on your leg, holding it for at least ten painful seconds as a harsh cry came from your parched windpipe. Between the pain from your leg and your throat, you felt like you were being torn in half. He snickered as he pulled it away, his other hand brushing the freshly burnt skin as you screamed again.

“Why don’t I make it better for ya, darlin’?” he asked, conniving condescension in his voice as he picked up the unopened water bottle, twisting the cap open, and pouring half of it onto your leg. 

Fuck, you should’ve killed the girl you had the chance. The first water you’d seen in days and half of it was running down your fucking leg. 

“Stop,” you croaked.

 He grinned, holding up the water bottle. “Where’s your manners, darlin’?” 

“Please.”

Once again, he set the water bottle down, but this time he unstrapped your arms and legs from the surgical bed. You knew better than to assume you’d get out of it with mild dehydration and a cigarette burn. Your legs gave out beneath you, and you fell to the floor. He looked more than pleased with this. It’s where he wanted you anyway. 

He grabbed the water bottle, and you opened your mouth, expecting the extent of your humiliation before him to be his pouring the water into your mouth so you’d choke on it or something. Instead, he poured the water on the floor directly in front of you, and you looked at him in horrified disbelief.

“Well? I thought you were thirsty,” he said, stepping in the puddle of water before you.

You let out a whimper before lowering your head, hesitating for a moment. With a shaky breath, you stuck out your tongue, and as soon as it touched the water, you lost control. What little dignity you had left in your brain screamed at you to stop, that you were better than this and you’d probably get tetanus or jaundice, or some kind of -ice or -itis that would fuck up your intestines royally.

The rest of your body, that was parched and desperate overtook your reasoning, and you lapped up the dirty water at his feet like–well, your life did depend on it. The water was disgusting, and you gagged a few times while licking it up, the taste of dirt and copper and god knows what else mingling in your mouth. Then, when the floor was as dry as it could get, and all of the water was gone, you looked up to see his cock in his hand, a sadistic grin on his face as he jerked himself off over you.

“Fuck, you’re the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he grunted in perverse adoration.

You moved to take over, assuming that was what he wanted you to do next until he pushed you onto your ass with his free hand. It felt like you were watching him for eternity before he came with a loud groan, throwing his head back as his cum pumped from his cock and onto the floor. When he was finished, he looked over at you with hooded lids and a lazy, shit-eating grin.

“Get a move on, darlin’. I wanna see you lick it up like a little bitch again.”

Though you had a bit more resolve this time around, your lip trembling as you stuck your tongue out, almost recoiling when you tasted his cum on the floor. Apparently, you weren’t licking it up enthusiastically enough for his liking, because you felt his boot on the back of your head, pushing your face into the floor. 

With tears in your eyes, you lapped up his cum like you did the water just moments before, and a pleased groan came from above you. You actually heard his pants zipper this time, trying to focus on anything but the overwhelming nausea and rancid mix of semen and whatever else was on the floor. Somehow, you managed to lick it all up, not without losing a solid amount of respect for yourself first.

Suddenly, you started gagging, feeling the sour mix of floor water and cum making its way back up your esophagus. 

He covered your mouth with his hand. “Keep it down, darlin’, or I’ll make you lick that up too.”

Your muffled whine was all the affirmation he needed, and you somehow willed yourself not to throw up.

“Next time you think for a second you can get away with not doin’ what I say, I want you to remember this,” he hissed in your ear.

You nodded, bleary eyed as he helped you up from the floor, practically having to drag you up the stairs. He drove you back up to the house, and the next week or so consisted of you slowly regaining your strength and attempting to get back in his good graces, if you could even call it that. Despite everything, you wanted his attention, his approval. After all, he let you live despite your massive fuck up. He was all you had. Against every rational bone in your body, you still loved him.  

The town was quiet again, until the weekend before the Fourth of July, when it wasn’t. You were in the gas station, this time with Bo nearby in the garage when another couple walked into the shop. They were smiling and holding hands. You almost wondered if they were in the right place. As they walked up to the counter, you greeted them as pleasantly as you could.

“Your face–oh honey, you alright?” the woman asked, genuine concern laced in her voice that made you want to cry. The cut on your cheek where Bo had hit you wasn’t fully healed, and despite your care, it would undoubtedly scar over.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said. “I took a walk during my lunch break the other day and tripped on the gravel road up the way.”

“Well, we’d appreciate some help. Got some car trouble up the road. We were gonna walk, but this nice fella gave us a ride,” the guy said.

“Sure, my husband Bo’s the mechanic. I’ll go get him,” you said, leaving for the nearby garage to let Bo know about the customers.

Why did these ones have to be nice? 

“Husband and wife, Lester dropped them off because their car broke down on the side of the road but they’re not sure what’s wrong with it,” you explained quietly.

“You fuck this up,” he threatened through gritted teeth, “and I swear to god, I’ll make sure Vincent keeps ya alive when you join your little friends.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it. She better be dead by the time I get back with his body.”

“She will be.”

You and Bo walked back into the shop, his arm around your waist as the two of you sauntered back into the storefront.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait. My wife tells me y’all’s car broke down?”

“Yeah, the man who dropped us off said you could tow it back here? We’re real sorry for the trouble, but if you could–”

Bo smiled. “No trouble at all. You wouldn’t mind comin’ with me to pick it up? Don’t wanna drag the wrong guy’s car all the way back here.”

“‘Course, is there a motel nearby we can stay in if the repairs take a few days?” the guy asked.

“Yeah, I can show you on the way back, and then Y/N can give y’all a lift there once I get the car in the garage.”

“Thank you so much,” the woman said. “You two are really sweet.”

“We’re just glad to help,” you said.

Bo grabbed the tow truck keys from one of the hooks on the wall, before pulling you in for a kiss. You wished he didn’t kiss you so sweetly only because there were other people around. Hell, you almost considered escalating it, the couple wouldn’t live to tell anyone anyway.

“We’ll be back quick, darlin’,” Bo murmured against your lips. “You girls stay out of trouble.”

The woman laughed, shaking her head as her own husband gave her a kiss before walking out of the shop with Bo. 

“So, how long have you and your wife been together?” you could hear the guy ask Bo.

You wanted to keep interactions with the woman as minimal as possible, but she was frustratingly sweet, insisting on helping you with the bullshit task you’d made up to try to keep your distance from her. She reminded you of your own friends, in a way, or maybe someone being genuinely nice to you for the first time in nearly a year made you overly sentimental. 

“That’s wonderful you get to work with your husband. I’m sure y’all are either really close or ya can’t stand each other,” she said.

“Something like that.”

“I hope Billy and me get to do somethin’ like this one day, maybe with a few kids runnin’ around,” she said wistfully. “I’m probably gettin’ ahead ‘a myself.”

You gave her a terse smile. Poor Billy won’t be doing shit. Glancing at the clock, about twenty minutes had passed. If Bo and Billy–of course Deanna had given you their fucking names–weren’t at the car by now, they were going to be close. Your window of opportunity was shrinking with each passing second.

“You’ve really been so helpful, Deanna. Are you sure you don’t wanna wait?” you asked.

“Lord no. Ain’t many people like you and your husband around nowadays,” she smiled. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Alright, well, I gotta get something from up front really quick.”

She nodded absentmindedly as she looked through the box of fan belts you were restocking. 

The shop felt unsettlingly cold for the season as you rounded the counter, grabbing for the gun that was kept underneath it. Your breath hitched when you came up empty. He moved it, probably on purpose so your first kill would have to be more bloody, more personal. You’d lost the privilege of a clean, easy kill. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you considered your options. The screwdriver was definitely out, and you couldn’t head back into the garage and dig through Bo’s tools without her seeing you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you looked frantically around the shop until you noticed a letter opener laying next to the cash register.

You walked to the back of the store, Deanna still facing away from you. The letter opener would hurt like hell. It wasn’t even that sharp to begin with, and you’d have to really work to make sure she was dead. Taking a deep breath, you plunged it into her shoulder blade and then back out.

“Lady, what the fuck is your problem?” she shouted, reaching for her shoulder and gasping in pain.

You froze. You fucked up, and Bo was gonna be back soon. Both you and Deanna had the same idea, because as soon as she ran, you sped after her. Though you were still weak from your days in the basement, she wasn’t very athletic herself. She tried several shop doors, distressed to find them locked, until she made a break for the church. You followed close behind. There was no person, no deity in that church who could save her.

By the time you got inside the church, she’d already realized that the congregation, the priest, everyone was fake. The confusion on her face shifted to panic as soon as she saw you. 

“Get the fuck away from me you psycho bitch!” she yelled, throwing hymnals at you as you approached with your sad little letter opener. 

In your desperation, you tackled her, but the letter opener slipped out of your hands. The two of you punched and clawed at each other, until she rolled over, and you shoved your finger in the wound in her shoulder blade. Her screams fell on deaf ears as once again you looked frantically for something nearby that you could use as a weapon. Your gaze landed on the rosary beads clutched between Trudy’s wax-preserved hands, and you dug your finger deeper into Deanna’s shoulder blade as you maneuvered the rosary beads out from the casket.

Rosary beads in hand, you pulled your finger from the now gaping wound in Deanna’s shoulder blade and pulled the rosary around her neck, the individual glass beads digging into her skin as you pulled tighter and tighter, your own hands getting cut up with the force you were using to strangle her. It seemed like it was a never-ending struggle until finally, she went limp beneath you, and you pulled the rosary away, small cuts in her neck beading and dripping down her throat. 

You put your fingers to her pulse and waited. Nothing. You did it. Throwing the rosary beads back into the casket, you didn’t look forward to telling Vincent which statute needed repairs now. That was nothing, though. You could deal with his moping for a few days. Besides, you got one, a brand new addition to the growing town. 

Grabbing Deanna’s limp body, you began the ordeal of dragging it back to the gas station so Bo could see your handiwork for himself. You only got about halfway back before the tow truck pulled up, Billy and Deanna’s car hitched to the back. As soon as Bo stopped the truck, Billy hunched over. He was definitely dead.

Bo got out of the truck, rushing over to you. He looked at Deanna’s body, and then to you. 

“What’d you use?” he asked, taking your cut up hands in his, inspecting the wounds, your own stigmata.

“Strangled her with your mom’s rosary beads,” you answered quietly. “Sorry.”

He grinned. “You did good, darlin’.”

All of the tension in your body released at those words, and you smiled, throwing your arms around him and kissing him deeply, giggles emitting from your chest every few seconds. Maybe it was the adrenaline still rushing through you, or maybe Bo had been right all along. You felt…great.

[greatlydelirious]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝

Bo Sinclair x F!Reader

wordcount: 5.5k words

summary: Bo has never been a righteous man, but when he notices your affinity for priests, he makes plans to revisit the church. (Based on the Catholic Religion)

warnings: roleplay, smut, oral fixation, orgasm denial, desecrating a church, power play

“No, I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat. What to like. What to hate. What to rage about. What to listen to. What band to like. What to buy tickets for. What to joke about. What not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in. Who to vote for and who to love and how to...tell them. I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far, I think I’ve been getting it wrong. And I know that’s why people want someone like you in their lives, because you just tell them how to do it.”

“Kneel.”

With bated breath, you are fixated on the scene unfolding on the television. The one light illuminating the living room was coming from the small screen. A factor that only added to the ambiance of your salacious thoughts. You were so wrapped up you almost forgot about the body next to you. Ambrose was in its usual state of deathly silence when the clock struck midnight. The only sound that could vaguely be heard was the hum of generators and the chirp of crickets. To your relief, the whole day was majorly uneventful.

Deep in your fixation, you don’t feel the pair of eyes assessing you. Bo watched over the rim of his beer bottle as your thighs clenched like they were being tied by an invisible rope. Not only did he notice that but also the way your breaths started to come out in shallow succession, and you pressed closer to him. Tonight, was one of those rare times Bo gave you control of the remote. Usually, this type of show wasn’t his thing, but your reactions were the real entertainment for him. So entertaining in fact that Bo had to shift his legs in his jeans which suddenly felt far too tight.

Your sex life was far from vanilla, but roleplay was uncharted territory. You were certain that Bo would wave it off as you trying to pull a joke on him. Even though he was so good at becoming a completely different person. He had to be to successfully ensnare those who traveled too close to your home.

Sighing inwardly, you attempt to focus back on your show. An attempt that backfires deliciously. The priest slowly morphs into Bo. Instead of the two characters being locked in a flurry of lustful kisses it is the two of you. Having an entanglement in a sacred church had never been on your bucket list, but the more you watched the more enraptured you became. The thrum of tension that came with such a power imbalance seemed intoxicating. The mere idea that a man would risk his position in life, just for a taste of you made you feel hotter than any porno you’ve stumbled across. God worked hard, but the Devil worked harder. Not that you were dwelling on the ramifications of having that mindset. You participated in bigger mortal sins that you would be subject to eternal damnation for anyway. Weren’t rules made to be broken? Although it was the Ten Commandments in this case.

The thought of kneeling in front of Bo and begging for forgiveness enticed you so fiercely that it surprised you. Of course, he dominated you to the fullest extent of the word, but you craved something darker. It would be a lie if you said the savage side of Bo didn’t turn you on. However, you hadn’t had the masochistic pleasure of experiencing the depths of his depravity.

Like Goldilocks preferred, your boyfriend lavished your body just right. Not too sweet, but not so rough that you couldn’t enjoy a “post-afternoon fucking” (Bo’s words not yours). Bo had an insatiable appetite in all aspects of his life. Some would call that greedy, but all you saw was a man who knew what he wanted and how he was going to get it. That’s exactly why you were even sitting here in the first place. Unlike the many others who had the misfortune of stumbling into Ambrose, killing you was the last thing on the Sinclair brother’s mind when he saw you.

Just as the two characters were about to seal the deal, it all comes to an abrupt halt. When the priest pulls away from the woman you almost groan in disappointment. Bo wouldn’t have let you go. He would fuck you against the confessional booth until the structure broke. Even now you could hear the curses he would grunt into your neck and feel how tightly he would hold your body against him. Sometimes you couldn’t even discern where your bodies separated. The relentless pounding of his cock made you drunk on ecstasy. Maybe if you just reached over and-

“Enjoyin’ the show?”

You almost jump at Bo’s raspy voice interrupting your far-from-holy imaginings. Glancing up from where your head rests on his shoulder, his eyes gleamed with dark amusement as they met yours.

“Y-yeah.” Your face heats at your stutter and you clear your throat before answering him again. Thankfully during the second attempt, you sounded less pathetic. Despite all you’ve done together Bo still makes you feel like a shy schoolgirl who is dating for the first time. Chuckling, he leans down to pull you into a chaste kiss. One that left you craving for more. You wouldn’t have to wait long though. Bo had an idea, and nothing innocent ever came from Bo having an idea.

-

It was normal for the spot next to you to be cold by the time you woke up. The Sinclair brothers had early mornings and late nights every day. The town of Ambrose wasn’t going to run itself after all. Rubbing your eyes, you sift through the plethora of dresses in your wardrobe. With how brutal the Louisiana heat could be, the last thing you wanted to do was pull on a pair of jeans. You knew from personal experience that sweat and denim don’t play well together. A floral white sundress that you procured from an abandoned suitcase ends up being the winner. The amount of second-hand clothes you’ve come to own should disturb you, but alas those days were far gone. What was the saying, waste not want not?

After a quick breakfast, you venture outside to see what Bo needs help with. It was easier to assist him rather than risk fucking something up on your own. Additionally, the other two brothers had no real use for you when it wasn’t mealtime. Vincent preferred to keep to himself while working on his masterpieces and the first and last time you went to the roadkill pit with Lester you almost blacked out. Safe to say handing off tools and cooking were more apt for you.

When you reach the garage, you frown at the absence of Bo. No lights were on and the front door which was usually propped open was closed. There were only a small handful of places he could be. Unfortunately, those places were scattered all across town and the last thing you wanted to do was reach your cardio limit by mid-afternoon. As you walk up to the door a note taped to the glass catches your attention,

“If you need me, I’m down by the church.”

Down by the church? Bo was never there unless a group had rolled into town, but your phone hadn’t gone off. The only other reason you could think of was maintenance. Sighing, you start the trek to the holy building. Years had passed since the last time you went to Mass. A fact that went against your whole entire upbringing.

You were meticulously raised to be the perfect Catholic girl. One who followed the teachings of her Lord and Savior and strayed from any possible sins that came her way. And for most of your life that was the case. Only well-mannered words passed your lips and chastity was a virtue you upheld with little difficulty. Instead of your nights as a teenager ending in sneaking out to drink with friends, you read from your Bible and prayed for God to watch over you and your family while you clutched your rosary beads. Although the idea was extremely foreign to you now, that was all you knew back then.

All of this culminated in you being the black sheep in your friend group filled with rowdy extroverts. It was a mystery how you became friends with them in the first place, but college had a way of bringing people from all walks of life together. Never mind the fact that after years of quite literally going by the book, a part of you wanted to venture out there and explore all the things you’ve been depriving yourself of. That’s how you ended up walking on the side of the road in nowhere Louisiana in the middle of a summer night. You could remember the whole situation like it was yesterday.

To self-soothe, you rub your arm up and down anxiously. It was far too dark out. Every time you heard a distant howl you picked up your pace at the back of your group. For some reason, your friends thought taking the backroads was a genius idea since they wanted to get to the concert as quickly as possible. Instead of having the time of your lives, you were left with a flat tire and a long walk to somewhere that could hopefully help you.

By the time you reach the nearest town, everyone is a cacophony of relieved groans. It wasn’t some creepy dark abandoned place, but a real livable town with lights along the roads. Thankfully, you guys come across a gas station connected to a garage that had the lights on inside. For a moment you all stand there to catch your breath and survey everything around you. Despite the normalcy, the group starts to argue about who should go inside. The journey to get here definitely wore thin everyone’s resilience and heightened their paranoia.

One of the boys elbows you forward, “You should be the one to go inside. I’m sure no one could get mad if you asked for help.” When you try to protest, they only push you closer to the garage. Knowing you couldn’t change the majority’s minds; you accept your fate. Oh, the endless woes of being a doormat.

As you step inside you stick close to the wall. A jittery sensation made you feel as though you would have a heart attack at the smallest noise. Despite the lights being on you don’t see anyone behind the counter. Looking over your shoulder to the exit you mentally curse your “friends”. This was not how you expected your summer to go.

“Hello? I could really use some help!”

You jump when a noise comes from under the car to your right. No heart attack, but it was hammering in your chest. A man rolls out and quickly sits up to look at you. He was clad in denim with grease stains to boot, but Lord have mercy on your soul he was attractive. When his eyes met yours a brilliant, crooked smile greets you.

“What can I do for ya darlin?” The warm twang in his voice melted away any thoughts you had.

“My friends and I… well not really me, but they decided to take the backroads to where we were headed, and I told them not to of course. Not that they listen to me any-“

A deep chuckle stops your nonsensical rambling. “If you talk any faster you might hurt yourself.” Now you felt downright embarrassed. Leave it to you to word vomit in front of a guy who had charisma to spare.

“Where are my manners? Name is Bo Sinclair.” Bo wipes his hands on his jeans before stretching out a hand toward you. With only a slight tremble you accept the shake. You couldn’t help but focus on how small your hand looked in his. He was calloused and had thick veins that ran up his arm. The slight shiver that travels down your spine doesn’t go unnoticed. Bo suppresses a smirk as he appraises you in a lingering sweep.

His fingers reach up to toy with the gold chain adorning a cross resting on your chest. “That’s a pretty necklace ya got there…”

Blushing you offer Bo a shy smile while telling him your name. When he places one of his large hands on the small of your back, you’re surprised that you lean into the touch rather than pulling away. Never had a man made your body betray your mind so much. Then again, no man, or boy for that matter, ever engaged with you like this. Calling you nice little pet names and showering you with such soft touches. Man were you touch starved beyond belief.

“Let me guess, your friends popped one of the tires of their car?” At your affirming nod, the digits at your back softly flex. “And where are these friends now sweetheart?” Swallowing thickly, you gaze at the ground.

“Outside. They thought it best if I came inside by myself.” Something you were mad about at first, but now you didn’t mind being alone with the stranger. Perhaps your fight-or-flight instincts were broken.

Bo hums as if considering your answer, “And why’s that?”

Picking at your nails you begrudgingly continue, “Because they said no one would be able to get mad if I was the one asking for help.” You softly gasp when a forefinger and thumb meet your chin and lift your head to become level with Bo’s, “I would say that’s the smartest choice they’ve made.”

The look that was in his eyes made your heart flutter to this day. You play with the same cross necklace you wore that night and every day as you smile to yourself thinking about it. A lamb was thrown into a lion’s den only to not be eaten but protected. Strange things sure did happen in Ambrose.

Thankfully, your musings made your walk feel shorter than usual. You stopped to admire the giant gold cross on the double doors as a pang of nostalgia hit you. How crazy was it that a simple structure held so many memories? Chuckling breathlessly, you finally head inside. What first grabs your attention is the newfound emptiness. Looking around you notice someone cleared out the permanent congregation that usually resided in the church. The same went for the casket that usually sat at the back.

Movement near the side of where you were looking catches your eye. The sight of Bo in priest robes skimming through the Bible on the pulpit instantly made heat pool in your belly. That man looked sexy in just about anything. When the doors close behind you, your presence is finally acknowledged.

“You’re late.” Bo doesn’t even bother to look up.

“I didn’t know you were expecting me.” He knew that, but like any good hunter he set up the perfect trap. And like the good prey you were, you walked right into it. You were so busy admiring that you stayed glued to where you stood.

Patience running thin, Bo sighs loudly. “Come here.” Your feet started moving before the command even processed in your mind. Bo was a man of simple words and strong actions. A trait that made even the smallest sentences full of dominant purpose. You stop before the step leading to the elevated platform. Only then does the man close his book and look at you. Bo’s eyes don’t make haste as they roam over your body. Little was left to the imagination as your dress sat only mid-thigh and the heat made the soft fabric cling to each curve and dip of your body. If temptation was a person, he was staring right at them.

You begin to fidget under his gaze. “Bo-“

“Father.” He quickly corrects. “You may only call me Father, understand?”

Heat blooms under your skin. Oh, so this is what he was up to. The fact that he caught onto your little fantasy made your body light with an undercurrent of anticipation. Swallowing your nerves, you give in to him. “Yes, Father.”

“Good girl.” Bo all but purrs before clasping his hands in front of him. Hands you wished were somewhere else. Clearing his throat, he looks down at you while continuing, “It has come to my attention that you’ve been plagued with impure thoughts.”

An embarrassed laugh leaves you, “What? I-“ Before you can even begin to defend yourself Bo halts you with a raised hand.

“No excuses. Confess the truth darlin’. Only then can I assign ya penance.” May God smite your heart, because Bo as a priest, chastising you in that accent, was rapidly increasing your “impure thoughts”.

Confessions were not a foreign concept to you, but growing up you rarely had to partake in that practice in your religion. Although the irony in this specific instance only added to your desire. A girl in white betraying her purity by confessing to a priest that made her thighs clamp together. Letting out a shaky breath you didn’t even know you were holding you close your eyes, make the sign of the cross, and put your hands together in prayer. You had spent countless weekdays after school and weekends in the church as a child, so the old practices come back too easily.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was years ago and these are my sins.” You take another breath and let your secrets spill onto the red carpet below you.

“I find myself wanting to give into the temptations of the flesh with a man of a higher power.” Swallowing thickly, you stare up at Bo through your lashes, “All I can think about is giving him my body to do what he pleases when he pleases. My days are spent longing for his touch and working to make him crave nothing, but me.” You shift your legs to get any traction between your thighs. If confessionals got you this hot and bothered, you would have done one sooner.

“That is all I remember, Father. I am sorry for these and all my sins.” Bowing your head you conclude your lust-filled confessions by reciting the Act of Contrition. “O my God, I am sorry for my sins because I have offended you. I know I should love you above all things. Help me to do penance, to do better, and to avoid anything that might lead me to sin. Amen.”

A low voice rumbles from above your head, “I cannot be your intercessor if you aren’t truthful in your request for penance.” Biting your lip your need to please jumps to the surface. “What can I do to prove to you my devotion, Father?” Bo’s hand lifts your chin, so you meet his impossibly dark eyes.

“Kneel and show me how much you deserve forgiveness.” Without a moment’s hesitation, you drop before him. Nimble fingers pull the ties holding his clergy ropes together to push away the pesky layer. You’re greeted by his scarcely used black slacks and button-up. You almost moan at how Bo looked even better than before. Something you would appreciate more if it didn’t add to the endless fabric encasing what you were truly craving.

With trembling hands, you manage to pull off his belt with only slight difficulty. Once you free his cock from its confines you softly moan at the weight in your hand. The man was equal parts long and thick; large enough that each time he entered you it felt like you were having sex for the first time.

Leaning forward you kiss along his hard length, reveling in the feel of the velvet skin under your lips. You trace a throbbing vein that starts at the base of his cock all the way to the tip with your tongue. A low groan sounds above you before Bo’s hand moves to fist in your hair, not to force, but to guide your head. At first, the pace is set teasingly languid to let you properly worship him.

“That’s it, relax those pretty little lips around me.” You moan at the simple comment. Praise was something you not only strived for but coveted.

Once you become lax under his touch, he fully takes control. Bo alternates between quick snaps and deep thrusts. One left you breathless while the other left you gagging. Tears begin to accumulate as your hands dig into the fabric at his thighs to create any semblance of composure. An impossible task when his cock was sliding down your throat and his groans sent vibrations straight to your core. You knew better than to try and touch yourself despite the uncomfortable pooling sensation between your legs. Only good girls got rewarded; a statement Bo reminded you time and time again.

You had to widen your jaw to the point of discomfort to accommodate his girth. Every time his cock hit the back of your throat you felt the muscles in his thighs flex under your fingers. Yet another giveaway of his thinly veiled composure. Drool pools out your mouth and drops to the carpeted floor. There was barely enough room to swallow around his cock. A factor that quickly made a mess neither of you was worried about.

A second hand joins the first on your head to push and pull your mouth. Curses push past clench teeth as you suck harder. You close your eyes to savor the feeling of being completely at Bo’s mercy. He controlled your body and all you could feel, smell, and taste was him. The amalgamation of sensations was almost overwhelming. Each strangled moan around him only spurs Bo on more. The constricting of your wet, warm throat almost makes Bo become undone. Despite the desperate twitching of his cock, he wasn’t going to let you off that easily.

Right when his hips being to stutter your head is forcibly yanked back to a point where your neck strains under the pressure. Saliva connects your parted lips as you desperately gasp for air. Before you can question why he stopped, Bo leans down so your faces were mere inches away. Darkness overtook his handsome features. Although it wasn’t the type of darkness you saw while dealing with victims, the intensity made goosebumps prickles across your skin. A calloused thumb brushes the pre-cum that leaked down your chin.

“Open your mouth.” Obliging, you suck his digit in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the rough pad until it presses down to widen your jaw. The angle makes you slightly gurgle and instinctively pull back. The grip on your chin only tightens as Bo starts to tsk.

“Stick out your tongue, I want you to swallow it all.” After maneuvering his cheeks Bo spits into your waiting mouth. He makes you swallow around his finger, so he could feel you obey him. What a perfect submissive you were to him. Always following every command with perfect execution only to then immediately come back to wait for more. You knew that Bo could easily destroy you, but every time he takes you to the edge, he yanks you back just in time. Thankfully, he had more in store for you.

Bo admires you with deep satisfaction. Your lips were swollenly red, your hair was disheveled, and the straps of your dress fell low enough that the top of your breasts was exposed. Simply put, you looked like a fallen angel. One that was about to be completely ravished by the Devil himself.

Strong hands haul you up by your shoulders. Everything blurs until before you knew it, you’re backed up into the nearest pew. Bo makes quick work pulling off your dress and practically ribbing off your undergarments. At the same time, you try to unbutton his shirt only to have your hands brushed away. Carnal need leaves you frustrated. “Bo please-“ A crushing weight cuts off your plead.

“What’d I tell you, huh?” His hand doesn’t move, not truly wanting an answer. Even still, you try to apologize which only amounts to a string of whined muffles. They intensify when Bo grinds his cock between your wet folds.

“Soaked for me already? I reckon a sweet Catholic girl like you has never been properly fucked.” You all but confirm the “priests” statement when you buck your hips in a fruitless attempt for more friction. Bo chuckles at your strained efforts. You flinch when the cool surface of his ring meets your sex. Thick fingers tantalize and tease you as they glide over your pulsing clit. Enough pressure to shoot sparks up your body, but light enough to not fully satisfy.

Only when your legs begin to quiver does Bo release the hold on your mouth. Pure lust clouds your mind and officially slips you into a raw submissive state. All you could focus on was obtaining satisfaction from the only person who could give it to you the way you needed. In deep reverence, you desperately clutch at the opening of Bo’s shirt. You’ve never been above begging.

“I’ll do anything to prove my devotion, Father. Please take what you must.” It was as though you were a sinner beseeching God himself for salvation. A just comparison when you were in fact a sinner and the man above you had a God complex justifiable by his circumstance. By the end of your proclamation, a finger breaches your pussy. Wanton moans echo off the church walls as Bo waste no time warming you up for what was to come. The sound was music to the devilish man’s ears.

His hand was diligent in its pursuit to derive as much pleasure as possible from you. Quickly inserting a second finger he pets you in slow curved strokes while his thumb strums your clit in fast circles. Squelching noises obscene enough to make you blush, despite your desire, emanate from his ministrations.

Bo grunts low in his chest before pulling you into a rough kiss. Teeth clash and whimpers are swallowed. This time when you try to unbutton the shirt crumpled in your grasp, he lets you. You clamor to feel his hot skin against your own. When your nails bite into Bo’s taut muscles he groans and continues to fuck you on his fingers at a brutal pace. The promise of the sweet release of an orgasm whispered across your senses. It was almost too much. Almost.

“Oh God, I’m so close! Please!” Just when you felt you might combust, Bo pulls back. You cry out at the newfound emptiness where you ached the most. Bewildered you stare up at Bo only to see something primal, laced with dark thoughts you couldn’t begin to imagine. He lightly massages the digits wet from your desire on your swollen bottom lip. At the same time, teeth graze your earlobe.

“Your penance is to not cum until I tell you to. Think you can do that?” Words fail as you hold back a huff of disbelief. Penance of that nature seemed near impossible. Torturous at the very least. Pain shooting from the side of your ear makes you gasp. He fucking nipped you. Although Bo didn’t possess any virtues, patience was his least favorite.

“Y-yes, Father.” Your eyes practically roll back into your skull when he penetrates you in one sharp thrust. When the sudden force makes you gasp, Bo takes it as an invitation to slip his fingers into your mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Love getting all your holes filled by me, huh?” You pathetically moan around him in response. Vulnerability plagues you in your compromising position. Anyone could walk in and see what the two of you were doing. Not that Bo would let them go easily.

“Beautiful,” Bo growls while kissing your sweat-slicked forehead. Mixed with the Louisiana humidity, the heat inside the small church was smoldering. Overstimulation made every bit of pleasure dull into a painful throb.

“I can’t take anymore!” Your muffled plea is thankfully heard as Bo shifts his touch to soothe your legs.

“You can.”

His hands wrapped around your thighs to have you meet him at each thrust. In turn, your nails dig into the wood as your arms struggled to keep you upright. Your bodies moved in tandem to reach the height of pleasure. Bo always marveled at how you felt like you were made for him. Each contraction of your inner walls squeezed him exactly right and the head of his cock perfectly nudged at your cervix.

Incoherent whines escape you from the unrelenting pounding of Bo’s cock. Once again you could feel your release on the precipice. “Can I, oh my god, please cum?” He smiles at you deceptively sweet before leaning down to whisper,

“No.”

Bo pulls out to instead rut against you. He curses at how much you coated his cock with your wetness. It took every ounce of his own control not to immediately bury himself back inside you. Tears of frustration bubble to the surface from his continued denial. When you try to push at his chest he captures your wrists, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you can calm down from your ruined orgasm, he flips you on top of him and sheaths himself in you again. You sink even deeper than you were before. With each drop of your hips, you push yourself down slowly on his length. Judging by the tight set of his jaw and his biting grip, it was a toss-up on who was suffering more. And just like all suffering, it stemmed from an insatiable sin, lust.

The aged wooden pew creaks at every fevered movement, adding to the symphony of noises bouncing off the walls. Loudest of them all is the slapping of skin and your pitiful pleas. Strings of “please” mixed with promises of devotion are endlessly moaned. Bo fucks you even harder until you swear you might break.

“Who do you belong to?” He knows you’ll pledge your devout faith and loyalty to him with no further questioning. As God is your witness, you’ll give Bo whatever he commands. Consequences be damned.

Through gasps of breath, you stutter out, “Y-you. Pl-lease!”

“Speak up! Who is the only man you worship?” Ever the possessive lover he wanted you to scream his name like a prayer.  

Racked by longing you practically shout, “Always you, Bo! Please I need-“

“Cum. Cum knowing I’m the one makin’ you fall apart.”

Bo grabs your hips to fuck into you feverishly, finally giving you your prolonged bliss. White hot pleasure overtakes you as you finally are able to give in to your orgasm. You bury your face in the crook of Bo’s neck as you flutter around him. Each wave is prolonged by the continued thrusts. Nails leave crescent moon shapes in your hips under Bo’s iron grip. A flurry of curses slips past his clenched jaw as he drives his release into you.

“That’s it, take it all.” By the time he stops moving, you are a shaking mess. Only when you feel fingers combing through your hair do you realize you’re crying. Wrapping your arms around Bo’s neck you give in to the intense emotions.

“Shh baby, I got ya.” Bo pushed you to your limit, always testing how far you would go for him. For years you boxed yourself in a comfort zone that no one in your life tried to push. Until now. Now the man underneath you forces you to come face to face with your dark side, which you let fester for far too long.

Bo rubs along your back in soft circles. “You were such a good girl confessing your sins like that.” The praise soothes your heart making you finally relax in his hold. After a few minutes, your tears subside and give way to the aftershock of pleasure from your intense orgasm.

“Oh God that was…” You’re left speechless. Bo kisses along the vein throbbing in your neck as you desperately try to catch your breath. Aftercare was the man’s specialty. No matter how intense everything got, he always took the time to make sure you were okay. “Just call me Bo, sweetheart.”

“I thought I was only allowed to call you Father?” You muster a weak chuckle while running your fingers through the loose strands of hair that fell onto his forehead from your joint exertion. Bo intercepts your hand to kiss each knuckle.

“Next time I’ll have you mewling the name Daddy.” The proud smirk on his face only intensifies when he feels you clench around his cock at the promise. Leave it to Bo to do the most unholy things in the holiest place possible.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.