#if youve already seen it watch it again

[estrangedandwayward]

I'm being so serious when I say I wish aegon and aemond had what these two have

[side-of-honey]

Do people really only watch movies once???????

[s0fter-sin]

Your reblogs are making me consider playing cod... what would you say you like about it? And which cod game has this ghost team on it?

friend, you’ve opened a door i don’t think can be closed 😭

so, ghost team is from the new rebooted modern warfare trilogy, specifically the 2nd and 3rd game. it mainly refers to the four main guys who are sas soldiers known as task force 141: price, gaz, soap and the titular ghost aka the one with the skull mask (but can also mean their allies in the games, specifically alejandro and rudy known as los vaqueros). price and gaz are in the first game, mw 2019, but soap and ghost are only introduced in mw2 2022

ghost team itself comes from mw2 2022 when price and gaz meet up with soap, ghost, alejandro and rudy and they do an unsanctioned, illegal mission together. as price says: “we are not 141 and los vaqueros on this. we’re a team. ghost team.”

as to what i like about it… whew boy

so, there’s three parts of the game: the campaign, multiplayer mode and zombies mode and i’m all about the campaigns. they don’t have the tightest plots in the world but the characters and their relationships more than make up for them

mw2 is my main game and in it, soap teams up with ghost to hunt down a terrorist and find missiles he’s stolen. ghost is a lieutenant and soap’s superior and he’s scarily professional; he will get the job done no matter what and that makes him seem cold and harsh and distant (one of his most well known lines is “choices have consequences” after soap pushed him to help their allies instead of continuing to pursue their target). soap is a steadfast sergeant, a soldier through and through but he will buck - not reject, just push back - against orders he’s unsure of. if you saw my soap meta post, i have a lot to say about him lmao

they end up in mexico working with a mercenary group and mexican special forces (alejandro and rudy) and one thing leads to another and soap and ghost end up separated; soap’s injured without any weapons and they’re being hunted throughout the town of las almas. since ghost is, well, ghost, you expect him to leave soap behind; soap probably won’t make it and the mission is time sensitive. but ghost stays; he hunkers down and waits and guides soap through the town on their comms. he teaches him guerrilla warfare, how to make weapons out of random objects, keeps his head on straight with dark jokes when he starts to falter (“what has two legs and bleeds?” “don’t tell me.” “half a dog.” “i asked you not to tell me.”)

ghost keeps him going and when they finally get back together (“alright, johnny; you made it.” “we made it, lt.”) and get to a safehouse, rudy asks where they were. soap says, “i was on the run; ghost waited for me.” rudy then says, “of course, no?” soap immediately says no just for ghost to cut him off and say, “yes. we’re a team, all of us. this happened on my watch and i’ll need help to fix it. no one fights alone.”

like are you kidding me??

and that’s just soap and ghost and that’s just one mission. price and gaz and their relationship to each other is just as complex and rich and all of it makes me want to dig into them and know more

[reikunrei]

manifesting a weekly release for s5 so that i dont have to binge it all in one weekend

[motionpicturesforcarrie]

okay finding out will toledo watched head as a child and loved it makes so much sense

[runningthroughthegarden]

meeting you at the wrong right time

summary: youve encountered benny a few times. but never at midnight, while you were crying and stranded

warning: sucky guy (not benny) word count: 1.8k

the vandals were the type of guys your mother had always warned you about. yet you couldn't seem to pull your eyes away from them whenever they were near. you were absolutely not the type of girls they would want; you were the type of girl they would want to corrupt. which honestly scared you, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't intrigue you.

you were a secretary. you loved to wear light pink dresses. you loved the way gold jewelry looked on your tan skin. you loved curling your hair to frame your face. you loved to spray your skin with decadent perfumes. you loved painting your nails while listening to your records.

you were the complete opposite of them. yet a part of you wanted so badly to even get a sneak peek into their lives.

when you first saw benny, you were completely entranced. you were enjoying your saturday walking around town, when you saw him leaning up against his bike smoking a cigarette. you were shocked to see him without the usual crowd of rowdy men. hoping to finally sneak a long glance, you watch as you continue walking. but when he looks up its like your world stops. quickly snapping out of your haze, your cheeks immediately tint to a bright red.

you knew you were in for it when he took one last drag before flicking his cigarette to the ground. leaning off his bike he took just a few long strides to reach you.

"y'know mothers say it's not nice to stare" he smirks while looking down at you

"mothers also say it's dangerous to talk to mysterious bikers" you bite back, wondering where your sudden confidence came from

"i wouldn't say we're mysterious anymore. ive seen you before. seen you looking, but you run always run off"

it was so hard to read him. you couldn't tell if he was flirting with you or trying to scare you off. maybe it was both.

you look down letting out a little giggle so he can't see the very apparent blush on your face.

"i'll see you around doll" he says, the roughness of his voice sending shivers down your spine

walking back over to his bike he shoots you one last look before he races off

you were left standing there in a complete daze. just as you had worried, you were already craving more.

it had been a few days since your interaction with benny and it was all that could fill your head. you did your absolute best to avoid the vandals common areas. because you knew you would walk right into the palm of his hand if you spoke to him again. this plan ultimately failed. it was like the universe was pulling you together. but as always, you would see them and scurry away. sometimes you would catch bennys face in the crowd, and he always had that stupid smirk.

deciding enough was enough, you decided to put your emotions elsewhere. it was no secret boys around town had hoped for a chance to be with you. so in order to stop thinking of benny, you decided to take a chance with one of them.

although a part of you wanted benny, you knew your parents would kill you. you needed someone practical, someone that could take care of you. even if that person didn't make you half as excited as you were when you saw benny.

curling your lashes and putting on your favorite lipstick, you started to have doubts in your mind. you knew it was best for you to step away from benny, even though nothing has happened. you've formed this version of him in your head. the boy you were going out with had his whole life planned. sometimes security was more important than what you really wanted.

the sound of a car horn pulled you away from your thoughts as you took one last look in the mirror. racing down the stairs and kissing your parent's goodbye, you braced yourself for the night ahead of you. sure, this boy was handsome, but the fear of him being a typical college boy scared you. he would probably spend the night talking about himself and hoping to get lucky.

and god did you hate that you were right.

the second you got into the car; you knew this was someone you would not want to see again. he bragged and bragged about the school he went to, the job that was practically already laid out for him, the money he was going to make. did this really impress other girls? you found yourself drifting off while he kept talking.

on the way to the diner, you passed by the vandals club. and for the first time ever, you wished you could be in there. even if it was filled with loud and stinky bikers.

the dinner carried on the same way. no questions were asked about you. and you found yourself only being able to hum in agreement with his statements. not even sharing a full sentence.

dinner was finally over, and you couldn't be more excited to get home and sleep or daydream or hell even stare at a wall. anything would be more interesting than this.

"so do you want to come over to my place?" he asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

"actually, i was thinking of calling it a night" you reply, playing with the hem of your dress.

"are you serious?"

"yeah, i mean its getting pretty late" you whisper, trying not to make him angry

"i sat through an entire meal, paid for the damn thing?! and what i cant even get a kiss" he slightly yells

"well no, i thought that was all this was, a dinner to get to know each other" you reply, starting to grow weary

"of course it wasn't. you're all the same. just wanting a free dinner and nothing else. i bet you're a whore anyway" he scoffs

"hm no i think you're the whore actually. taking girls to dinner, talking about your boring life the entire time, and hoping you can get them in the back of your car after" you scoff, feeling your anger bubble up

he quickly pulls over on the empty street and grabs your arm with such a force you know it's going to leave a mark

"get the hell out of my car" he seethes

pulling your arm away, you can feel tears threatening to spill. quickly grabbing your purse you climb out, slamming the door. he doesn't even wait a second before he is racing away.

feeling utterly hopeless and stranded you sit on the curb. in your nicest dress, you feel like a fool. a fool for ever thinking a man boy like him would ever have good intentions. bracing yourself for the walk home, you try to calm your breathing. but you're all worked up and you can already feel your arm beginning to bruise.

the sound of engines starting quickly catches your attention, and you begin to realize you were just down the street from the vandals club. not even wanting to deal with any of them, you find the willpower to start walking back home.

feeling a presence behind you, you're ready to tell a guy off. but when a hand comes up to your bruised arm you suck in a sharp breath. turning to find the man that lived in your daydreams. you must've looked a mess, because his face was instantly washed with concern.

this only made your feelings come back ten times stronger and before you knew it, you were crying all over again. it might have been a dumb idea, but you were so scared, and you needed someone. your face hit his chest, and your hands clung onto his jacket. scared he might disappear.

his arms immediately came up to surround you, pulling you tightly against him. making soft shushes to try and calm you down.

"hey doll, its alright, just look at me for a second" he whispers, pulling your face away from his chest to cup it in his hands

"what happened, are you okay?" he quickly asked, eyes flickering trying to find any injuries

"i went out with this guy, and he got mad that i didnt want to go home with him. he grabbed my arm and called me a whore. he kicked me out of his car and left me on the street" you explained between sniffles and hiccups

bennys face changed in an instant. bringing his hands to your arm, slightly brushing over the bruises that were forming. you suck in a sharp breath, and he knows it hurts. but he begins to slowly pepper kisses along your arm. he's holding you so delicately, like he's scared you'll break at any second.

"whats his name?" he asks, it felt like he was holding back anger

"benny its okay i promise" you reply, not wanting to cause trouble

"no its not okay, no one hurts my girl"

you couldve melted when you heard him say my girl.

"andy clark" you whisper

"c'mon, wait by my bike for a second and i"ll be right back i promise okay" he says, holding your face in his hands one more time

slowly nodding you walk over to his bike. looking around you feel so out of place, but you also feel safe. it must've been a sight. you in your light pink dress, standing next to benny's bike, with the rest of the club standing around.

benny must've explained what happened, because the next second a few of the guys you recognized were walking behind him. he looked the angriest you've ever seen him, but as soon as he saw you his face softened.

"i'll take you home alright doll? the other guys are gonna take care of it" he whispers, going to hold your waist

slowly nodding, benny begins to climb on the bike. helping you on after.

the drive home was almost peaceful. the other guys left in the other direction, you just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble. you were sad when benny pulled into your neighborhood. you didn't know how you would be able to stay away from him after this.

"thank you benny, for everything"

"i'll be here for you, okay? wont let anything like that ever happen to you again" he replies

you nod, slowly walking up the stairs to your house. pausing, you say something you might regret, but it felt right.

"do you think you could stay over? think i would feel safer" it came out almost like a whisper, scared that you were reading benny wrong

"of course, doll"

you never would have imagined that you'd be tucked into your bed with benny by your side. but the way his arms curled around you, shielding you from the world. you knew you would never be able to stay away.

[sheyfu]

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader

synopsis: sae turns into a child boohoo (ik impossible but why not idk)

cw: none except my dookie writing skills HAHAHAHHAA IM RUSTY AND IM JS MUCH BETTER W WRITING CHAT AUS’!/&;@/& tbh it kinda lost its plot in the middle but wtv; not proofread HAHAHAAH; swearing

notes: this thought occurred in the midst of me fighting against nature and its worst call (TMI IM SO SORRY); will fix format later cuh i did this on my phone HAHAHAHA; ITS FLUFFY I PROMISE

wc: 781 (LONGER THAN EXPECTED WHAT)

you love itoshi sae. you really really do.

you love him to the point where youre willing to fight anyone and anything just for him even, if it would cost you something.

you wonder how youve come to love him; was it because of his “nonchalant demeanor” that had ticked every time bomb you had in you, or was it his athleticism—yes, i know, boring—that quite literally fixed you in more ways than one? orrr was it actually his cleanliness and (n)-step skin-care routine that would probably do the opposite of what it actually does with how uncooperative your skin is?

youre actually not sure.

but what youre sure about right now, at this time and day, the itoshi sae you fell in love with was definitely not present.

“saeeee” you call out to your husband from the kitchen.

silence.

“saeeeee” calling out much louder, youre met with even more silence that quote on quote, ticked every time bomb you had in you.

weird.

“underlashes?” entering the dining room with your already-running-thin-patience, youre met with a sight to definitely behold.

“what do you want?” your husband—question mark x2–now reduced to a child perfectly mirroring his own features grumbles out from his seat at the table—a half-eaten slice of blueberry cheesecake slathered all over his mouth and some even getting onto his shirt.

what the fuck actually???

“ummmm” you question aloud as confusion paints itself on your face—your eyebrows visibly furrowing as you try to process what’s currently going on.

“you—“

“dont say anything. i dont wanna hear anything.” another grumble—albeit high pitched—comes from the seated man (the boy? child? manchild?) with his signature scowl planted on his face.

you watch with curious eyes as the manchild (youll call him that for now) reaches up for the fork on the “high-ass table counter thingy” (his words, not yours) attempting to feed himself.

heading off to the kitchen to grab your phone (for blackmail), you hear a sudden clank and a scoff from mr. manchild.

turning your head once more to face him, youre once again met with a sight youd definitely want to keep in your book of memories forever.

there, right in front of you, was the itoshi sae, mr. idgafer, the prodigal son™, the man of many names, and the love you call your life, staring down at the fork with the meanest mog and scowliest (is that even a word) face the world has ever seen.

thats right. the itoshi sae that was present right now, at this time and day, was not only the itoshi sae you fell in love with, but also the itoshi sae youd want to spoil, protect, and care for with your whole life.

“sae…” you try to stop yourself from laughing. you really do.

but in that moment, all hell seems to break lose, and that hell was your own laughing hell.

“pfft— hahahaha!” as you laugh your ass off, you miss the subtle shift in the red head’s expression.

your itoshi sae may not have been currently present, but you definitely there; the person he fell madly and deeply in love with. you and your bright smile that could light up all the emo shit inside him, your laughs that seemed to make everything much better, and your—

oh right. his blueberry cake.

ignoring your laughs, the little boy proceeds to hop off the high chair to retrieve the fallen fork.

hes almost tempted to leave you to your laughing trip, but hes too tired to clean up himself. so he does what every child would do; call a trusted adult.

and that trusted adult nearest to him was you, who so happened to be his spouse.

shaking his head, underlashes jr. starts telling you off and bossing you around like the chill guy he is.

“oi stop laughing and help me with this mess.” he slurs out, unable to resist the grin on his face.

“bu- but.. its your- your mess!” taking a deep breath, you wipe away the tears that had appeared on your eyes. “that was a nice laugh! right, underlashes jr?” grinning from ear to ear, you ruffle his hair, receiving multiple complaints and “punches” to your arms.

“yeah yeah whatever. now get off me and help me!” the mini guy successfully swats your hands off his hair, a faint blush blooming on the apples of his cheeks.

“alright, alright! right away, mister mini!” letting out a couple chuckles, you drag the little guy with you to the site of the (his) mess. “im not letting you off the hook though, little guy. you have to clean with me. ‘kay?”

“tch. whatever.”

he wouldnt have it any way though.

[the-s1lly-corner]

ADMIN I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU PLEASE WRITE THE READER SLAPPING SLASHER ASS WITH THE STICKY HAND THING

Slapping their ass w/ the sticky hand thing

Genuine question but does the sticky hand thing have like... a name 😭😭 theres got to be a better name than sticky hand thing

Characters: jason, thomas, bubba

Notes: reader is GN, established relationship, non sexual you're just being diabolical and mischievous

CWs: none

JASON

doesnt even notice the first time you do it so you do it a little harder the second time- he doesnt flinch or jump, instead he kind of curls into himself and does a half turn to investigate... if you did it how did you to it from across the room?

almost seems like a scared animal, alert and on guard- something just hit him and he doesnt know what it was and he cant find where it came from... did you flick something at him? why did you do that?

doesnt even register that you got him on the ass for a moment until you bring it up... he simply... stares at you, but you can see the tips of his ears turning a faint pink

THOMAS

jolts a little at his workbench as hes working on cleaning some of the worse gunk off of some tools... his reaction is no where as big as bubbas but it does give him pause

honestly he might ignore it, assuming you dont do it a second time to see if he would begin to investigate ... half turns to you before you can hide the thing out of sight and hes in front of you within seconds

not angry, but hes gently prying your hands open to see what youve got... oh...! a... thingy... small head tilt before he lets go of your hands

why, though..? hes not entirely opposed to you touching him, albeit hes still a little to you touching his butt (and other bits) if youre not married yet... just dont do it while hes handling sharp tools next time! and preferably not when hoyt or luda are in the next room- youre both bound to get an earful for the act

BUBBA

legitimately jumps because it takes him by surprise, spins around to try to find what's hit him but youve already pulled the hand back

not so much stressed that he was hit on his ass moreso distressed that he cant find what did it, you feel bad enough to come clean about it after a moment when he starts gesturing towards you- did you see anything? what happened??

takes the toy in his hand and stretches it between his fingers, watches it return to its original shape... has genuinely never seen anything like this in his life ever and hes wondering where you even got one of these anyway

dont do it again! at least not with the sticky hand, too bad of an introduction to it...

[smittenmeraki]

The fandom keeps taking about how they want Jeremy to get red carded defending Jean (if anyone is going to do that it would be Cat but yall arent ready for that convo) or for Jeremy to yell and go off on kevin for leaving Jean at evermore. I think Jeremy would understand, he wouldn't like it and may be angry but I think he would be more hurt that Kevin had to choose between saftey and betraying a friend. HOWEVER! I counter that Neil would be the one to get onto Kevin. Picture this, its a first banquet since Jean became a Trojan and Neil finds him and they start having a conversation in French about his new team or whatever random topic. Jeremy sees them and immediately is like 'nope, no way, last time these two were alone Jean came home in the middle of the night in shambles.' And goes over there. He doesnt say anything, just stands by Jean giving Neil heavy side eye. Of course Neil being Neil glares straight back. 'The fuck is his problem. He wants to be pissed at me when he failed to protect Jean?' Jean steps in at this point, trying to keep Neil from starting a fight.

"Do not start anything here. Jeremy's done nothing wrong and I am not cleaning up your messes.' Jean scolds in french.

"Nothing wrong? He was supposed to keep you safe. Which he failed at by the way."

"I dont need anyone to keep me safe." Jean glares at him, defending himself to which Jeremy takes one more step closer, just in case. Kevin and Andrew catch onto the commotion and walk over, taking stance next to them.

"Really? If we honestly believed that we wouldnt have sent you to the Trojans, you may as well have been a fox." Neil loosely gestures at Jeremy, dismissive.

"You and I both know he could never fit in as a fox." Kevin cuts in, switching them to English

Neil turns to him full of animosity. The glare of a Wesninski, its enough to make his stomach drop.

"I think youve already had enough say in where he ends up considering you left him at evermore in the first place." Kevin recoils, taking four steps back and staggering on the fifth, a look of horror on his face. When he glances at Jean, hes looking down. He knows its not true but its how it felt. Neil doesn't have to say anything else, Kevin knows what the ravens are capable of, hes seen it, on Jean, on himself, on Neil. The twisted smile on Neils face is enough to force Kevin to look away. Neil switches back to French, in a calmer tone.

"He is meant to keep you safe and help you get through all the shit they did to you. If he is incapable of doing that, you know where to find me. If you are hurt under his watch again." Back to english "I'll handle him." He glares at Jeremy then turns away, Andrew a step behind, staying between them.

[beenbaanbuun]

Neighbour w/ song mingi

words - 3.1k

genre - smutty

warnings - fem!reader, afab!reader, neighbour!mingi, mysterious!mingi, drop-out!reader, bitter!reader, wet dreams, masturbation, nicknames (kitty, good girl), i think that’s it

——————————————————————————

Coming home from a night shift is never fun, but its even less so in winter. As if the bone-deep tiredness wasn't already bad enough, now you have to compete with the inescapable chill of the air and the long, dark mornings that seem to drag on for eternity. It feels like months since you’ve actually seen an ounce of sunlight, sleeping through the few short hours that you’re granted around this time of year. Then you wake up again at 4pm, just in time to watch the sun go down beyond the horizon as you cook your breakfast of packet ramen and coffee.

Its a depressing existence, and you’d be the first to admit that, but you cant really afford much else. As a drop-out in a city full of students, you don't really have too many options. Full time jobs favour people with actual qualifications, and the part-time job market is wildly oversaturated by struggling teenagers looking for a way to fuel the various addictions that come hand in hand with being at university. You remember it well; the £16 bottles of Tesco’s own brand vodka that went down about as easy as a fist full of gravel, the weed from a random dealer who passed you his number at 3am while you were sitting drunk on a park bench. Its an expensive life to live, and you don’t blame them for snatching up every single decent part time job your city has to offer.

Not really, anyway. Theres certainly a little resentment there whenever a drunken customer cusses you out for refusing to serve them. Perhaps a little hatred when you’re sent in to handle yet another bar fight between two men twice your size. Definitely a lot of frustration whenever you feel the amused eyes of your neighbour as he watches you sleepily fumble with your keys whenever you return home in the morning. You’ve yet to learn his name since he moved in, and part of you doesn't want to. From the few run-ins youve had with him, you can already say that no amount of resentment or hatred or frustration you feel towards your working situation compares to what you feel for him.

That stupid bleached hair that he lets grow into something akin to a shitty mullet before cropping it short again, that brash voice that you can hear through the thin walls of your apartment as he yells at whatever sport is playing on his tv, those strangely soft eyes that watch you with so much amusement as you stumble around your shared corridor. He gets home about the same time as you after his morning run, and you hate it. You hate him. Cocky, irritating, handsome bastard.

“Someone pissed in your cereal, Kitty?” he pulls you from your thoughts with a quick quip. His shoulder is leaning against the wall on your side of the corridor, almost as if he was waiting for you to arrive home or something. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was; he seems the type to imagine camaraderie where there certainly isn't any. Perhaps he sees you as a friend, despite never having asked you for your name, or your age, or where you work, or anything else about you, for that matter. Maybe he’s lonely.

“I don’t eat cereal,” you scoff as you brush past him to get to your front door. He twists his body to watch you amble past him, your keys already poised in hand, “why would i want to eat cold mush every morning? Its gross.”

He chuckles brightly as if you’ve just told the joke of the century, and you weren’t just complaining about the concept of the nation’s favourite breakfast food. The judgemental glare you shoot in his direction happens just as easy as his laughter.

“It's a metaphor, Kitty,” God, you fucking hate that nickname, “surely work can’t have fried your brain that much.”

He wears a smirk that stretches from ear to ear, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he stares you down. Part of you wishes you could sock him right in his pretty little face, but a smarter part of you knows that the muscles that decorate his body arent just for show. He's like a dog in that sense; no matter how cute and unassuming he makes himself out to be, there's always going to be a part of you that understands what hes capable of. Dogs were once wolves, after all.

Your gaze cant help but flicker to a scar on his cheekbone, and then up to the newer one that sits on his left hand eyebrow. They’re not the type that you get from playing a little too rough as a kid, nor the type thats left over from surgery. They’re purposeful and dangerous and it makes you wonder just what he did to deserve them.

“My brain is fine,” you make a point of looking away from the scar above his eye, no longer wanting to dwell on what might of caused it, “not that the state of it is any of your concern.”

He laughs again, his smile cracking his face in two as your annoyance only grows. How is it that he can make you feel so… undermined? With such ease too! Its like every toothy grin is an act of condescension, every comment crawling beneath your skin like beetles. You’ve met plenty of arseholes in your life, and yet theres been no one who angers you quite as much as him.

“I’m just being neighbourly, Kitty–”

“That’s not my name,” you growl out, a thick layer of impatience coating your words.

“Yes, but it suits you,” he says with a shrug, “far better than the one written on the front of your mail, don’t you think?” What business did this man have looking at your mail? You’ve never once paid attention to his, nevermind going as far as to read the name that sits just above the address. You regret it now as you watch the playing field become even more uneven than it already was. Its you against him; the older, stronger, cockier man that knows more about you than you do him. Logic says that this is a game; one that you've already lost.

He says your name, humming it lowly to himself as if its an equation he’s trying to figure out. It sounds good, coming from his mouth, his accented drawl pulling at the letters in a way you’ve never heard before. The vowels get extended and the consonants ring out clear like a bell. It feels like the first time hearing your name, and whilst that might not necessarily be true, it certainly is the first time you’ve liked it. Its the first time its ever felt correct.

You could kick yourself for even thinking something so… pathetic.

“It might not suit me, but it is my name,” you insist as you try to ignore the desperate pitter patter in your chest. Its not a sensation you’re familiar with, especially not when it comes to him. You can only blame it on the romantic dry spell you’ve been facing as of late. Turns out the night shift isn't exactly conducive to meeting new people.

“Sure it is, Kitty,” you grind your teeth against one another, “but what's a nickname between friends, hm?” his teeth glint in the flickering overhead light, flashes of luminance against his pearly white canines. If he truly were a dog, you’d already be running, the look in his eyes telling you exactly whats going to happen if you entertain him for much longer. Like a rodent stuck in the maw of its predator, you can already feel your fate closing in on you. If you don't leave now, you fear he wont ever let you go.

You slip your key into your lock and twist it.

“We’re not friends,” is all you say as you bump your shoulder into the wood to pry it open, quickly slipping inside before locking it behind you.

Theres a chuckle, and a single soft tap against the door.

“We’ll see about that, Kitty.”

——————————————————————————

You sleep strangely.

Despite your mind wandering and your heart rate shifting between erratic and arrhythmic, it doesnt take you long to slip into a dreamland once your head is actually resting on the soft fluff of your pillow. Darkness washes over you like waves lapping at the shore, pulling you further and further into the deep until you’re stuck within the murky abyss of your mind. Fish swim past in the form of dream fragments, very few of them making sense.

Your neighbour grins down at you with a softened gaze, hands flitting around your face as if he cant quite help himself but touch. You feel it so clearly; a finger tip gracing the end of your nose, a warm palm cupping your cheek, minty breaths tickling your skin so perfectly. It feels so natural, which is strange given your regular distaste for the man. And as he pulls his hand away, you can’t help but to chase it. You lean in close; so close that you can almost taste his musk on the tip of your tongue. It feels so real, and while every rational part of you thanks the heavens that it isn't, there's still a tiny voice in the back of your head praying that one day it will be.

And the worst part is, your sleep addled mind doesn’t even try and shut that voice it. It seems to nod along, letting your mind wander further and further until the dreams shifts to you lay on a bed. It’s not your bed, so you conclude that it’s his. You’ve never seen it before, but your mind seems to have conjured up something that works. Dark walls, dark bedsheets, dark furniture, all illuminated by the glow of his laptop which loops an animated screensaver of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn.

Heavy hands paw at your flesh, pushing and pulling at you like you’re a ragdoll. They’re careful, yet firm, putting you in position without pushing too far, or tugging too hard. Its like he’s done this a million times before, and you’d believe it if he had! Everything from his smirk, to the unfounded confidence lets you know that he’s good at this; good at catching women in his trap and fucking them until they belong to him, mind, body, and soul.

And you can deny it if you want, but something tells you that perhaps he has you on a tighter leash than you care admit. Perhaps he already owns your soul, and judging by the way his tongue presses upon your clit in your dream, it’s clear that he already owns your mind. All that’s left for him to take is your body, and would it really be so bad if you gave that to him as well.

If you were awake, you’d be hating yourself for having these thoughts, but you’re not, so you indulge. Your hands fly to his hair and tug on his silky strands like they’re the only things keeping you anchored to earth right now. It’s all too much; far more than you’ve ever felt in a dream before, and before you know it, you’re coming undone. Your heart is hammering, and your eyes are flying open and your own fingers are being drenched in your cum as they stimulate the motion of your neighbours tongue on your clit.

Fuck, you really must’ve been horny if you had to resort to sleep-wanking.

Disgust fills you from top to bottom as you sober up and let sanity rain down on you once more. Your fingers are sticky, but not quite as much as your thighs. Your underwear is seemingly nowhere to be seen, although you don’t doubt that it’s had the same treatment. You feel a mess, both physically and mentally. Seriously! Thirsting over a man you’ve dedicated your last few months to hating? It all feels too surreal to think about.

Yet think about it is all you can do. As you crawl out of bed, you can still feel his breath on your skin, and as you strip with wet sheets and shove them into the wash, you can still practically smell him. The steam that surrounds you in the shower makes your head spin, and its almost like you can’t stop yourself when for the second time that night—although the first time in whisky awake—your fingers find their way dancing over you clit to the thought of him consuming you.

You cum twice, maybe three times before the water turns cold and you’re left shivering and ashamed of yourself. This time it’s worse than when you first woke up, though. You’re conscious, and you willed those images to come into your head. No longer can you give your brain the benefit of the doubt because this time, this is exactly what you wanted, not just some crazy, nightmarish concept you’ve dreamt up.

“Fucking hell~” you growl to yourself as you switch off the water and lean your head against the cold tile. Your fingers are pruned, and you can’t tell whether it’s from the shower or the constant abuse of your poor clit. Either way, it’s a clear signal that you need to get a grip; get out of the bathroom and remove any thought of that man from your brain. These thoughts aren’t normal, you tell yourself as you wrap a fuzzy towel around your body; you don’t even know the man’s name for heaven's sake!

You make a mental note to check his mail the next time you leave the flat. By the end of the day, you want to know as much about this man as possible. If he’s going to take over your every thought, waking or otherwise, then you at least deserve to know the name of the man that’s ruining your life.

But speak of the devil, and he shall appear, right?

There’s a knock on your door; three short taps that almost go unnoticed by you. “Shit—coming!” You yell out as you hurriedly slide some pyjama bottoms over your thighs and a loose hoodie over your head. The towel on your hair remains in place, keeping your wet locks contained and out of your face. It makes you feel a little silly, as you make your way over to the door and crack it open to reveal your neighbour, but then you remember that you’ve painted him as a slut, and so a woman with a towel wrapped around her head probably isn’t too unusual of a sight.

“Kitty,” he says with a sly grin the moment the two of you come face to face. What would happen if you just slammed the door in his face, you wonder? Would it wipe that look off of his face? You doubt it; a man like that is only spurred on by rejection. They’re too full of themselves to understand that not everyone in the world wants to get in his pants.

Fragments of your dream flash through your mind.

Maybe you do want to get in his pants…

“What do you want?” You try and push the thoughts of his tongue on you away as you speak, but you can’t push away the warmth that pools in your stomach as he looks you up and down. His gaze is so brazen as it studies your form, taking extra time to travel over your curves. They’re well hidden by the oversized clothing you don, but with the way he studies you, you almost feel naked.

“Oh, nothing much,” he takes his time in returning his gaze to your face, letting his eyes linger on your chest for a moment or two. You’re almost tempted to cross your arms and cover yourself, but there’s some sick part of your brain that’s enjoying the way he looks at you. It’s the same part that conjured up those dreams, and make you play with yourself in the shower; the same part that’s trying to convince you that lusting this hard over a man you’re supposed to hate is entirely logical. You hate that part of yourself, and yet you don’t dare fight it as it takes control. “I made too much food; I wanted to know if you’d like to come over and have some?”

Immediately, your brain goes blank. Stepping into the apartment of a man you don't really know is a bad idea, right? Sure, he’s your neighbour, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. Your eyes flicker across his scars again, and the burning question of where they came from returns. Your mind wanders to all sorts of dark places, and you try to ignore the way it makes the uncomfortable ache in your stomach deepen. You remember reading somewhere that fear is a powerful aphrodisiac and it’s the only explanation for the wetness that’s gathering between your thighs for the hundredth time today. It has nothing to do with his fluffy hair, or how hot he looks when he wears that condescending expression!

Even you can’t seem to make yourself believe that lie.

“I don’t really know you well enough to go to your apartment,” you try to reason, although you hardly sound stern about it. Your voice is weak, shaky, and there’s plenty of room for push back. With your brain teetering on the edge of too-horny-to-be-logical, you have no doubt that if he were to push too hard, you’d be sat at his dinner table by the end of the night. Perhaps you should just slam your door in his face; it would solve a plethora of issues, including giving you the privacy to fix the one between your legs (again).

“Well, my name is Mingi,” he smiles and you almost collapse to the floor right then and there. The name bounces around in your skull. Mingi, Mingi, Mingi. It suits him; you like it; you can imagine moaning it.

“Mingi,” you whisper back to him, and his eyes darken.

“It sounds pretty coming from you, Kitty,” suddenly the nickname doesn’t sound so bad. It shoots a tingle down your spine right to that aching spot between your thighs. You gasp, and he looks at you like you’ve just moaned his name for the entire building to hear. Something tells you that the night is heading in that direction anyway. “So what do you say? Come over?”

And against all your better judgement, you nod.

Like a lamb to the slaughter, you just fucking nod.

“Good girl.”

[clare-875]

hiiii i hope youre doing well ^_^ i have no clue if youve watched film gold but i dont think theres any fics about filmgold!zoro... if itd be okay could i request a small oneshot about reader fawning over zoro all dressed up in his white suit and participating in the casino with him (whether it be gambling or drinking LOL)? its not alot to go off of so if youre not feeling inspired you can delete this ask!

Suits and Coins (Zoro x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Zoro x Female Reader Summary: Zoro in a suit in a casino with you. (Takes place in One Piece Film Gold) Warnings: Fluff, gambling + alcohol A/N: Hello lovely! I absolutely adored Zoro in this movie!! 😍 I hope that this was what you were going for <3 [One Piece Masterlist] _____

What. The. Fuck.

You and your crew had just arrived at the Gran Tesoro, a massive ship with the world's biggest entertainment city resting atop it. It had taken a while to reach the casino, what with the Long Long pirates attacking your crew the instant you arrived and the abundance of places your friends were intrigued with. However, when you had, you were blessed with a sight (in your opinion) more valuable than the gold that glistened off every city surface.

Zoro in a suit.

Most of your crewmembers had already dispersed, and you could faintly hear Nami shouting at Luffy as he ran off in a random direction, already ready to explore. But you pay her no mind. Because with their absence you allow yourself to look. Really look. You were so used to Zoro wearing simpler clothing that you could feel yourself losing composure at the sight of him so dressed up.

You basically had hearts in your eyes.

Zoro can feel your persistent gaze and turns slightly, opening his good eye questioningly. However, he is taken aback when he sees your flustered expression and the emotions raging in your eyes. "W-What are you looking at?" But your look of adoration only amplifies as his words reach your ears. You start to comically jump around him, taking in his figure from every angle.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you, 'cause I'm definitely sweating."

Zoro rolls his eyes at your words and the frantic pace at which you circle him, your eyes glistening with absolute admiration. "You're acting like that idiot cook." His words scarcely register in your mind as you have to stop yourself from screaming. "Babeee, you need to wear suits more often, no scratch that, how am I supposed to be the hotter one in this couple with you looking like this!"

You ramble to yourself more than him about his new-found style that you can't help but fawn over, and Zoro must admit that he had never seen you so enthralled. When he finally has enough he grabs your arms to hold you still, surprised again when he witnesses the pout on your lips. "It's not fair! You can't go out looking like that!" Zoro raises his eyebrows at your words before they furrow in confusion. "Have you lost your-" But you interrupt him again, and your next words cause his face to take on a shade of red.

"You're too hot! Everyone will see you!"

Zoro's eyes shoot open in surprise, but you turn away, crossing your arms like a child. He thinks you will actually be the death of him. You fail to notice how his eye lingers on your figure, adorned in a tight-fitting dress that has him fighting the heat that wants to reach his face. He doesn't know what you're talking about. You were clearly the more attractive person here. He lets out a deep sigh, but you ignore it, still internally debating your current situation and secretly wishing the two of you could go back to the Sunny so you could kiss him senseless.

"Let's go woman."

His grasp is surprisingly gentle on your arm, and you find yourself relenting as he drags you towards the casino. You feel heat rush to your cheeks at the action and smile before catching up to him and holding his arm as you walk. You can feel Zoro freeze momentarily, but surprisingly, he lets you linger. Your smile widens; with Zoro not being such a big fan of PDA, you would take any outward affection you could get.

The atmosphere of the casino was vibrant and thrilling. Dynamic lights reflected off the gold the building was entirely made of, and people's voices filled the lively atmosphere. You could scarcely hide your shock; you don't think you had ever seen such gold before in your life. Zoro softly smiles at the expression on your face, admiring your awe and astonishment, but by the time you meet his gaze, he turns away. You grin at his flustered expression and pull his arm gently.

"Look, Zoro! Let's try the roulette!"

Moments pass in a buzz, and with drinks in your hands, your boyfriend by your side and coins piling up around you, you don't think you could be happier. With the alcohol also came Zoro's boldness, both with the gambling and with his touch. He lets you sit on the armrest of his chair. He lets your hands linger on his form. He smirks when he sees passing patrons eye your figure by his. You were his, and he was yours. They could watch as long as they wanted; nothing would change that.

"Yes, we won again!"

He grins when he sees you happily collect your winnings. The luck placed upon your crew was truly unmatched. He turns to a passing server, "Hey, get us two more drinks," the man quickly nods and rushes off to do just that. When you lean back into the chair he sat in after placing more of your bets, you are utterly surprised when his arms circle your waist, and he pulls you onto his lap. "You look hot today doll." Your heart pounds at his softly spoken words, rumbling deep into your ears. You quickly collect yourself as you turn to him smiling.

"Took you long enough. I didn't think you'd noticed."

All in all, you win so much money that Nami is practically praising the ground you both walk on in the aftermath. Zoro lingers close to you even as more crewmembers gather to show off their winnings. He secretly swears to get you alone later.

You in your dress and him in his suit.

[pressureplus]

Can I request a sebastian x scene fem!reader? At first I was going to choose gyaru but someone already made it. Reader often visits Sebastian's shop to talk and Sebastian often asks about her scene style.

I got you brother, as a lover of the Scene/Gyaru styles myself, I'm gonna have some fun!

Your Name

Pairings: Sebastian Solace x Scene!Fem!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: Romance, Sebastian is bad at feelings

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜

“Its you again.” His voice is smooth and calm, hands clasped together the way they always are everytime you wander into his shop. You manage to wiggle your hips right on through and finally crawl into his shop. God these vents are an uncomfortable squeeze sometimes. You stand up, running your hands through your hair in a weak attempt to fix the mess as you walk over to Sebastian.

“Yeah, hey. My bad I know I promised Id be here sooner but my hair has been a-”

“Let me.” He hums and swats your hands away gently, you two more than friendly enough for him to touch you. Even though he wasn't particularly an overly touchy man he still allowed himself to reach out for you every now and then. Plus he didn't just shoot or throw you whenever you reached out to touch him either. What was special about you? You had no idea. A part of you assumed it had something to do with his curiosity. It seems he had never really seen somebody with your style before. The fluffier and ‘weird’ hair, the multicolored charms and jewelry you had on. He’d found you strange to begin with but eventually grew very very curious. All his questions leading him to requesting you come back so you could answer more at a later date. Now you come in whenever you can, now that you think about it, maybe its the familiarity he likes?

“You really should be more careful- I don't exactly have hair ties and hairspray laying around. Expendable or not, don't be clumsy and stupid.” He notes as his hands comb through your hair. His touch is gentle as he tries not to accidentally claw your scalp while fixing it for you. You're certain the position he’s bent himself into to do this for you can't be comfortable. Still you allow it. For a while you both remain silent, the closeness leaving you a little pink, not that he seems to notice.

“Ah, Im trying my best, but I swear Pandemonium has it out for me.”

“That bastard again?” You can almost watch his eye twitch as he huffs. His hands finally moving away from your head to reach into his bags. He sort of messes around with the items in there before managing to pull out a hair tie. Odd how despite claiming he doesn’t have one, he has one available for you? You're half expecting him to hand it to you, but no. He spins you around himself to tie it up for you.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting your hair out of your face. You want to survive, don't you?”

“Of course I do, but I mean…why are you putting it up for me? I have hands you know.”

“Your bracelets get caught sometimes. Don't think I haven't noticed that.” You pause.

“Youve been paying attention to me?”

“Whenever you're in my shop? Yes. I've got to watch everyone's hands, Y/N.” You sit in a shaken silence. He seems quick to join you and for a moment his hands still. He’s gone and called you by your name. You're fairly certain, based on the sudden stillness, that he didn't want you to know he knew it. At the very least he hadn't meant to call you that. You'd gotten aggressively called Expendable since the moment you signed up for this job. Honestly, your own name sounded foreign on his tongue. He clears his throat and finishes up with tying your hair back.

“Its done, you can leave now.”

“No wait- Dont you have questions for me today?”

“Nope.” He turns his head away, face red. His arms quickly crossing over his chest. A silently defensive position you've grown accustomed to whenever you push one too many buttons.

“Oh come on, don't be shy just because you called me by my name. I'm not gonna tease you for it!”

“Dont care. Get out.”

“Sebastian, come on! You were so happy to learn about my belt collection back at home just yesterday!”

“And I'm not today. You may leave, escort yourself out, remove yourself from the premises, or whatever terms you want to use.”

“You know considering I never told you my name in the first place, and you never cared enough to ask, you must've been looking for it.”

“No-”

“Have you been trying to find out my name, Sebastian? Clearly you managed it. Is it safe to assume you like me?” You attempt to tease him and he’s quick to shift himself down to your height again. A hand grabbing you by the front of your gear and tugging you up towards his face. A low rumbling growl emanating from him, teeth bared.

“I didn't go looking for it, and I certainly don't like you. Remember who you're…talking…” He trails off. His eyes locked on yours. He can't help the almost doe eyed expression he makes, his teeth no longer fully exposed and his mouth slightly ajar. As though he’d entirely lost his train of thought. From this close you could see every little fleck of blue in his eyes individually. Even glowing you could see the slightest of color changes.

“You uh…you alright?” You mutter as he stares. He’s slow when he releases you, his face pulling away a bit. A silence settles between you two for a moment before he speaks up again.

“Your eyeliner.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you uh, always do it like that?”

[cloverfieldds]

someone requested for the full thing so um here ^^!

tw - detrans, religious play, cnc

being corrupted by a prest at a convent.

heading to a confessional full of guilt because you promised you wouldn’t engage in any more sinful behaviors or thoughts, but you’ve been binding lately and denying your god given sex.

you shyly step into the confessional box and stay silent as you’re scared to utter any words. its like you know that he knows why youre here.

“forgive me father..” you choke on your words, already ready to cry at the thought of his response.

“save it, my child. how many times are we to go through with this? i’m starting to think you want the devil to keep a hold on you.”

“no!” you cry out in desperation, feeling sick at the mere thought. “my body just feels wrong, father. like im not supposed to be… a girl”

no response. you can feel the disappointment through a heavy sigh followed by the opening of his door. your eyes begin to water as thoughts embrace your mind, telling you that he’s given up on you and that youre beyond healing. you stifle the cries threatening to leave your throat as your hands lay themselves over your lips. you’ve disappointed everyone in the church, not just yourself.

the door opens for you, only slightly, a crack of light hitting your eye as it does.

the priest locks eyes with you, a furrowed, disgusted expression on his face. “follow me,” he utters before turning around and leading you to his office.

you hesitantly follow him and look around the empty sanctuary, happy no one is there to have overheard anything, to have seen how disappointed youre making everyone. you step into his office, surprisingly for the first time, and watch as he gestures you to sit down, his seat right across from yours, save from his desk between you two. you sit in an uncomfortable silence and try your best to focus on not crying even though the tears are seconds from falling from your eyes.

the silence itself has gone on too long, it feels like it’s been hours of him just staring you down. you open your mouth to break it but as soon as you try speaking you choke and those tears start to fall. uncontrollable sobbing emits from your side of the desk and you begin wiping your tears slower than they fall. “im sorry.. m so so sorry father please dont be mad i tried please.”

you hear a slight groan from him as you cry out and force yourself to lock eyes with him. he is clearly irritated at you, but there is only so much you can do, right? this isnt really your fault. its the devil.

he calls out your name, “truthfully, youre trying your hardest—dedicating your life to the lord like you should be?” you shakingly nod. he falls silent once more and you find yourself looking down to the floor again. his eyes dont leave you but he still doesnt speak. this suffocation making you only more nauseated within yourself. “would you do anything to reconnect with the lord and fix yourself, my child?”

“yes! yes, father! i would!” you cry out.

“…come here.”

you look back up and watch as his chair slightly swivels to the right, indicating for you to walk around his desk and stand directly in front of him. tears continue streaming down your face as your eyes gaze upon his shoes. the same black leather shoes that youve seen a thousand times before during service. but this time it seems just a bit more humiliating.

“father..”

“hush, child.” his hand reaches toward your arm and slowly slides down to grab onto your hand. “god created these hands, my child. such girly, feminine hands,” he moves his hand to your hips, gladly watching you flinch at each and every movement. “such a godly frame going to waste. if your parents knew half of the things youve told me, im sure theyd strip you down to the core of your soul and make you apologize for every sin youve confessed to me.” you can feel every movement against your skin, slightly shaking as he slips his hand beneath your shirt, pausing as he gets to your binder. your breath hitches upon the realization.

“father.!”

“you confess your sins to me while still committing them?” you cant find it in yourself to respond. “take it off.”

you raise a brow, your crying coming to a temporary stop. “father.. could you.. turn around?”

“how am i sure you wont lie to me again? take it off. ill be watching.” your hands shake as you start to move, but you cant deny an order from the only person who knows your secret, the only one who can and would help you. he watches silently as you lift your top, hanging it on the wrist of your arm while you close your eyes and force the binder from your skin. you start to cry once more, but keep yourself going with the thought that hes just trying to help.

your binder is off, and you move to slide your shirt back onto your body, but quickly open your eyes back up once his hand grabs your wrist.

“did i say to put that back on?”

you shake your head, “but sir”

“put your hands down.” slowly, you listen to his command, only crying more at the action as you do. “stay still.” you watch as his hands move to your chest. you wanna say something, scream for help, anything, but you cant. everyone will know if they see, the binder you once wore so clearly laying out on his desk. your eyes close again as he starts to fondle you. and even though your eyes are closed, you can feel his gaze on your chest, almost like theyre following the movement of his own hands as he gropes and pinches at you. you hold in sounds of discomfort.

“this is what these are meant for. youre ruining yourself squishing them against that rib cage of yours. god’s creations are not meant to be hidden.” you wince as he pinches your nipple.

it feels like forever has gone by of him stimulating your chest, your thighs now subconsciously and slightly rubbing together as the feeling has started to turn you on. just as you hoped he wouldnt notice, you almost jump as he places a hand on the waistband of your boxers and starts to pull them down in a bundle with your pants. your hands shoot down to grip onto the fabric as your eyes lock with his. you can feel your heart skip a beat as he raises an eyebrow, a silent warning not to do anything stupid. you cant find it in yourself to move your hands. your binder- your chest is one thing but this? no one is supposed to see you like this.

“please.. ill be good, ill throw the binder and boxers and everything away, please,” you cry out as your fists tighten around the fabric.

he stares in silence as pleas leave your mouth on mindless repeat. within a few minutes his hands leave your pants and you can feel a wave of relief wash over you.

“get on your knees.” you shakingly fall to the floor, thinking nothing more than him sparing your nudity. your crying quickly stops once more as you watch him unbuckle his pants, staring at you as he does so. “youre going to cleanse yourself.” his dick is pulled from his boxers, stroking it with care as he stares at you. “ill teach you what it means to be a man, why you can never be one yourself.” and again, your tears begin to flow. you watch as his hand reaches for your hair, gripping it in your hands as you feel strands strain against your scalp. you cant beg anymore, your hand holds onto his wrist as a silent ask for mercy, but a sting is quickly felt on your cheek as a heavy hand makes impact with your cheek. “open.”

you oblige.

within moments, youre sucking off your pastor as he forces your tongue down his shaft, occasionally giving you instruction on how to make himself feel good. his thickness strains against the inside of your mouth as his moans fill your ears. your nipples rub against the cloth of his pants as he fucks your mouth, wetness forming in your boxers as he does so.

soon his moans grow longer, instructions of what to do turning more and more into praises from his lips. the praise sending a shiver down your spine. your face is suddenly pushed against his pubes as he twitches against you, cum shooting down your throat as you try your best to swallow in order to not drown in cum.

with a pop, dick is removed from your mouth as any remaining cum drips from your lips and down your chin. you look up at him with a pathetic, whiny look that sends blood straight back to his cock. “you have no idea how whorish you are, my child. stand up.”

you stand on his command and try simultaneously  wiping the tears from your eyes while removing the cum from your mouth. you watch his hand start to stroke his cock once more in a horrified silence. his hand moves back to your waistband and begins sliding them down once more. you dont have the will to stop him this time, but that doesnt stop you from begging him to not go through with this, making desperate promises of staying a girl and not going through with your transition. he ignores you as annoyance rises within him.

“ill make sure you stick to that.” quickly your pants and boxers are on the floor, a slight wetness on your inner thighs. slick coats them and youre guided to spread your legs as he licks his fingers and rubs your clit. “are you still a virgin, my child?”

you nod, embarrassed.

“tch,” he kisses his teeth. “the only godly thing about you.” you look away as he keeps on stimulating you, holding in your moans while your lips are coated in your own juices. just as you get used to the feeling, you can feel a foreign feeling at your lips, quickly looking down just in time to see him push a finger inside of you, a pained moan escape you as he does so. you cry out while your body falls forward and your hands find stability on his shoulders.

“no..!” you sob against him as he starts to move, not waiting for you to adjust to the feeling. “father! i havent.. please!”

he ignores you and continues to thrust in and out, the sound of your juices coating his finger filling your ears as his moans once did. quickly a second finger joins his first and you fully buckle over on top of him, your knee placed in between his legs on his chair as your pants drop and are left wrapped around one ankle.

“youll be ready soon, my child. dont cry.” he spits out disgustingly soothing words while you cry anyway. the thickness of his fingers is too much, and you can only imagine how painful itll be when he finally fucks you.

almost as if reading your mind, his fingers pull themselves out and his slaps your pussy before moving a hand back to his cock. “thatll be enough.”

your eyes widen as speaks, knowing yourself that it isnt enough at all. “no, father just a bit more.. please!”

he ignores you and gestures for you to climb on top of him as you cry out.

“no! no!” you grab his hand and lead it back towards your boycunt, pathetically grinding against it in hopes that hell continue to fingerfuck you. “see? just a bit more! please! pl-“

a harsh hand hits your cheek once more, that familiar sting shutting you up and stopping your cries.

“get up here or ill inflict a godly punishment onto you.”

your hand grips onto his shoulder for stability as you slowly climb on top of him, apologizing to god as you do. your lips tremble while you speak and do your best to keep from any more physical punishment.

his cockhead glides against your lips, the wetness from his spit, your slick, and his cum mixing together. he tries to push in, slipping against your lips as it doesn’t go. a simple “relax” leaves his mouth as if its that easy, but you try anyway. and within a few more tries, the pain from his initial entrance hits you. you let out a guttural moan as your head falls onto his shoulder, crying out in pain. he wastes no time moving deeper inside of you. your fingers grip onto his shoulders and you continue to beg for mercy. the tightness of your virgin walls doesnt help your desperation. with a final thrust, hes completely inside of you, listening to your heavy breathing as you subconsciously clench around his dick. he pauses for a bit, finally letting you catch your breath as he rubs circles on your back, calling you a good girl and loving the feeling of your pussy every time the words leave his lips.

“are you alright?” you shake your head, unable to speak. he doesnt seem to care.

his hands grip onto your hips and quickly start to thrust himself into you. you let out another painful cry, feeling nothing but regret. you wish you left the church and let him tell everyone. you wish you never took your binder off or let him remove your boxers. you wish your stupid boycunt didnt get wet from all the friction on your nipples. you wish you didnt let him grope and molest you like that. but it doesnt seem to matter. your hole burns and hes thrusting into you like his life depends on it.

“this is.. your role as a wom.. as a woman.” he groans into your ear. “do you hear me?” you can only sob out incoherent responses. “you were made.. made for this, my child.” you clench around his dick every time he speaks, like some dirty and raw part of you likes being spoken to like this. “thinking.. someone as slutty as you? someone so.. fuck,” you jump (well, as much as you can) at his swearing, “so clearly made for being penetrated was meant to.. to be a boy?”

“..m sorry.. sorry sorry” you apologize between chokes and cries.

“fuck.. even touching you is corrupting me. youll need to pray every hour if you want forgiveness at this.. at this rate.” you can feel your body convulsing at his words, begging him to stop because something unholy is clearly building up inside of you, but he doesnt care. if anything, he goes faster, finger moving towards your clit as he starts to rub with a painfully blissful harshness.

“such a perfect cunt.. fucking.. tight whore…” his teeth latch onto your neck as he continues to fuck you, wet sounds emitting from both of you and echoing around his office. “made to be bred. arent you?”

your head shots up as he thrusts against your gspot, watching your back arch as he does it once more. “no..! n..no! not ins..inside!” you fight back once more, hands pounding against his shoulders as you cum, crying out in agony while he keeps on fucking you. “please!”

his hand moves up to your throat, annoyed with your writhing and begging, aiming to cum inside you without care for your disarrayed demeanor.

within moments, his thrusts become more and more broken and disorganized. groans are forced into your ear as he pulls you towards him. you feel his cock twitch inside of you as hot cum coats your walls. you moan out, as much as you can with a hand gripped around your throat, before he releases you and allows your coughing fit on his shoulder, falling forward and trying to catch your breath while cum drips out of your full pussy.

a few moments of silence are interrupted as he begins to kiss up and down your neck before lifting you off of him. he smiles at the sound you make when he removes himself from your boycunt. youre lazily cleaned and redressed in a daze.

“i expect to see you at service this sunday, is that clear?” he buckles his pants back.

“..yes, father.”

[princedetectives]

in my last post i mentioned at the end how goro akechi's "detective prince" outfit looks a hell of a lot like naoto's persona. well im still thinking about it. sit down

like. when you see them side by side the resemblance IS pretty uncanny isnt it? im not crazy??

my thesis: akechi's detective prince outfit is a mix of symbols he sees as upholders of justice. aka, his role models. aka, mainly naoto and the neo featherman rangers. you know, because he's a nerd.

the latter is even more obvious in robin hood. i could swear it's canon but i for the life of me cannot remember where from. but i KNOW he is a featherman fan. it makes sense, watching a show where heroes of justice fight against evil and forming an image of justice based on that. it's further supported by his weapons, described as kids' toys. it's very likely his image of justice was formed when he was pretty young, the perfect age to form role models like this. this resemblance has been pointed out before im sure youve heard it

but i digress. you know who ELSE is a featherman fan?

(really really cute that both of them are featherman nerds. comes with being a detective prince i suppose)

that's already a pretty strong link between them -- i bet featherman ranger influenced naoto's persona, too. at least a little bit. but the resemblance to the cartoon isn't as strong with naoto. it's there, but the bird-like theme can also be explained by yamato-takeru's mythology (when he died, he turned into a great white bird and flew away).

so naoto's persona is mostly original. which means the resemblance can only be explained by respect for naoto. and i guarantee you he doesnt even realize it. (unless he's seen naoto's persona before, which might be true if you want to get funky with AUs, but probably not.) and you might look at me and think the link is kind of farfetched... but come on. the resemblance is too much to ignore to me. and even if it wasn't intentional it's interesting and fun to look at it like it is.

but what does this mean

as i mentioned in my last post, akechi's status as the first detective prince is vital to his self-image. self-image affects metaverse appearance deeply, ESPECIALLY with akechi, since his personas work differently than everyone else's. it feels easy to write this off as "oh it's just his public mask" but remember both detective prince and black mask and equally essential.

and again, it's not like naoto's popularity gets in the way of his. akechi has garnered respect on his own (or by shido's tampering, but that's a whole other can of worms). even so, the detective prince name is directly congruent with his predecessor. naoto's shadow looms over it. it's only natural that his "detective prince" form, as i've been calling it, reflects this. it's a LEGACY!

of course, naoto definitely wouldn't have a metaverse outfit like this, even with the same influences. crow is uniquely akechi, because the detective prince title is just as much his as it is naoto's.

p.s. i usually avoid the existence of persona x detective naoto as much as possible but.. but the new persona he gets there... i couldnt help but notice....

okay, genuinely don't get me started on this one LMAO

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

somewhere in the haze got a sense ive been betrayed

pairing: ethan landry x reader

WC: 1.3K

warnings: blood mentions, stabbing, this is a scream fic its a little violent and graphic. SPOILERS LIKE ACTUAL CHARACTER SPOILERS DONT READ UNTIL YOUVE SEEN THE MOVIE

summary: people aren’t who they always say

A/N: i freaking loved scream6!!!!! literally wrote this the day after i watched the movie. gonna try and pop out a mix of angst and fluff for ethan cause i love my nerdy boyfriend. lowercase on purpose, sorry if that bothers you. if the chase scene sucks... mind your business, just skim the words.

masterlist

“hello?”

“hello… y/n. i’ve missed the sound of your voice.”

it was like you heard the stereotypical horror movie music play in your mind. your blood went cold and your body seized up from the bucket of ice water that just splashed over your whole body at the voice of the horrific ghost face. the way he spoke your name made you feel even sicker.

“what is it now? gonna sweet talk me for a second before you start saying vile words and then pop out from a corner ready to stab me?” you took slow steps through the living room, trying to scope out where the killer could be lurking.

he just laughed, “well you do know how this works. after all, you already went through round one in woodsboro, somehow surviving multiple stab wounds to your stomach. impressive.”

the deep drawl of his voice only caused nausea to roll over you in waves. with quiet steps as you listened to the narcissist as they just talked and talked, you hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife from the wooded block.

“honestly why don’t we just do this dance, huh? i was in the middle of a very good book and i would like to get to the part where the love interest resolved their differences and had hot sex. plus i’ve done this before and i’ve been working out.” you just started to blurt things out, your anxiety kicking into high gear.

ghost face didn’t say anything back and it only caused your fear to grow. so you just hung up and speed-dialed sam knowing she always answers her calls.

“come on, sam. please please plea-“

“y/n? what’s-“

“he’s in the apartment. please get here fast… i love you guys.” you hung up placing your phone in your back pocket. you hoped to make it alive again, but as mindy said, you're all expendable in sequels.

the noise of something crashing to the ground made you flinch high in the air, a small gasp slipping from your lips. the grip on the knife readjusted to get a firmer hold as you peeked around a corner, seeing nothing suspicious. so you started to make your way towards the front door, hoping you could escape the killer before he gets you.

as just as you passed quinn’s room you stepped on a creaky spot. you froze for a second before running to the door, fumbling with the five locks. and just as you were on the last two, sweat causing the metal to be slippery, your roommate's door burst open and ghost face, dressed in his black cloak and the dirty mask came dashing at you with the classic knife held high.

you screamed and ducked away needing to circle back to the door. you were able to get a quick swipe to their bicep before running to sam’s room and closing the door closed. you took a breath until loud banging slammed against the wooden frame, almost bending the door in half from its weight.

with ghost face distracted on the door, you ran through the shared bathroom, shutting and locking each door as you entered quinn’s room. you pushed her dresser against the bathroom for extra hold. when it was in place you ran, knife still in hand, and went back to get the last locks on the door free and ready for your escape.

just as you pulled the door open, ready to dash down the steps, you were pulled back with arms around your waist and pulled into a solid chest. you screamed and kicked, the knife falling to the floor. ghost face threw you to the ground, back hitting the living room chairs. you turned to your stomach to try and go for a push-up into a run, hands tight on your ankles pulled you back. your hands scrambled for purchase on something solid.

then suddenly the most blinding white hot pain shot through your right thigh pulling a high-strung scream from your vocals. then he gave the knife a twist making the pain shoot to your spine, you felt frozen. he pulled the dripping knife out and his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you further down before flipping you over and straddling your waist making you immobile.

you tried to push his arms away, but his strength was must higher than yours as he plunged the knife into your stomach then pulled out then back in. in and out, in and out. multiple more times that you knew you wouldn’t survive this one.

you tried using your last bit of strength to push his looming face away. with a solid hold, you ripped the stupid mask off the killer's face and the sight before you taking the last bit of air from your lungs.

“e-ethan?” you rasped out, blood dripping from your mouth.

your loving, sweet, handsome boyfriend of five months now stared down at you with a sickening twisted grin on his lips, teeth poking out like fangs. his thick head of luscious curls that you would run your fingers through when making out or just laying with each other were matted down with sweat, and the urge to touch them came back on instinct.

limply you lifted your left arm from the floor and cupped his cheek, you saw the look in his hungry eyes switch for a second before snapping back into place. “e-ethan… wh-why? i- i thought you lo-loved me.” with a gentle swipe of your thumb over his skin, his eyes involuntarily slipped closed at the comforting gesture.

“i do love you, sweetheart. but i have to do this.” a gloved hand held the one on his face, you were scared and confused by everything.

“i- i don’t-“ “i need to complete my brother's movie.”

you decided if you could keep ethan talking maybe the others will show up soon and save you, “br- brother? you- you said you were an- an only child.”

“sorry sweetheart, but i lied. had to get close to you and your friends somehow, and having a fake identity helps.” he whispered, “landry isn’t even my real last name.”

your anger was spilling over the brim. ethan used you to get closer to your friends, you were just a pawn in this stupid fantasy of his. and it hurt because you thought he was the one, the goodness that you needed in your life.

with both hands you held his cheeks then slid them slowly up into his sweaty curls, nails dragging over his scalp pulling a groan from his throat and usually, you loved the noise but now all you saw was red. so with a good fist full, you pulled his hair hard and then slammed your head together.

it caused ethan to fall back, dropping his knife. with the last of your strength, you tried to slide away from him, tried to grab your phone and call sam or chad, anyone at this point. but your luck had run out and ethan gained back his upper hand.

he grabbed a chunk of your hair, head pulled back with your eyes pointed at the ceiling. ethan leaned over your left shoulder and whispered in your ear, “i did love you. but family is family, gotta stick by them. so, any last words, y/n?”

with tears streaming down your face, and blood closing off your throat, you sniffle out your last words, “i loved you too,” you said with every bit of honesty, “but you're gonna get killed like the pussy you truly are.” you seethed with a blinding anger.

and the last thing you heard was the roar of ethan’s cry as you felt the cold metal slice your throat open and your head slumping hard on the wood flooring. you died at the hands of the first boy you truly loved in this twisted world.

love does kill you in the end.

...

[lolitakirstein]

Sore part 2/3

AN: GODDD WHY DO I WRITE SUCH LONG STUFF. There's just so much I want to put in. Anyway here is part one CW: Smut

I walked into the gym the next evening but it was more like a hobble. I'm more sore today than yesterday. I find Toji throwing punches at the punchbags. The sounds of his fist hitting the bag sound like gunshots and the bared teeth and scowl he's wearing are absolutely deadly.

I approach slowly, not wanting to startle him into whipping those fists around on me, but before I can say hi, he grabs the bag to still it.

"I've seen sloths move faster than you, grandma." He says breathlessly, wiping sweat from his brow.

"That's no way to treat a customer," I cross my arms and pout.

He chuckles and unwraps the taping from his large hands.

Am I really about to let this man touch me with those paws after what he just did to that bag?

"Is it still tight?"

"Excuse me," I shake out of my thoughts.

He rolls his eyes, "your neck? You said it was bothering you yesterday."

"oh, yeah." I try to save this conversation with humor. "But as you can see it's a bit more than my neck today. I'm more sore than yesterday"

"DOMS" he answers.

"Uhm, I"m more of a sub myself-"

He cuts me off with a booming laugh, "That's great to know, but DOMS is delayed onset muscle soreness. Happens from progressive overload."

My cheeks burn. Not only have I shown where my mind is twice (the gutter) I've also exposed my preferences (a whore).

"Youve been squatting heavier so it check out," he shrugs.

Is he hinting that he's been watching me squat?

"Yes I watch," he reads my mind.

"What? Why?"

He shrugs again, "I like to make sure everyone is using proper form."

"And how is my form?" i arch a brown

"Excellent," he croons, eyes slowing scanning my body. It's suddenly hotter than the sauna room in here.

"But you can quit the theatrics of pushing your ass out as far as you can. You'll hurt your lower back."

Fuck he is watching me be a whore

"I'll keep that in mind." I try to change the subject though I doubt where I'm going with this is any more appropriate. "So, if your not busy do you wanna take a look."

He pauses wiping off with a towel and we both stare at each other before it clicks what I just said.

"LOOK AT MY ALIGNMENT I MEAN!" i say quickly, but Toji already has a smug fucking looking gracing those scared lips.

+++

The gym's spa room is complete with a hot tub, sauna, tanning booths, and tables that customers can schedule for a masseuse to come in.

Toji gestures to the table, pressing a button that lowers it. "Hop on."

is he being suggestive now?

I sit on the table after removing my shoes. "How do you want me?"

Damn it's no wonder so many porns revolve around massaging, it's too damn easy.

"Well, let me feel your neck first." He steps behind me, "Is it ok if I touch you now?"

I nod. Fuck yes, you can sir.

"Let's get this hair out of the way," he says, gathering my hair in his large hand and laying it across my shoulder. The touch is gentle and comforting. Toji presses the pads of his thumbs along the base of my neck, "Tell me when it's tender."

He continues to palpate around my nape, hitting a tender spot right at the base of my skull. "Ouch right there, " i wince

He place his whole palm on the column of my neck, massaging up and down the area."Yeah, your really tight along the cervical spine area." (😏)

I pull away from his touch, too sore to take it.

"I'm sorry, too much?" He asks, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I nod and he waits for me to signal that he can continue.

"Do you get headaches alot?"

I nod again

"Hmph," he uses a lighter touch to prod my muscles. "Lay on your back for me."

I do as he instructs, placing my head in the desginated head rest.

Toji pulls a stool up, sitting his large thighs now framing my head. I close my eyes to not have to see him overtop of me. My face is literally between his legs wtf.

He puts both hands on the side of my neck, his fingertips push and rub against the base of my skull. It feels amazing in a painful way.

"Right there," i breathe when he hits a particular sore spot.

"Yeah? Does that feel good."

I whimper at the sensation...and at the low purr of his voice.

"I could adjust ya if ya let me. Just a quick crack."

"Uhm, I don't know," I sit up, suddently scared that this man is going to snap my neck. "That seems scary."

He laughs, "It wont hurt, I promise. Youll just hear the cracking like when you pop your knuckles."

I'm still unsure and look down at his large hands.

"I'll be gentle, I swear to you. It'll be quick." He eases me back down onto my back. "I won't kill ya. Would be a horrible PR stunt if i killed a woman in my own gym." He teases.

"Thanks, really reassuring thing to say with your hands around my throat." But damn if it wasn't a thrilling sensation to feel his warm palms pressing against my neck and his fingers slipping through my hair as he moves it out of the way.

"Alright," He pulls himself closer. My whole head is now fully in the palm of his hands. "Just relax, let me do the work."

I glance up quickly at yet another ambiguous comments. how many is that now.

I relax me head into his hands and his moves it side to side, feeling for the knots.

"Yeah right there it is," he says to himself.

Before I can think of anything salacious, Toji twist my neck to the side. A rush of heat enters my head and I gasp at the abrupt movement.

"There, breathe," he lays my head down on the table and rubs my shoulders encouragingly. "Good girl."

I take a deep breathe as more blood rushes to my head. it roars in my ears.

"Wasn't so bad was it?"

I shake my head. Too stunned to speak.

"How do you feel?"

"Wow, so much better" I laugh in relief at home incredible how my neck now feel.

"Now you said you have low back pain?" He swings around the side of the table. I nod. " Lay on your stomach."

Toji stands over my prone body, "I'm going to lift your shirt up a bit."

I feel the fabric slowly graze my low back, a chill springs up at the chill to the room temperature. But it's quickly heated by Toji's warm palms coming to rest right at the dimples above my ass. His thumbs dig it, moving in slow circles and I moan at the delicious pain.

"Seems like a pinched nerve. Nothing to adjust really."I hear toji readjust his positioning, "I need a better angle to push it back into place. "

He leans on the table, one knee bumping between mine so he's able to dig his thumb hard into my sacrum. "Just breathe."

I feel a nudge in my lower spine as he pushes into it, a tingling sensation shoots around my hips. I sigh in relief as the nerve is released.

"There we go," he continues to rub his thumbs into my back, and with the pain subsiding, I can't help but arch into his hands, losing myself to sensations. "Does that help?

When I nod, his hands move lower, spreading outward to grip my sides. "You have beautiful hips..."

I arch more into his touch, the movement causing my body to shift downwards, putting my aching core directly onto his knee. I fear I've gone too far but he doesn't move, just continues to rub my low back, moving slower, almost guiding my hips in circular motions.

The rough fabric of his sweats catches my already wet center. The thin yoga pants I'm wearing probably show just how aroused I am. I continue to grind on his knee; he continues to move my hips, completely silent as though he's afraid of snapping me out of this deviant act.

"Oh, god," I gasp, pushing my hard onto his knee as my orgasm rips through me. I lose myself in it, humping like a damn bitch in heat against him.

When I land back on earth and catch my breath, I push myself to my elbows. My hair sticks to my sweaty face.

Looking behind me at toji, I don't know what to expect. I see toji, still as a lake. His hands have loosened on my hips. He stares at me with pupils that completely engulf his green irises. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly and removes his knee from between my legs, coming to a standing position. My cheeks are on fire as I see the damp spot on his pants from me.

I stand quickly from the table, my blood rushes to my head and causes me to go blind momentarily. I stumble past him without waiting to see clearly.

After mumbling a thanks, I rush out the door, leaving my gym bag behind...