#it's the bitch tank top covered in blood for me

[sansevierias]

[4unnyr0se]

❥ tsukishima plays the waiting game

warnings: fem! reader, pre and post timeskip! tsukishima, tsuki gets slapped, reader is a sweetie, yamaguchi and hinata mentioned, tbh its mostly fluff

MDNI | No 18+ content here, I just don't want minors interacting with my blog

word count -> 785

part two

Kei Tsukishima wasn’t the best at showing affection at all. He only liked and respected Yamaguchi, but apart from that, there wasn’t really anyone he thought merited his honest and most sincere loyalty and trust. Sure, he respected Daichi when he was still in high school, but Daichi was his captain. It was different.

Then, you moved to Miyagi and enrolled in Karasuno in mid-April. You were placed in the same class as Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. Apparently, you had scored in the top 1% in your old high school, much to Tsukishima’s chagrin. He assumed you would be just another one of those academic bitches (like himself) who only cared about what directly affected them. 

That was the first time Tsukishima was wrong. 

You were sickeningly sweet, so much so that many people thought it was just an act. Tsukishima first thought this, too, that a wolf was hiding under that fluffy sheep wool. But no, there wasn’t. You were genuinely nice without ulterior motives, always volunteering to tutor students after class. You even helped Yamaguchi with his English vocabulary and grammar. He didn’t even have to ask! That’s how sweet you were, and Tsukishima hated that. Well, only at first. 

He knew he liked you the second you snapped at him, calling him an asshole in front of the entire Karasuno team. He was practicing serves and missed completely, the volleyball slamming into your torso as you walked by the practice gym. Instead of apologizing, he blamed you for being in the way. 

Instead of you apologizing for having dared to be in the way of a rouge volleyball, he was met with a cold smack in the face. Vulgar words left your mouth, your face heating up in anger as you called him out for being a stuck-up prick who didn’t care about anyone but himself (and maybe Yamaguchi.) The Karasuno team stood in shock as you screamed at him, your usual friendly and kind demeanor long forgotten. Hinata thought that Tsukishima was absolutely going to murder you, but instead, the lanky blonde just stood there with the tiniest blush on his cheeks. You called him out; you slapped him. The sweetest girl in Karasuno slapped him and humbled him in front of his teammates. You weren’t just an innocent little lamb, you bit. And Tsukishima liked that. 

Tsukishima never acted on his urges in high school; he was too busy with class and volleyball and Hinata’s bullshit to worry about romantic relationships. But he caught himself sneaking glances at you throughout high school, no matter where he was. You two were always in the same class, weirdly enough. Graduation eventually came, and lo and behold, the two of you went to Sendai. He was on a semi-volleyball scholarship, and you had a full academic ride because you did. And to his horror, or perhaps delight, you both had the same entry-level statistics class.

He first noticed that you had a sense of personal style that he approved of. Tsukishima had only ever seen you in the Karasuno girl’s school uniform before, so it was a pleasant surprise to see you wearing a spaghetti strap tank top with a wool cardigan and loose jeans. It was…cute.

Tsukishima was taken aback when you walked up to him after class, bowing your head slightly to apologize for screaming at him when you were in high school. He smirked and accepted the apology, pushing your head down further. 

“You also slapped me and called me an asshole, remember?”

You became flustered and started apologizing even more, tilting your head with sparkling eyes.

“I know, I’m really sorry. I don’t want any bad blood. How can I make this up to you?”

“Go on a date with me.” It came out of his lips so fast that Tsukishima didn’t have time to cover it up with a cough. How could he let that slip from his lips, he always thought before speaking. He thought before doing anything! He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away in embarrassment. “Go on…just go on a date with me, please. I’ve liked you since high school, moron.”

You smiled and hugged him, squeezing his torso with all your might. Of course, Tsukishima thought this was adorable, he was a foot taller than you. “Of course, I’ll go on a date with you! Where?” You asked as you looked up, the prettiest smile plastered across your shining face. Fuck, Tsukishima was totally screwed. He’d give you the world right then and there if he wasn’t so proud. 

“My dorm? Yamaguchi is out with friends for the weekend.”

“Yamaguchi has friends other than you? Damn, he really grew up.”

“Indeed,”

Tsukishima’s side of the dorm was immaculate. Spotless, organized, and decorated with dinosaur posters. It was cute and nerdy, making you smile. Maybe deep down inside, he wasn’t such a jerk.

[boxxing-flavored]

PLEASE WRITE MORE SUBBY ABBY i love it

Abby x roommate reader

NSFW Thanks for sending a request I love sub Abby!! Love you 🫶🫶❤️❤️

Abby kicks your door open without knocking.

Again.

You barely glance up. She’s standing there in her blood-slicked tank top, chest rising and falling with barely contained rage, her braid half undone, dirt smeared across her jaw. Her face is flushed, lips set in a tight line, and the second your eyes meet, she looks away.

“Rough day, princess?” you ask dryly, leaning back in your chair.

“Don’t start,” she snaps, already pacing the room.

You watch her for a second. She’s vibrating with frustration, jaw clenched so tight you wonder if she’s going to break her teeth. Her hands flex like she’s looking for something to hit.

“I asked Owen to cover my six and he fucking wandered off,” she mutters. “I had to drag his ass out from under a goddamn truck while we were surrounded!”

You whistle low. “Should’ve left him there.”

She stops pacing long enough to glare at you, her biceps twitching under her tank top. “Yeah, well. I didn’t.” A pause. Then a snarl. “Fucking idiot.”

You huff and raise a brow, not happy that she was directed her frustration toward you. “You’re acting like a brat.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice sharpens, but you can hear the breath hitch.

“You heard me.” You set your boots down slowly, standing up from your chair. “Storming in here, throwing your gear around like I’m supposed to fix it. Got all that tension in your shoulders, and nowhere to put it.”

You get close. Not touching her, but close enough that her breathing falters. Her eyes dart down to your mouth, then your hands.

There it is.

“I think I know what’ll shut you up,” you say softly, voice like velvet-wrapped steel.

She scoffs. “Like hell you do.”

You tilt your head, slow, lazy. “Get on your knees and prove me wrong.”

Her nostrils flare.

You don’t back down.

Neither does she.

At least, not until you step forward and slide your thumb against her bottom lip.

Her whole body freezes. That cocky fire dims. She opens her mouth like it’s involuntary- like she can’t not. Her lips wrap around your thumb with instinctual need, and she starts sucking before you even ask.

“Yeah,” you murmur, sliding it deeper. “Just like that. That’s what you need, huh?”

You’ve got Abby backed up against the wall, lips swollen, chin slick with spit but even now, she’s snarling.

“You done being a bitch?” you ask, voice low.

She laughs. Short. Mean.

“Try asking nicer.”

You raise a brow.

She smirks. “Didn’t think so.”

And then she shoves you. Hard.

You stagger back just a little just enough for her to pounce. She slams you against the opposite wall, forearm to your collarbone, hips pinning yours.

“I’m sick of you thinking you’ve got me figured out,” she growls.

You grin. “I do. You’re soaked.”

She studies your face “Go to hell.”

“Been there. Fucked someone that looked just like you.”

Her scowl deepens then she grabs you by the throat and kisses you like she wants to bite through you. Her thigh slides between yours. She fists your shirt and drags you to the bed like she’s got something to prove.

You let her climb on top. Let her grind against you. You let her strip you down. Let her try.

And she does. She tries like hell. Stripping her self of her patrol clothes.

She straddles your hips, grabs your jaw, ruts down on you like she thinks she can ride you into submission. But she’s clumsy with it, too desperate, too angry. She drips on your abs as she tugs at your strap like she’s about to take it and fuck you.

“You look ridiculous,” you mutter.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

She leans down, teeth to your throat.

But before she can speak

You flip her.

Faster than she can process, she’s on her stomach, gasping. your weight pressed into her back. You’ve got her wrists pinned behind her back, your breath hot at her ear.

“You wanna top me?” you hiss. “Keep dreaming.”

She kicks her feet, tries to twist free. “Hey-“

Smack.

Your palm lands hard on her ass.

She jerks. Groans.

“Don’t act like you didn’t want this,” you growl. “You stormed in here looking for someone to fuck the attitude out of you.”

You reach between her legs, drag your fingers along her slit. She’s soaked. You press the strap to her entrance circling her clit with you other hand. without warning you bottom the strap all the way to the hilt, she gasps- fists curling, body jolting.

“Fuck!”

You thrust deeper. Harder. Her muscles tense against you, thighs shaking, but she still throws her hips back to meet you.

“You’re not gonna win this,” you growl. “You don’t get to act like a fucking brat and except to get whatever the hell you want” you take the strap out and tease her soaked entrance.

She tries to say something snarky back, but the words die on a moan as you bottom out again.

“You like getting put in your place,” you whisper, hand slipping around her throat. “You love this.”

“I hate you,” she breathes.

“Then why are you fucking dripping all over my bed?”

You rut into her harder, unforgiving, and she finally breaks just a little. Her head drops. Her hips start stuttering. She tries to pull away and push back at the same time, torn between fight and pleasure.

“Say it,” you growl, breath hot on her neck. “Say you’re mine.”

“…No.”

Smack. Her ass jiggles beneath your palm.

“Try again.”

“…Fuck” she whines

Smack.

“You’re not getting to cum until you say it.”

Silence. Trembling. Then finally

“I’m yours,” she whispers.

You slow down thrusting deep, dragging it out. She whines, so close to breaking.

“You gonna behave now?”

She pauses.

Then grits out “I’ll try.”

You spank her again. She moans like it hurts good.

“Close?” you murmur.

She nods, cheeks flushed, sweat sticking hair to her face.

“Beg.”

“…Please.”

“Louder.”

“Please- fuck, just let me cum”

And you give it to her- deep, hard, brutal. She comes hard shaking, swearing, biting your sheets, tears stinging her eyes as she rides out every second of it.

She collapses, panting, legs spread, trembling under you.

“…Give me ten minutes,” she mumbles trying not to fall asleep “and I’ll have you regret making me beg”

You chuckle as you brush her hair out of her face “sure”

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P37 | this is the push back, not the step back

TWs : mentions of child prostitution, mentions of minor/adult relationship, mentions of coercion and manipulation

At 1:30 a.m. you arrived at the address he gave you.

Yoonsu was definitely playing a sick fucking joke on you, you were sure of it. Crammed in between a tteokbokki restaurant and, sickly enough, a children's daycare centre, was a butcher chop that looked suspiciously clean. A bald headed guy crouched at the front having a smoke took one look at you and said, "You're the bitch Yoonsu's waiting for, huh."

Your blood sizzled, but you nodded nonetheless.

He nodded his head at the butcher shop, cigarette hanging at the corner of his lips.

"Past the counter, take a right. Enter the unlabeled door."

Once you opened the unlabeled door, you felt like some meaty motherfucker punched you in the gut. It was a strip club, women all around were barely clothed and dancing up the pole. You hear a whistle from your right.

"Yoohoo, y/nnie. Come take a seat here." It was dark, you could barely see his face, but the voice was unmistakable.

You sat on the sofa, farthest away from where he was sitting. He chuckled at your stubborn behaviour, while you ignored how the other slimy men in the club were eyeing you up and down. You wore long pajama pants, a tank top fully covered by your zipped up hoodie—how could they still ogle over you that way? It was disgusting—you wanted to get out.

He moved to sit beside you, one of his arms around your shoulder. When you could finally see him clearly, you saw whose face he was wearing and pushed him.

This sick, sick bastard. This sick fucking bastard.

"Oh, come on. Don't like my new face? You know, I only got this one because I'm trying to avoid the cops," He sneered—Junyoung's face sneered—"You always bitched about how much you missed him while you were still my dancer."

You froze at the memory, of you dancing on the pole in front of the wretched men he used to entertain. They used to coo at how young you looked, at the fat still clinging on your cheeks despite the starvation you suffered through.

You were just a kid, and Yoonsu had made you work as a pole dancer to pay your stepfather's debt off.

His free hand that wasn't hanging off your shoulder moved to his pockets, pulling out a white gold locket you haven't seen in years. He opened it to show the bug he implanted within it as he took in your reaction. Your face frozen, as ice cold panic took hold of your body, momentary rigor mortis setting into your muscles.

You remember that locket, the locket Yoonsu himself had given you with the promise once you paid off your dead stepfather's debt, he'd marry you and take care of you.

"Remember this, y/nnie? I couldn't give you a ring because you'd easily lose it, so I gave you this instead to symbolise my promise. Funny it was you who broke it."

You were 16 years old turning 17, he had been 27.

You thought being his lover was a dream come true, but through Detective Do's help, you finally saw it as him preying on a desperate teenage girl isolated from the people she loved and needed.

He wore the necklace around you as he explained what he planned to do to you, "I see that you're living a good life now. Reunited with your beloved brother while still keeping the two older brother figures that came to you 3 ½ years ago—" once he clasped it, he started to pull on the locket, choking you from behind, "—after you let Detective Do destroy my empire, arrest my loyal men. You got to live a good life after you caused my mother and sister to kill themselves because everyone they knew ostracized them for having me as their family."

He released his grip on the locket, only to grip on the collar of your hoodie so you faced him directly, knowing how sick it made you to look at him as he wore Junyoung's face.

"I am going to make sure everyone you have ever loved walks away from you. I'll make you ruin what you have and should be having, because I can't fucking stand it. To see you so happy after you ruined my life. So listen closely—under no circumstances are you to take this locket off. You're not allowed to turn your phone off either—because if you do, I'm sharing those pictures of you pole dancing. You will always have to read and answer my texts in a 3 minute time window, or I'm sharing those pictures. You will do as I say, or I'm sharing those pictures. One step to the police station—I am sharing those pictures. Do you understand?"

Tears were streaming down your face and he gripped on your jaw, fingers pushing into the meat of your cheeks.

"Never let those other fuckers catch on that I'm onto you, y/nnie. Since you did a great job at acting like you actually loved me back then, make sure you act like there's nothing wrong in front of your people. If I see that you receive a text along the lines of—'are you okay? is anything wrong? are you in trouble?'—I will immediately contact the media and blab how beloved national darling Jeong Jaehyun has a sister that used to pole dance in illegal nightclubs and dated a loanshark while she was just a teenager. You know how korean netizens feel about former iljins, right?" He spoke cruelly, pushing your face away right after.

You were practically sobbing on the sofa, and he threw a piece of used tissue at your face, obviously annoyed at your crying. He got close to you again, hands guiding your face gently this time, his disgusting hands on your cheek as he made you look up at him, as he looked down at you with a twisted smile on his face, eyes void of any trace of humanity and soul.

"Wipe those fucking tears off and go back home, y/nnie. The real fun starts tomorrow, so stay alert for my texts, okay? Be careful on your way back home." He spoke in a cooing manner, patting your cheeks before giving one last kiss on the side of your head.

As you walked back to New Axis, your tears drying in the cold September night air, the dread piled over when you realised that he was going to ruin all of this for you.

Just right after you were beginning to open up to your brother and friends, making your Geonwoo and Woojin proud of your progress. Just when you were about to get your life together again.

You opened the door of Yuno's room, eyes wide as you watched him sleep on the bed. You were there just staring at him sleeping for a good 10 minutes.

When you finally got back to your room, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, staring at the locket hanging around your neck.

It looked so much like a noose.

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A/N : if at this point you don't wanna read this story anymore, i wouldn't put it against you. because from this point on, this shit is abt to get rlly sick and twisted

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

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[piinkgore]

Broken porcelain

pairing: Ramattra x f!reader  prompt: sexual tension when tending to someone's wound from this list warnings: semi-nsfw, mentions of blood, injuries, semi-nudity, swearing, reader being a bit masochist etc etc word count: 2272 a/n: backstreet's back, alright! and finally. 😎 I’ve been a bitch with a big B for Ramattra over the past couple months, and of course I had to write a piece on that robot guy. He gives me… feels I can’t explain. So, for all my fellow robot fuckers, hope you enjoy reading this as much as I’ve enjoyed writing! Feedback is always appreciated and please please please send an ask, a chat, anything so we can talk about this big guy and more fanfiction prompts. 😭 also on ao3!

Who would ever say to be a human amongst killing machines would, impressively, be a dreadly task? Or deadly, you would remark to yourself after a long walk of dragging your wounded body through the corridors from the training field to Ramattra’s personal workshop. At least, those new assassin omnics would perform their duties impeccably, you could tell from the way they cut through your skin without a single issue.

The wound was still covered under the thin layer of the tank top you have on, the white fabric damp of crimson blood denouncing something went terribly wrong, not to mention the pained expression contorting your face. 

As soon as he eyes your state, if Ramattra could bring a worried expression to the surface of his faceplate, he would, a mirror to the torment running through his systems. He was an engineer, not a human healer, but you needed him to act more as such in the present moment if you’re both willing for you to stay alive, which you indeed were. 

Growing impatient, not to mention the pain reaching under your skin, you adjust yourself slowly on top of his workbench, holding your side to prevent any further damage. Your fingers get moist with blood, and that has your lips twitching. “Can you fix me or not?” 

“That depends on your meaning of fixing,” he states, a stoic demeanor on the outside despite feeling quite the opposite inside. Feeling. Something he didn’t think to be inclined to, at least not when those diverged from the violence he was shaped to perform as a being… and yet, here they are, as foreign to him as the surgical aspects of flesh and bone. “I can’t weld you, obviously. At least, not as a first resource,” his slight humor brings a faint smirk to your lips, slowly shaking your head in a quiet response. In a lighter tone, Ramattra proceeds, and now it’s definitely a command. “I would like to have a closer look.”

Quietness follows, not as fast as the warmth spreading from your neck to the tip of your ears. To say you hadn’t considered you’d need to remove your shirt was unnecessary, in front of him of all people, ‘cause you’d rather overcome your own fear of blood if a second thought had you aware of the chances before. But as the old saying remarked: if you are in hell already, just go and sit on the goddamn devil’s lap.

Proceeding a thick swallow, you do as you’re told, diverting your eyes to a corner to avoid examining the cut yourself, or to avert them from Ramattra’s, anything and everything were an excuse in such a situation. It hurt just enough to be something you knew you couldn't handle alone, and considering how sharp that assassin’s knives were… fuck’s sake, what a weak fool you were.

On the other hand, at the sight of your almost bare torso, Ramattra felt inexplicably tense. The wound itself was not too deep to reach anything vital, but would need a patch up indeed in order to heal properly. Yet, his sight wasn’t restrained to that minor part of your skin, and that’s when tension was found. Maybe the vocabulary wasn’t a perfect fit, ‘cause that jolt of electricity running through his circuits was something else, something as sublime as the curve of your hips, and the way you shallow breaths of anticipation had your body quivering, despite an enormous strength to keep it still. He could hardly find beauty in human beings, and let’s not even mention himself, but that was a whole different scenario… warm, with a hint of degradation he couldn’t ignore, and something that could only be named as akin to desire. 

The silence was killing you now, almost making you forget the very pain which brought you there in the first place. “Will we be helding any funerals?” you risk, in the same light humor he used with you before. At least, if you didn’t consider the shaking tone in each syllable you’d pronounced. You thought Ramattra couldn’t  never understand your concerns fully, even if he invested all his force to: if the worst happened, he could be reconstructed, you were there for it after all. But as a human, it’s not like you have a respawn chance anytime. That’s why, aside the anxiety turning your stomach into a knot, you needed him to act. 

“You speak as if it's more severe than it is in fact,” he muses, tilting his head as the scanners on his optics do the rest of the work, searching for the right proceeding in a shared data file, where he was hoping to get anything from an omnic model whose initial propose, contrasting his, was to heal, not to kill. “No funerals, you have my word. The pain may be harsh, but the wound itself is of little harm in the bigger picture. You’re safe,” the addition of the last sentence has you sighing in relief, and a pinch of pain reaches you once more, but it’s bearable. Ramattra made you feel protected, or better, cared for. The warm feeling is enough to soothe your anxiety, dissipating the chill air in the workshop for a little while before rushing up to your cheeks as you’re reminded you’re still half naked in front of him. 

“Lay,” he commands, and your breath gets caught in your throat in the act. Only if your mouth were open, your heart would surely jump out if it during one of its chaotic heartbeats, contrasting the steady tone on Ramattra’s voicebox, echoing those words without a single trace of malice. But when they hit you, they sounded profane, leaving a delicate trace of forbidden to the tip of your tongue. 

You curse your mind as you lay down, a shiver erupting from the contact of warm skin to the cold metal of his workbench’s surface. Fuck, he’s your commander, superior office or whatever goes between you both, your boss to be short. Thing is he saw a purpose for you and spared your life long ago, and that purpose goddamn sure didn’t imply any… deeper contact than the occasional intellectual help you provided, with efficient (and smaller) hands and a cunning mind. After all, no Ravager was made to indulge in such a thing as intimacy, the very same thought cursing through Ramattra’s systems right now. He wasn’t built for delicacy, a single gentle touch for his standards would be brutal enough to leave you bruised for days, and how he would lament to see such perfect skin ruined by his own hands… unbearable to even think of it without feeling a strange sensation housing between his metallic limbs, pushing further inside in search of a bloody beating heart among the cold hardware. 

It wasn’t the first time he felt unsure in his existence, but that was a whole new thing. To think one like him was able to possess a spirit tender enough to be mesmerized by such a fragile thing as you touched him not physically, but deeper than it could ever be… how thrilling it was, but insufficient to make him search for its source on his internal data to completely erase it. No, never. He was actually holding into it with every fiber of his soul, curious to see which path it would lead him through. A bit embarrassing, at first impression, like the sight of you would burn his optics until they melt.

After all these years working along, was it there all the time? Within him, within you? He would search for it later, revisiting each time you shared each other's company in his memory, to see where a quiet admiration turned into this. 

After gathering the resources to fix you, ensuring everything was sterilized, he turned to sight over your form once more. Ramattra could sense the rapid heartbeat against your chest controlling your breath motions, the rising and falling of your chest following along, where he caught a peek of your nipples drawing a small circle under the fabric of your top, the last barrier between him and your fully exposed torso. Thankfully, unlike any human, his faceplate didn't betray any of his thoughts. They’re guarded within his systems, safe in his memory and imprinted there forever. Nothing could ever make him forget of you, nor time, nor enemies, nor… fuck, the injury. 

“It would feel better if you were asleep,” he commences, carefully. You’re already scared for it seems, and it’s not on his wishes to make it worse. “Instead, I will ask you to bite on this,” the discarded cloth of your tank top is brought to your lips, and your heart could have stopped right there. Instead, avoiding the disbelief, you silently obey. “Try not to move. I shall be slow.”

A nod follows, and you gather your best to not whine, or flinch, or sob too much when his hands begin to work, stitching the wound close. Whatever sounds leaving your mouth are muffled, and the pain is great. But erotic. And, fuck, you should be loosing your mind by this point. How could your brain process such agony in a pleasurable way? You’d be blaming the omnic in charge of patching you up, for sure. It was him, after all, all about him. 

Ramattra was enormous, and the effort he put in each precise movement didn’t go unnoticed. He could have discarded you, blamed you for your mistakes, assigned anyone else to deal with this bullshit, but there he was: the infamous Null Sector leader, treating you as a precious porcelain tea-cup, once broken, now being patched in threads of gold, despite the gold being metaphorical. It was a form of art, wasn’t it? You’ve read of it somewhere, once. If so, right now, you’re his masterpiece.

To say he’s being delicate is a statement. Ramattra is afraid he could shatter you again, worse than they did with you before. The responsible for it would be severely corrected, later of course. The pads on his fingertips could never be soft as your skin feels under them, and an eagerness to venture further brings a shiver of electricity through his spine. Should he ever be thinking of it in your state? In fact, was it reasonable to have you consuming his memory like this, injured or not? What could be a groan echoes from his voicebox, and within a few long minutes, it was done. 

Your jaw clenches to the minimum effort of raising your torso, sitting on his workbench once more as a small discomfort to the newly sewn cut emerges. Covered in bandages, you can’t see his work, but there’s no blood and the pain is moderate, so you trust with your eyes closed it’s perfectly fine. Your shirt is sitting by your side, bloodied and wet from your own saliva, but you don’t mention reaching for it. 

Blinking, your eyes search for him, meeting the stoic faceplate turned to you. Silence lingers as you both stare at each other, considering every single thought that coursed through your minds during the late couple of hours. Was it genuine? Absolutely. Would you voice them? No, surely not. Tension is still there, so palpable you could touch it, and shattering it would come with a price. 

A small blush color your cheeks red, and you finally manage to break eye contact with a hint of timidity. Too much to ask of you for a little time of strong, contrasting emotions, still tickling under your skin as the adrenaline begins to sparse. Clearing your throat, you’re the first to speak. “I apologize,” it begins as simple as it, almost ending the sentence there as your eyes don’t dare to move from your lap and you choose carefully what to say, and what to keep to yourself. Ramattra may have performed a solid progress towards emotions, but you feared he would fail to comprehend the turmoil in yours. “It wasn’t strict of your concern, nor a matter you should care for as you did, and I-”

“I had to,” he cut you off, sternly. Now that you’re safe, his worries tend to other subjects, still resonating over you. Was he too obvious, despite his best efforts? Couldn’t be, and yet he wished fervently for you to point it out, verbalizing what he was too afraid to: he wanted to keep you close, and safe, more than he ever did. “Whatever happens to you is my business, especially if it's a menace to your well being,” Ramattra takes a step closer, his fingers aching to reach for your face, and soothe that sorry expression out of it. Instead, he keeps them to his sides, clenching them a fist. “So don’t apologize for it. It wasn’t your fault, in the first place, and yet I’ll ask you to be careful and not wander over the training field whenever a new IA is being tested.”

A short nod follows a faint smile. His words were gentle, not explicitly voicing what he meant in between the lines, but you knew it nonetheless. Ramattra cared for you, more than you could have thought, and enough to satisfy your heart. “I don’t even know how to begin thanking you.”

“Dressing will do,” a chuckle reverberated in his metallic rib cage, and if his words alone wouldn’t catch you yet, it would be enough to make your face red as a cherry for, somehow, you were able to sense a trace of malice in Ramattra. “Rest now, human. I shall meet you when the day is done.”

[ghostpetalss]

can you write a sub Jeff the killer like at first he’s all dom and stuff but then we lowkey overpower him and break down his whole dominant character and turn him submissive?🙏🙏🙏♥️

¡Sub! Jeff The Killer x ¡Dom! Male Reader

I LOVED writing this, the more specific the message the more my ideas open up. I really didn't know if you meant an Fem or an Male since part of me was saying "I want to ride that bitch." and another part was saying "I want to open that bitch's legs." and finally I decided to take him as an Male reader to make him more submissive than with an Fem reader haha.

¡WARNING! : Smut,Mention of murder, Alcoholism, Knife game, Skin cuts,Boy x Boy,Mutual masturbation,Explicit content, Homosexual.

¡English is not my first language! So it's possible that the writing sucks.

It was Christmas, you didn't celebrate Christmas and it wasn't like you cared what happened that day, since to you it was like just another day.

Even so, the holidays were perfect targets to murder entire families, an opportunity that Jeff did not waste.

After 1 in the morning the man arrived covered in blood and with his hands busy with two bags of beer that he left next to the living room sofa where he was sitting.

- "Hard work?" - you asked without taking your eyes off the television that was broadcasting the news of the recent murders committed by your partner. He only grunted in response as he discarded his stained sweatshirt to the floor, leaving him in a thin tank top and his black jeans that were still stained with blood. He plopped down on the couch next to you as he grabbed two bottles of alcohol. to open them and extend one to you, which you accepted.

After many drinks and some unconscious flirtations thanks to drunkenness, they ended up running up the stairs to his room between hungry kisses, clumsily opening the door out of desperation, Jeff squeezed your waist with his pale hands while his tongue explored your oral cavity and you responded to his touch by resting your hands on the sides of his shoulders and trying to keep up with his kisses.

When you got to the bed, he let you fall on top of the sheets while you smiled flirtatiously, holding your forearms to see how Jeff removed his tank top to reveal his thin and pale frame.

You, on your part, did the same, you unbuttoned the buttons of the shirt you were wearing and got rid of your belt to lower your pants until you finally took them off along with your shoes.

Jeffrey just licked his trimmed lips at the sight of you half naked, without asking permission he jumped on you to kiss your neck. You hummed low in your throat while the tips of your fingers caressed the ribs that stood out in your boyfriend's thin skin, causing him to shiver.

Lowering his hips a little, he rubbed his clothed erection against your bulge in your boxers, making you both sigh. You lowered your hands from his sides to his lower back, where you lightly squeezed his hips just as he had done minutes before.

- "Don't play with me like that." -I was serious when I noticed your intentions, you just smiled calmly, raising your shoulders a little to massage his belly with your thumbs - "I'm not playing..." -.

The took off his remaining clothes and settled on top of you. You agilely took his arms and turned him around so that he was under your body, while you imprisoned his arms against the mattress.

- "Don't play with me." - You ordered, wanting to highlight your authority. Jeff opened his eyes in surprise but then relaxed his frown while a small blush ran across his sensitive skin and the color rose in his face.

You lovingly kissed every part of his body, sometimes leaving small hickeys in sensitive areas where you knew they would drive him crazy in a short time.

- "Come on…I don't have your time." - The blue-eyed one growled. - "You mean you don't have my patience, because there is plenty of time" -.

You let out a small laugh to get to the point and settle between the murderer's legs, lowering your boxers slightly so that your member would jump out.

They began with mutual masturbation which in a matter of minutes caused the room to be filled with obscene noises from both of them until they reached climax. Then you began to prepare Jeff so as not to suffer consequences later, when they managed to enter his narrow entrance they could only grunt, him for the intrusion into their privacy and you for how tight it was.

- "G-God a-ah" - the one with cut cheeks complained slightly at the overwhelming sensation. - "Relax… you're choking me down there." -.

They continued at a slow pace until the youngest got used to the size until they became wilder, enjoying the ecstasy of the moment.

- "¡More! ¡More! ¡More!" - You followed your partner's wishes until your eyes rested for a moment on the nightstand where Jeff's knife was found. You just smiled and took it to pass the cold, thin, sharp blade across your boyfriend's chest to delicately cross out a heart with the cuts you caused, something that only excited them more.

You rested the blade against Jeffrey's neck, without wanting to cut him but close enough to feel the cold of the steel, your thrusts were increasingly erratic while you felt that you were close to your second orgasm just like Jeff.

Releasing a loud gasp you came out from inside his hole to let out the strings of semen on his stomach and belly just as he did with his own.

You let your head fall into the side of Jeffrey's neck as he breathed heavily. He just caressed your hair and then grabbed it tightly to lift your face and kiss it roughly.

- "I'm still not satisfied." -.

God, this would be a long night.

[ficmashup]

Taken

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: Nothing like a sprinkle of angst on Christmas Eve. ;) I will be doing a part two for this because I can't resist, but can't promise when I'll post it. Soon, I hope! Have a lovely holiday to everyone celebrating. :)

Warnings: SA mentions if you squint, crass language, death, stabbing, beating, shooting, torture, angst, trauma, overall I just decided to stab the characters in the feels. Just a bit. Happy ending though, imo.

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist

It’s not expected, but then again, these things never are.

What kills me the most is that Ghost had to be there, had to see it. I’d rather it had been anyone else just so I could spare him the pain of reopening old wounds. We’d been clearing a warehouse and stumbled upon more than we’d expected. We both realize our mistake at different times and I have a split-second decision to make. I’m ahead of Ghost by a dozen or so feet and hidden behind a pile of crates, so I see the group first.

There’s no time to warn Ghost and if he comes forward, he’ll be shot on sight. So I step forward first. I take out those closest to his entry point and my focus on keeping him safe leaves me vulnerable. Ghost moves in just as I’m grabbed from behind and I ram the butt of my gun backward into my captor’s ribs. There’s a grunt, but he doesn’t let go and I drop my gun to hang from my chest in exchange for the long knife on my thigh. I plunge the blade into his thigh and hear a string of curses spat into my ear as their grip only tightens on me.

I fail to realize that during the struggle, they’ve managed to drag me backward towards a side door. My last view as I twist the knife is Ghost’s wide eyes behind the mask before my head is slammed against the wall and all goes dark.

*     *     *

I wake up tied to a chair. I keep utterly still and take stock of my body. My head is heavy and I feel the tightness of the skin on the right side of my face from where blood has dried. There’s a sharp sting coming from across my collar bone and my right ankle twinges. A sprained ankle and a scrape, I’d guess. Possibly a concussion. Nothing too bad. My wrists and ankles are tied to the arms and legs of a chair and the rope chafes, but the ties are sloppy. Keeping me here like this was unexpected, then. An opportunity that they couldn’t pass up.

I keep my breathing steady and my head bowed with my eyes shut. All I do for a few moments is listen. There’s shuffling and voices, but they’re muffled and seem to be coming from a nearby room. Multiple people, but more than likely less than a dozen. I take a chance and open my eyes, looking up and finding the space dim and empty. It looks like a shack barely held together by the sand and dirt covering the floor.

“Awake.” A voice with a rough accent comes from behind me and my spine stiffens as he moves in front of me. He’s limping slightly and I get a brief moment of satisfaction at knowing this is the man who grabbed me and I clearly dealt some serious damage. With the dried blood on my face and him being able to walk after clear medical assistance, I’d say I’ve been gone a few hours. The fact makes what’s left in my stomach curdle.

The man says a few words that I don’t understand, then one that I do. “…bitch.”

I chuckle softly. “Unoriginal.” His fist darts out and the hit is harder than I expect. It leaves me dizzy as the weak chair rocks with the impact. Stays on all fours, though. The man grunts and spits at my feet before walking to the door, apparently satisfied with his revenge. He opens the door and shouts something down the hall before looking at me with ill intent in his eyes. I shift a bit in my chair, noting that they’ve removed my uniform and boots. I’m only in tight shorts and my tank top. It’s going to be torture then. Fine. I’ve already been through hell and lived through it, fashioned myself teeth from the mouths of my demons I killed, I can take whatever poor imitation these amateurs try.

Three more men come in and one steps in front of the others. “Why you here?” He asks in broken English.

“To kill people like you.” I answer simply, staring unblinkingly at him.

He gives me a smile. “Coincidence. That is why we here as well. To kill people like you.” It’s a struggle not to roll my eyes. That’s the base of every conflict in the history of the world. He pulls his handgun and aims it at my forehead while I go completely still. “Tell me more.”

*     *     *

Hours pass. The torture is easy enough to sit through, nothing unexpected, nothing skilled, nothing I haven’t been trained for. The true killer is waiting with my own thoughts. Like thinking that they aren’t coming for me. Stupid. Utterly stupid. Yet the persistent feeling of being unworthy lingers in my chest. And I know that the longer I’m here, the more nagging those thoughts will be.

They can finally be rid of you, no trouble, no hassle, just a lost soldier, happens all the time.

I gasp as a soldier lands a particularly well-aimed punch to my gut and the chair finally falls over. I feel the arm crack at the impact while the group laughs, but the ropes around my right wrist and ankle are now free. My fingers slowly curl around the splintered piece of wood hidden under my body. One of the men waves his hand and another steps forward and yanks the chair back up. I use the momentum of the sudden movement to plunge the long piece of wood into his throat and get my free leg up under me to keep me from toppling over.

The man’s eyes go wide as he chokes on his own blood and everyone else in the room is frozen with shock. I take advantage of that and take the gun in the man’s thigh holster and manage to shoot two men before they draw their guns and one more before they manage to shoot. I use the body of the man I stabbed as cover, but I can barely hold him up. I grunt under the impact of a bullet hitting his dead weight and feel another bullet graze my shoulder before the door straight across from me bursts open. I take advantage of the distraction and shoot one more while the other gets a bullet between the eyes from the intruder’s gun.

I turn on instinct and level my gun at the intruders, stopping my finger just in time when I see the distinct, pale skull mask. “Fuck.” I lower the gun and let the body drop to the floor as Ghost pushes in, but I don’t miss the way he looks me over.

His hand grabs his radio before anything. “Clear, I’ve got the package.” He slings his gun over his back as he reaches me and I don’t realize that I’m trembling until he guides my hand to his shoulder to keep me upright as he unties my other wrist and ankle. My fingers cling to his tac vest like a lifeline.

“Confirmed. If package is secure, move out.” Price’s voice comes over the radio and my heart squeezes at the sound of his voice. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and my hand still holding the gun twitches before I recognize Soap moving into the doorway to watch our backs.

“Clear, LT.” He reports before looking me over with wide eyes. I must really look like shit then.

“Affirmative.” Ghost responds over the radio with a wave back at Soap to tell him the same. “How bad, G?” He asks gruffly once the flimsy chair falls to the floor behind me and he stands up, keeping his forearms within my reach so I can use him to stand. His fingers graze my arms too, not gripping or grabbing, simply guiding.

My head shakes as I stare at him. “Not bad. Nothing broken.”

He nods in return and pulls out my uniform shirt and pants that he must have collected from the other room. My boots too. “Then let’s go. Can you walk?” I take my clothes gratefully and he keeps to my side while I slide the top on with only a slight wince as the fabric slides over the open wounds covering me. The pants are a little more difficult, but I manage before nodding to Ghost that I’m ready. He wraps an arm around my waist and I lower his hand to my hip as my ribs ache with protest. He corrects his grip and we limp out with Soap leading, gun up.

A few more bodies litter the narrow hall and the room beyond, but the true relief is when we walk outside and I can see the stars. I hadn’t realized how stale the air was in that shack and how the metallic smell of blood had stained my nostrils. I gulp down the cool air before I press my lips together as I hold in a laugh. My shoulders start shaking and Ghost’s pace falters before I shake my head. “It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s just the shock and exhaustion.” Laughter taints every word and I swear Ghost’s eyebrows furrow with concern before we keep moving.

“You get scarier all the time, G.” Soap comments ahead and I can’t hold back a low laugh even as I shake my head at myself.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.” I breathe as the giggles make every word waver.

Ghost’s grip tightens as we carefully scale down the side of the rocky hill. “Not sure what you’re apologizin’ for. You fuckin’ got taken watching my ass and I’d rather have you laughin’ than anything else.”

My head shakes, the laughter fading as I struggle to keep my feet moving while my body starts to shut down. “I’m sorry for thinking you wouldn’t come for me.” Ghost comes to a full stop now as I look between the men and Soap has shock scrawled over his face.

“Course we did, lass. The hell you talkin’ bout?” Soap’s accent gets a little thicker, betraying how deep my words hit.

Ghost starts to move again and I stumble after him even though he’s practically carrying me on his hip. “Keep movin’.” He grumbles and regret lingers in my chest as we fall silent the rest of the way. At the bottom of the rocky path sits a car and my heart beats a little faster at seeing the two figures waiting there for us. Ghost picks me up and carries me the rest of the way before immediately handing me to Price once we’re close enough. He holds me close and tight for far too brief a moment before sitting me on the hood of the car. The moonlight is just bright enough to make out each other’s features and I can’t get enough of his eyes, even with the worry filling them.

“You broken?” He asks quietly and I can hear how the words drag and crackle on the way out of his chest. His hand perches on the side of my neck, his thumb brushing lightly over my pulse point to feel my heart beating.

I give him a weak smile. “Just a bit chipped. Nothing permanent.” I promise and it’s a gift to see a little tension leave his shoulders. “But I’ve lost a lot of blood. I need to be kept conscious as we head back.”

“Still the medic, hm?” He teases dryly but the attempt at humor soothes me more than anything else. “Gaz, let’s go. Fast and steady.” Price pushes the keys into Gaz’s hands as he passes by with a wink, pushing something small that crinkles in my hand. A real smile tugs on my lips. A candy. We pile in the car and it’s a surprise to find myself pressed tight between Ghost and Price with Gaz driving and Soap in the passenger seat. It’s as if everyone traded seats.

“Did…did either of you grab my med kit?” I ask as my head gets a bit dizzy and I pop the hard candy Gaz gave me into my mouth. Soap turns in his seat with a half-grin, holding up my kit. My hands reach for it, but Ghost intercepts and pulls it into his lap.

“What d’ya need?” He asks as he opens it and looks over the contents.

I shift the candy into my cheek. “Bandages. My ankle’s fucked. Need to wrap it at least.” Ghost glances at Price and they instantly come to a nonverbal agreement as John shifts me closer to him while Simon gingerly lifts my foot into his lap. I frown. “I can do it—”

“Let him. That’s an order.” John’s voice in my ear and the command in it has my body stiffening for a moment, then laxing a moment after. My back is pressed against John’s chest with his arm thrown across my middle, his hand heavy on my hip to use it as a steadying point rather than put any pressure on my ribs. He must’ve noticed how Ghost was holding me earlier. Doesn’t miss a thing, my Captain.

Ghost eases my boot off and my hands clench at the pain, but he’s careful and the steady ache of the rest of my body makes it easy enough to sit through. Once my sock is off too, he takes out a small flashlight and I grimace as the light illuminates just how bad my ankle looks. It’s red and swollen from all the activity I forced it through after the sprain. Ghost starts wrapping and I nod when he looks at me to make sure he’s doing it correctly.

When he’s finished and I’m satisfied, I move to pull my foot away, but he keeps a firm hold on it. He gives me a deadpan look. “Keep it elevated.”

I give him a look back that I’m sure is a bit lackluster given my current condition. “It’s supposed to be elevated above my heart, but that’s not happening in the car.”

“Better this than nothing.” Ghost responds without a second of hesitation and his eyes don’t budge from mine. My mouth opens again, then shuts when Price gives my hip a soft squeeze. My lips purse, but I don’t say another word as I relax into John and try to keep my eyes open. I rest my hand on John’s knee and my thumb slides back and forth as I breathe in his scent.

“Give me a list of injuries.” He says and I nod, fighting through the fog of my mind to think clearly.

“Uh, sprained ankle, head wound, possible concussion, multiple lacerations, bruised ribs on my right side, a bullet graze to my left shoulder, and some bumps and bruises.” I go over the list twice in my head before nodding slightly in confirmation. The car is silent for a few beats and I feel a weight settle over all of us. The weight that comes with caring for someone else and hurting when they’re hurt. I swallow, struggling to accept the feeling rather than struggle against it and feel guilty for inflicting it on others. In truth, it’s a choice they all made. I choice I made too, when I let them in.

“Don’t think I ever asked how you are when you’re the one who needs to be treated.” John barely breaks the silence, but the tension lessens when I hum a tired laugh.

“Oh, I’m sweet as sugar, Captain. Naturally.” That gets chuckles from most of the men in the car.

“Liar.” Soap accuses, grinning back at me and I give him a smile in return. Also, I show him my middle finger. He returns the gesture instantly and happiness flits through me at the simple banter.

“You’re not gonna be difficult for me, are you, sugar?” John whispers just low enough for me to hear and I smile, wincing as it stretches a cut on my cheek.

“I like to think I behave better than most of you do when you need care.” I give Ghost a pointed look since he’s the worst of the bunch and he grunts, shaking his head while Soap and Gaz make noises of dissent.

Price shifts and my grip tightens on his knee until he settles again. “I remember being pretty docile last time.”

“After some convincing.” I return, my eyes shutting for just a moment before I feel light flicking at my nose. My eyes open and see Ghost pulling his hand back, head shaking with eyes on mine. I nod once. Got to stay awake. It goes on like this for the rest of the drive. One or all of them keeping up a conversation with me while Ghost taps my nose, pulls my ear, or annoys me in some other way when I start to drift. When we arrive at base, I can barely give one-word answers because I’m so exhausted.

The men rush me into the medical tent and I hate being set on the bed, hate being the one who needs treatment, hate the starchy feel of the sheets, and hate being poked and prodded. There’s a deep frown on my face as I allow the medics to do their job and they give Price the same list of injuries that I gave him earlier. Only after they hear that, and that I’m going to be fine with rest and treatment, Price dismisses the others and they reluctantly go. Although Gaz slips me another hard candy before he goes and gets a smile out of me.

Price stays. Even after the medics pull me aside and push me into a sterile bath to clean all my cuts after I practically showered in that man’s blood, I return smelling like chemicals and find Price waiting. I give him a look and the corner of his mouth lifts, but I can’t bring myself to verbally scold him. His presence settles me as it always has and that’s something I’m especially grateful for while I’m here.

There are a few places where I need stitches and I sit through it silently, Price and I just looking each other over. Seeing that we’re both alive and safe. The medics wrap my ankle again and lay me down in bed with it elevated while I try to keep my grumbling to a minimum. I’m exhausted, but this place, this position, keeps me on edge. But it’s getting harder to resist.

“Just sleep.” John says with a hint of humor in his voice as he sits in the chair next to me.

I heave a breath, nodding. “I’m not fighting it. Just hard to do in a place like this.” He moves a touch closer and breathing comes a little easier as his fingers slot with mine, the tips of his fingers sliding over the length of mine. He understands more than most why I’m having trouble.

“You’re not going to be alone here. Not for a second.” He promises with nothing but sincerity in those lovely blue eyes. My lips press together.

“I can’t ask you for that.”

“You’re not. I’m giving it to you.” He returns instantly and I can’t help but melt. Can’t argue with that. “Sleep.” His other hand raises to slide over my head, his fingers twisting a few locks of hair between them. My eyes flutter closed at the feeling and I don’t mean to fall asleep, but his gentle touch lulls me into peace in seconds.

*     *     *

I wake up feeling a slight weight settling on top of me and I’m on alert in a split second, my eyes flashing open and my hands darting out to grab what I can. The person freezes and I end up staring into dark eyes with their wrist in one hand and the collar of their shirt in the other. “Just me, G.” The voice takes a few moments to sink in, but I relax a second later with a grimace as the sudden movement tweaked my ribs.

“Ghost.” I breathe and slowly release him while he lets go of my wrist that he grabbed to keep me from choking him. “Gotta stop meeting like this.” I tease and he hums as he sits in the chair next to me, moving it as close to the bed as he can. I settle back down and note that the slight weight was another one of his jackets laid over my chest. A little smile pulls on my lips at the sight.

“Think I’d have learned by now. Especially since you still have my other jacket.” He flicks his chin towards the one covering me and I smirk while my heartbeat slowly calms. He’s only wearing the cloth that covers his face tonight and there’s no black smudged around his eyes. It’s as close to being Simon as he allows himself to be on base.

“I always meant to return it.” I say honestly, thinking fondly of his jacket hanging in my closet back home. “Think I like it too much now. I’ll get you another one.” That earns me a rare chuckle as he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Sounds good.” He agrees and there’s that little glint in his eye that tells me he has something to say. He’s either waiting until he’s ready to say it, or he’s still mulling over the words in his mouth. “Took me a solid ten minutes to get Price out of here.” I smile, imagining the soft argument followed by Ghost shoving Price out of the infirmary.

“Thanks for relieving him.”

He shakes his head. “Not a problem.”

“And you wanted to talk to me.” I help him along a bit with amusement in my voice as his fingers knit together and his gaze steadies on mine.

“I did.” He confirms and now I wait, letting him decide when he’s ready to talk. My hands slide over the jacket he laid over me, grateful for the lack of chemical smell emanating from it. It just smells like him. Like bitter tea leaves and a small citrus tang that usually taints his clothes. Probably his detergent. “I don’t forgive you.” He starts and my attention immediately shifts to him and his dark eyes trained on mine. “I don’t accept your apology for thinking we wouldn’t come for you because that’s bullshit and I won’t forgive you until you never fucking believe that again.”

My eyes widen when I hear the heat in his tone. It’s not that odd to hear Ghost get riled up, especially around Soap, but I’ve never had him take that tone with me. Not seriously. “I know it was stupid.”

“Damn right.” He grumbles and I give him a pointed look for rubbing it in. “Say it. Tell me you know we’ll always come for you.” His gaze is unyielding and I know he means it.

“I know the team will always come for me.” Even to my ears, the words sound hesitant. Ghost’s eyes narrow.

“You say that every day ’til it feels as natural as your fucking name. And I’ll ask you to say it every once and a while. ‘Til it’s a reflex.” I sigh, but his tone is insistent. After a moment, I relent with a nod and he pins me in place with his eyes before nodding back and relaxing again in his chair. “You don’t get to save my ass, then think we’re not coming after you. Never believe that, G.”

“I get it, Ghost. I’ll do it.” Because it’s important to him and because he’s clearly trying to do something good for me, even if it’s something I hesitate to do. “And when I can stand without falling over, I’ll give you a hug for being such a pain in my ass.” The mask twitches and his eyes crinkle so I know he’s smiling.

“We’ll see if you can catch me to do it.” He returns and I smirk, knowing he’ll let me. “Now, go on and pass out. Price’ll have my hide if I keep you up.”

“Mmhmm.” I smile and let my exhaustion catch up with me, falling asleep a little easier with his scent in my nose rather than the chemicals that cleaned my body.

The next time I wake, Soap has taken Ghost’s place and morning light is seeping into the tent. “Morning, lass.” He greets and I give him a bleary grunt in return. “Cheery in the morning.” He quips and I’m about to tell him what he can do with his cheer before he points to a tray beside me. “That’s for you, if you’re up for it. Will ye let me help you up without bitin’ me?” Soap gets up and I nod, grabbing onto his arms as they slide under mine to pull me up into a sitting position.

A long breath leaves me as pain echoes through my body with every movement, but Johnny is gentle and makes sure to stack pillows behind me before moving back. He pushes a glass of water into my hand along with some pills. “Nurses said to give those to ya.”

I raise a brow and take the pills despite how my face hurts. I bet I really look like shit. “They trusted you with a task? I’m shocked.”

He smirks. “At least your spirits are still high.” Soap reaches over and pulls the tray closer to hover over my lap. “Eat up. Took everything in me not to steal your applesauce.” I hum amusedly, picking up the small container first and happily digging into the sweet treat. Soap flicks my ear. “Cruel lass. Careful, I might rethink my offer.”

I pause and raise a brow. “Offer?”

Mischief glints in his eyes and I take a deep breath to prepare myself. “You’re coming to Scotland with me.” He says with a smug grin. “The group we took out last night were the last few we were after, so we’re on leave starting the day after tomorrow. Since you’ve got no one waitin’ for ya at home, I’m takin’ ya with me to see my family. So I can keep an eye on ya.” He winks at me while I blink a few times to make sure I heard him right.

“That’s…that’s not necessary, Soap. I can take care of myself.” I frown as I think of myself laying on his couch surrounded by his family, just taking up space. “I couldn’t possibly impose on you and your family.” Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve met someone’s family. Parents…I haven’t been around parents in at least a fucking decade.

“Too bad.” Soap answers instantly, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve already told my Ma and she’s excited to meet ya. If you resist, I’ll carry you there slung over my shoulder.” I pout, setting my food down on the tray as I try to think of a way out of this. “Come on, lass, it’ll be fun. You only have to stay off your foot for a little while and I’ll be there to entertain you in the meantime.”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I look at him and if anyone can pull off a puppy dog look, it’s Johnny. After a few moments I sigh, pressing my fingers to my temple. “You’re sure your family doesn’t mind—”

“They’re fucking thrilled, G. Come on, just say you’ll come without a fight.” He leans forward and nudges my leg gently.

A smile tugs on my lips and I’ll admit the thought of seeing Johnny at home is a tempting one. “Yeah, okay, I’ll come.” His face brightens immediately and his big grin makes accepting worth it.

“You won’t regret it. One minute in Scotland and you’ll never want to leave.” He assures me and I nod along, listening with a fond smile as he tells me about his sisters, his mother’s cooking, and his father’s terrible jokes. To my own surprise, I find myself actually…looking forward to it.

Taglist (hello, lovelies, hope you enjoy. Lmk if anyone wants to be tagged):

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13 @emsstuff1 @missmidnight-writes @thereeallink @younggirlgenius @1wh4re1nova @ghostslillady

[k1ranishf4]

Honestly, I think it’s extremely obvious that those four dudes are Dio’s sons.

Like, I take a look at these bitches and go “yup, they got the slut genes.”

(I would’ve loved to see a glimpse of 25 year old Giorno, even if for just two seconds but well :’))

Giorno and Rikiel have the Boob Window�� (which Giorno started out of the Brandos), Donatello is showing off his collar bones and has a semi-Boob Window and Ungalo’s out there tryna stab a priest while wearing a really really short crop top that would show his underboobs if he just stretched his arms.

Pucci would’ve died immediately if he had been a good Christian priest and saw the manwhore clothes all of them wear. Dio says no to generational trauma but he’s definitely pushing the generational sluttines agenda.

JUST LOOK AT HIM!!

Aside from the fact that I find him very attractive and am a Dio enthusiast, he’s displaying the crotch for everyone to see and his top doesn’t even cover his back, like??? It kind of bothers me when fanartists don’t include the fact that his back is also out for everyone to look at. He’s definitely wearing latex, no one can convince me otherwise.

Plus the earrings?? When did bro have the chance to pierce his ears? That wasn’t a thing in Phantom Blood. I actually don’t know if the other three have any kind of piercings, but Giorno definitely got his earrings after he saw that photo of his father.

It’s so funny to me, actually. Like, Dio was born in the Victorian Era, when it was inappropriate for a lady to show her ankles and even men were basically covered head to toe.

AND THEN HE COMES BACK A CENTURY LATER AND DECIDES TO RUN AROUND WEARING THE TIGHTEST BLACK TANK TOP KNOWN TO MAN AND LOVES TO WALK AROUND NAKED IN HIS MANSION?????

What in the name of Jonathan’s head did Enya tell this man💀

I love mudad a lot, if you couldn’t tell, and I’d keep talking about them for hours. Especially how all four of their personalities equal one whole Dio Brando (well, like 50-60% of Giorno’s personality + the others but-)

My new headcanon that I’ll be taking from this is that Rikiel would look up to Giorno and that he’d try to be like him if they were all raised together. They’d definitely match one way or another. (Tell me Giorno and Rikiel are your favorites without telling me Giorno and Rikiel are your favorites)

I have three or four mudad drafts that I still need to finish writing, yet here I am fueling my mind with even more ideas💀

[zombholic]

☆ 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 ☆

tw: kinda physical fighting

you wake up to your brothers stupid make believe band conjuring up all the random notes to their stupid instruments to make any sound they possibly can. your blood boiling from getting woken up you barged into your garage, slamming the door open you walked right up behind your older brother, pushing his back roughly.

“what the fuck y/nn! what!” he turned around, shouting at you, his face now covered with annoyance and anger. “can you turn that shit down?! i will tell mom! you woke me up!” you yelled back, basically seeing the steam come out of your ears.

“did we wake the beast from hibernation?” the short haired brunette spoke up, her hands dropping from her bass guitar that was painted a blood red. “fuck off abby you can’t even sing” giving her a dirty look before walking back inside your house “if you guys keep being loud i will break y’all’s faces” you slammed the door shut before going back to your room.

being woken up too early you decided you might as well go hangout with your friends, quickly doing your usual morning routine you threw on some leggings and a oversized hoodie and your bootleg ugg’s you got from like jcpenny’s, they were still cute though. grabbing your car keys you quickly went downstairs to tell your mom you were going out.

meeting up with them at ellie’s house, you guys passed the joint around, giggling mess, dazed eyes looking at each other. “dude, wait oh my god” you spoke up all of a sudden with a mind like einstein, “aren’t all accents just mocking each other?” you sat up causing jesse, dina and ellie to start contemplating as well. “oh my god guys, guess what fucking abby had the audacity to say to me this morning!” you were still very upset. “what muscle mommy say now” dina hollered, literally crying at her nickname for anderson.

“listen shh, she said ‘did we wake the beast from hibernation’ like who the hell is she to talk to me like that in my own house, you rolled your eyes, jesse busted out laughing. “i’m sorry, y/nn, abby can be funny sometimes” “nuh uh! she’s a bitch and i hope she gets ran over by a semi.”

ever since your brother started that little stupid four people band in high school, abby the only one who stuck out like a sore thumb for being the biggest asshole. you guys were always at each other’s throats about something as stupid as eating the last fruit cup. she always managed to hop her ass on every single nerve in my body and she enjoyed it so much, she loved ruthlessly annoying you.

—

it had been a couple of hours and you needing to come back home because your mom was going on her twenty-four night shift at the hospital. opening your front door you saw abby and your brother, naveed, playing on his playstation. those two being too into a really stupid round in fortnite to even notice you, making your way into your room you had changed into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, the ac in the house never seeming to work.

slipping on some socks you walked into your kitchen to make some ramen noodles, still hungry from the leftover munchies. kneeling down to grab a pot to boil some water in, right as you got back up you bumped into someone. turning around and groaning in annoyance “personal space weirdo, all up in my bubble” abby gave you a disgusted look after the comment, grabbing some ingredients to make a sandwich “what bubble? your big ass head is a bubble" she went on to making a sandwich. "fuck you abby, i really wanna strangle you sometimes!" you groaned out of frustration.

abby putting down what she was doing, turning her head to look at you with the stern face, getting up and slowly she cornered you into a wall "do it, you're just a bitch who barks" her harsh blue eyes gazed down at you. "fuck you abigail" you pushed at her chest, trying to get out of the suffocating situation. grabbing your wrists she manhandled you to bend over the island, one hand gripping your hands behind your back and her other on the back of your neck.

"abby let me fucking go" you squealed trying to squirm out of her deadly grip, she grabbed a fist full of your hair pulling you onto her front, you could feel her breath on your face "remember how easily i can fucking break you y/n" she let out a chuckle after seeing your eyes go from anger to fear in a span of a couple seconds.

"i am twice your size kid, watch your fucking self” she eyed you up and down before leaving the kitchen.

AUTHORS NOTE: yall im high asf rn so pls tell me if u like this cause im honestly just typing words

[dyli-dadi3]

Kinktober

Day 4: Bloodplay

You're feeling a little spooky and decide to be a vampire for tonight.

Summary: You find yourself being the rock stuck in a hard place when Leon suffers an unexpectedly severe wound. Tags: Bloodplay, handjob, drinking blood, eating cum, blood as lube, mentions of gun wounds and guns, slight knifeplay if you squint

The two of you were an unconventional team, finding each other while roaming the RPD.

All it took were some close calls and silly jokes for you to become close with Leon. You enjoyed his little quirks, and he appreciated your ability to laugh with him. It was easy to cover each other’s back when a horde of zombies came, the two of you working seamlessly together.

Until Leon got shot.

You knew it was a bad idea to follow that “FBI Agent,” but Leon looked at you with those bright eyes of his, full of hope and naivety, and you had no other choice than to put your better judgment behind you.

You knew he thought she was sexy, I mean, who wouldn’t? Smooth voice, shiny hair, trenchcoat that leaves everything to the imagination, and those black stilettos that fed the flames. You got it, you truly did. But you couldn’t help the fact that it made you insanely jealous. You watched from behind as he walked with her, telling her all the silly things he used to whisper with a giggle to you.

But you’re not a bitch; you run to his side immediately when he drops to the ground with a groan, ignoring as Ada proceeds to engage in combat with Annette, running after her once she notices that Leon is being handled.

“Leon! Are you okay?” I asked frantically, hands hovering over his dazed form in case you hurt him more. He was the police officer, okay? You only knew how to hold a gun because your father taught you so the two of you could go hunting. You had no experience with human wounds. Knew how to mercy kill your prey and skin them, not apply a tourniquet or gauze.

Leon groaned, grabbing your attention. “Don’t worry about me, go with Ada and stop Annette.” The thought made your eyes roll. She could deal with it herself, that was her original plan anyway. And besides, she made it more than clear how she was always “saving his ass.” You were more focused on how his blood was staining his uniform, having a direct relationship with your anxiety. Watching the pool grow bigger wasn’t boding well for your mental health.

“I’m not leaving you alone like she did, look at you!” Your hushed whispers were drowned out by the hissing of pipes and the distant groaning of once-living civilians.

Leon’s head thuds against the concrete floor as he whimpers.

You froze, listening to the sweet sound as his words blur, your mind fixating on the noises he was letting out.

“Please…” Leon begged, snapping you out of your engrossment enough for you to realize he had given up and was asking for your help now.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll help you, Leon.” You said quickly, wracking your brain to remember everything you’ve seen from movies. Staunch the blood flow, clean and wrap the wound, elevate.

First, umm… find something to stop the flow…

You look around, noticing a tear in the bottom of your tank. Great, fabric rips in lines! You quickly tear off a strip from your tank, wrapping it around Leon’s shoulder in a makeshift tourniquet.

He groans again, tilting his head away. “I’m so sorry, Leon. But you’re going to be okay, you hear me?” You say sternly.

Who are you fooling? You have no idea if this isn’t serious. But hey, if he’s still responding, then that must mean something.

Second, clean and wrap….

This one was harder. If you took off any more fabric from your top, you would end up with a crop top, what could you use to clean it?

You eyed the knife Leon keeps on his person, a gift from his Lieutenant was what he had told you earlier. You gently grabbed it, using the blade to cut off the fabric covering his shoulder. You tried to ignore the growing heat in your core as Leon moaned when you used the makeshift rag to swipe away the blood. “Sorry, Leon… You’re doing so well. So good for me… just a little longer.” You praised, using the knife to remove the sleeve of his long-sleeve shirt, carefully making a thick strip of fabric to use later.

“I’m going to remove the bullet, I’m so sorry.” You whisper, talking the tip of the blade and digging it into the wound. You bit your lip as Leon started to squirm, soft wines falling past his lips as he fought back the urge to let out noises.

You dig it in deeper, knowing the bullet was still there since there was no exit wound. “Don’t be afraid, Leon. It’s okay to make noises.” You reassured him.

Of course, you had ulterior motives, you wanted to hear him whimper again, for him to moan and squirm for you.

He bit his lip and whined, scrunching his eyes closed as his back arched.

You squeezed your thighs together, watching as he moved underneath you.

He looked so pretty, mouth agape as noises slipped past those plump lips… This reaction was normal, right? After all, if this were in a porno, his noises would fit in without a second thought.

Maybe you were a freak… God. You’re staring at this poor man like a slab of meat, cutting him up like a surgeon who graduated through online school. You saw how the bullet finally clinked to the ground, your mind spread in a million different directions as you wiped the blood off his wound and wrapped it up with the fabric of his sleeve. Blood was everywhere, all over your hands, his arm, the floor. It was doing things to you that you wouldn’t like to admit. You felt like a creep, lusting over this man who was bleeding all over you. Jesus, you never thought a man could make bleeding out look so good.

You looked down at your hands covered in blood and bit back a sigh, rubbing the pads of your fingertips together and watching as the blood already began to thicken. Your eyes then trailed to those rosy lips of his, losing your willpower as your stained fingers began to trace the plush of his flesh. You saw how Leon gave you a confused expression, but he wasn’t protesting. That was all it took for you to continue the impromptu trail of blood along the softness of his jaw, the high contour of his cheekbones. You felt like an artist leaving paint strokes, the skin of Leon’s face akin to the canvas as he stared at you.

“Has anyone told you how attractive you are, Leon?” You asked softly, eyes finally leaving his now deep red skin to the clear blue of his eyes.

“U-Uhmmm, my ex-girlfriend called me cute once?” Leon said gently, not knowing why this was important. After all, he was in discomfort, and you were tending to his wounds a moment ago.

“That’s not enough,” you tutted, your hand on his chest now. “You need to know how much I want you right now.” You watched as his eyes widened, his cock kicking in his slacks.

“You like that? Having me all needy for you?” You smirked softly, trailing your hand down to palm his cock that was starting to fill out his boxers.

“Yeah…” Leon muttered, his hand coming up to cover his face. “Never thought you’d touch me.”

“You couldn’t see the way I’d ogle you?” You chuckled, squeezing him and enjoying the way he squirmed, the way your hand left a stain on his pants that would be tough to remove (if he got the pre stains out first). “Or the way I look at Ada like she’s the scum of the earth when you guys flirt?” I huffed, pressing down a little harder.

“No?” Leon said in shock, biting his lip to stifle a whine as you unzipped his pants, pulling him out of his boxers. He moaned softly as you began to pump him, globs of pre and blood mixing into a wet mess. All you could hear was the noises Leon made, and the wet noises as you jerked him off. The groans of zombies or the hissing of pipes went from the foreground of your attention to the background, nothing more than the tips of mountains far, far away on a foggy day. Blurred, muddled, nothing to the crisp sound of a whine ripped straight out of Leon as you squeezed his tip.

“Fuck, slow down. Feels t’good…” he protested, but his hips jerking told a different story. It was cute the way his body wasn’t listening to his brain, so desperate to cum that it didn’t want to wait. You were eager to listen to his body, you might as well make him cum if you’re using his blood as a lubricant. A sorry of sorts to make up for how you thought the red coating his length was so arousing.

“Why would I do that?” You decided to simplify the thoughts in your head, punctuating your retort with faster pumps up and down his cock. You were immediately rewarded with a trickle of pre, wetting the drying blood and helping your hand glide again.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, g'nna cum!" Leon whined, his face screwing up in the most adorable pout as his body suddenly went tense. Spurts of cum shooting from his flushed tip, balls squeezing as he moaned. You continued your ministrations, fascinated by the surreal beauty of the man before you. The only reason you stopped was for the tears you saw begin to run down his rosy cheeks, you could see him struggle to find the words to tell you to stop through the haze of blood loss and lust.

As Leon recovered, eyes closed and letting out shallow pants to grab his bearings, you took your messy hand adorned with pearly cum and crimson blood and tasted him. The sexual satisfaction was more than you would have ever thought, it was as if you were internalizing his soul. That was him you were consuming, like a mother who eats her placenta. His essence that gives him life, and then the one that gives life to others. Tangy and metallic, yet sweet, everything you adored and more. You're truly going to hell for this, aren't you?

"You taste good."

"..."

"...What?"

[solaiced]

CASE 11: SUKUNA RYOMEN'S PREY.

!content!: chasing, haunting adeline refs?, outdoor sex and pred/prey play.

wc: 900

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You don't think you've had to run so much in one go, at least not since high school. But you had a damn good reason. This gigantic man with pink hair, face tats and bulging muscles started chasing you out of nowhere, and usually, you’d be flattered, except this man looked fucking dangerous.

How you survived up until now? No idea. Adrenaline, whatever, kept you on your toes, keeping the pain and discomfort away.

You hear the man chuckle darkly near your ear, and you lost footing, surprised. So now, you were held up by his hand gripping your shirt.

"Now, now, dove, you seriously thought you could out run me?" He cackles. “Funny. Well, since you lost, time to give me my beloved prize." His red eyes rake over your barely covered body, tank top because your pesky roommates (who you now wished were home, earlier) had gone out, and its matching Hello Kitty booty shorts.

You were littered with bruises, cuts and blood. Usually, you were a pretty talkative person, but fear had rendered you completely speechless. What did he mean by that?

Oh. You’d just realize what he meant. Men were disgusting.

Fuck. If his dick was proportional to his body, it would reach your lungs.

…

Holy shit. You shouldn't have looked down. You can see it poking through his pants. You should start praying now, because if he doesn't show mercy, Hell, even Satan will. You look up at him, now facing this monster, chest-to-chest, with fearful eyes.

He grins, eyes crinkling at corners and you almost swoon. He was way too charming for your own good. You'd fuck him, out of free will, being honestly honest. (Was that a correct sentence? You didn't care, he was too hot to even think.)

"Speechless? Don't be, baby, I'll make you speak in no time. So, take off your clothes, or I'll rip them off myself, and you'll have to beg me to fuck you and let you cum.”

You exhale loudly, dead panning.

“Seriously Ryo?" He drops his

smile, wondering why you broke character. What had he done wrong?

“What?” Sukuna pouts, moving both arms to wrap around your waist.

"That line's so cheesy, find something better!" You complain, letting him catch you when you fall back into his arms.

"Don't care. Take off your damn clothes." He tugs at your pink shorts, not trying to be subtle when he slaps your ass, digging

fingers in your ass cheeks as he spreads them experimentally.

He looks devastating in the dark. His red eyes are almost shining in the dark. His nose, jaw and throat, are dimly lit by the light from your porch, highlighting every harsh detail of his face. You really got lucky. You have to thank God, soon. You hear your name and look up.

"Take it off." Sukuna repeats for the third time. You heed his words, because you didn't want to beg to cum, again. He was really cruel, when he wanted to. Once your clothes are off, your nipples perked up in the cold air, he lifts you up with ease, undoing his sweat pants as he presses your back to the tree, the bark scrapping you.

"Wait, Ryomen, wait!" Your head bangs against the tree when you throw it back with a scream as Sukuna plunges into you, your slick lubing him up.

"Ugh... I got too excited. You're too tight to move." He grumbles, as if it was your fault. You wince, tightnening more as your body tries to get the big intrusion out of you.

"Fuck, little prey, relax a bit, I know you're into it, but I don't wanna hurt you…Too much. " He grins as he mutters the last part. Your head folls forward, tongue out whilst your mouth dropped open.

Sukuna puts a hand under your chin, lifting your face to see your dazed eyes.

"My perfect dove. You want me to move, mhm, yes you do. " He makes you ned, hips rocking to stimulate you. Over and over, just to drive you absolutely crazy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, whining loudly like a dog, or rather, a bitch in heat.

You were going cum too soon, fuck.

"Fuck, Fuck, you feel too good. Are you gonna cum, or what?" Sukuna growls, trying to keep his voice in check.

You stutter, hands grabbing everywhere they could for support, ending up in his hair and on his bicep. He keeps scratching you with his nails, his hands also frantically moving everywhere to either stabilize you, or feel your soft body in between his fingers.

"'M gonna–hgnh, cuh-hum!" You whine, muttering his name rapidly.

In, out, in, out, again and again, fuck it was so hard to focus on your impending orgasm when his hand settles on your clit, pinching and flicking and stroking and-!

"Ryo-hh!" You wail as you release, bringing Sukuna along. His pull-out game sucked, he thought as he slams inside of you, knocking his tip against your g-spot while ropes of cum accumulated in you and spilled out of your pretty cunt.

Sukuna's forehead was on yours as the both of you catched your breaths.

"Hey," He starts, mouth open, close to yours, "Can you still walk? I think I'm into this." He chuckles dryly while you narrow your eyes and frown.

“Okay, okay, let’s go home.”

[micharedmc]

Superior Anatomy

Content Warnings: Noncon/rape, tentacle bondage yay, violence and injury, painful sex, Wesker being an ass, general cringe?

This trial had started shitty, with two survivors already having been hooked, another injured and hidden somewhere to recover. And now Molly was captured by 'The Mastermind'. Fucking Albert Wesker. "Where do you think you're off to, mouse?" Wesker chuckled at Molly's weak attempts to struggle out of his grasp, gripping her face hard between his fingers. "Fuck. You." she spat. The inky tendrils wrapped around her arms and legs kept her kneeling, unable to move. "Tch, are petty insults the best you can conjure? I'd expect a smarter remark from you." he shook his head. "Mm, you haven't changed much since S.T.A.R.S, have you? Still the doe-eyed, naive girl I mentored... and still so pretty too when you look this pathetic." He let go of her face with a mocking pat to her cheek, though the smug smirk never faded from his face. "Are you going to keep talking or are hook me already?!" she hissed, squirming in her binds. Wesker tilted his head as if considering her words, then looked around for a moment. A generator was completed nearby. "I think I'd rather spend some time... catching up... whilst your little teammates forget about you being alone." he purred, the tendrils pulling her closer. "Isn't that nice? Bonding with your old Captain." Molly turned her face away, scowling. "Bonding? Never, you old, traitorous bi- ah, shit!" Her back burned in a long line and she felt blood seep into her tank top. "It's foolish to bad-mouth the God who holds his life in your hands, temporary as that death is in this prison." Wesker hissed into her ear, his tendrils releasing her but only so he could grab her head and slam it into the ground, making her groan. His body covered her back, an uncomfortably hot weight. "What're you-? H-Hold on..." her breath hitched as she felt him grind against her ass, his arousal evident and straining against his leather pants. "No..." she whimpered, fingers desperately clawing at the floor. "Yes... I'm going to fuck you right here, looking at your old desk, isn't that just lovely?" he cooed mockingly, keeping her pinned as he moved away. The grating, dooming sound of a zipper cut through the sound of her loud heartbeat, soon followed by a loud rip and a draft on her backside. "Even back then, I wanted to do this, you know. Every time I saw that stupid innocent look on your face. It's nice to be idolised, to be looked upon like it was I who hung the moon and stars, but oh so annoying that you were so naive. I wanted to destroy you, but I hadn't the time. So fortunate am I that I have you now, hm?" Wesker purred, his words making chills run through her body. "You s-son of a bitch, I ha-ate you!" Molly sobbed, feeling him rub the head of his cock up and down her pussy. The slickness he left behind made her feel sick. "Aww, how unfortunate for you." he laughed as he slowly pushed his way inside, leaning over her back again to moan loud in her ear. He was doing so on purpose, a harsh reminder that his was happening, he was enjoying it and she couldn't escape, not as long as he had both hands and Uroboros tentacles restraining her. Every inch was agony, making her cry more and more. And worse was the reminder of everything they had gone through, right in front of her. That golden plaque, the one she'd destroyed years ago, was restored in this version the Entity restored. Molly Jericho His office overlooked the room and hers was close, a method to keep an eye on how much work she was doing back then because she'd chat too much with Chris, who was shit at paperwork. The memories hurt.

A grunt brought her back to the present. He was in to the hilt. "So tight, mouse. Does it hurt?" Wesker was moving, each drag of his cock in and out made her insides clench, protesting, but it only motivated him to keep going. She didn't give him an answer, didn't need to, all she could do was take.

And even with all the disgust, with all the pain and anger.... her body was responding. In her head, she argued it was to make the process easier, to lessen her pain, but arousal was a bitch in this situation and regardless of what she thought, it was there anyway. "How shameful, hm? What would Chris say if he saw you like this? Or Jill? Or even that Rebecca? Getting off on me violating you..." Molly laid her forehead to the cool floor, letting her tears fall. She could only imagine the disgust on their faces as her pained groans turned to moans she could barely hide. "I'm not- I don't want- please stop, oh God..." "Shh, dearheart, you wouldn't want your teammates to hear us..." That was even worse of a reminder of the present moment. Loud, squelching slaps echoed in the room, the sound of their bodies meeting. Wesker had angled his hips to hit that aching spot within her mercilessly so she had no choice but to feel good. "Ah- ah... ah... get this- ngh!- over with!" she begged. "I want to take my time, Molly. Don't you want your friends to live?" Cruel. A leather-covered hand wrapped around her throat, tightened there as he dragged her up against him. He tilted her head back and slammed his lips onto hers, their teeth almost clacking together.

It was a deep kiss, a momentary shock of nips and bites and tongue to distract her as he decidedly sped up his thrusts, her walls tightened more around him sitting up. Molly moaned and gasped into his mouth, tears still freely falling. She hoped her teammates were far from here, unable to see this. She wasn't willing, she wasn't-! Wait. "If you really want this over with, why don't you move yourself?" Fucker! Molly took a shaky breath, gritting her teeth as she steadied herself best she could in his grip and moved her hips, shivering at the wet slide of his hardness inside her. Every move, every clench around him made him groan, so she forced herself to do more. It was horrible, disgusting, shameful, she wanted to wash herself so badly, yet she knew she shouldn't be feeling like this over something she had little control over. "That's it, Molly. What a good girl you are." Wesker praised in that fucking condescending tone. With a groan, he grasped her hips and shoved her down, a spike of pain shooting up her spine before she even registered the hot spurts of cum spilling inside her. "Ugh... ew... wait, no, haven't you tortured me enough?!" Fingers rubbed over her clit, causing her legs to shake, her body to warm up. "I never said I was done. I may be cruel, but I'll at least let you cum~" "Fuck you, this is c-cruel too!" Regardless of her attempts to hold back, she climaxed with a gasping sob, her walls milking him more, adding to her horror. Wesker finally let her go, pushing her forward. She landed onto the hard floor, barely catching herself. He tucked himself away, looking down at her with a smirk that only widened as he eyed her cunt, dripping with his cum.

"I don't think I'll kill you this round. See you later, Molly~"

She's not on here but always thanks to Peachy for helping me write the smut that makes me cringe to even work on no matter how horny the period hormones make me lol

Also there's pieces of this fic missing that I had to remove because Tumblr WOULDNT let me post all of it so if I had to make a small improv start before getting to the meat of this. SORRY. I hope yall like? Or don't find it too cringy at least. Oh yeah, to add, the title is one of his Dead By Daylight perks cuz I couldn't think of another one.

[askrobouteguilliman40k]

The past.

Sister Victoria could not sleep, maybe it was the storm out side, maybe it was a mild bout of indigestion? What ever it may was, she was restless, so she made her way to the heart of the convent to pray for rest.

The first inkling that something was wrong was the Chapple door was open to the wilds, as she moved to close it, she heard something behind her, a sickly gurgle. Fearful, she turned around and almost screamed.

Upon the alter was the sister superior, blood coating her gown as some.... Thing savaged her neck. At first Victoria thought it was some sort of animal, but no, this was man shape, beastly, but Manish. As she watched a sickeningly long tongue lapped at the rent in the Sister Superior's neck, drinking up the blood that flowed down her.

Shaking hand, she grabbed her rosary and started to pray for the Lord's protection. The beast looked up and chuckled. "Looks like my lucky night, two women of the faith to feed upon." He dropped the sister superior to the ground and started walking forth. "The old bird did what your doing, didn't work, god is dead and we are just savaging the corpse." He laughed as he strode between the pews to her, malice glinting in his inhuman eyes.

"Hey fuck face! We aren't done yet!" Bellowed a strong voice.

Victoria whipped around, standing in the Chappel doorway, rain water dripping off tanned flesh was a towering woman dressed in a soaked tank top and jeans, a halberd in her hands. "You heard me ugly, we got a date you and I." She spoke before charging in, weapon swinging.

The beast jumped back, out of the way if the new comers blows. "Oh poor Anna, too late again, time for the same old tried song and dance." He rasped.

Victoria watched the back and forth, the beast had speed, but the woman, Anna? Had reach. Looking to her superiors ruined corpse, Victoria felt her fear replaced by anger. Sneaking around the edge of the Chapple, she grabbed an intact cast iron candle stick holder, waiting for her moment, she kept and brought it down on the beasts head... She like to thing she shouted something heroic, but what came out was a garbled scream or fear and rage.

The beast spun to her. "Look bitch, you get you tur-" but was cut off as Anna grabbed him in a bear hug and with an amazing feat of strength, suplexed the beast into the hard cobblestones of the Chapple floor.

As the beast was stunned, Anna quickly climbed on top of it and rammed a wooden stake in its chest, the beast letting out a final scream before going limp.

Victoria blinked. "Is... Is it dead?"

Anna stood and rolled her broad shoulders. "Not yet, ugly herf is going to tell me where his Sabat buddies are hiding, then he gets true death."

Victoria just watches on in confusion, but feels a burning in her soul, she wants to be like this woman, to strike down monsters.

Today

Victoria sips her tea. "And that Minerva is how Anna and I met."

Minerva watches on with wide eyes. "So romantic..." She mutters.

Victoria coughed. "Er.. maybe? But any questions?"

"How did you cover it up? Gramps says that it the hardest part of the hunt."

Anna came in with a fresh tray of cookies. "Simple, we blamed satanists, you be shocked how many vampire kills get swept under the rug as a cult." She says.

Minerva takes a cookie. "Wow, such lore...."

[sadsimp]

Creepypasta OC thingy

My little stories are taking up too much space so I’ve decided to put them here :). Set with the creepypasta but a little bit different? Idk

Warnings: Angst? :’) and some gore (not a lot?? Idk) and some fluff at the end :3

Ocs name if Fall and they’re a Worker/Proxy under The Boss (not Slenderman) and they were forced to take care of two demon kids. Ik it’s weird but we’re gonna roll with it

Questions 

The moment they dragged their body through the door Helen was walking out and Miracle bomb bardes them with questions.

“Why is there blood all over you?” I sit down on the couch.

“What’s in the bag?” As I drop the bag holding necessities: my weapons, first aid, map, files, money, etc. 

“What did you do?” As I peel off my boots caked in blood and mud.

“Did you have a good day?” When I pull off my layers leaving me only in a t-shirt and my pants.

“Was there a bunny where you went?” As I stand back up and slowly wake to the hamper in the hallway. Lately he’s been obsessed with rabbits. I told him I would try to look for one though I didn’t see any, I was too sidetracked. I toss the clothes in. 

He follows me all the way to Misery’s room where I check up on her and she’s fast asleep. I close the door before walking to his room.

“Why are you quiet?” I pull the covers down and motion for him to get in bed. 

“Did you not see a bunny?” 

I cover him up and wipe the blankets down. “No I didn’t. Sorry.” I mumble dragging myself to the bathroom. 

His questions grounded me somewhat, unfortunately that’s not the only the questions do. They make me sick, make me remember. 

It hurts. 

I pull off my pants and socks and throw them in the hall and shut the door. 

It burns. 

I rip off my mask and stare for a moment, leaning on the sink and getting more agitated by the second. 

It itches. 

It was silent in the small room besides their heavy breathing. They turn around to get a towel. A shower will be good, give them some time to calm down. It itches so fucking bad.

A hot shower will do. 

As they clean themselves off they start humming, trying to keep thoughts away but they always kept coming back.

After a while they finally get out, dry off and change. They feel grateful everyone’s asleep, they can walk around freely. The stumble to the kitchen in a tank top and shorts, mask had been tossed in their bedroom.

They pull out a cup and put chocolate milk in it, Miracle would have a fit but they need something for their medicine. The swallow the pills and make a noise of disgust. 

The dogs don’t acknowledge their owner shuffling back to their room. They take a drink and set it down before getting into bed. 

It still itches. Everything itches but they don’t scratch. They heard it’s bad for the scars to do that but they might stop caring soon. 

They try to sleep but the memories keep creeping up on them. Tossing and turning didn’t help their aching body. 

Being dragged into The Punishment Room kicking and screaming. 

Spitting blood at her feet resulting in another stab to the side soon afterward along with much worse. They just wished she didn’t turn the knife while still being inside their body. Or kept the wax on for as long as she did. They squeeze their eyes and try to ignore it, it’s like they could still feel it. 

*****1st POV*****

 “Did that hurt?” The Boss asked. 

My hands were bound behind me and my legs in front of me were bound too. My sides and upper thighs throbbed, the blood pouring from them didn’t help either. Why could I feel the liquid coming out? 

“Are you ready to be done?” She asked with a sickeningly sweet tone and smile. Bitch.

All this because I stabbed some sexist pig? 

“Did you learn your lesson?” 

What about the piece of shit?

There was still some blood in my mouth from the fight so I leaned forward, gritting my teeth, and I spat at her feet.

I glared up at her leaning back against the blood stained wall and she glared right back at me. 

She turned back to her tool desk, fuck. Probably should’ve not done that. “We aren’t done are we?” The knife she picked seemed more jaggy than the last and what’s that? Is.. that.. a candle? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

I woke up in a cold sweat, out of breath, and flung myself off the bed. The scars, particularly the same ones from my nightmare, itches. The cuts burn and the burns throb, they both itch. 

It takes me a moment to catch my breath. I rub my hands up and down my face cringing at the texture. 

I need more medicine. A knock gets me out of my mind and I instantly scramble to get my mask.

“Fall?” A small, quiet voice mumbles. Miracle. “You okay?” 

I take a deep breath shaking my head and chuckling. He either didn’t hear the house shake due to my flaying around or didn’t care. Despite having a demon in his brain, he’s very thoughtful and maybe a bit too naive. 

I get up and open the door. He steps back a little and rubs his eyes. “Yeah I’m okay.” I tell him in a raspy voice to which I cough to try and clear my dry throat. I open my arms to see what he wants and he lifts his arms up. I bend down to pick him up and carry him back to bed.

He gives me a squeeze before letting go and snuggling into his pillow. I feel like I owe him something… I tuck a hair behind his ear, “How about we go look for some rabbits tomorrow?” He sleepily corrects me, “Bunnies Mapa. Bunnies.” I pat his head and go to the hallway to start cleaning.

[the-ultimate-pie-family]

Left 4 dead ponyville session 2 chapter 3½ the escape from the ruins of no mercy

~We left off when a new survivor came in, but wat else is gonna let find out, shall we~

Jamesy called out for movie till he heard some lurking. jamesy looked around the he slowed down his heart hmbeat to focus on the infected lurking it was a charger butvitcwas a different kind he didn't know till a hunter pounced on jamesy he blocked some of the bites and claws but was overwhelmed so she decided to call out hopefully someone hears him so he yelled with all his strength he had and called. Help me, someone anyone, jamesy felt his life fading fast. The only thing he hopes is that his friend movie is safe he heard some gun fires , and he passed out as jamesy pased out bill and blood came by but sara heard that blood was out there so her and movie ran for them movie was stabbing the infected with her horn then slicing them with her ninja swords jamesy?! No...... movie knew blood could save him blood. we needed to get jamesy in the safe's house over there. Blood knew that blood was kinda busy at the moment, so Bill and movie helped jamesy in the safe house movie called for sara blood move I'll cover you blood breathed fire burning the infected run blood yelled sara knew itvwas time to go so she ran for the safe house sara jumped in as blood jumped in bill closed the door barricaded itcas well

Feel hour went by of blood healing jamesy, but blood knew he won't turn he was immune blood stopped as he need a break his holy magic was draining from healing jamesy s-s-s-some one k-knock him out please velvet knock jamesy out guys rest I'll keep the first watch movie sara and blood rested the night velvet guarded both safe room doors morning came jamesy woke up healed he looked around confused and shocked till blood asked jamesy if he's ok jamesy replied with a yes till the others woke up good follow me jamesy blood and jamesy sneaked out to resupply on food Rochelle started calling out for blood and the others girl stop ellis said they'll find us the whole hospital is safe just gotta get the radio working and the no mercy sign on jamesy look out ellis and Rochelle heard blood fighting off infected then ellis and Rochelle ran out helping blood and jamesy back to the hospital ellis Rochelle you assholes the got the others but we need help blood? Jamesy? Blood turned back shit they must've started looking for us, jamesy, ready? Ellis, then stop both blood and jamesy. we need help with the radio and the sigh on, jamesy said he's good at Radios louis, who grabbed jamesy, showing him the radio. i tried everything, man, and still nothing, maybe the antenna and that on top of the roof where my group first defended. If you could fix it, let's go no time to waste. Yes, louis, no time to waste louis and jamesy started going to the roof, then they heard the word "tank they knew they didn't have long till more infected louis and jamesy crouched down looking around staying on guard sara movie hurry get in now movie carried sara in the hospital while the tank was right behind them but it was the pink tank and blood knew it was his daughter belle they stared each other down waiting till blood told the other to get to the roof then blood headbutted infected belle yelling RUN!!!!!! Don't look back. Blood closed the main door, barricaded them, and then started running movie healed sara with a med kit. Are you ok now, sara? Im fine. Thanks then, infected river came crashing through the walls roaring, then Francis hit infected river with a ninja sword. Remember me, ugly, you two go, i got Queen ugly sara movie started running then blood bolted through infected river dropping her blood you son of a bitch run you biker idiot run

Francis saw a huge horde of infected coming blood, and Francis ran for their lives to the roof jamesy. Any luck, brother?! Don't rush me damnit louis behind you, then DJ came by chopping a hunter head off. You got this, jamesy. The huge horde of infected stopped dead in its tracks they were all shocked that they stopped, then jamesy got the radio working, and then the fight continued to cover jamesy while he called for a chopper infected came left and right nonstop then four tanks appears one pink one blue and the rest normal blood knew the ruined hospital wouldn't be able to hold the weight till this hugs chopper came guys chopper now blood plused the infected away move now then oit of nowhere infected belle and river started to bite and claw at blood trying to infect him midnight went back to help her but got grabbed by movie midnight struggled to get free to save her dad daddy!!!! Midnight started crying, and then the pilot was taking off movie jumped on with midnight movie hugged midnight as she passed out from crying im sorry my dear

Tags for @askmovieslate @askdj-timelord2 @saraali-19 secretly @asksniperjack

Mod: Till chapter 4 im open for ideas too

[cobra-creampuff]

in this au, ian doesn't get the guess what we've been doing daddy/we've been fucking couple's t-shirt set custom made himself, he finds it already up somewhere for purchase. then when they wear the shirts to pride, ian thinks is soooooo funny for about five minutes, before he predictably gets wicked jealous because with the added hint of the shirt plus the fact obviously gay people are more into that video than others and there are more gay people here, mickey is getting recognized actually kind of a lot. and like seven times out of ten, the person(s) recognizing him are also clearly pretty horny about it lmfao (i mean. he was cuffed, bent over, he said daddy, he humped the car, the lowkey pornographic voice he used for "good and hard", and wearing nice clothes, hair falling over his forehead, pretty face covered in blood... who among us isn't horny about this.)

anyway so ian drags mickey with him into the disabled/family portapotty and fucks him 🫦 good and hard 🫦 with minimal prep up against the wall right over the urinal - if mickey didn't have his hands free to brace himself, or if ian pressed him to bend over just a little bit further, he'd practically have his face in the bowl. this position is a Choice ian makes. the fold-out baby changing table is Right There and would obviously be more comfortable and less gross. but he's having a jealous fit, so he's fucking kinda mean, and also the fact that mickey just goes where ian puts him without complaining why he can't have the nicer digs that are literally two feet away. a big stroke to the old ego, and more importantly really demonstrates that mickey is his. (for mickey's part he barely even notices; fucking in a bathroom is fucking in a bathroom and if you're fucking in the bathroom you're gonna be getting up close and personal with bathroom fixtures that are used for bathroom stuff, that's just the facts and that's the proverbial bed you decided to roll around in.)

ian also wipes mickey's come on the daddy shirt, and authoritatively does mickey's pants back up with his still inside and dripping, so mickey has to wear wet boxers and just his undershirt for the rest of the time they're here, jizz-stained daddy shirt sticking out of his back pocket like a hanky making sure everyone he passes knows he likes it rough. mickey has no idea it could be taken to mean anything, let alone what, so he puts it in the left pocket initially. ian takes it out and tucks it into the right himself - and gets handsy while he's at it, of course. it's just one more layer to ian's mastery of him that he can label mickey like this, that he can publicize what mickey lets ian do to him, without mickey even knowing. anyway, it's not like mickey being a bottom is exactly private information anymore what with the video, and people could have probably guessed - and probably will guess, if they don't know the color code - that mickey's a masochist from the furious red hickeys ian left all over the back of his neck and shoulders, plainly visible with just the fitted black tank mickey has on now. (maybe someday ian will be able to convince mickey to wear a crop top, so he can show off the handprint bruises he sometimes leaves on mickey's hips too...)

anyway, then there's a follow up plot where they find out one of mickey's brothers is the one who originated and is selling the shirts and kind of like lowkey making bank on them.

if it was some random fucking nobody stranger mickey probably wouldn't care that much (unless he needed some fast cash), but since it's his brother he's like you owe me fucking licensing fees and royalties bitch and you know i'm ain't gonna sue you about it imma just beat your fucking ass and take all of the money unless you agree to a percentage split of profits and an interest rate on the backpay.

they're both so worked up about it than ian and another house member have to step in to try to mediate, but they're both really fucking bad at it - not least because ian immediately takes mickey's side vociferously the instant the brother says anything that could even be construed as personal - and they end up just making it worse. so then mickey and his brother get into a fistfight, but that doesn't solve anything either because afterward then they're still arguing about the money and now they're also arguing about who won the fight lmfao. until finally svetlana is like if you don't settle this right now - with your inside voices!!! - i am going to murder you with hammers and then it will be my money and my etsy store and my house and maybe i will even make your sister fall in lesbians with me.

well they believe her (as they should) so they take some of the good weed and they head out to go find a secondary location to try to actually have a productive adult discussion.

they don't come back for like eight entire hours, but after those eight hours they have an agreement and a More Profound Bond. it's never textually revealed what they spent so long talking about.

guess what we've been doing daddy speech you will always be famous