#let me be a part of the craze again PLEASE

[dibbs-n-scribbs]

It feels so bittersweet getting back into Gravity Falls again at an age where I can finally fully comprehend and appreciate the show in its entirety. I was 7 when it came out and found the episodes very fun and entertaining. Every now and then I would go back and revisit it, usually being late to whatever new sensation revolving around the show occurred (this was because I grew up with tv providers that would take away the cool cartoon channels for months-years so I could never watch original premiere dates like other viewers. I also didn't use social media till i was like 13, so youtube recommendations would remind me that I had just missed the Mcgucket author theory, Cipher Hunt, etc). Even going back when I was 15-16, it was fun to revisit episodes I would quote very often, but I'd still feel bad about not having watched every episode yet or even missing the series finally. I'm late to every single fandom ever (I mean I just got into Columbo like 30-50 years later), and even with the new resurgence in GF with the Book of Bill, I didn't here about it until weeks later, and I'm not even getting my book until late November. I've been rewatching some episodes, and I'm experiencing a feeling of nostalgia and grief - reliving the old times while feeling bad for not being able to experience it on time with other fans. Even with the resurgence, the saying "See you next summer" hurts to hear, as there may not be any other Gravity Falls content ever again, as Alex Hirsch might want to move onto other projects (also summer just officially ended too :'0). Being 12 years since the show began, I hope there will be more opportunities to share experiences with other GF fans, but even if there isn't, I'm very glad to be alive in a timeline where Gravity Falls exists as a show. It has created a new format of modern cartoons and will forever hold a big place in my heart. All this rambling to say that I love this show and hope to one day become a big part of it and other shows like this.

[gyaruhana]

please do one where Thanos starts off as your unlikely ally in the games, protecting you from danger and helping you survive. Over time, his protectiveness becomes obsessive, and he begins eliminating anyone he sees as a threat to keeping you by his side even as you start to notice his unsettling behavior you can’t escape his grasp🙏

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - yandere bf

Synopsis: In an attempt to escape from Thanos, you join a game promising money that will help you escape him. Unfortunately, he also seemed to have joined the game.

A/N: I may have combined this with two other requests bc they were all so similar so.. i hope thats okay !!

Warning: yandere thanos, choking

If you had told your younger self you’d be in a game of death with 45.6 billion won up for grabs, you wouldn’t believe it. And yet, it’s true. After the tragedy that was Red Light, Green Light where many people met a rather unfortunate fate, you realized it’d be in your best interest to find someone you can trust and form an alliance with them.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Thanos, happened to also be a part of the games and had been watching you from a distance since he spotted you in the first game. You had originally wanted to get away from him because he was nothing but toxic though now it seems Thanos was one step ahead of you. That, or you just had terrible luck and Thanos decided to come here on his own accord. 

You didn't have time to think about it though because he suddenly got up and left his little group behind to make his way straight to you. He didn't seem happy at all. Perhaps it was because the last conversation you two had was an argument that was left off on a bad note. 

“Where have you been? Were you avoiding me? That makes me really fucking mad, you know,” he says as he grabs your wrist so you can't just walk away from him. Not like there was anywhere to go now. You were stuck with him here. 

“I was just taking some time for myself,” you respond defensively. You really just wanted to get away from him which is why you were here in the first place. Your original plan was to win some money and then disappear so you'd never have to deal with Thanos and his crazy behavior again. It was suffocating to be near him.

“Time for yourself? Don't fucking lie to me,” he says as he brings you closer to him. Nothing about him was gentle. Not his touches, or his kisses, or anything. “Well, you've had your time. You're not leaving my side now,” he continues as he looks down at you with a glare. He wasn't leaving any room for you to defy him. In his eyes, you belonged to him. You were his property and that meant you couldn't go rogue and do what you want. 

“You don't get a say in that,” you say as you lean back slightly to try to create some distance between the two of you. He lets out a bitter laugh before grabbing the back of your head, entangling his fingers in your hair, and forcing you closer. “Yes, I do. In case you forgot, you're stuck in a death game with me. Do you really think anyone else will help you? Nobody else here gives a fuck about you. The moment they get the chance, they'll let a bullet go through your head,” he says as he looks down at you with a slightly crazed look. 

You'd like to make a counter point but he’s not exactly wrong. A lot of the people here didn't seem to be trustworthy. Not like Thanos was any better but he probably wouldn't purposely kill you if you didn't piss him off, right? As much as you didn't want to, you realized you didn't have much choice. Unless you want to make an enemy right after the first game, Thanos was your only hope of surviving the rest of the games.

“That's better. Just keep your pretty lips shut and let me do the talking,” Thanos spoke with a slight smirk. You didn't respond to that knowing that you'd likely make some sarcastic quip that would piss him off if you did. You didn't have a choice this time. You couldn't run away to another country. You had to give in just this once.

You'd soon come to regret that decision. 

Somehow, Thanos had only gotten worse. He was always right next to you, no matter what. Either his hand would be over your shoulder or he'd have a tight grip on your waist. When it was lights out, he'd force you to sleep in the same bed as him. He'd kiss you all the time too but it was always rough with teeth clashing against each other and his tongue shoved down your throat.

You didn't notice it got worse until it was far too late. 

The moment of realization was during the third game. The game was called ‘mingle’ and it was simple enough. A number would be called out and you'd have 30 seconds to form a group of that number before getting inside one of the fifty rooms. 

Everyone stood on a circular platform in the center of the room and, per usual, Thanos had his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close to him as he spoke to his other stupid friend. The platform began to spin slowly as a childish song played. When the platform came to a sudden stop and a number was called out you formed a group and ran into a room. 

It was all going fine as you planned strategic moves and managed to keep on surviving. At least, it was going well. Until the last round when the number 2 was called. 

Thanos had immediately taken your wrist and dragged you towards a room, leaving behind his idiot friend without a second thought. However, the room was quickly stolen by two other players. You thought Thanos would just go to the next room over but that was not what happened.

Instead he pushed open the door and immediately grabbed one of the guys by their hair. He didn't think twice before he forced him out of the room. The other guy made an attempt to help but Thanos slammed him against the wall, his hand going around his throat as he choked him. The look in his eyes was far more scary than you remember. You could hardly process what was happening before the guy was punched in the face and pushed out of the room. 

Thanos pulled you in just before the door closed and locked. The sound of gunshots rang out soon after as Thanos huffed in annoyance. He looked guilt free despite the fact he was very much responsible for the death of two people. Actually, now that you really thought about it, he had killed other people in the previous games too.

Fuck. You were beginning to regret your choice of becoming his ally. You'd have much rather found someone else who could protect you from him because he was clearly fucking crazy. Crazier than he used to be. You thought he was just a manipulative, toxic bastard. You didn't think he'd be truly capable of murder. 

“Fucking dickheads,” Thanos mumbles under his breath with annoyance before glancing at your face. The corner of his lips quirked up when he noticed your expression and he wandered in front of you. “What? Something wrong?” He spoke though he already knew exactly what you were thinking.

“You killed those people,” you said as you looked up at him with a combination of fear and disbelief. He laughed in response before reaching a hand up and grabbing your face. “For you, baby. I fucking killed them for you,” he said as he looked down at you with a smirk. He found your expression such a turn-on really. The idea you were afraid of him meant you'd submit to him and that's all he wanted.

“You're fucking crazy.. crazier than I thought,” you spoke as you tried to step back and create some distance between the two of you. In response, he slammed you against the wall and got very close to you. 

“You're only just realizing this? You don't realize when I snapped the ankle of that bastard who looked at you so he'd lose? You didn't realize when our ‘friend’ and I returned but he had a bleeding nose?” He spoke as he got into your face with a dangerous grin. Well, when he said it like that, it became abundantly clear he had been killing and hurting people left and right since day one and all for you. You just had been too caught up in his behavior towards you that you didn't notice how he acted with others.

“Mm. Fuck, I love that look on your face. You're so afraid. Good. Because you're going to learn that you're mine forever, yeah?” He spoke as he brought a hand to your throat and squeezed it tightly. He let out a laugh as he choked you like it was the funniest thing in the world before slamming his lips to yours in a rough kiss. 

It was then you realized that, no matter how hard you tried to escape, you were his now - you always have been - and you will never taste freedom on your tongue again.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Show me where it hurts (part 2)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

GIF by aenhanse

(AO3 Mirror), Part 1, Main Masterlist

summary: You confront Miguel.

warnings: breeding kink, cum play, animalistic behaviour (not quite ABO), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, praise and degradation, Miguel eats ass like a fucking champ, general filth etc etc. very very 18+, minors dni (and i will b blocking!) 

a/n: thank you for all the support for part 1! I will say, all the comments about relationship building and stuff do make me laugh a little bc this part is literally just p0rn with a teensy tiny bit of feelings.. but if you follow me this should be pretty standard by now.

wc: 4k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You let yourself in again, but not until after pounding on the door. 

You think he's home, the scent of something in the air. At first glance, his place is empty, but a mess : cushions ripped off the couch, kitchen ransacked of its contents, floor covered in blankets and clothes. It makes you worry: Miguel is so clean it's scary . He would never leave his place like this. You hear something from his bedroom and rush towards it.

He's there, back turned on the bed. But something's wrong. In sweats and a tank top, he's breathing heavily, clutching at the sheets. 

"You shouldn't be here." He strains. 

Eyes wide, you step closer. Is he in pain? Is he hurt? "Miguel. I just want to help. Did something happen?" 

All he does is shake his head, unable to make eye contact with you. "I c-can't let you… please, bichita. It's not safe for you."

Your heart breaks at his helplessness, you get closer, and perch on the bed next to him. He jumps at the hand you place in his shoulder. Fuck. He's drenched in sweat. 

"Miguel, please. Let me in… I'd do anything. Just let me help."

He groans with his head in his hands. "I know, bichita. That's the problem. I can't let you…"

You look at him properly now. He's writhing on the sheets, tense and unable to sit still. Guiltily, all you can think is how good he looks; pretty even when his hair sticks to the nape of his neck, when he groans lowly at your presence. Your eyes rake down his body, looking for a secret wound, or something he's hiding. When you spot it, you gasp. 

Miguel is rock hard under his sweats. And he is massive. 

It clicks. Ashamed, he makes hesitant eye contact with you. "It's not usually this bad. And it gets worse if I'm near someone I'm…" He breathes. "Someone I'm attracted to."

You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the statement; of the situation. "I think that's just what erections do, Miggy." 

He rolls his eyes, too annoyed to be as uneasy for a moment. " No , God, I meant my DNA. There's something wrong with me, something animalistic , that makes it ten times worse. I'm going crazy. Smell, taste, touch… and it doesn't just go away. "

You hum. "And what's your hypothesis?" 

He looks at you, a little crazed, but he gets it. If you talk to him like it's one of your status reports, like it's another mission, maybe he can stop thinking about pounding you into the sheets and filling you up with his cum. 

He clears his throat. " You . Gets worse when I t-think about you, or you're near."

You've got a hand on his thigh, rubbing circles that go straight to his head. 

"What makes it feel better?" 

Deep breath. "Touching myself. But I haven't… and I won't-" 

"Why?" You smile like a Cheshire cat. Are you… enjoying this? 

"I can't. You're a friend and it's a violation of your trust."

"It hurts. You're in pain. I give you full permission to give yourself some relief. You can touch yourself, for me. I want you to feel good."

His hips buck up involuntarily. Just thinking about it is driving him crazy. " Mierda. Stop talking like that-" 

"Like what?" You bat your eyelashes. 

"Like that ." He hisses. "Like you want to get fucked."

He squeezes his eyes shut, even more guilty. "I'm sorry. That's not appropriate at all. I shouldn't have… snapped like that."

You rub your legs together: you're fucking soaked. Like this, with his senses going crazy, you don't know if he can smell it, taste it in the air. The thought makes you even wetter. 

You mumble. "Meant it, Miguel. I just want to watch."

Agonisingly slow, you sink to your knees in front of him. He watches, eyes wide, trying not to lean into it. 

"Do you want me to beg? Because I will, if it makes you feel better." 

He grabs his crotch, rocking into his palm. You're breaking him down, bit by bit. 

"I think you like punishing yourself, Miggy. You think you deserve it. How long have you been like this? Weeks, I bet. When all you needed to do was ask me. I would've helped you over the phone if you wanted it. Told you how to stroke your cock, where to put pressure, asked you if it felt good. Think about how good it would feel. The relief. "

You rock on your heel and it doesn't go unnoticed. You light him on fire, and the thought of you getting off only pushes him closer to the edge. "Can I tell you a secret?" You whisper. He nods fervently. "I've always wanted you in my mouth. Just wanted to know what it would feel like; how pretty you'd look when you cum."

It's too much. His back arches, and he groans, spilling into his sweats. Astounded, you look up. So. Much. Cum. You didn't think a person could physically produce so much, but here he is, coating the inside of his boxers with it. Miguel, however, looks embarrassed: his first orgasm in a week and it's spilling into his trousers in front of a pretty girl like a teenager. He groans, covering his flushed face. 

"Can I…?" Your eyes are wide in amazement. Shakily, he nods. 

Is it bad for you to say he looks just like you imagined? Tan, long and with a bit of girth, and under all the cum he seems well-groomed. He's still half hard, which is impressive considering the sheer amount of cum splattered everywhere. Probably, he has the prettiest cock you've ever seen. As you pull down his boxers, your very obvious glee makes him pause. 

"...you like this?" He seems genuinely confused, and it makes you giggle. You've flustered him, yet again. 

Resting a head on his thigh, you look up at him through innocent lashes. Your other hand swipes cum off his tip, making his cock jump. "Could ask you the same. You're still hard." 

"I can't believe…" He mutters. "You're gonna kill me." 

"What do you want, Miguel?" You put a hand on his length, rubbing up and down ever so slightly. "You want to get off?" 

"I want…" It makes him grunt all the same. He goes from wayward glances to looking you straight in the eyes. " You . I want you." 

"How do you want me?" Deceptively innocent, you coax his length back to full mast with your hand. 

How do you want me? There are a thousand thoughts flying through his head, and his brows tense with the weight of them. Head back, he leans into your touch. He doesn't want to scare you, with the way he's been thinking about that question long before you asked: weeks, months, years before now. You see him hesitate, and bite his lip.

Your hands still and he cries out, cursing the loss of warmth. "M'not asking again." A little softer now. "No judgement, Miggy. I just want to help." 

Deep breath. "Anyway I can. Wanna fill you up with my cum. On top. U-Underneath. Mierda. I want your mouth. I want your sweet cunt. I-" 

You silence him with a moan when you envelope his cock with your mouth. You close your eyes in bliss as you bob up and down. Just the tip, teasing , and he's already addicted. With a pop, you separate, pressing sticky kisses and kitten-licks to his shaft and torso. He can't take his eyes off of you: peeking up at him through wispy lashes, licking up his cum. 

Pretty, plump lips smack at his tip obscenely. He can't help but think about how well it suits you; mouth around his cock like something holy.  Precum pours from his slit and you lap it up, chasing his moans. Your own moans vibrate deliciously around him and he wraps a hand in your hair. Finally. You want him to enjoy this, to lean into your head-bobbing, and force your head down onto his dick. You want to feel him in the back of your throat, bullying into the warmth of your mouth and moulding you into the shape of him. 

It starts with a little pressure at the back of your neck, deceptively subtle as he rocks his hips into your face. Making eye contact, you look up and feel your pussy clench around nothing. His eyes are lidded, gorgeous, mouth slightly parted and tongue darting out to wet rosy lips. 

"You want it, hermosa ?" His voice has a different texture to it: deep and wanting and needy. 

As best you can, you nod, humming affirmations around his cock. Oh God, of course you do. You want him; anyway you can, anyway he'll let you, more than he'll ever know. 

He pushes you down, hard, cock hitting the back of your throat like a piston. You gurgle and choke around him, throat tightening in a way that makes him melt. You force yourself deeper, hot tears welling up at the corners of your eyes. Your hands claw at his thighs, nails digging so tight into the fabric you think he might bleed. Winding a hand down to your heat, you press your palm into that sweet spot at your clit and Miguel watches, hungry. 

"Oh fuck , you feel so good. I'm gonna– m-mierda – m'gonna cum."

With a final tug, he pushes you down so your nose brushes at the curly hairs leading down to his cock, spilling into you with vigour. It pours down your throat and you drink it up with pleasure. 

"All gone?" He asks, panting with exertion. In response, you open up your mouth, sticking out your pink tongue so he can inspect it. He stirs when he realises just how cock drunk you are: nary a trace of him left on your tongue.

Slowly, he brings a thumb to your mouth, and watches intently as you swirl it around, and suck on it keenly. The pressure makes him light headed, other hand reaching for your waist to pull you up. And pull you up he does, turning you around so he can take off your suit and have you seated on his lap, where you belong. 

You let him, shrugging off the top half of the suit as he pulls down your zipper. Surprisingly gentle, he traces the slope of your shoulders, and down to your bare ass. He groans. No underwear, because of course , you want to kill him. You want him to die, pussy-whipped and half-hard. He pushes you towards the wall, back pressed flush against him. He drags his fangs across your neck and whispers into the shell of your ear, making your whole body shiver. 

"Once I start," He kneads your ass, grinding his cock against you. You gasp. He's still hard. "M'not gonna be able to stop. And it's not going to be sweet, bichita . You leave now and I won't be angry . I–I'll give you space, whatever you want."

" Miguel," Head back, you moan into his touch, dragging his hand towards your slit, hoping he’ll relieve the pressure at your pussy. "I want it to hurt. I want to feel it tomorrow– fuck– f-feel it when I walk and know it was you . Need it. Need you , please-" 

He bites into your shoulder, and you moan wantonly, back arching into his length. He places your hand on the wall, palms flat. Like the chaser after a burning shot, he soothes haphazard squeezes down your back with his mouth. Hot, messy kisses, as he sinks to his knees. He forces you to hinge at the hip.  Breasts pushed against the cool wall, you gasp when you feel him spread the globes of your ass as he presses his tongue to your hole. He licks the length of your slit, and like a slut, you lean into it. 

"Prettiest cunt I've ever seen, hermosa." He brings his hand to your clit, giving you a wet slap as he watches you shudder. Again, and again, until you cry out. 

" Miguel, fuuuck." 

How has he gone his whole life without hearing you say his name like that? Yet again, he almost cums in his pants, loosely shoved over his aching length. All he can do is watch as your holes flutter and clench around nothing, mesmerised. 

"You'd look even prettier filled with my cum, hmm?" He presses a sticky kiss to your puckered asshole, before easing his tongue inside. One hand holding you open, the other comes to play with your pussy, swirling your wetness around your throbbing clit. 

He tongue-fucks you with fervour, like a man starved: only coming up for air to babble obscenities. 

"Tan bonita, bichita." Slowly, he eases his fingers into your cunt, scissoring them open and shut. He wants to break you apart with only his hands, if you'd let him. "So pretty– fuck. So soft, baby. Beautiful."

You're close and he knows it, fucking yourself on his fingers and face like a bitch in heat. Undeterred, he brings a thumb to your clit pressing down with juust the right amount of pressure. 

"Wanna feel it, hermosa . Can you cum for me? All over my fingers like a good girl, just like that, así de simple."

With the way he paws at your pussy, all you can do is clench around his fingers. He guides you through a shaking, biting orgasm, licking up your cum with a flourish. Even with shaky legs you manage to turn around and pull Miguel up, and he follows eagerly. He looks fucked out already, eyes low and lips swollen with your slick. He motions to strip, stretching his tank top across the expanse of his chest and letting his cock spring free from his sweats. When you move to help him, he stops you, moving your hand from his tank to his solid torso beneath. He wants you to touch him; to feel your soft palm run across his skin, and sink into the warmth of your body. 

One hand at your waist, he presses you against the wall, grinding his cock to your clit. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and they fit like they belong there. Close, impossibly close, and his pupils are blown, wide. It's like he can't decide what he wants to do to you, sharp red eyes darting over your lips, your neck, down to the juncture where you both meet. A paralysis of choice, and all he can do is drink you up in the low light. 

And so, you make a choice for him, lips crashing against his, hand snaking around to guide his cock into your hole. He sinks into you - finally - and you swallow his moans in the aftermath. He's slow to start, eyes screwed shut as he gets used to how tight you are around him. Slowly, he rocks into you, the heat of his palm steady at the crook of your back. 

Miguel opens his eyes, caging you in with his other arm. He's testing the waters, angling his hips to find the spot that makes you tick.

"I didn't-" He breathes. "Didn't think it would be like this." 

You look at him in your haze, brows knitted. 

"I thought that when I finally fucked you, it would be more romantic." He gives you a strained chuckle and warm smile. "This is better in some ways, though." 

"Better , Miggy?" 

"Real." Your cunt flutters around him, and his pace stutters. Not once does he break eye contact, something swirling beneath the surface. "Not in my head. God , that sounds pathetic."

You giggle into the crook of his shoulder. It shouldn't be possible, but his eyes soften even more. And then, his expression changes into something dangerous. 

"I can't do this just once, bichita. You can't give me a taste and then take it away. Es cruel, mi vida."

As if to punctuate his point, you feel his tip slam into that spongy spot in your walls. His strokes become more calculated, punishing and exact, sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout your body. 

"Miguel – fuck– that's not fair- " 

"Can't keep humping my hand como un perro , like a dumb dog, anymore." He brings both his palms to your ass, spreading you apart, and pulling you up onto his dick so your toes barely touch the floor. The slap of your ass against his thighs and heavy balls fill the room, pornographic in nature. 

"Let-" Smack. " Me-"  Smack. " Fill-" Smack. " This-" Smack. " Cunt. " Smack. 

You babble into his ears, affirmations and praise that makes his heart and cock swell. 

'So pretty, Miguel. Yours. All yours." You rake your hands through his hair, harshly tugging him closer in a way that makes him burn up. Clenching around his length, you wrap your legs around his waist. He barely falters, pulling away from the wall and slamming into you regardless. You've seen him like this before; fiery determination that flares up on a tough mission. Tunnel vision: a razor-sharp resolve that has manifested itself in a man hellbent on your pleasure. 

"Miguel. Miguel, I-" I love you, I love you, I love you, I- " -wan' you to cum with me. Deep, please."

Now, his pace gets sloppy, hips stilling to drive himself as deep as you asked; so you can feel him long after you separate. Hot, sticky cum pumps into you and his balls strain with the effort of it. You claw your hand against his back, trailing delicious marks with your nails. When you clamp around him, you swear you see his eyes roll back - lost in the bliss of your cunt. Together, you come down from the high, bare chests panting against one another. 

"Don't look at me like that." His lips graze yours, soft and plush. You stretch your chin upwards, chasing the trace of a kiss he refuses to give to you. Eventually he relents, leaning into a sweet kiss, arm wrapped around your waist. 

He pulls himself off of you with a wet smack, gently carrying you to his bed. He places you in his sheets and you look beautiful, blissful, and fucked out. Cum drips onto your thighs and he feels a pang of possessiveness. His cum. His baby.

Clambering in to spoon you, he can't help but paw at your pussy, using his fingers to stuff his cum back into you, tracing lazy circles on your thigh with his other hand. 

"I'm on birth control, Miggy. So no need to worry." You snuggle into his touch, bare skin against one another. 

"Wasn't worried." He grunts, sounding almost disappointed. You catch his tone, intrigued.

"No harm in trying," You lilt, turning around to place your palms flat on the wide span of his chest. "You wanna fuck a baby into me?" 

Nodding, he groans, head back into the pillow, and you push him onto his back. Pussy throbbing, you straddle his hips; thighs tight around his middle. You can feel him growing harder in the slick of your slit. 

You arch into him, tender hand around his throat. It's a sight he won't forget easily: you on top of him, the gloom of the night tracing the swell of your tits. An angel, all the same. You whisper something into his ear that gives him goosebumps; a full body chill that goes straight to his cock. "My turn, bichito."

~~~

"You never called." Miguel says, laying his head next to yours, after wiping you down with a clean towel. He hands you a spare shirt of his, and you put it on, self-conscious. 

The two of you had fucked well into the night, making good on your promises. His stamina was relentless, pumping load after load into you, pussy-drunk and babbling. There was an intensity there that couldn't be explained: one that made both of you crazy for one another, burning you out between the silky sheets of his bed. Something you had initially attributed to his rut, whatever he had called it, but desperately hoped it was something more. How could this be just sex? After everything you had said and done, it would crush you: to taste the forbidden fruit and have it snatched away just as easily. 

You had both laid there for a bit, afterwards, cock softening in you. Plugging up his cum, he had said, but it felt more intimate in the quiet calm of his bedroom. 

"You didn't either." You throw back at him. 

"That's not th-" 

"I know, I know. It just felt weird, s'all." You turn from him, looking up at the ceiling. Counting the mottles and marks in your head, suddenly shy. After all the filthy things you've said and done to him, he still makes you shy. "I thought I did something wrong."

His heart breaks. "No, no , it wasn't-" 

"Not just today. Last time…a-and the time before that, honestly. We see each other less. You're always busy with something. Felt like you were avoiding me." Rubbing your temples, you sigh. "S'why I cut some corners on the mission. Made mistakes. I thought if I did well, and we had something to talk about…"

"Mierda." You can't bring yourself to look at him, to see the disappointment in his scarlet eyes. But it isn't disappointment, and it’s not directed at you. 

"I wanted to call, but I didn't. Because I didn't think you would answer." Finally, you turn to see his brows knitted: swirling with shame, guilt, sadness. Quickly you add, "I mean, I know why now. I think. And it's really on me, I should've said something or-" 

"I just… I didn't know what to do with it." He takes your hand in his, squeezing tight. 

"...I don't understand."

"All this love I have for you." He says, impossibly soft. "I didn't know what to do with it."

You know him like the back of your hand and you've heard it all: angry, snarky, giddy, beautiful Miguel O'Hara. But this? Confirmation of the feelings you've held for years at this point, dismissed during late nights and pored over during lonely ones - this? 

"And I didn't think you felt the same way, how could you? You're beautiful, and smart, and you have this… way of making people burn as bright as you. So I poured myself into work. That's all I know how to do, bichita. Work. Suffocate under everything. You don't deserve it."

With the way he says it; resigned, matter-of-fact; you want to cry. Still, he hangs on to the notion that he must earn it : that his claws are too sharp and fangs too bloody for redemption. For love, for life, for good things. Miguel O'Hara; doing what needs to be done. Alone, always. 

You come closer to cup his chin, to make sure he's looking at you. There can be no ambiguity, no gray area when you say what you want to say. 

"You don't tell me what to do, O'Hara . " You press a kiss to his cheek, and another to trembling lips. "I decide what I deserve. No-one else does, not even you."

"It's not like you listen to me, anyway." He says with a shaky smile. 

Sitting up slightly on your forearms, you place your head up on his chest. Listening to the steady thump-thump of his heart. You don't need your super senses to know that he's alive, that he's here. The look in his eyes; you couldn't explain it if you wanted to. 

"Bichita." You say, out of the blue. No doubt due to your poor pronunciation, he winces. "What does it mean?" 

Clicking his tongue, he waves it off. " Very vulgar, you don't want to know. I mean, I shouldn't really-"

"Hmm." Shaking your head, you feign ignorance. "It's just that Lyla said it meant sweetheart, or little bug... terms of endearment, I think was the phrase."

"She said that?" He frowns. "Lyla's filling your head with nonsense, m'afraid. It's sarcastic. Post-ironic, metatextual… it comes across completely different in Spanish, mi vida."

"Post-ironic? That's not even the second most pretentious thing you've said today…" Giggling, you bury your head into his chest. 

"Of course not. I reserve my best stuff for you."

"Real classy, O'Hara. Bet you say that to all the poor women that end up in your bed."

"Nope." He hums. "Just the ones I've been in love with for the past two years."

He pulls you closer, smiling into light kisses on your shoulder, the fat of your stomach, your thighs, on your cheek. Kisses everywhere, anywhere he can reach.

"Just you, bichita." He breathes into your skin. "Only you ."

_

_

_

taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @ebrysteria

[aaron-m-geist-ff]

Choso just can’t get enough of you.

Oftentimes, you prefer to ride him because it’s always so nice to see him laying beneath you with his aroused expression. Choso allows it because he wants to please you and be good however he can. But every once in a while, he gets too frustrated and flips the position.

“W-what are you doing, Cho?”

You gasp when your back makes contact with the mattress, Choso’s larger body sliding in between your thighs quickly. He pushes your legs up until your ankles are beside your head, folded into a mating press.

“M’ sorry,” he utters. “Just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Choso groans when he finally slides into your tight cunt again, his erection almost painful from how hard it is. You feel so much tighter from that angle, your walls constricting around Choso’s large cock as he begins to thrust into you.

He starts panting roughly, his hips meeting the backs of your thighs. It feels so good to have him inside, rubbing up against all the right spots. Your eyes fall closed from the intense sensations.

“Fuck…I wanna breed you so bad, y/n.”

Choso begs beside your ear.

“Please…Please let me come inside of your sweet pussy…Ha, dammit-“

His words trail off once he feels you clenching around him. It only makes Choso thrust into you even harder, nudging up against your abused cervix. He’s acting like a crazed man and you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t attractive.

“Y-you can,” you whimper. You want his come inside of you so badly. Your walls constrict around him some more, attempting to milk his cock for all that its worth.

Choso lets out a defeated moan as he begins to place open mouthed kisses against your neck.

“Thank you…Thank you,” he murmurs beside your ear.

“Gonna fill this pussy up now…Gonna come, oh fu-“

Choso’s breathing hitches in his throat when the coil snaps. He groans loudly, his hips rocking into yours as he shoots his load into you. It feels so warm and sticky, splashing against your cervix. It twitches inside of you from the intensity of the orgasm.

Choso watches his cum slip out of your pussy afterwards. He’s always so fascinated by the sight of your bare pussy seeping with his essence. He has to seriously control himself from pounding you into the mattress even more.

Read part 1 here

JJK master list link

[cowboybeepboop]

Hunted

"What are you doing to me, little one? You're driving me insane.."

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 4.5k 

Summary: Sergei finds you lost in the woods, comes to your rescue, and seduces you all in one day. 

Warnings: Mentions of being chased/harassed by men, being hunted, uses of “little one”, a size kink, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving)

a/n: Guys I’m so obsessed with Kraven omg, since I’m on break right now I’m grinding the fuck out of writing. also, I didn't proofread (per usual) I hope you all enjoy and send any requests you might have my way

You’re a little lost, well more than a little. Somehow you ended up being taken by a few strange men, and managed to get free but what good does that do if you’re lost, cold, alone, and limping in the Siberian forests? 

You drop down to rest, wrapping your arms around your body as the cool air assaults you. Trying to think of what to do next, while keeping in mind that there are three crazed men on the hunt for you. 

Kravinoff observes silently as he watches you drop to the ground, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep warm. His expression remains stoic, his eyes taking in every little detail about you. As he watches you shivering, he can't help but feel a small pang of...sympathy? No, that can't be right.

After a few moments of silent observation, Sergei finally breaks the silence, his voice gruff and blunt. "Lost, little one?"

You flinch at the sound of his voice, immediately reaching for a branch to attempt to defend yourself. "G-go away.." you murmur weakly, teeth chattering as you speak, your eyes trained on the floor. 

Kravinoff raises an eyebrow at your display, his lips twitching into a slight smirk as he sees you reaching for a branch to use as a weapon. 

He slowly takes a step closer, his heavy boots crunching in the snow as he does so. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? But that weak voice and shivering body are hardly intimidating."

"Please.." you murmur, eyes watery as you gaze up at him with puppy dog eyes, reminiscent of something his younger brother would do. "Please don't hurt me.." 

Sergei's expression softens for a moment as he looks down at you, the puppy dog eyes tugging at a very small part of his heart that he's long since tried to bury. "Hurt you? You think I'm going to hurt you?"

He takes a few more steps towards you, his eyes roaming over your form, taking in the sight of your shivering and shivering body. "You're trembling, little one. And that limp, you're hurt."

"It's not that bad, I can walk," you whisper, watching as he approaches you slowly. 

"Not that bad, hm?" Sergei lets out a scoff, his dark eyes flickering over your body. "You're shivering from the cold, and you're clearly hurt. You can barely stand, let alone walk."

He crouches down in front of you, his large frame towering over you. "Tell me, what's your name, little one?"

"My name is Y/N.. there's these guys, they're hunting me. I don't, I don't know what to do." Your expression is pleading as you weakly stand up, shakey voice matching the trembles of your body. 

Sergei's expression darkens at the mention of other men hunting you. He glances around, his eyes scanning the area like a predator watching for prey.

"Hunters, huh? And they're after you. Interesting." Sergei's eyes return to you, his hand instinctively going to rest on the handle of one of the knives holstered on his belt.

"Why are they hunting you? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," you lean toward him, seeking the warmth that's radiating from his body. "At least I don't think I did? All I remember was waking up in a tent, they said that we were going to play a game.. I-" you trail off, a small tear falling down your cheek. 

Sergei watches as you lean towards him, a small pang of sympathy shooting through him again when he notices the tear rolling down your cheek. He's not used to comforting people, but something about you triggers a protective instinct within him.

"A game... What kind of game, little one?" He asks, his voice gruff but surprisingly gentle. He gently reaches out and places a hand on your shoulder to steady you.

"He said they would hunt me.." you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as a whistle sounds through the air. You press your body to his, eyes wide with fear, "i.. think they're getting close." 

Sergei's expression hardens as he hears the whistle through the air, his hand instinctively tightening on the handle of his knife. He glances around once more, his senses on high alert.

"Shhh," he murmurs, his other hand gently reaching out to hold you closer to him. "Stay quiet. They won't find you."

He pulls you to his chest, his large frame shielding you partially from view as he scans the woods once more.

You bury your reddened face into his chest, breathing in his musk and seeking safety in his grasp. Your arms move to cling to his waist, holding yourself closer to him. 

Sergei's nostrils flare as you bury your face into his chest, the scent of your skin, mixed with the musk of the forest, filling his senses. He can feel your arms clinging to his waist, the feel of your body pressed against his stirring something deep within him. He slowly reaches up and rests his hand on the back of your head, gently holding you against him.

"Don't worry, little one," he murmurs gruffly, his eyes still scanning the woods. "You're safe with me." You nod against his chest, too tired to speak. 

Sergei can feel the exhaustion radiating off you, your weary body leaning heavily against him. His fingers gently brush through your hair in a small, comforting gesture.

"You're exhausted," he murmurs, his voice still gruff but softer than before. "Let's find somewhere we can rest and get you warmed up."

Sergei shifts ever so slightly, his large frame adjusting so he's able to lift you gently into his arms, cradling you like a child.

You gasp as he effortlessly picks you up, arms instinctively going to his neck. "Where will we go?" you murmur.

Sergi glances down at you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, and a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He enjoys the feel of you in his arms, the way your body fits snugly against his.

"Somewhere safe," he replies, his voice gruff. "Somewhere these 'hunters' won't find us."

Carefully, Sergei begins moving through the forest, his powerful legs carrying both of you through the deep snow with ease. You nuzzle your face against his shoulder, finding him comforting in the vast forest. 

As you nuzzle your face against his shoulder, Sergei can't help but notice how much he's enjoying the feel of you in his arms. Your warmth against his chest, the soft sound of your breathing, and the gentle feel of you nuzzling against him.

He continues to move through the forest, weaving through trees and navigating the deep snow like a natural tracker. Every now and then, he glances down at you, his eyes taking in your tired, but now tranquil face.

You drift to sleep in his arms, body going limp as he continues to trek toward his home. Bringing you closer and closer to a warm safe shelter. 

Sergei feels your body go limp in his arms, signaling that you've fallen asleep. His arms instinctively tighten their grip on you, holding you securely against his chest as he continues to trek through the snowy forest.

Each step brings you both closer to his home, a small cabin nestled deep in the forest, away from the chaos of the outside world. As he approaches the cabin, Sergei can't help but feel an odd sense of protectiveness over you.

He gently pushes open the door to his cabin and steps inside, careful not to wake you. The cabin is warm and cozy, illuminated by the soft glow of a fireplace in the corner.

Sergei carries you over to a large, comfortable armchair and carefully sets you down, ensuring you're settled and comfortable. He takes a moment to gaze down at you, his eyes roaming over your tired face as you sleep.

He sighs deeply, his hands resting on the arms of the chair as he contemplates what to do next. You stir slightly at the lack of his body against yours, your arms reach out, seeking him once more. 

As you stir and reach out for him, searching for the warmth of his body, Sergei can't help but smirk to himself. He's not used to being sought after like this, and it brings an odd feeling of satisfaction to him.

He steps closer, gently taking hold of your seeking hands and holding them in his own large, calloused ones.

"I'm right here, little one," he murmurs gruffly, his voice low so as not to startle you.

As the morning sunlight streams through the windows, bathing the cabin in a warm, golden light, you stir in the soft, comfortable embrace of the armchair.

Sergei, who had spent the night keeping watch by the fireplace, notices your movements and rises silently from his chair. He watches as you pull the soft cloth blanket up to cover your face, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

He takes a step closer, leaning against the back of the armchair, and speaks in a low, gruff voice. "Morning, little one."

"You never told me your name.." you murmur, sliding out of the chair and sleepily moving to his side. 

Sergei's eyes roam over your sleepy form as you move to stand beside him, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he hears your question.

"I suppose I didn't," he says gruffly, his eyes watching you with a mixture of amusement and something else, something he can't quite place.

He lifts a hand and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, before replying, "My name is Sergei. Sergei Kravinoff."

"Sergei.." You repeat, settling onto the ground next to him, basking in the heat of the flames.

As you say his name, a small shiver of satisfaction runs through Sergei's body. He can't remember the last time anyone has spoken his name with such soft, sweet lips.

He watches as you settle onto the floor next to him, your body seeking the warmth of the flames. He can't help but admire your small, fragile form, your skin flushed and weary but still so very beautiful.

He glances down at you, his voice still gruff but softer than usual. "You should eat something, little one. You must be hungry."

Your face lights up at the mention of food, your stomach growling as if on cue. "I am a little hungry.." 

A small, satisfied smile tugs at the corners of Sergei's lips as he watches your face light up at the mention of food, and hears your stomach growl in confirmation.

"Looks like that settles it," he says gruffly, pushing himself up off the floor. "I'll fix you something to eat. Stay there and warm up."

Without waiting for a reply, he strides over to the small kitchen in the cabin, starting to prepare a meal.

You turn to watch his movements, craving his company at your side once again. A feeling of heat rises in your stomach as you gulp, eyes glued to his muscular frame. 

Sergei can feel your eyes on him as he moves around the kitchen, his muscular frame easily handling the preparation of the simple meal. He can't help but detect a hint of something in your gaze, a heat that he's not sure he quite understands.

He glances over at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he meets your gaze. "What is it, little one?" he asks gruffly, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and mild amusement.

Your cheeks flush a bright pink, causing you to shake your head. "Nothing.. it's nothing." you reply softly.

Sergei's smirk grows wider as he notices the bright pink flush on your cheeks, knowing that he's caused a reaction in you. He can't help but be captivated by the innocent, shy look on your face.

He lets out a gruff chuckle, returning to his task of preparing the meal. "It's not nothing," he says, his voice holding a hint of playfulness. "You're staring at me, little one. I can feel your gaze on me. What are you thinking?"

"You're just very big.." you whisper, shocked by the words coming from your mouth. Clenching the blanket tight around you, you carefully adjust your clothes, feeling your panties becoming wet.

Sergei's eyes widen slightly at your words, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the innocent bluntness of your statement. He can't help but be amused by your shyness, your flushed cheeks, and the way your body fidgets under the blanket.

He turns to face you fully, his eyes roaming over your form, drinking in the sight of you. He can sense the change in you, the heat in your body, and he can't help but wonder if you're even aware of it. 

"Is that so?" he asks gruffly, his voice holding a hint of something else, something deeper.

You nod, mind wandering to.. other parts of him, and how big it might be. "Mhm.." you murmur, looking up at him as he brings you a plate of food.

As you nod and confirm his words, Sergei can't help but notice the way your eyes wander over his frame, lingering on certain parts of his anatomy. He knows what you're thinking, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

He approaches you, holding out the plate of food. As he does, his eyes lock onto yours, his voice gruff as he speaks again. "Eat up, little one. You need your strength."

"Thank you Sergei.." you smile up at him, taking the plate and beginning to take a few small bites, your mind still focused on him. 

Sergei watches as you take the plate and begin to eat, his gaze studying you intently. He notices the small, subtle things, the way your eyes wander over his form, the way your lips move as you chew.

A small, amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he watches you, his own thoughts wandering to the same subject as yours.

"You're welcome, little one," he grunts, his voice gruff and low. "Make sure you eat all of it. Can't have you wasting away on me."

"Yes sir," you murmur between bites. Comfortable silence fills the air as he takes a seat next to you, his shoulder lightly brushing yours.

As you finish your meal, the silence of the cabin is filled with a comfortable stillness. Sergei lowers himself down to sit beside you, taking a moment to admire the sight of you as you finish eating.

His shoulder lightly brushed yours, the contact sending a small shiver through his body. Despite his gruff and stoic exterior, he can't help but be drawn to you, your innocence and vulnerability stirring something deep within him.

"Feeling better now, little one?" he asks, his voice a low, gravelly murmur.

"Much better," you grin, leaning against him, your hand falling to his lap. You're craving more, more of his touch, more of him, you just need him. 

As you lean against him and your hand falls to his lap, Sergei's body tenses momentarily, his breath catching in his chest. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, the slight weight of your hand on his thigh, and it awakening something within him.

He can't help but glance down at your hand, then back up at your face, a mix of surprise, desire, and a hint of hesitation in his gaze. "Little one..." he growls, his voice deep and hoarse.

"Yes, Sergei?" you breathe out, biting down on your bottom lip with desire. 

Sergei's eyes are fixated on your biting your lip, the sight sending a wave of heat through him. He can feel his body reacting to your closeness, to the desire in your voice.

He leans closer to you, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks, his voice a low, gruff whisper, "What are you doing to me, little one? You're driving me insane.."

You gasp as his voice sends shivers down your body, leaning closer to him you find a small amount of confidence. You slide your hand up his though, nearing the place you're most curious about. "Sergei.. I'm curious about something.."

As your hand slowly slides up his thigh, nearing a sensitive spot, Sergei's body tenses once more, his breath catching in his throat. He can feel the heat of your touch, the desire in your movements, and it's driving him wild.

He glances down at your hand, then back up at your face, his eyes dark and intense. "What is it, little one?" he growls, his voice thick with desire. "What are you curious about?"

"How big is it?" you gulp, looking up at him through your lashes as you settle between his legs. Almost salivating at the thought of seeing his cock.

As your words sink in, and your body moves between his legs, Sergei's breath hitches in his chest, a low growl escaping his lips. He can feel the heat in your body, the desire in your gaze, and it's driving him crazy.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and ravenous, as he responds in a low, guttural tone, "Are you sure you want to know, little one?"

"Mhm, I'm really curious," you whisper, hand sliding to the buckle of his belt and slowly maneuvering to remove it. "Is this okay?"

Sergei watches as your hand moves to his belt, slowly working to undo the buckle. Your touch is innocent yet filled with a desire that he can't deny.

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he contemplates your question. "You're very forward, little one," he says gruffly, his voice thick with a mix of desire and surprise. "But yes.. it's okay."

You slowly remove his garments, moving to free his hardness. Your body trembles in anticipation, desire coursing through you.

As you remove his garments, revealing his hardness, Sergei's breath hitches in his chest, his body trembling slightly as you bare him to your gaze.

He watches you, his eyes roaming over your face, studying the mix of desire and innocence in your expression. He can feel his own desire growing stronger by the second, a mixture of primal need and unexpected gentleness.

"Look at you..." he mutters gruffly, his voice thick with want. "You're so, so curious.."

Your hand wraps around his thick hard dick, eyes wide as you take in the sheer size of it. "I want to taste you," your gaze is focused on his length as you stick your tongue out, licking his tip slightly.

As you wrap your hand around his length, a low, guttural moan escapes his lips, his body tensing at the feel of your touch.

He watches as you lick his tip, your gaze fixed on his manhood, and it drives him crazy. The heat in your eyes, the desire in your movements, it's driving him to the edge.

"Is that so, little one?" he growls, his voice thick and strained. "You want to taste me, do you?"

You nod, lips wrapping around his throbbing cock. Your mouth is full of his manhood, eyes fluttering shut as you moan at the taste of his precum.

With a deep, shaky breath, Sergei allows you to continue, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels the warmth of your mouth engulfs his cock. The sensation sends waves of pleasure through his body, his muscles tightening and his heart racing. 

His hands instinctively move to the back of your head, guiding your movements gently as you take him in deeper, your soft moans muffled by his flesh. The feeling of your wetness and the gentle suction as you work your mouth over him is almost too much to handle, and he has to fight the urge to thrust into you.

Sergei's eyes snap open as your eager mouth continues to explore him, his grip on the back of your head tightening slightly as he watches you with a mix of hunger and amazement. "You're a natural, little one," he grunts, his voice strained as he feels himself getting closer to the edge. 

His hips begin to move almost imperceptibly, matching the rhythm of your mouth. The warmth, the wetness, the way your tongue swirls around his head – it's all too much for him to handle. He can feel his orgasm building, the tension coiling in his stomach and balls, begging for release. But he doesn't want this to end yet. He wants more of you, all of you.

With a sudden urgency, he pulls you off his cock, panting heavily. "Not yet," he growls, his eyes burning with desire as he looks down at you. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, laying you down gently before climbing over you, his large frame looming over you protectively. 

His hand moves to the hem of your shirt, sliding it up to reveal your soft, pale stomach. His lips follow the trail of his hand, kissing and nibbling gently, leaving a path of heat in their wake. 

You gasp and arch up into his touch, your own desires spiraling out of control. His rough hands begin to unbutton your pants, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly reveals your most intimate secrets.

As he unbuttons your pants, Sergei's eyes are dark with need, watching your every reaction with a predatory focus. 

He can feel the heat between your legs, smell the sweet scent of your arousal, and it's all he can do to not rip the rest of your clothes off in one swift move. But he holds back, enjoying the slow, methodical unveiling of your body.

He slides your pants down, his calloused hands brushing against the softness of your skin. His eyes are drawn to the small, lacy underwear you're wearing, the stark contrast to the ruggedness of the cabin and his own attire not lost on him. 

With a smirk, he hooks his fingers under the elastic and pulls them down, revealing your bare, shaven pussy.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. His eyes roam over the delicate folds of your sex, the sight of your wetness making his cock throb even more. He leans down and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

You whimper at his gentle touch, your body quivering with anticipation. "Sergei," you breathe out his name like a prayer, your legs falling open wider to give him better access. You can't believe this is happening, but all you want is for him to keep going.

His mouth follows the path of his kisses, moving closer to your core. When he reaches your pussy, he lingers for a moment, his breath fanning over your sensitive flesh before his tongue darts out to taste you. The sensation is electric, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through your body as he explores you with the same curiosity and hunger he had when you first touched him.

"Oh god," you moan, your hands fisting in the sheets as his tongue delves deeper into your wetness. He licks and sucks, his beard scraping gently against your thighs, sending sparks of pleasure through you. Your hips buck against his mouth, seeking more, begging for it.

Sergei growls in satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your clit, sending you spiraling closer to the edge. His hands move to grip your hips, holding you in place as he devours you, his tongue swirling and flicking with expert precision. You're lost in the feeling, your world narrowing down to the warmth of his mouth and the exquisite pleasure he's giving you.

And as your orgasm builds, he slows down, teasing you, making you beg for release. "Please," you whine, your voice desperate and needy.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust and something else, something that makes your stomach flip. "Please what, little one?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that resonates through your core.

"Please, make me cum," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a smirk, he goes back to work, his tongue and lips bringing you closer and closer to the precipice until, with one final, hard suck, you're tumbling over, your body shaking with the intensity of your climax. You cry out his name as waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you trembling and breathless beneath him.

Sergei watches you come with a fierce satisfaction, his cock pulsing with his own need. He moves up your body, his eyes locked on yours as he positions himself at your entrance. "Are you ready for me, little one?" he asks, his voice a gruff whisper.

You nod, your eyes glazed with passion as you reach up to pull him closer. "Yes," you pant, your body arching up to meet his. "I need you inside me."

And with that, he pushes in, filling you up with one long, slow stroke that has you gasping for air. Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. He begins to move, his thrusts deep and measured, his gaze never leaving yours as he takes you, claiming you as his in this moment of raw, primal passion.

With a fierce growl, Sergei slams into you, his cock stretching your tight pussy as he takes what he's craved since the moment he laid eyes on you. The feeling of you, warm and wet around him, is indescribable, and he can't hold back any longer. 

He begins to pound into you, each stroke hitting just the right spot, making you scream out in ecstasy. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, your heels digging into his muscular back as you meet his rhythm, urging him to go faster, harder. 

The bed beneath you creaks and shakes with the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming into the wall in a steady rhythm that matches the beating of your heart. The room is filled with the sounds of your passion, the slapping of skin on skin, the harsh breaths, and desperate moans that fill the air like a symphony of desire. 

Your nails dig into the smooth skin of his back, leaving swollen red marks on his tanned skin, your pussy clenching around him as he continues to thrust into you. With each move of his hips, you become more and more needy, gasping and moaning his name. 

Sergei’s movements stutter, his hips pushing flush against yours, his head digging into your g-spot. His thick cock swells inside of you as your grip around him, your body coaxing his orgasm out of him. 

He buries his face into your neck, moaning lowly as he fills you with his warmth. You arch up into him, spasming around his still-hard length. 

“Fuck, oh fuck…” you whine, eyes fluttering shut as he collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you to his chest. 

[chillinglyadventurous]

A Real Treat

“Leave the bowl on the porch,” he said between kisses placed on your shoulder.

Word count: 1,387

Tags: NSFW, MDNI

“Which one of you is going out with the twins?” You called into the living room from the kitchen, dumping candy into the large plastic bowl on the counter. You pulled out a Twix, unwrapping it before popping it into your mouth. “I don’t want what happened on Summerween to repeat itself.”

You could hear Dipper and Mabel shuffling around in the attic, fighting over whether they should be ketchup and mustard or salt and pepper. You laughed when you heard Mabel yell, “Why do we always have to be food?!”

You were kind of glad you weren’t going with them. You’d be up and down all night giving out candy, but the ruby red slippers you were wearing were not conducive to the weather despite hitting mid-calf, so you carried your bowl into the living room to find Ford. He stood by the fish tank and just the sight of him made you laugh. His hair was a mess and the white lab coat he was wearing was splotched in fake blood. Well, you hoped it was fake. He was really leaning into the whole mad scientist thing.

Ford smiled when you came into the room, placing your bowl on the t-Rex skull. “You look beautiful.”

“It was the only women’s costume that didn’t make me look like a slut,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Why is it that women’s costumes have to be slutty? It's freezing too! Who wants to be wearing basically nothing and freeze all night?”

He kissed your forehead, hand falling to your hip. “I could keep you warm.” His voice in your ear caused a shiver to roll down your spine. That wicked grin faded when Stan and the kids came down the stairs. “Ah, Stanley, what are you supposed to be?”

You clocked the striped suit. Stan’s face was painted white, eyes blacked out. You stepped back from Ford’s hold. “Beetlejuice.”

“Who?” Ford laughed. “Who is Beetlejuice?”

Mabel’s jaw dropped, “If one of you says that again, I’m going to lose it.”

“Beetlejuice!” Dipper shouted.

Stan gave an annoyed huff. “Okay, losers, stop that.” He ruffled ketchup’s and mustard’s hair, “You condiments ready to hit the road? I’ve scoped out the best neighborhood. If we get there early, we have a seventy-five percent greater chance of snaggin’ some full-size candy bars. I’m not playing around with that fun-sized crap this year.”

“Have fun,” you laughed, “and, Stan, please don’t let them eat all of their candy tonight. You’re not the one who has to take care of sick kids in the morning.”

Stan waved you off. “Yeah, yeah, you young people and this health craze. Whatever. What happened to stuffing your face with sugar and no consequences, huh?”

“I’m 30.”

“Yeah,” Stan sputtered, “young.”

“Bye, [Y/N]!” Dipper and Mabel called as the sprinted out the door.

Stan waved over his shoulder. “Have fun handin’ out candy, nerds.”

When the door slammed shut you gave a sigh of relief, thankful that you wouldn’t have to deal with the chaos this time. Summerween had been a nightmare.

You laughed, arms winding around Ford’s neck again. “Why is it that your brother can do math when it comes to money and candy, but nothing else?

He shrugged in response. Your words quickly forgotten. “So,” Ford leaned into your hold, “who is Beetlejuice?”

“It’s a movie,” you said simply. “We can watch it when they get back. It came out in 1988, so you just missed it.”

For the most part, you and Ford took turns handing out candy to the kids who dared to traverse the spooky and dangerous, if you were being honest, maze Stan had set up in the front yard. When you weren’t handing out candy, however, you were draped over your boyfriend who’s six fingers kept trying to sneak their way up the hem of your dress as a slasher film played on screen. His plans were thwarted with each knock on the door.

“You’re turn,” he huffed. He helped you stand, hand grazing up the back of your thigh as you stood.

You could feel his eyes peeling away at your clothes as you walked to the door. It made you blush. You tried to forget the way his teasing hands felt on your legs, the way he did his best to seem sly enough for you not to notice.

You opened the door to see four children dressed as a witch, a fairy, a ghost, and a vampire. “Wow,” you gushed, “you guys look great!”

“Trick or treat!”

You gave them each a large handful of candy. You smiled, hoping your two trick-or-treaters were having just as much fun as the kids sprinted away from the door and into the darkness. Still, you just hoped some candy monster wasn’t stalking Dipper and Mabel. That was a mess.

Two hands taking hold of your waist pulled you out of thought. “Leave the bowl on the porch,” he said between kisses placed on your shoulder. His arms snaked around you as Ford rested his chin on your shoulder. “ His fingers fiddled with the braids in your hair.

“It’s almost 9:00,” you sighed as you pressed back into him. “The kids will be home soon.”

“All the more reason to leave the bowl on the porch.”

He looked so mischievous when you turned around in his arms. Before you could speak, he lifted you off your feet, the door slamming shut. Your legs were tightened around his waist. His face was pressed firmly to your neck, kisses dropped haphazardly as he carried you through the Shack. You thanked the Ford who built this house all those years ago for not putting his bedroom too far from the front door when he dropped you onto the mattress.

“Based on Stan’s plans for the evening,” his voice was gruff as he pushed up the hem on your dress, “we have approximately twenty minutes.”

He didn’t bother to undress himself, sliding your panties down your legs. No time to respond, he hitched your right leg over his shoulder, pinning your left knee to the mattress. “You look good enough to eat,” he chuckled, sliding down your body. “A real treat.”

He disappeared beneath your dress, his tongue on you. You gave a shaking moan. His tongue swirling and dipping inside of you. You sighed his name as you felt two of his digits slip inside of you, hitting that spot with a simple curl. Just as you were teetering on the edge, your name spilling out of your mouth like a prayer, he pulled away. Wet kisses were worked up your whole body.

With a rushed brush of his lips against yours, you felt him push inside of you. Twin gasps escaped the two of you and you loved that sound. Everytime you found yourself with him between your legs, that sound was always your favorite.

He stayed still for a long while, enjoying the feeling of your warmth around his length, the way your walls fluttered around him, how wet you were for him without much effort. “You’re stunning,” he punctuated his words with a deep kiss to your lips.

As his hips rocked into you, you held tight to him. You didn’t care about the sticky fake blood across his lab coat that had begun to coat your thighs. You’d be covered in it by the time this was over, but you couldn’t care less.

“We have to make this quick.” You were already there. Painfully, you waited for that single thrust that would finally make you cum. “Please, Stanford.”

It was hard, upward thrust right into your G-spot and you came undone. He ignored your moans, you begs for him to never stop. He fucked you through it until you were pliable and limp against the sheets. That was when his rhythm falters, a sharp ‘fuck’ falling from his mouth against your cheek.

Neither of you had a chance to catch your breath before you heard Stan grumbling outside. “Why’s the candy bowl outside?” Both you and Ford jumped up. He followed you into the living room, zipping his pants as he went.

“Hey,” you grinned, feigning innocence, “get a good haul?” Ford’s hand found the small of your back, unable to resist touching you.

[min-imum]

part 1

nsfw, mdni

content warnings: this is part 2!!! part 1 linked above, gn!reader, lingerie, mingyu has a big dick (everyone act surprised), light bondage…?, unprotected sex (sounds nice in theory but it’s not in practice. wrap your willy don’t be silly), a little bit of crying!, ummmmm

mingyu hurries out of the building at 5.59pm. he pretends he doesn’t hear seungcheol hyung screaming for him from the second floor and books it — his goal is to get home as fast as he can.

it’s just one minute, seungcheol hyung won’t be that mad about it… hopefully.

when mingyu bursts through the door, hair disheveled, bag thrown haphazardly over one shoulder, clutching his phone in a death grip, you’re lazing around on the couch.

In That Damn Lingerie.

well, not just the lingerie — you’re also wearing a sheer little robe over it, and if anything, it just makes mingyu even harder in his pants.

you bounce up to him to greet him with a smile, but before you can even offer to take his bag off him, he drops it onto the floor and grabs you by the hips to pull you into a bruising kiss.

“shit, baby,” he moans. “it was torture waiting for work to be over. you’re such a minx.”

you giggle, letting him run his hands over your body with a crazed look in his eye. “just wanted to give you a little present while you were at work.”

he doesn’t know what to touch, his hands roaming everywhere across your body. he starts from your hips, then moves down to grope your ass, then slides them back up to run his palms over your chest. you whimper and arch into his touch.

“gyu,” you moan. he hums, kissing along the length of your neck from your ear to your collarbones. you grab his biceps for support as he sucks harder and leaves marks to replace the fading ones from a few days ago.

“dolled up all for me?” he asks in a low voice. you both know the answer, but he wants to hear you say it.

“yes,” you gasp. “all for you, gyu.”

he lifts you up easily and carries you to the bedroom, laying you down on soft sheets and kissing you again. his lips are reddened and bruised from the kissing and you have no doubt you look the same.

when he finally finds it in him to peel away from you, he leans back and tugs his shirt over his head. his body never fails to make you squirm — the defined lines between his pecs and outlining every one of his abs are testament to the strength contained in his body.

he peels off his pants next, and the length straining against his boxers makes you drool. this is what you’ve been craving all day.

“gyu,” you whine. “touch me.”

he kisses you again as he helps you out of your robe. as much as he loves it, it’s getting in the way. his eyes roam your body, now clad in just the red lingerie from earlier, appreciatively. the pictures are nothing compared to the real thing.

“you don’t know what you do to me,” he grunts. “the pictures earlier, and now this…”

you’re absolutely gorgeous. the red compliments your skin tone and matches the flush on your cheeks. seeing you wear his favourite colour makes the blood rush down to his dick embarrassingly quickly. he groans as his cock, still confined in his underwear, brushes against the bed.

however, he’s been staring for a little too long, and you’re getting impatient. you spread your legs and pull your bottoms to the side.

“i prepared myself already,” you tell him. “fuck me, please, gyu. i need it. i’ve been waiting for you all day.”

you’re going to kill him.

“okay, baby. fuck.” he exhales harshly as he finally removes his boxers. his cock springs up, engorged and painfully hard, and he hisses as he strokes it once, twice, with a lubed hand.

he slaps the tip of his cock against your hole, teasing, making you whine — a bit of payback for the suffering he had to endure after you sent him your present.

“gyu, stop teasing,” you beg. “just put it—”

he grabs both your wrists and presses them to the mattress above your head, then slides his cock into you in one smooth stroke. your mouth snaps open in a silent scream.

no matter how many times you’ve taken his cock, he’ll always stretch you good.

“keep your hands here, baby,” he instructs.

you nod obediently, and he releases your wrists to hoist your legs over his shoulders instead, and then he fucks you like he means it.

every thrust stretches you out deliciously, making you moan in stuttered little ah-ah-ahs as he fucks you relentlessly. tears slip out of your eyes in pleasure, but you keep your arms above your head like he instructed, fingers twisting harshly in the sheets.

above you, mingyu groans in pleasure at the tight heat around his cock. “shit, baby,” he pants. “you feel so good.”

your eyes roll back in lieu of a reply as his cock hammers at your spot. you babble incoherently, unable to form words.

“so pretty for me. so good.” he praises.

“g— cum, cum,” you whimper. “gonna…”

“cum for me.”

you orgasm with a scream, your warmth tightening around his cock so hard it makes his hips stutter. he looks down at you, tears running down your face, hair splayed out on your pillow, lingerie rumpled. he thrusts into you thrice more before he comes with a curse and a groan. his face twists in pleasure as he empties into you and fills you up with his cum.

mingyu holds you tight for a few moments before letting you go and pulling out slowly. his cum leaks out of you from around his cock.

“don’t move, baby.”

he grabs his phone, then snaps pictures of your disheveled state — your flushed face, your bruised neck, your crumpled lingerie, and his semen leaking out of you. “you look so pretty like this,” he tells you.

this is premium jack-off material for the next time he has to go on tour without you.

finally satisfied with his pictures, he starts to clean you up thoroughly with a wet cloth. you let him remove your lingerie for you to add to your laundry pile. he slumps down on the bed next to you once he’s done and giggles when he finds you already asleep.

“goodnight, my love,” he whispers anyway, kissing your forehead and pulling you close to him. you snuggle into his chest, seeking his warmth even while asleep, and he wraps an arm around you protectively.

he falls asleep with you, safe and satisfied, in his arms.

[bb-eilish]

desperate and whiny dom!anakin (not proofread)

-he’d have you pressed against the wall of the shower, your leg propped up by the ledge and everything. Your hair in his hand as he lightly pulls your head to the side, his forehead and nose resting against the side of your cheek and head.

-his hand would be groping your ass, drifting over the wet skin of your thigh before he gently reaches your pussy, feeling up the wetness that so fiercely calls to him.

-he’d groan, tracing his fingers along your folds. “So perfect, baby, so perfect for daddy. Letting him play with you wherever he pleases, my little princess”

-his voice is strained and desperate but loving no less

-“Little pussy is so wet, you been thinking of me, baby? Hm? Thinking about daddy getting home so he can have you again? His fingers tightened in your hair, causing you to mewl and whine.

-“Missed you so much, daddy, missed you inside me” Your voice is high pitched and your words are slurred, it only makes him harder, knowing how little he has to touch you before your little brain practically melts in your head

-“I know, baby, i’m here, gonna take care of you” He says before slowly pushing a couple fingers you, your mouth parts and your eyes close

-doesn’t take long before he’s pulling out long, whiny moans from you and you’re begging him, not exactly sure why

-“That’s it, that’s right, baby” He’s practically drooling now, moaning with you, desperate to make you feel good. “Love my favorite girl’s perfect fucking pussy”

-and when you cum around his fingers he’s quick to insert them in his mouth, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his skull at the taste

-his self control is no where to be seen as he lowers himself and kneels in front of you, shoving his face in between your thighs to greedily lap up any juices he can

-you gasp, fingers curling in his wet hair, weakly trying to pull him away

-“daddy no, too sensitive” you’d whine, body twitching at the oversensitivity

-“i know, baby, daddy’s sorry” he’d reply before encompassing your entire pussy in his mouth, soon opting for sticking his tongue inside you, as far as he can

-his actions are crazed and desperate, tears sprout in your eyes as you babble out nonsense, not able to do much else besides that and taking what he gives you

-his nails dig uncomfortably into the fat of your thighs but you can’t seem to mind as he seems to whimper into your pussy, his eyebrows upturned at the front as though you’d let him taste the most divine flavor he’s ever encountered

-his groaning stimulates you further, beckoning you closer and closer to the edge once more. Your head is spinning and you don’t even feel the drool that dribbles down the corner of your parted lips

-“Thank you, baby, daddy’s so grateful to have you, to have your pussy”

-his hands moved to the globes of your ass, pushing you further into his mouth which causes you to lock up and cum again, which knocks the wind from you

-he moans when he senses you, nose pushed up against your clit as he collects all you offer him with his tongue, murmuring thank you’s that you can’t even understand anymore

-unexpectedly he lets out a series of whines and moans before he grips you harder, reaching his own orgasm hands free. The tile of the shower is splattered with his cum, a result of the desperation you stir in him so easily

[littlexdeaths]

precious - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: oral (fem receiving), fingering, spitting, eddie is a menace… but a cute one.

opposites attract masterlist

word count: 1k

a/n: another repost from my opposites attract series. i missed our feral, goblin boyfriend. so i hope you all enjoy xx.

He’s been in between your thighs for the better part of an hour, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers now long forgotten in the background.

You had gotten Eddie the box set earlier that day as a surprise gift. So of course, your boyfriend wanted to spend the whole day having a movie marathon. And you were more than happy to oblige.

But the only problem was you.

You in your short pleated skirt and pink top that seemed to leave very little to the imagination. You were driving him absolutely crazy, despite not meaning to.

The brunette somehow managed to make it through the first film without caving. But each time you shifted positions, your cotton candy perfume would engulf his senses completely. Reminding him how sweet you were, and just how bad he’d missed tasting you.

So could you blame him for being too distracted to appreciate the gift?

After popping the second film in the dvd player, you joined him back on the sofa. The darkness of the room concealing the boner he’s been struggling with for the past three hours.

So when his hand started drifting up your bare thigh, you didn’t think anything of it. That is until his fingers began tracing the outline of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin.

His head dips, lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

“We wants it, we needs it…”

Eddie’s voice had dropped an octave, gravely as he did his best impression of the creepy, crawly creature from the film.

You lightly smack his shoulder as he starts laughing, the sound filling the small room. But once he sees the look on your face he settles, nuzzling his face into the skin of your neck.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me try that again,” he hums as his lips trail further down to your collarbone, nipping lightly at your skin.

A small gasp leaves you as he begins sucking, tingles shooting straight to your core.

“Wanna taste you, doll… can I?” He asks, his voice just as deep as before— but the silliness of the previous moment is gone.

Only desperation laces his tone as his fingers slip underneath your panties. The male groans at the wetness he finds, the sound leaving you a little breathless.

“Please,” you whine, lips jutting out in a small pout.

That’s the only answer he needs before he’s detaching himself from you. Grinning mischievously as he slides off the sofa, working himself between your thighs. Your panties are removed almost haphazardly, making you giggle at his eagerness.

Eddie quickly tosses your legs over his shoulders, diving in immediately. Despite how eager he seemed, he slowly dragged his tongue through your soaked folds. Your boyfriend wanted to take his time, to savor each and every drop you were giving him.

Flash forward to almost an hour later, your fingers are tangled in his dark curls as he continues to lap at your overly sensitive cunt. Eddie was being a tease, getting you closer and closer to the edge before slowing down again.

It was his turn to drive you absolutely crazy. While simultaneously turning you into a needy mess under his skillful tongue. He suddenly pulls back for a moment, the glow from the tv highlighting the juices smeared across his chin.

The male gathers some of it on his fingers, eagerly sucking the digits into his mouth with a deep growl.

“Mmm, my precious.”

Before you have time to scold him he’s back between your thighs, a crazed cackle leaves him as he sucks harshly on your clit. Eddie eagerly slips those same fingers that were just in his mouth, back inside you. He curls them up to brush against your sweet spot, causing you to cry out as he increases his pace.

Any semblance of taking things slow is now thrown out the window, as he licks and sucks at you like a starved animal. Your fingers find their way back into his hair, nails digging into his scalp.

“That’s it, such a good. fucking. girl.” He growls each word pointedly, thrusting his fingers in tandem with his vulgarity.

Your walls clench harder around the digits due to his praise, greedily grinding your hips down against them. A whimper escapes you as he leans back, spitting onto your already soaked pussy. But he doesn’t give you much time to process as his tongue begins to mix his salvia with your slick.

He slides a third finger into your tight heat, the sounds of your arousal now over powering the film still playing on the television. Your body is buzzing as your thighs begin to tremble around his head.

“Squeezing me so tight, baby, fuck. You gonna cum for me?” His voice is muffled as he puts more pressure on your swollen clit.

And in that moment, you can’t find the words to answer him— only a high pitched moan leaves your lips.

Eddie chuckles against you, the vibrations bring you that much closer to the edge. Your hips begin to buck up wildly, desperate for that promise of release.

But your boyfriend is quick to force them back down with his free hand. Preventing any further squirming as he drills his fingers into your needy cunt, taking everything he’s giving you in stride.

“Gimme all your cum, sweetheart,” he groans deeply, finding yourself unable to hold back anymore.

After being edged for the better part of an hour, your body convulses as you finally fall over that precipice. Crying out his name repeatedly as he continues to work you through the most intense orgasm he’s ever given you.

Your body suddenly slumps against the sofa, completely spent. A soft whine leaves your lips as you tug on his disheveled curls to lift his head. His dark eyes lock with your half lidded ones, that mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie gladly crawls his way up your body to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue, your juices now smeared across your chin.

You can feel the sticky, warm denim of his jeans pressing against your thigh. The sudden realization has you giggling into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he hums, “Precious is pleased?”

[euphemiaamillais]

playing dangerous pt 2 - coriolanus snow 🎀

coriolanus snow has always wanted the perfect woman. he’s searched high and low, among the likes of heiresses and actresses, and even—though he’d never dare admit it—district girls. he’s given up hope, until he finds you. you’re perfect—innocent, beautiful and obedient. he’s been watching you for months, and one night, he just can’t resist taking you home and making you his.

cw: 18+//kidnapping//eventual stockholm syndrome//mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation//emotional manipulation//mentions of sex/sexual harassment

part 1 is here

you wake to the sunlight streaming through the french doors the next morning. your head is pounding, not doubt from the posca. while it had sent you into a dreamless sleep, you can feel a throbbing hangover coming on. there is little noise in the house, nothing but your breathing gracing your ears, and for a moment you forget where you were.

but when you feel the restraint around your wrist, you remember that you were in some strange man’s apartment, subject to his every whim. which, so far, you were thankful, had only been eating the food he’d brought you.

the door opens, and he comes in baring more food. this time, an assortment of spreads and toast. at least he has the decency to feed you well, though you can’t help but wonder if the food is laced with poison. you’re too starving to think too much about it though.

‘good morning,’ he grins, a positively psychopathic gaze in his eyes. he sets the tray down, and presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘did you sleep well, darling?’

you shudder at the pet name. ‘well, my wrist really hurts,’ you pout, wondering if he will be swayed by your wide eyes. ‘do you think you could loosen the restraint?’

you’re also aware of your bladder pressing against your stomach, full from last night’s posca, and you��re reminded of how desperately you need to go.

‘once you’ve eaten,’ he promises, and turns to start buttering the toast. the sweet aroma of jams and spreads fills your nose, your mouth watering. ‘what would you like, princess?’

you glance at the array, and decide on a thick pot of strawberry jam. you’d eat that every morning at home, with a cup of tea. alas, there only seems to be a very milky cup of coffee on the tray, but it’s better than nothing.

‘strawberry jam, please,’ you offer a smile, and he begins to spread the confiture across the golden toast. it does look delicious.

‘there you go,’ he hands you the toast. he’s even sliced it into little triangles, worried that you won’t be able to eat it in such big slices, seeing as you’re just so delicate.

he watches you eat it up like it’s your last meal, surprisingly ravenous for a girl your size. your tongue glides over some of the jam, and he feels his hands clench as you do so. it’s so seductive, even though you mean it with complete innocence. he can’t help but think of you doing that as you suck his cock, pink tongue gliding over the aching tip of his shaft…

‘thank you,’ you offer, seeing how he eyes you.

he hands you the cup of coffee, a little embarrassed that it’s so milky—he was distracted by the thought of you, waiting for him in that room, that he’d poured too much in. you accept it, a little disgusted by the bitter taste—you were never one for coffee—but down it with a forced smile on your face.

‘good girl,’ he coos, placing one hand on your thigh. ‘you’re so good to me, don’t you know that?’

he looks crazed, blue eyes glistening with insanity, praising you in spite of only knowing you for what, twenty-four hours? you wonder if your parents have thought to go looking for you. your mother is probably weeping. your stomach churns at the thought.

‘would i, uh, please be able to use the bathroom,’ you are clenching your legs together in desperation, bladder throbbing with need.

he tilts his head, but sees the way you gnaw at your lips. he can’t have you wetting yourself again, now that would just be humiliating.

‘alright. but you’ll have to let me in there with you,’ he admits, and you cast him an exasperated look.

‘no!’ your eyes swell up in mortification. ‘please, it’s so… embarrassing…’

he sighs, moving his hand further up your thigh, fiddling with the hem of your silky slip. ‘if you want to use the bathroom, i’ll need to watch you in case you try to hurt yourself. i can’t have you bleeding out on the tiles…’

he winces a little at the thought of you trying to slit your wrists with his razor, too distraught at the idea of having to be his that you’d rather be welcomed into the arms of death. no, you wouldn’t allow that to happen. you’re his girl.

‘oh..’ your voice trails off. you find it hard to rebut him, you’re so desperate to go. ‘okay.’

you cede all right to him, losing what seemed to be the last bit of your autonomy left. he loosens the restraint, and you clutch your wrist, nursing the nagging ache that has been bothering you all night. you see the french doors, and debate throwing yourself off the balcony. however, it’s foolish. falling that far would be terrifying—worse than a life spent with this man, whatever his name is—and so you follow him as he guides you to the bathroom.

the apartment is more gorgeous than the bedroom. high walled and of black marble, it stretches out across what appears to be the entire floor—and you come to realise that it’s the penthouse. whoever he is, he must have a lot of money. you’re not very interested in politics, but you know president ravenstill has many cronies—perhaps he’s one of them.

the bathroom is cold when you enter, but you’re so desperate to go that you rush to the toilet. you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; you look awful. your hair is matted, and you’ve got a few fresh bruises trailing up your arm; pink and purple dots spoiling the skin. you don’t smell great either, and eye the beautiful shower in the corner.

he is watching you like a hawk, and if you weren’t in such a great need to go, you probably wouldn’t have been able to. you feel a wave of relief wash over you as you finish, and go to wash your hands with one of his fancy soaps. when you’re done, you turn to him, a tender look on your face.

‘would i be able to use your shower?’ you ask, biting at your lip. his heart pounds in his chest. his cock stirred a little at the thought of getting to see your naked form. not that he’d fuck you just yet, but the notion that he’d merely get to see you was too much.

‘of course, sweetheart,’ he nods, grabbing two towels from the cupboard by the sink.

you go to turn the faucet, getting splashed a little by the hot water. it feels delicious against your freezing skin, though. you turn back to glance at him, willing him away with your mind, but he remains.

‘would i be able to do it, alone?’ you ask softly, but he shakes his head. your heart drops.

‘i’m sorry princess, you know my rules. i’ve got to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. i couldn’t have that now, could i?’ he asks, tilting his head. you shake yours in response, and more than humiliated, you begin to strip yourself off.

he watches as you pull your slip off, revealing an elegant figure, a perfect ass, and long legs. you shiver, more out of embarrassment than cold, deeply ashamed to be exposing yourself to a man. nobody’s ever seen you this naked before, and you’re shy about the way you look. he’s begging you to turn around so he can see the front of you, but you attempt to manoeuvre yourself so that he can’t see your breasts or other parts.

the water warms your skin, and you toss your head back in delight, feeling it soak your hair and wash away the grimy feeling. you face away from him, and when you have to reach to grab the soap, do your best to move in a way that he can only see your back. it’s the least humiliating way. you’d never thought any man but your husband would see you like this, but clearly, he had other ideas.

coriolanus had to settle his breath in attempt to fight the growing erecetion in his trousers, seeing you so bare was too exciting. he wishes you’d turn around, wondering how pretty your breasts would look, how pink your nipples would be, and if your cunt was as lovely as he’d imagined. he wanted so badly to touch you, to slip his fingers inside of your tight pussy and watch you writhe beneath him. he wondered if you’d ever touched yourself—he doubted you had. you were too innocent for that.

you lather the shampoo in your hair, feeling great relief as you wash your scalp clean. you run your fingers through the mats, wincing a little as they tug. he’s got some lovely smelling soaps, you have to admit, and while you let the shampoo sit, you rub your skin with one that smells like roses. you take care of course to wash between your thighs, embarrassed that you’d supposedly wet yourself the day before, and freshen yourself up with the scent of the rose soap.

soon enough, you’re smelling lovely; it’s potent but in a clean way, the smell pleasant to your nose. you finish washing the shampoo out, and go to scramble for the conditioner when you realise that it’s not there.

‘excuse me,’ you attempt to shout with your back turned to the wall.

‘i can’t hear you, princess. turn around,’ he laughs a little, watching as you squirm, terrified of exposing yourself to him.

‘please, i just want the conditioner,’ you beg, feeling like a pathetic fool, having to plead for something as simple as hair conditioner.

‘you have to turn around for me to give it to you,’ he warns, holding the bottle in his hands.

you sigh, and remembering the knots in your hair, realising you have little choice in whether or not to turn around. you can’t have those clumps getting any worse. so, deeply ashamed, you surrender yourself to him, sliding the shower door open and stretching a hand out.

‘see, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ he inquires, and seeing the cruel look in his eyes, you shake your head, afeared of what he’ll do if you utter something that won’t please him.

‘you’ll learn,’ he warns as you grasp for the bottle, his other hand gripping your wrist before you can move away. ‘that i always get what i want. okay, princess? you can’t just hide yourself from me.’

he brushes your wet hair to one side, fingers trailing down to your bare breast. he doesn’t dare touch you too much, but ghosts his fingers over to remind you that this is his now. you belong to him, whether you decide to obey him or not. he knows you’ll learn to love him soon enough, and be a drooling mess, begging for his cock to fill you up.

‘so pretty,’ he murmurs, and you shudder, feeling cold droplets of water hit your back. the shower is still running, and you’re aching to get back in and finish washing your hair.

he lets you go, but watches you with scrutiny, admiring every footstep you take back to the shower. you’re so beautiful, and all his… how utterly perfect you are. after what had seemed like a lifetime of searching, he’d finally got what he wanted.

now all he had to do was make you his, in body and in heart.

—

you’d dried off after your shower, and he’d given you a robe to wear because your slip needed to be washed. you feel horribly naked, wishing there was something to wear other than a robe. it would be easy for him to take advantage of you, hands roaming up your robe to caress your thighs, and god knows what else. you’d never been touched by a man before, having only had a few stolen kisses with some of your classmates at the academy, but you were too shy to have let any of them take you.

and besides, your father was insistent that you had remained pure until he found you a suitable husband. preferably one of president ravenstill’s many sons. you got more for a virgin, as disgusting as the notion was. they were a rare commodity in the capitol these days.

once he had tied your restraint back—to your other wrist this time, he really was so kind—he pressed a kiss to your cheek and told you he was going out. you were upset, he hadn’t told you how long he would be, whether or not you were going to be alone for the rest of the day, but you didn’t press further. at least you wouldn’t have to worry about him assaulting you any further. god knows what he’d do if he sat with you, barely clothed, for more than a few minutes.

so, quite bored, you sit and run your mind across who he could possibly be. he’s got an almost familiar face; noble, an aquiline nose and the most piercing blue eyes you’ve ever seen. he can’t be that much older than you, twenty-two at most. perhaps he was a senior when you were a freshman at the academy? you remember that year well, that girl lucy gray had won, though it you were advised to forget about it, with the threat of dr. gaul turning you into one of her creations if you didn’t comply with the secret-keeping.

you’re sure you went to school together, but you can’t place his name. he’s probably from one of those old families, judging from the fact that he’s got connections with president ravenstill and how his apartment is carved out of fucking marble. your family is wealthy, sure, but you’ve never seen an apartment like this in your life. has he been watching you since your days at the academy? the thought sends a shiver down your spine.

you wonder why he even chose you, of all people? what kind of person would kidnap someone instead of talking to them? he’s obviously got psychopathic tendencies. and he’s mentioned he wants you all for himself—why could he not just have approached you and asked if you wanted to go to a restaurant in town? you would’ve accepted; he’s handsome and wealthy.

there is something brutal about him, you think. some notion of possessing you that makes his blood run hot. he can’t let anybody else have you, it seems, which is why he won’t even let you go free from the room. you’re too scared of death to try anything foolish like suicide, but perhaps if you managed to slit your wrists artfully enough you’d just end up in hospital. your parents would be able to come get you.

if he decides to touch you, you could always cry rape. that’s if the authorities would listen. but from the looks of things, the peacekeepers would do very little, and his connections that he’s mentioned would probably leave him with legal immunity. it’s a hopeless and dire situation.

you find that your face has been stained with tears—you’ve been crying, it seems. you were so caught up in your thoughts that you had hardly noticed how distraught it had made you. your lip trembles when you question whether or not you’ll ever go free. what if he keeps you here forever? what if you’re never able to go outside again, to feel the snow on your cheeks, the sun caressing your neck with its warm rays? it’s too awful to bear.

—

he returns home in a good mood, and when he opens the door to your room, there’s a smile playing upon his lips. he’s carrying an array of bags, looking almost like the women who spend their hours shopping at the ominous capitol mall. you eye him curiously, wondering if he’s come true on his promise and purchased you something more than a flimsy slip to wear.

he sets them down at the end of the bed, and undoes your restraint, which leaves you feeling more suspicious. it usually takes more convincing than a sad-eyed gaze. you crawl to the bags, your curiosity getting the better of you, and open the largest one.

there’s a lot of pink tissue paper, scented with the potent aroma of lavender, and you pull it out a little carelessly. he sees the joy light up on his face when you pull out the first dress. it’s simple, but you do have to admit, very pretty. it’s made of black satin and is quite short, but it will do—perhaps he intends to let you leave the house after all.

you dig through the rest of the bags, quite pleased with what he’s purchased you. clearly he had somebody help him; while he has good taste for a man, he obviously wouldn’t know much about what you liked in particular. you were grateful for the sweaters and tights, thinking about how frigid it was.

the last bag he pulls out from under his arm. it’s small, and the tissue paper has a familiar scent you recognise; not like the lavender of the other ones, but a more sensuous musky smell. you recall your friends going into that store to buy things to wear for their boyfriends. you shudder thinking of what he could’ve purchased for you.

he slips his hand inside the bag, and pulls out a tiny, silky thing that you’re sure will barely even cover your ass. at least it’s not as blatantly obvious as a lingerie set, but you’re still aware of his intentions.

‘i want you to put this on, now,’ he commands, handing the slip to you. it’s a soft pink, and the hem is edged with chantilly lace. if it wasn’t from him, you probably would’ve actually liked it.

‘do i have to?’ you ask, and are immediately met with a warning glare. you’ve stepped too far—and he hoists you up from the bed.

he grips at the sleeves of your robe, pulling you flush against him. his breath is heavy, and his eyes are brimming with anger. your heart pounds, and you’re certain he can hear it. hear your fear.

‘you will do as i say,’ he seethes, using one hand to undo the tie of the robe, aggressively shoving it off your shoulders.

you shiver, the robe falling to the ground, and you cling to grasp at your breasts, covering yourself up for shame. he grabs the slip, careful not to ruin it, and forces it over your head.

you were right about it being tiny. he stands back and admires you, the way it hardly covers the top of your breasts, leaving little to the eye, and how the hemline comes just under your ass.

‘turn around,’ he says, an awaiting gaze on his face.

you turn, and hear him groan a little, the soft curve of the bottom of your ass sticking out of the slip. he’s so blatant about his desire, dressing you up like a little doll and making you spin for him, showing yourself off to him. it feels unnatural, vain in fact.

‘god, you look so fucking perfect in that,’ he sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. you feel something hard pressing against your ass, and try not to let yourself tremble with fear.

‘so pretty, baby,’ he presses a hot kiss to the nape of your neck, lips moving down your collarbone. ‘i could just eat you right up… you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

you say nothing, too shocked for words. you feel his teeth graze against your shoulder skin, sucking a soft bruise—marking you as his own.

‘hm? why won’t you speak. i love it when i see your pretty lips tremble around the words. you’re scared, aren’t you?’ his breath is hot against your skin, but you feel so cold. his hands are like ice.

‘i’m sorry…’ you offer, but he gives your hip a pinch and you cry out.

‘you’re sorry? that’s not good enough. i need to know how thankful you are that i’ve bought you such pretty clothes,’ he scowls.

‘thank you,’ you realise you don’t know his name, and thus the words fall flat.

‘thank you? come on, that’s pathetic, sweetheart,’ he laughs, the sound ringing loud in your ears.

‘i don’t even know your name,’ you attempt to face him, but his hold is so tight that you’re locked in.

‘mhm…’ he sighs. ‘i’m sure if i tell me you’ll remember. we were at the academy together, but you were so small then. probably too afraid of the seniors to say a word.’

your mind flashes back to being fourteen—it’s not that long ago, and yet it feels like a lifetime has passed. his sandy hair and icy blue eyes—of course. he was the mentor of lucy gray… the one who had turned her into such a spectacle. coriolanus snow. you remember now. he disappeared for a few months, sent to 12. you paid little attention to politics, you were too young to care.

‘snow,’ you murmur, and he nods, a proud sound coming from his lips.

‘there you go,’ he coos, stroking your arm. ‘see, you’re not completely stupid? all that babbling and yet you were still able to recall my name.’

you’re so pathetic, he thinks. so stupid that you’ll probably be in love with him soon enough. he thinks about how desperate you’ll be for his cock, begging and whining like a little whore, mouth agape and waiting to receive him. he’s reminded of the hard bulge that’s pressing at your ass, and wonders if it’s too soon to satisfy himself with you.

‘i just can’t wait to have you,’ he whispers in your ear. you feel your stomach churn with terror. ‘can’t believe you’re not even wearing any panties… what a fucking whore. you didn’t even think to put them on.’

he’d bought you many pairs of lace underwear, but you’d left them at the bottom of the bag, too ashamed to even dare putting them on. in hindsight, you only left yourself more vulnerable. there was nothing keeping him from slipping his hand between your legs now.

‘please…’ your lip trembles. ‘i can’t do that.’

your legs shake a little, and he shoves you down on the bed. he stands above you, locking your legs between his thighs, and crosses his arms in disappointment.

‘but i’ve been so good to you,’ he clicks his tongue in displeasure. ‘i bought you all these pretty things… and you won’t even wear them for me!’

‘i’m sorry,’ you plead, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. ‘please—i’ve never done anything like that before. i wouldn’t even know what to do!’

a malicious grin plays at his lips. ‘oh, but that’s even better. i can teach you how to please me. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? getting on your knees for me and showing me how well you can take my cock? or perhaps i can take you from behind…’

you squirm, trying to scramble away across the bed, but he pulls you right back to where you’re sitting.

‘shhh, i won’t hurt you, i promise. you’re like a little doll. i couldn’t bear to break you,’ he coos, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. ‘you’ll be good for me, won’t you?’

‘yes,’ you force yourself to reply, the threat of his touches more than enough to get you to obey.

‘yes what?’ he quirks a brow, a warning gaze in his eyes.

‘yes sir,’ you reply, watching as a look of satisfaction crosses his face.

‘such a good girl, hm?’ he sticks a hand between your thighs, tracing the sensitive skin.

you can’t help but gasp—his cold hands make your skin dance with goosebumps. you hate that there’s a tingling coming from your core. your body is betraying you, signalling that you want him to touch you again.

‘look at you squirm, it’s pathetic,’ he laughs, gripping your thigh with his big hands. ‘i’ll leave you for now, sweetheart.’

he removes his touch, and begins to walk to the door. you notice he’s not tied your restraint this time, and choose not to say anything. a devious look draws upon his face.

‘don’t think you’ve escaped me yet. i’m still waiting for you to thank me properly,’ he warns, and you sink back into the bed, feeling utterly hopeless.

what are you supposed to do? surrender yourself to him willingly, or let him have you one way or another? there’s very little choice in the matter.

—

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[nepentheansea]

Better Unspoken

© nepentheansea all works are my own and contain mature content!

𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ・𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑼𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆

premise: Theo isn't sure how much more he can take without telling you what you mean to him.

pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

warnings: angst, swearing... My type of Love Confession!!!

wc: 2.8K

a/n: I'm sorry. <3

His strides seemed to slow, the once steady pace that you had set, had fallen short. You were leading, blissfully unaware of the lack of companionship by your side in the moment. Theo had fallen victim to the very thoughts that plagued him, letting them dictate his every move as he watched you trudge forward, back up to the castle doors, happily. He watched as you laughed to yourself at the conversation you were seemingly having with him. He watched the snow fall onto your cheeks, instantly melting at your touch, or the way it coated your beanie and coat. He was mesmerised by you, every little thing that you did, he was mesmerised. You had been with one of his closest friends for some time now, and yet he couldn't seem to be happy for you, for Enzo, and it was simple really, he couldn’t because it wasn't him that you were happy with. 

“Crazy, righ- Theo?” You turned around, stopping in your tracks to face him. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets and his body ridgid. “Are you okay?” You spoke so softly, your words so caring and delicate as you approached him. Theo made no move, no gesture towards you, it was only a numb look. His gaze fell to the imprinted snow beneath your feet, studying it as if it had the answer to his questions. It had been eating him alive. This past year tearing him apart little by little, and he wasn't sure that he could keep it to himself any longer. He felt as though he had to tell you, no matter the consequences, he just had to. Your voice, softly calling his name again, had him looking back up at you, his eyes soft and sorrowful, and it scared you. He took a step forward, leaning his head down slightly before he opened his mouth, taking a deep breath. 

“I have to tell you something, and I….” He was struggling to find the words, glancing around like he was waiting for someone to help him out. 

“What is it, Theo? Can it wait till we get to the cast-” you start, before he cuts you off, taking another step towards you in desperation. 

“y/n….please just listen to me…”

“Oka-what do you mea-” you started, a hint of panic in your tone. His suddenty was making you nervous, that is until realisation hit you. Standing there, staring up at him, the crazed look in his eyes, and you knew. Knew what he meant, what he wanted to say. You could see what was hiding behind that look, the soft yearning, and need for understanding, the pleading, far before it had even begun. There was no coming back from what he was about to say, nothing that could be done to stop it, but you had to try. You shook your head, your breath hitching the moment he took another step forward, mere inches from where you stood. You held your breath, staring at him, nearly frozen out of fear. 

“Theo, please. Don't do this, please don't do this-” It was barely a whisper that left you, and he heard it, you knew he had, but it didn’t stop him. He moved forward, frantically reaching out for you as if he would never get the chance to touch you again, as his hands met your arms, grabbing them as he lowered himself just enough to be level to you. 

“I have too, I have to tell you how I fee-” He started. You could hear the urgency dripping off of each word, the way he seemed to speak as if he was fearful that he would never get his chance to say it again. His eyes darted between your own, a glass like glaze over the soft shade of blue, as he searched for some type of understanding behind them.

“No Theo, no you don’ t, you don-” It was almost a whine, an involuntary beg on your part, as you pulled from his grasp, and yet made no movement to get away from him. 

“Y/n, please, you have to understand, I can’t help it, i can’t just stop it, you know that, you know I can’t-” 

“Theo think! Please! Think about Enzo..” you tried, tried to make him think about his lifelong friend, the one that stood between the pair of you and everything that Theo wanted. “He is your best friend, your best friend! Please, please think about that before you say what you are about to say. Theo pleas-”

“I know, I know he is, trust me I know-” there it was again, the shaky breath, the soft tones of imploration. 

“Enzo, Theo-” you pleaded, forcing back tears that were on the cusp of escaping.

“And I know that! I know that y/n, and I love him like a brother I promise you I do, but I can’t just sit by. I can’t! Not without telling you how I feel, y/n please-” he implored, his hands coming up to reach for you again, only to fall flat by his side when you shy away from him. He hated this, seeing the way you were fighting him, the way you were pleading with him to stop, but he couldn’t let you. Perhaps it came down to some diluted fantasy, one where you would allow him to tell you how he felt, one where you would see what he meant, see his desperation and the desire for you, that you would have some type of understanding and would chose him, and sure he knew that wasn't going to be the case, but he had to hope. 

“Theo…” you mutter, your heart breaking for him, for the wounded way he was looking at you, for the way his hands were nearly clasped together as if he were in prayer begging for forgiveness. “Theo ple-”

“Y/n I am in love with you, and I can't just make it go away…I can’t-I can’t, and I can’t by any means keep it to myself..not anymore, y/n. Not when it is killing me little by little..” he couldn’t seem to stop himself as he spoke. His voice hoarse and broken as the confession that he had been holding in for only merlin knows how long now, was pouring from him as if he had no control over it anymore in floods of pathetic desperation. Perhaps he didn’t have any control. Perhaps the lie that he had been living was tearing him apart piece by piece, and the only way to soothe it was to get it out to you, to explain and pray that you could understand, no matter the repercussions it was sure to have. It had begun to take its toll on him, watching you with Enzo, pretending that he was nothing but happy for the pair of you. It consumed him, driving him to mere madness and this felt like the only way to solve it, and he hated it. He hated himself for it, for thinking that it was okay, that maybe there was a chance he could steal you for himself, a chance that you would want him just as much as he wanted you. He hated himself for doing this behind his best friends back without so much as a care. It was so unbelievable selfish and he knew that, but he didn’t care, he couldn’t care not when he had spent all this time loving you, watching you, needing you. He knew what this could mean for his relationships with not only you, but Enzo too, and he was willing to throw it all away for that small sliver of hope that you would return his feelings. 

Theo took a deep shaky breath, trying his hardest to read your thoughts, to see if he could understand even the slightest bit of what you were feeling towards him, but the moment your lips parted, he panicked, fear consuming him. He couldn’t let you speak out towards his admission, he couldn’t let you stop him. 

Your hand reached up to silence him, to cover his mouth and cease the flow of the poison he was trying to spew, but it was of no use, he was faster. He reached out grabbing ahold of your hands, soothingly running his thumbs gently over the tops of them, appalled at how cold your touch was. Your hands were frozen, you were cold, and here he was, selfishly keeping you outside the castle walls, simply for his own greed. He couldn’t feel nature's effect, not anymore, not while fuelled with pure adrenaline, but you, a poor innocent bystander in this, could. He clamped your hands together, hoping that covered by his, could find some warmth in them. 

“Y/n…I can’t…I can’t go on like this, knowing that I feel this way.” He was breaking, and you could see it. He needed you to feel something other than an undeniable no. He needed reassurance that this, what he was confessing wasn’t for nothing, but you couldn’t give him that, not now. You wanted to reach out for him, to offer him some type of comfort no matter how small, but what would that fix? Nothing, and though you hated to admit it, you were afraid that it might not only give him some senses of hope, but also that it would do nothing more than confuse not only him, but you. You loved Theo, you always had, and perhaps not in the way that he did for you, or at least never to the degree that he was experiencing. There was a small sliver of you that once wanted him the way he wanted you now, and that small sliver was begging you on its own to let him continue to pour his heart out. But you loved Enzo, and you had for some time now. You loved him and who you were with him, and nothing was worth risking that over. All you could do was to shake your head, soft desperate ‘no’s escaping you, praying, no, pleading that he would stop, that he would give up, because it wasn’t fair, none of it was. You sunk your teeth, feebly into your quivering bottom lip, slowly shaking your head, your eyes flooded with unreleased tears. You weren’t breathing, holding onto that breath like a tether, as you waited. 

“I have to make you understand…I can’t spend another moment listening to the stories of you and Enzo, knowing that it should be by your side, that it should be me taking care of you, making you smile and laugh, making you happy every waking chance that I can… I can’t take more of pretending that it doesn't hurt me, or that I’m okay when I'm really not.  Y/n, please, I am begging you…make it stop, please for me…. Tell me you- tell me you love me or- no, just tell me you love m-….” he couldn’t finish his sentence, the words caught in the back of his throat as he looked down at you with those soft pleading eyes, that glass-like look to his eyes now one filled with tears of his own, but the tears that were beginning to fall from your eyes held him captive, they silenced him. 

He could feel his world shattering before him as he looked at you, could feel you pulling away in ways that he knew he couldn’t follow, couldn’t pull you back from. He had single handedly ruined the only thing in his life that had any meaning to him whatsoever. You were slipping from him, and knew that no matter what he did, there was no going back. Nothing was going to fix this, it had been ruined beyond repair, and it was killing him. He couldn’t stand to see that pitiful look reflected on your face, the one that confirmed everything he was thinking, the one that caused him to stop breathing in a moment of lasting heartbreak, the one that filled him with horror. It was over, he was certain of it.  He couldn’t be your friend, not after what he had just told you, not when he knew that you would go back and tell Enzo, not when he knew you hated him, and that he was sure of. 

It wasn’t the truth though, you didn’t hate him, you weren’t even sure that that was something that you were capable of even doing when it came to Theo, but you couldn’t lie, you hated what he had done. You hated it because it meant that no matter what he or you wanted, things were no longer going to be the same. You couldn’t give him what he needed, craved, and you hated that. Theo deserved the world, but a world that you couldn’t offer him. The tears were rolling freely from your eyes now, staining your blushed stained cheeks. All semblances of the cold were lost on you, you felt nothing but numb, and remorseful, even a little bit angry. He had ruined something that was so utterly good, and thought you were angry at him for that, you couldn’t really blame him. You felt as though your heart had sunk like a bag of stones into your gut, weighing heavy as you fought the urge to keep your gaze on him. It was over, and you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to lash out on him, shove him back and tell him to say it was all a cruel joke, because maybe then you could forgive him, forget it, but you knew that no matter how much you wanted that, it wouldn’t be the truth. He had said his piece, and what was done was done.

“That's-that's not fair.” you cried, holding onto your composure with a literal thread. You pulled your hands from him, using your index finger to shove it into his hard chest. “That is not fucking fair! That's bullshit, Theo!” you couldn’t hold back the tears, the aggression, the ache in your chest, and you wanted him to know. He groaned, exhaling that single breath that he was clinging too, as you repeatedly jabbed your finger into his chest. 

“You don’t! You don’t get to ask that of me! You dont get to say that, not now, not fucking now! You- you don't-..” you argued through clenched teeth, but your voice trailed off. It was as if you were at a loss for the right words. Nothing that you were going to say would really express how you felt, how torn you were, nor were they going to repair any of it. He took a step towards you, ready to reach for you, and you shuffled back, nearly tripping over your own blasted feet. “No. no you’re mean, and you're selfish…” you blurted. tears rolling down your face, your breathing coming out in jagged spurts.  

Merlin, he would do anything to go back and hold onto what he had said, to pretend like he wasn’t being destroyed by his feelings for you. Back to pretending that whenever he heard the latest of your relationship with his best friend, it didn't wound him more than any physical ailment he could ever experience. Anything to see you smile, and drone on about this and that, rather than to have your cold, accusatory finger being shoved into his heart. Quite literally anything and he would do it, no matter the costs. That's when it hit him. Shoving his hand into the depths of his coat pocket, his fingers carefully wrapped around his wand, looking at you with such a shattering look of sorrow. He was sorry, so unbelievably sorry. Sorry he hurt you, sorry that it confused you, sorry that he ruined his relationship with you, and even more so, sorry that he had told you. 

“I’m so sorry..” was all he could offer in respite. 

You huffed, brushing him off as you staggered back, as he repeated soft ‘i’m sorry’s. You sighed, fighting ever urge to tell him to fuck off.

“Fuck you, Theo..” you sighed, turning your back to him for a brief moment, wiping the tears from your eyes with your sleeve, trying desperately to get them to stop.

“Obliviate,” he muttered, and you didn't even have the time to react, to turn around and deflect, before a soft haze set over you. He watched as the silver glow at the end of his wand faded, before slowly lowering it to his side. He wasn’t sure that he could do this again, to be your friend after what he had done. Being so close to you, but not being able to have you, or to tell you what you meant to him, because after all was said and done, you weren’t his, you never were, and he knew now, that you never would be.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: situationship!rafe cameron x afab nerd!reader

cw: angst undertones w/ a hopeful ending, black cat!coded reader x whatever rafe would be, suggestive action in the shower & mentions of off screen nsfw (cum and thigh fucking but the latter is a bit more graphic lol) , class differences, rafe is pathetic and weird, implied drug use, rafe beats a man but you can decide if he killed him, reader has implied mental health issues and low self esteem, ambiguous feelings on rafe’s part (he said ily but he could be lying), dark content themes, rafe calls reader kitty in both a mean way and a pet name way, if the thing with reader’s first crush sounds too real that’s cause it is 🤫, started my period while i was formatting this (i just thought y’all should know)

wc: 1.9k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

consider commissioning me 🫀

“Hey, babe, would you be a good kitty and let me in?” Is what you’re greeted with when you swing open your screen door. Rafe Cameron looks pleased as punch, all things considered, soaking wet due to the pouring rain and no doubt high as a kite.

The slurred speech doesn’t alarm you as much as the river of blood flowing from his mouth.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe, what the fuck?” You try to sound harsh but the fuck is noticably softer than your other words and Rafe smiles, more blood drips down his chin.

You look over his shoulder to see his bike on its side in the dirt, it’s raining and you just know he’ll be pissed to see the mus clinging to it tomorrow. But for right now, you have an injured situationship to patch up.

He stumbles as you struggle to yank him aside, and he sways but collapses on your couch. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to lose your shit immediately. The audacity of this man to waltz in on you barely alive and expect some twisted kind of comfort, after everything.

“I was studying you know, textbooks are expensive so don’t start getting your blood on them.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, I know.”

Rafe grunts but keeps his body away from your books. That’s the least he can do, the bare minimum. You sigh and walk over him, kneeling in front of the couch. His eyes are dazed and unfocused as you brush the hair away from his forehead, but his fingers twitch.

“Why did you come here, Rafe? To me?” You whisper, tired and unamused.

You’re startled by his harsh cough, his fingers twitch in your direction again, “ ‘Was nowhere else, wanted you.”

Isn’t that good enough?

You blink dumbly at that, but you have no answer for his crazed ramblings so you slap your knees and make your way to the bathroom. You procure a wet washcloth and some measly bandages, he would just have to deal with it. Rafe’s eyes drag towards you when you kneel back in front of him and bring the cloth to his mouth.

You avoid his stare as you sop up the copious amounts of blood, praying that this wouldn’t need a visit to the hospital. In some ways, you’ve seen too much blood since Rafe Cameron decided to make a mockery of your existence. The gaggle of rich girls he used to have on each arm disappeared but he excused it by detailing his plans to lead you on in front of his friends, checking to see if you were in ear shot.

There’s nothing you did, in your mind. You stuck to yourself and somehow invited the attention of some psycho. That’s the hardest part of the situation, you can’t pinpoint a true beginning. You can only remember being in this murky middle, devoid of an ending. Rafe does have a pretty face though, unfortunately, the water from cloth making his skin glisten. You’ll throw the rag out after this, there’s no point trying to get the stain of blood out of anything.

Eventually, you’re done with the first part and have an excuse to turn away from him. You get back on your feet to reach for the bandages but a groan coming from behind stops you. You turn around and freeze when Rafe buries his nose into your lower stomach, barely brushing the top of your mound over your pajama shorts. He hisses through his teeth in pain as he pushes your shirt up with his bloodied knuckles.

“Rafe Cameron, what the hell are you-“

“ ‘Smells good as fuck, love you.”

You refuse to admit that you love him too, you can’t give him that. Okay, now shit’s really getting out of hand. He dips his head to get closer to your pussy but the second you see the tip of his tongue touch your shorts, you direct his face back to your stomach. You’ve never gone further than ‘will they-won’t they’ type touches with Rafe, but you just can’t give in no matter how much you lie awake at night thinking about it.

“All this is because of you, you know that? You fucked me up and made pummel the crap outta that guy.” The vibrations his clumsy words send through you gives you a serious case of the shivers, so you distract yourself by running your fingers through his matted hair. Because of course there’s blood on his head too. You’d usually chalk what he’s saying up to drugs and insanity, but with Rafe you just never know.

“What?”

“He said maybe I should lay off you so he could have a piece instead, and I just…. lost it. Why should some chump get a part of what’s all mine?” He says with a startling amount of clarity, voice flat and low.

You don’t designate him with a response, and truth be told he doesn’t want you too. You stretch for what in actuality is a $3 dollar package of hello kitty bandaids and rip the white coverings off a few of them. He makes god awful sounds as you apply them to his mouth, head, and hands. The mess in his hair probably isn't his but your conscience won't let you leave it alone. Something foreign to your head and your heart won’t let you leave him alone.

You decide to put the knife in your back all on your own and look up into his eyes. They’re too half lidded to get a clear reading on them but you’re afraid to rely on the emotions underneath the surface. You used to be scared that he couldn’t feel anything. Now, the idea of Rafe Cameron believing he’s in love is far more terrifying.

He’s a bit ridiculous with My Melody, Kuromi, and Keroppi all over himself, you can’t help the small smile that comes over you. You quickly flatten it before he can get too pleased with himself but the fingers curled against your tummy spasm as they spread out to caress your skin. Rafe has an unreadable look on his face as he smears blood over your womb, but you think if you step away he’ll lunge at you.

“I can help you wash the blood off in the shower.” Saying that is in no way a promise of commitment or change, but it might be the closest you ever get.

You’re used to scraps, scraps are fine.

And well, for much you pride yourself on being perfectly fine being alone, it’s achingly human to crave being loved more than anything else. You wander aimlessly because you won’t go where you’re not wanted, and for the longest you’ve been wanted nowhere. But here you are, obsessed over by someone who everyone wants.

Maybe you’re sick of trying to make all the right decisions if this is where it gets you, cold and alone. Is it so bad to not care anymore? It couldn’t be worse than when your first crush told you he loved you and then had a baby with your bully, you reason. Or when he dated one of your friends and she would “joke” about marrying you when you were alone.

The short trip to the shower is awkwardly silent, you have to lead Rafe and make sure he doesn’t trip. You stare more than any Twilight character as you help each other strip. You try to avoid the bruises on Rafe’s torso, but he chuckles about how “You should see the other guy, kitty.”

So you don’t back away when he slows the trajectory of your calloused hands and drags them up his body. Your nails are bitten unevenly, some leave scratches on his abs and some don’t. It’s exhilarating to see Rafe Caneron’s thread come undone, to watch as he tilts his head back and sighs. You rest your hands on his pecs and kiss the hollow of his throat before you can stop yourself.

You won’t mention the squeak he tries to stifle with the back of his balled up fist.

You step away from him to be vulnerable in return, his satisfaction is much more evident this time around. He rips your camisole in two and unhooks your bra too well, clearly having had practice. He cups your breasts in his hands with tenderness that you’d think is out of character for him. Rafe doesn’t even honk them in the dude bro way that you’d always assumed he would. No, he… massages the flesh in his palms between slow squeezes.

“Don’t see why you’re so insecure about these, I like them just fine.” He huffs, bending down to motorboat you before pulling you in the shower through his grunts of pain and exertion.

You notice that he doesn’t steal a glance at your pussy, almost like he’s scared of seeing it bare and puffy… and wet.

You like to feel like a boiling lobster in the shower, so you turn the dial the same direction as always. You’re worried that Rafe will hate the sting but when the water hits, he moans with an open mouth, eyes shut tight. Before your next breath, you’re pushed against the wall and now the blood’s in your mouth as you're taken into a french kiss right out the gate.

You go with it against your better judgment, until Rafe pulls away to pant against your collarbone. His next kiss is softer, shy like it’s an unknown thing to the two of you. His lips glide and mesh with yours as the water trails down in between your slick bodies. You feel like you’re going to pass out but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

You open your eyes to see the water at the base of the shower run red, and you lose yourself in the swirling motion until the pop of your honey scented shampoo bottle lid snaps you out of it.

“Turn around kitty, ‘said I'd help you scrub down.”

He’d be embarrassed if you said it, but it’s obvious he’s never done this before. He’s like a bull in a china shop gathering you up in a loose bundle and sloppily spreading the soap throughout it. You stay silent, preferring to bask in the absurdity of it all.

Washing Rafe’s hair takes less time, but like he did when you were cleaning him up earlier, he chooses to stare at you the entire time. You scratch his head to really work the shampoo in there and get the dried blood out, he latches onto your wrists and lets his eyes drift shut. He makes it inconvenient to help him when he kisses your jawline, but you allow it.

“Thanks, you’re pretty good with your hands.” Rafe whispers with a wry grin, pecking your mouth and dropping to his knees. Your pomegranate body wash in his uninjured hand. The amount he squirts onto the dollar store loofah on his other hand is a touch too generous.

You have to replace the hello kitty bandaids when the originals fall off after Rafe steps out of the shower minutes later, he insists on it. You make him lean against the bathroom counter and watch as you take a second shower to clean out the cum, he wears a petulant frown the whole time.

You’re bent over that same counter when you’re back in his orbit, teary eyes wide as he fucks your plush thighs.

The rain turns into a thunderstorm outside.

[rory-cakes]

A Buck and A Canary

What was she doing here?

Why was she smiling at him like nothing happened?

He left their child alone!

He let her die!

He lied to her!

It has been one week since the battle at the Habin Hotel. They were starting to finish the reconstruction of the hotel when something strange happened. An angel appeared. 

“Hello! My name is Y/n Altruist, and the higher-ups of heaven have sent me to oversee the progress of the hotel!” 

“THEY CHANGED THEIR MINDS!?” Charlie was practically vibrating with joy. 

“Why?” Vaggie asked skeptically. 

“Well, unlike before, we have proof that your hotel works! A certain serpent has shown up in heaven!”

“Sir Penitouse is alive!” everyone was filled with overwhelming joy. 

“Also”

Y/n bowed in respect. 

“I deeply apologize for the exterminations. They were never supposed to happen. Sera and Adam were working alone in that sense.” 

Charlie grabbed her hand and helped her back up. 

“So really, no one knew? How is that possible?”

“The seven virtues are the only defense against evil on Earth so they have their hands full with that, I’m afraid. I was at the meeting and I brought up the issue as soon as I could!”

“Why do you care so much about what happens to us? No offense, we’re really grateful you did what you did! But why?”

“Well, I'm afraid my answer is a little selfish. My husband is down here. He wasn’t a good man but he was a good husband and he would have been a good father hadn’t he died.”

How did an angel like her end up with someone down here?

Wait-

An angel like her?

“Im sorry, but what is your husband’s na-”

“Birdy?”

“Alastor?”

Alastor sat uncomfortably on the plush couch in his room. Y/n sat equally as uncomfortable in a chair of a similar design. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. 

Alastor avoided making eye contact with his wife. I mean she had to know who he truly was at this point. How could she not?

“Alastor.”

She breaks the silence. 

“I’ve missed you dearly, my darling.”

Why was she smiling?

“I know what you did, and while I can’t say I’m pleased, that doesn’t change the fact that you are my husband.”

What?

“You cherished and loved me for so many years. You took care of me and Eudora. You loved me with everything you had.”

This isn’t right.

“So, if you haven’t stopped loving me in the time we’ve been apart,”

No

“I’d like to be your wife still.”

Alastor finally looked at his ethereal wife. She was so good. She shouldn’t be corrupted by his darkness. 

“I left her alone.”

“So did I.”

Y/n smiled at the man in front of her. This was her Alastor. This was the man she fell in love with. Sure, there were blazing red flags and she should probably be running for the hills. However, she can’t deny the urge to be with him. 

“I’ve been watching over her.”

“You have? How is she?”

“She’s lived a long life. She’s been married to her wife for about 40 years now. She adopted three kids and has a bunch of grandkids. She had her own radio show, Al!”

“She did?”

“She did.”

Y/n moves to sit beside him and grabs his hand with both of hers. Alastor finally pulls her closer,

“You deserve so much more than I am. I cursed you in life I can’t let you get hurt again.”

“You are all that I want, and if I get cursed because of it, that will have been my decision.”

She places her hand on his face, and he leans into it. 

“My darling Alastor, there is nothing you can do for me to stop loving you.”

“Alright, Birdy, I’ll have you for as long as you wish to stay.”

And so the Buck was reunited with his Canary.  

A/N: Hi! I hope you liked the last part of Alastor's Birdy! If you have scenarios you would like me to write with this au, just send me an ask and ill get to it as soon as I can!

Taglist: @crazed-flower, @nanamunath, @preferably-fictional, @eccedentesiast-sapphic, @leximus98, @cupidsgift, @mag-chan, @stygianoir, @thereeallink, @yelloeukulele, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, blurpleuni-squid, @galaxywing-has-adhd, @just-here-reading, @deez-nuts0, @strawberry-gothic, @purplerose291,@1-800-mocha, @trashbin-nie, @queenmizuki, @nkirukaj @bennythebitch @otherthoughtsofbu, @fantasycantasy, @hunnybee11626, @notally-tormal, @valerie-36, @lovingyeet, @holographicage, @har-har-harvey, @i-love-jafar, @cupidsgift, @meow-meowo, @theblueslytherin, @deadt3tinside, @lyralibra, @the-unhinged-raccoon, @avitute, @alastorswifeee, @stygianoir, @sideshow-b0b, @deadlymouse123, @mysingularitybts, @emotionalfangirl2002, @t0xic1vi, @goodlittlepup, @starsatmyhome, @wendds, @reader3, @redfoxgotlost, @hurthermore, @frostychurro @isa-dragon

[websterss]

COMING BACK (1) — ETHAN LANDRY

REQUEST: I have a really good fic idea! would u mind taking mine? If you have watched the Netflix series “you” then this request might seem familiar. Basically Ethan is about to stab Y/n but she quickly says she is pregnant then you can do whatever you want to.

WARNING(S): angst, mentions of dying, mentions of pregnancy, 

WORD COUNT: 1,655

PAIRING: Ethan Landry x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it love! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

PART 2: HAPPY ENDING / SAD ENDING

Fear struck every part of your body as you ran for your life. The old shrine of Ghostface trinkets and souvenirs like knives and wardrobes mocked you as you ran by the mannequins and display cases. You wouldn’t have imagined you’d be right where you were on this unlucky day. What should have been a fresh start after being almost butchered by Amber and Sam’s boyfriend Richie, well you didn’t expect to fight for your life once again, especially while at college.

You wanted a new year, a chance to leave all that was, behind you and move forward with your head held high. You wanted to fall in love…which you had. Now even that was ruined as you ran from the one person you let in. Someone you let love and cherish you in any way possible. Let him put you back together only to break you in pieces all over again. It just didn’t seem fair.

You yell out, panicking as you felt him grab you. You squirmed and wiggled in his grasp, kicking your feet out in the air as he lifted you up slightly then slammed you harshly on the ground. You gasp for air as you grow winded from the impact your back endured. You shake your head as the man you once knew became a stranger to you in mere seconds. You were scared as he stares down at you with a crazed look.

“No!” You scream as you push against his chest. “Ethan no, please!” You rasp out. Tears blind sight you, causing your vision to be blurry.

He smirks lifting a knife above you. “Remember this?” He asks. “My dad got a hold of your file you know. I knew the second I read about you that I wanted to get to know you.” He reached down and brushed some stray hairs away from your hot and sweaty forehead. Your chest rises and falls rapidly. “You were stabbed right here…” He lifts the hem of your shirt, tapping against the scar you received. “With a blade, three times might I add. God the picture they took looked nasty, but boy am I a sucker for recreations.” He chuckles darkly. “What’s three more times huh?” He goes to move the knife closer to your side.

You start to panic again as he moves his right arm to the side, getting ready to drive it past your first layer of skin. You cry holding your hands out, hoping that would be enough to stop him from hurting you physically. You were emotionally damaged by this point. “Ethan stop! Stop, stop! Stop!”

“This is for Richie, for your bitch of friend Sam for killing him! For ruining our lives!” He exclaims harshly at you. You wince, then immediately blurt out the one thing you have been excited to tell him, yet scared to do. Now it just made this whole situation worse.

“Ethan-“ You cry out.

“I should have killed you-“

“I’m pregnant!” You yell out. Your head thumping back against the hard floor. Your hands gravitate towards your stomach holding it protectively. Your face was scrunched with how hard you cried. It hurt, everything just hurt. Ethan's hands freeze in midair. Dumbfounded by your confession. “Stop, stop, stop. I-I’m pregnant!”

“You’re fucking lying!” He accuses you.

“I-I’m not…I’m not I promise!” You shake your head. “Please! Please I’m pregnant!” One hand remains on your stomach while your left hand tiredly falls limp to your side. You relax back onto the floor, waiting for the inevitable to come. Waiting to meet your end at the hands of the man you grew to love with your whole heart.

“Look at me,” Ethan instructs you to do. Your eyes open up slowly. The life drained from them as you stare up at him. The fight in you was gone. You didn’t wanna keep doing this anymore. “No, I–“ He shakes his head. He can’t wrap his head around it. His brows burrow in confusion. “Y-You’re lying!” He tears up.

“I promise you…” Another tear slips down your cheek. “I promise. I wanted to tell you…but everything turned to shit. I didn’t think you’d be one of them…” You sniffle. “It was a little over two weeks before we attended the Halloween party. You took us to your dorm.” You watch his face relax as he remembers. “I-I didn’t get my period at the time of the party when I should have…so I took a test. Three actually. All positive….” You begin to whimper as you look at the knife he’s lost his grip on. “You can go ahead and kill me if that’s what you want, I won’t be mad at you.” You offer a sad smile. “But I would’ve really liked the idea of us raising a kid together. I wanted a future you with you. I still do surprisingly.” You nod sure of yourself. “I-I won’t be mad. I’m at peace with my thoughts of you Ethan.” Ethan watched as your right hand slid down to your side this time. “M-My life rests in your hands now…”

The faint scream of the rest of the party echoed throughout the theater. He lifts his head looks around then drags you up into a sitting position with him.

“I’m gonna hide you.” He says more to himself than you as he helps you to your feet. It doesn’t take him long until he’s dragging you past the display cases. Pushing past the large screen protector sheet. You stumble over your feet trying to keep up with his pace.

“Ethan, what are you doing?” You ask him. Your head falls past your shoulder to glance behind you. You look forward again and collide into his back, you huff then feel yourself being dragged into a dark supply closet.

“Hiding you!” Ethan shuts the door behind you. The two of you are enveloped by darkness. The only light coming from the bottom of the door. Your breath hitches as a shadow moves past the door. You remain still as Ethan slowly reaches out for you. You still have your fingers looking around his own as you shift closer to each other.

You swallow your salvia down nervously as his hands shift up your arms to hold the sides of your face. Your breath shudders feeling him caress your skin slowly with his thumbs. You close your eyes as you lean into his touch. You open them back up, seeing a very faint outline of his face but the room was too dark, and turning on the light would be too risky. You had to rely on your sense of touch for now.

“Stay…” You quietly plead. “Just stay. Don’t go back out there.” You slide your hands up his arms now.

“I can’t…My dad, Quinn, they’ll know somethings up.” Ethan shakes his head even though you can’t see him do so. He leans forward and presses his head against yours. “I need you to stay in here okay? Don’t come out no matter what.”

“No–“ You begin to reject the idea.

“You need to stay.”

“No, you need to stay. Just stay.” You do your best to muffle your cries. “I have this feeling. I just feel it, okay! Once you step out the door, you won’t come back. I need you! Don’t leave me!” You breathe out harshly. “Please…” You whimper as he presses his lips to yours. You instantly move yours against his. Wanting to savor the touch of him, the feel of his skin against your fingertips, the way his hands held you with such care. You wanted it all to last, but when did anything good in your life ever truly last? The harsh reality was that it didn’t. Everything was always too good to be true. “Ethan no…” You pull away, crying out quietly. You wrap your hands around his neck, bringing his head down to touch yours.

“I’ll be back.”

“No, you won’t.” You try to control your heavy breathing.

“I will. You wanna know how I know I will.” You nod an answer. “Cause you given me something to want to stay alive for.” You feel his hands slide over your stomach. “I’m gonna be right back.” He whispers sweetly to you.

“They’re gonna kill you.” You voice your thoughts.

“Not unless I help Sam kill my dad.”

“She’ll still kill you. You stabbed Chad.” You remind him.

“Not anywhere serious. I didn’t hit any arteries or veins. He’s gonna be fine.” He brushed the thought off.

“You– You knew where to stab him?” Your voice goes quiet but sounds incredulous.

“I knew how to make you unconscious at the apartment…S’not important.” He winces, regretting opening his mouth.

“What the fuck Ethan!” You slap him over his shoulder. Your heart weighed down heavily. “God Anika…She didn’t deserve-“ You choke up, cutting yourself off. “What the fuck Ethan.”

“Nothing will fix what I’ve done okay? But I can make things right by saving them. It’s the least I can do now.” He sighs. “Just stay here. Do not come out!” He says firmly.

“If you don’t come back I’m gonna kill you…” Your empty threat makes him chuckle solemnly.

“See you in a bit okay.”

“Ethan.” Your voice trembles.

“I’ll be back. Promise.” He leans in after feeling for your cheek again with his hands and leaves a kiss on your skin sweetly. He slowly opens the door. The faint light entered through, casting a yellow highlight on his face. You catch his warm eyes for a second. He drinks in all the little details and characteristics that make you who you are. That makes him love you wholeheartedly. “I love you.” He offers a sad smile then slips past the open gap. The soft click of the door closing behind him felt like a gunshot to the chest. You just knew. You knew…he wouldn’t be coming back.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Bad Feeling

Summary: Your once again pulled in by your boyfriend and his crazed ways.

Warnings: Stalking, Established relationship, Yandere Jonathan, use of fear toxin, Handcuffs, talk of crying and being scared of him, Talk of ownership, Unprotected sex, No use of Y/n or gendered pet names.

Word count: 2.5k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the DC/Marvel characters nor do I claim to own them.

Once upon a time, there was a troubled and obsessive man named Jonathan Crane, a master in the field of fear and terror. He had an unhealthy obsession with his partner, who he believed was perfect in every way. He would watch your every move, follow you everywhere you went, and even break into your home at night just to watch you sleep.

As time passed, Jonathan's obsession with you started to consume him. He wanted to keep you all to himself, like a collector who hoards precious treasures. He would watch your every move, every expression, and every breath, trying to understand your inner thoughts and desires. As you started to notice Jonathan's strange and obsessive behavior, you became increasingly uncomfortable. You tried to talk to him about it, but he was reluctant to listen, always insisting that his actions were only out of love and protection. He would gift you with flowers every day, but they felt more like shackles, binding you to him. As you tried to communicate your discomfort and set boundaries, Jonathan became defensive and refused to listen. He believed that his actions were for the sake of their love and safety. As you became more withdrawn Jonathan's obsession grew. To him, you were a possession and the idea of losing you was unbearable. His love had turned into possessiveness, and his protective gestures had become controlling.

As Jonathan's obsession intensified, his possessive nature escalated. He would install hidden cameras in your home, monitoring your every move and conversation. He would intercept your phone and text messages, always wanting to keep track of who you were talking to or where you were going. You continued to feel trapped and suffocated by Jonathan's actions. He would become aggressive and intimidating when you tried to go out with friends or family, always insisting on being by your side. You began to fear leaving your house as you knew he would be lurking, watching, and judging every move. Late one night, as you lie restless in bed, you hear a faint knock at your balcony window. You hesitantly walk over and see Jonathan standing there, his face illuminated by the moonlight. "My dearest," he whispers, "I couldn't bear the thought of spending another night apart from you. Please, let me in." Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched Jonathan through the glass. Despite your fear and unease, a part of you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of sympathy for him. He was your lover, after all, and you had shared so many moments together. "Jonathan," you whispered back, "I'm trying to sleep. Please, just…"

Jonathan smiles softly and his eyes gleam with determination, "My love, sleep can wait when our hearts are calling out to each other. Can't you feel it? Our connection is too powerful to ignore. Let me in, and I'll prove it to you. Together, we can conquer anything." He presses his fingers against the window pane as if to reach out and touch your face. Your resolve begins to waver as Jonathan's words and gestures soften your defenses. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and you long for the comfort and security of his presence. "Alright," you whisper reluctantly, opening the window to let him in. As soon as you open the window, Jonathan steps through and takes you into a tight embrace. He holds you close, nuzzling his face into your hair. "My love, you're finally where you belong. Just let me be your protector, your guide. Let the rest of the world fade away. Just focus on us." His voice is soothing, and you find yourself being lulled into a sense of calmness, but a nagging feeling lingers in the back of your mind about the true nature of Jonathan's affection. Your emotions were mixed. You felt comfort in Jonathan's embrace, but there was also a subtle unease, an awareness that something was not quite right about this situation. But under Jonathan's spell, you found yourself relaxing into his hold, your breaths slowing down as your heart rate returned to normal.

His grip tightens around you, pulling you closer still. "Don't worry my dear, everything will be fine." He whispers softly into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. A smirk forms on his lips as he feels your body relax against him. He knows he has you now, completely under his control. He releases you slowly, giving you time to adjust before stepping back. "Now, let's get out of here and go back to my place now." You let out a shaky breath as Jonathan releases you. The words he whispers into your ear cause your heart to flutter, and a part of you wonders if you're overthinking the situation. "Go back to your place?" you echo. "But it's so late and I don't have anything packed," you say reluctantly. You feel a bit uneasy at the thought of going with Jonathan at this hour, but there's something strangely comforting about his presence. His eyes gleam with a wicked delight as he observes your hesitation. "Nonsense, my dear. We can pick up whatever you need in the morning. For tonight, all that matters is us." He extends a hand towards you, his fingers slightly curling, beckoning you to take it. "Come, let's go home." You felt a strange flutter in your stomach as Jonathan extended his hand towards you. His words were smooth and intoxicating, a part of you wanted to just give in to his every request. Hesitantly, you took his outstretched hand. You felt a slight jolt as your fingers touched his, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. The feeling was both thrilling and unsettling. Despite your reservations, you knew there was no turning back now. You were in too deep.

Once inside his apartment, Jonathan locks the door behind you. Turning to face you, he closes the distance between you with a few quick strides. His hands reach for your waist, pulling you flush against his body. You can almost hear the beating of his heart, fast and eager. "This is what you want, isn't it? To be held by someone who truly cares for you?" He asks, his voice low and seductive. Under Jonathan's spell, you found yourself melting into his embrace, your body pressed firmly against his. You couldn't deny the fact that you did want this, to be held by someone who truly cared for you. But something in the back of your mind kept whispering that this wasn't right. You tried to ignore it, to lose yourself in the moment, but the unease grew louder with each passing second. "Jonathan, I'm… I'm not sure…" you murmur, your voice was weak and unsure. Feeling your hesitation, Jonathan leans down, capturing your lips with his own in a passionate kiss. His tongue explores your mouth, tasting every inch of you. His hands roam freely over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and the swell of your breasts. He breaks the kiss only to trail soft kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Shh, don't think, just feel," he whispers huskily against your skin.

You moaned softly as Jonathan's lips met yours, the taste of his kiss sending shivers down your spine. His lips traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of fire and goosebumps in their wake. As Jonathan continued to whisper to you, your resistance seemed to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of desire and need. You felt yourself responding to his touch, to his words, unable to stop the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. As much as you wanted to maintain control, you knew you were slipping into the abyss of Jonathan's control.

Feeling your surrender, Jonathan lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you towards the bedroom. He lays you down gently on the bed, his gaze devouring every curve of your body. He strips off his shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. His eyes never leave yours as he unbuttons his pants, letting them fall to the floor along with his underwear. "I've waited so long for this moment," he confesses, his voice thick with lust. Your breath hitches as Jonathan strips down to his most exposed, his body a vision of toned muscle and desire. You feel a stirring deep within you, as Jonathan confesses his longing for this moment. But despite the overwhelming desire that's flooding your senses, there is still a part of you that feels uneasy, a nagging doubt that won't let go of you. You try to push it aside, trying to focus on the burning need for affection and love that Jonathan is giving you. Standing at the edge of the bed, Jonathan looks down at you with a predatory grin. His member stands erect, throbbing with need. He climbs onto the bed, straddling you, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your hips. His hands roam over your body, pinching and teasing your nipples until they harden. "Let me show you how much I care for you," he growls, leaning down to capture your nipple between his teeth, biting gently.

A sharp intake of breath escapes from your lips as Jonathan teases your sensitive nipples, the sensation causing a surge of pleasure to ripple through your body. You arch your back, pushing yourself further into his grasp, craving more of his touch. His bite sends a shockwave of pleasure-pain coursing through you, making your toes curl. You can't help but moan loudly, lost in the haze of desire that's consuming you. Hearing your moans, Jonathan smirks, pleased by the effect he's having on you. He continues his assault on your chest, alternating between licking, sucking, and biting your nipples until they're red and swollen. One hand trails down your body, finding the hem of your clothes. He slips his hand underneath, his fingers brushing against your inner thigh, inching higher and higher until he reaches your own excitement. "You're already so ready for me. Tell me how much you want this." His other hand moves to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp for air.

"Yes, Jonathan!" you cry out, your body trembling with need as his fingers dance across your sensitive flesh. The combination of his touch and the pressure on your throat sends you spiraling, your head spinning with a dizzying mix of pleasure and submission. "Please, I want you so badly. I need you inside me." Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of his touch, desperate for the release that only he can provide. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you surrender completely to his control, your very existence narrowing down to nothing more than a vessel for his desires. You know this is wrong, but you can't bring yourself to care anymore. All that matters is satisfying the hunger that Jonathan has ignited within you. With a satisfied smirk, Jonathan removes his hand from your throat, allowing you to breathe more easily. His fingers continue their exploration of your body, dipping lower to tease at your entrance before sliding back up to touch more. He watches your reactions closely, taking pleasure in your cries and moans. "You're such a good pet, always wanting more," he purrs, his voice dripping with lust.

With a swift movement, Jonathan produces a small vial from his pocket. It's filled with a clear liquid - the infamous fear toxin he uses in his experiments. He uncorks it, bringing it close to your nose. The scent is potent, making your head spin even more. Without warning, he pours some of the liquid onto his finger, rubbing it onto your nipples, enhancing the sensitivity even further. Then, without another word, he takes hold of your wrists, securing them above your head with a pair of handcuffs. He wants you helpless, vulnerable, and entirely at his mercy. Your eyes widen in shock and fear as you realize what Jonathan has done. The fear toxin begins to take effect, amplifying all your emotions and sensations tenfold. Your nipples feel like they're on fire, the slightest brush against them sending jolts of painful pleasure straight to your growing arousal. And now, with your wrists cuffed above your head, you're completely at Jonathan's mercy, unable to escape his twisted games. Panic starts to set in, but it's quickly overshadowed by an overwhelming urge to please him, to do anything he says. You whimper, tears streaming down your face, torn between the terror of being trapped and the sickening realization that you crave his touch more than ever.

Satisfied with your reaction, Jonathan leans down, his hot breath fanning over your flushed skin. "That's it, my dear, let it all out. Show me how much you enjoy this," he whispers, his voice laced with both cruelty and pleasure. He lowers himself between your legs, his member throbbing with anticipation. With a single thrust, he enters you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, the perfect blend of pain and pleasure. You scream out in ecstasy, your entire body shaking from the force of it. The feeling of Jonathan entering you is indescribable, a perfect storm of pain and pleasure that leaves you writhing beneath him. Each thrust is deeper, harder, and more intense than the last. The fear toxin amplifies everything, turning each touch into agony and bliss, driving you closer to the edge with every passing second. You scream louder, your voice raw from the intensity of your pleasure, your body convulsing under Jonathan's relentless assault.

Driven by your screams, Jonathan picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more erratic and powerful. He leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, silencing your cries momentarily. His free hand travels down your body, exploring every curve and crevice, igniting new sensations wherever he touches. He pulls back from the kiss, his breath ragged against your ear. "Tell me who you belong to," he demands, his voice a low growl. "I… I'm yours, Jonathan," you manage to choke out between sobs and moans, your mind hazy with the overwhelming sensations. "Only yours." The words taste bitter on your tongue, but you know they're true. In this moment, you belong to him completely, your body and soul his to command. As the fear toxin courses through your veins, you find yourself craving his dominance, needing it like air as your fear creeps in that he'll leave you. You surrender to him fully, your cries of pleasure echoing through the room as he claims you as his own. "Please."

Jonathan's eyes gleam with triumph at your submission. He pounds into you mercilessly, each thrust hitting a spot deep inside that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. "That's right, give yourself to me completely," he snarls, his grip on your hips tightening. "You're mine, and I'll use you however I want." With a final, brutal thrust, Jonathan reaches his climax, filling you with his seed. He collapses on top of you, his weight crushing, but you welcome it, craving the physical proof of his possession. As the waves of pleasure slowly recede, Jonathan rolls off you and leans down, kissing you softly, almost tenderly. "Good pet," he murmurs, stroking your hair. "You did so well today." leaving you spent and shaking on the bed. He gazes down at you with a mix of satisfaction and something darker, more primal. "Rest now, pet. We have much more fun ahead of us."

[storywriter007]

Hi!! I’m currently experiencing a lot of I’m I’m currently suffering from tailbone and lower back pain due to an injury I suffered last summer, so any sort of pain comfort with any HoO boys (Jason, Leo, Percy, Frank or even Nico if you write for him), would be very much appreciated! Please make it extra fluffy!! Thank you!!💙

You're Okay - Leo Valdez x Fem!Reader

author's note: thank you for the request! and i'm so sorry you have to deal with all of that pain, i hope you feel better fast :) i hope you guys like ittttt

author's note 2: you guys are killing me with all this fluff

warnings: blood, wounds, intense kissing,

genre: fluff

word count: 1.1k

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y/n stared at the cut on her back through the mirror. it was large, it was bleeding, and it was just plain awful. she winced in pain as she held her shirt up with one of her hands.

she grabbed a towel and drowned it in isopropyl alcohol. she pressed the towel to her scar and tears welled in her eyes at the burning sensation.

"i'm gonna be okay. i'm gonna be okay. i'm gonna be okay." she whispered.

she moved the towel to the next part of the scar. tears fell from her eyes as she bit her lip.

"i'm alright, i'm alright, i'm alright." she wept to herself in the dull silence of the infirmary.

y/n had always been independent, being a demi-god, it's not like you're given much of a choice. but dear god, did she wish she had someone. someone who would give her crazed mind peace. someone who cared about her heart just as much as her body. someone who would tell her that it was all going to be okay.

she recalled walking by percy and annabeth in the infirmary a few days ago. she knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help but watch as percy gently dressed the cut on annabeth's arm. as he wrapped his arms around her waist. as he told her everything was going to be alright. she couldn't help it when her face distorted with jealousy. when she went to her room, and profusely apologized to aphrodite for whatever grave mistakes she'd committed. when she begged the goddess for love. when she'd put down her pride in exchange for love.

"someone in here?" a voice asked, pulling y/n out of her trance. "oh my gods, y/n!"

she didn't even turn around, she knew who it was anyways.

"i'm fine leo." she breathed out, looking at the blood-covered cloth. "i'm fine."

she heard shuffling behind her, and chalked it down to leo awkwardly exiting.

"this is going to hurt." he warned.

"what is-ah!" she winced as he pressed another wet towel to her back.

she put the cloth she was holding in the basin.

"leo-"

"you're going to say you don't need my help." he chuckled. "and i'm gonna call you a liar."

he pressed the towel on another spot of her scar. he didn't sound like leo. he didn't sound like the guy who made a hundred jokes a day and of which ninety-nine were inappropriately timed. he didn't sound like the guy who had set the kitchen on fire a week ago. instead his voice was deep, and soft, and for some twisted reason, soothing.

"let me help you."

she silently agreed.

"how'd you get this?" he asked.

"monster." she winced.

"i'm going to take your shirt off." he said as he gently pushed y/n's shirt above her head.

he neatly folded it and put it to the side. she felt her face get hot as the cool air touched her skin. he shut the door, making the moment feel a lot more intimate. he softly pushed her hair onto her shoulder.

he pressed down the wet towel once again. she bit her lip to not make a noise.

"you're alright." he reassured.

y/n heard water run from the faucet, and a few moments later, leo pressed a warm towel to her scar. thankfully, it didn't burn. y/n felt herself relax as the warm towel touched her skin.

"is it bad?" she asked.

"no." he said softly. "it'll be better in no time."

a weight lifted off of y/n's shoulders. she felt his warm hand hold onto her shoulder as he pressed down on her wound with the cloth.

"tell me if i'm using too much pressure." he reminded.

it was kind of weird, seeing a calm, serious, concerned, leo. she was so used to him doing some weird shenanigans: whether it was reprogramming a dragon or flirting with every single female entity he could find.

after a few minutes, leo stepped away, and y/n felt cold again. he returned, drying her back. she felt his fingers graze her scar as he applied something that felt like lotion. it felt cold and she sat up a little.

"you're okay, it's just antibiotic ointment." he said calmly.

she felt his fingers once again as he applied something else. he stepped away for a moment and returned with what y/n believed to be gauze.

"okay, lean forward for me." he instructed.

he began dressing her wound with some white squares. he took away his hand, causing her upper back to be met with a cold gust of air. he instead placed it on her lower side as he continued to put gauze on her scar.

"you're doing great." he assured.

he set the gauze in place with what felt like medical tape.

"all done." he said, going to wash his hands.

y/n spun herself around.

"thank you." she said softly.

"anytime." he smiled.

but it wasn't a devilish grin or a mischievous smirk. it was a "you're-going-to-be-okay" smile.

"were you crying?" he asked, looking at her face.

oh my gods, he could see her face.

"what? no. i was-"

"it's okay y/n." he chuckled, coming closer to her.

he cupped her face with his calloused hands as he wiped away the tear stains with his thumbs.

"you're okay."

she couldn't help but smile. for the first time in a decade, she actually felt okay. nevermind the fact that she had a huge cut on her back or that she was headed for the worst war of her life. for once, she just felt alright. they locked eyes as their faces moved towards each-others. y/n felt their lips lock as leo's warm hands moved to her waist, pulling her close to him. one of her hands held leo's face as the other explored his curly hair. leo closed the gap between them as they kissed intensely, his hands driving her foward as she pulled him closer to her. after what felt like a while, the two finally pulled away, breathing heavily.

"lights out! if you're not in bed right now-" coach hedge's voice echoed through the ship.

y/n turned around as leo pretended to clean equipment.

he burst through the infirmary.

"what are you two doing?" he asked, holding his golf club.

"cleanin' up, hedge." leo answered.

"cleanin' up?" he asked, walking in. "where's your shirt missy?"

y/n pointed to the cut on her back.

"hm." he said. "you cupcakes better be in bed in ten minutes!"

"goodnight hedge." leo waved as hedge stormed out.

they waited until they couldn't hear his footsteps before bursting out into laughter.

"i'll see you in ten minutes." y/n smiled, sliding off the examination table.

"yeah sure," leo said, following. "wait what?"

"y'know what i mean." she said, playfully hitting his arm as she put her t-shirt back on.