#march put me in a choke-hold

[coeurify]

ok but what do you think about making a sex tape with ellie 🧍‍♀️

an: this has been reworked over and over since this request came in in march… so enjoy! its very lovey dovey and sm plot sorry :3

warnings: 18+. filming. jackson!ellie. fingering and oral!r receiving. mostly lovey but some teasing and rough language :3 ellie is obsessed and lovesick and so is reader soooo they make a sex tape. unedited gimme time.

When Ellie first brought up the idea, you had recoiled into her old beat up couch, scoffing as she waved the old camcorder around, a shiteating grin on her face.

“I doubt that thing even works El,” you shrugged your shoulders under the blanket you had stolen off her bed. It wasn't unusual for you to hole up in her small homey garage while she was on patrol.. but what *was* odd was her little.. Souvenir from this particular trip.

“C’mon babe,” Ellie pouted, “Let me try on you..” she wiggled the little camcorder, slipping her hand into the attached grip, flipping open the small screen. Despite your complaints that there was no way it worked, Ellie just could never be wrong. Of course she knew you would fight back, and so she had made sure she fished some batteries too. Of course they came from Maria, the cost three days of stable duty.. But it was worth it for the immune woman, who ducked her nose down and watched the screen flicker to a slow start.

The quality was no better than that of what you could expect from a decades old camera, the film grainy and muffled, each corner covered by symbols Ellie didn’t really understand. But it was no roadblock in the trek of her wants. She smiled when your hands immediately came to slap over your face, voice serious behind your palms as you spoke, “put that down.”

Eventually however, you got a little used to Ellie’s newest fixation. The little hums she made were always a dead give away that she was filming you. During a video game tournament against Dina and Jesse, squished so closely to the two on the floor of the garage that you literally bruised the taller man during a particularly aggressive round of a fighting game. When you were trying your best to compete against your girlfriend’s art skills, tongue poking out the corner of your lips as you worked on a very detailed stick figure that dawned pointed down eyebrows, a large frown and red pencil hair. Even just when you were organizing Ellie’s closet for her, sorting through the tens of sweatshirts with a judging pout on your lips at the mess.

Each time you heard the distinctive sound of El’s attempt at holding back laughs, a small little choked up ‘hmm’ sound. You usually turned your head, quick to flip off your girlfriend-turned-filmmaker. But by the fifth time of catching her smiling behind the little object, you just let her. Whenever you could see her a little less tense, you took it.

Even if that meant starring in all of her little five second shitty clips. Her excuse always, “Just something to look at when I miss you.”

In some ways it made you feel weak legged, slightly lovesick by the thought of Ellie loving you so dearly she just had to steal little memories of you. Every small grin that broke onto freckled cheeks wherever she filmed coaxed you into the haze built up by her new hobby. You became so covered in adoration soon that you resorted to tiny only half mad eye roll when the click of the camera sounded.

Small clips turned into Ellie’s free hand wrapping around your bare waist as you looked in the mirror of her bathroom, the camcorder pressed near your cheek, the auburnette on the other side. You wiped the condensation from the glass, the room still slightly foggy from your shower. “You are not filming me out of the shower,” you huffed. Ellie didn’t answer, the familiar sounding hum stopped only when she pressed a kiss to the base of your neck, lips pulling up into a smile against the skin. “Won’t point too low..” she promised. “You just look so pretty..”

That time, the camera had been closed and discarded on a random bedside table as the two of you stumbled across her floor, giggling as Ellie cursed, stubbing her toe on the corner of the bed she tried to press you down into.

It continued like that, the limits of what you allowed Ellie to film seemed to blur further with every day.. Every curl of her fingers around the object that had become so central to this small haven of her home. Your own neck hot for reasons very different from embarrassment each time the filming light blinked a little too long. The line that you and Ellie had drawn in the sand of your mind was looking a lot less precise with every new memory saved into the device.

Even further along into the passing weeks, you had settled comfortably into yet another night spent at Ellie’s. Your own bedroom had remained untouched for nearly a week this time, bed spread likely just as cold as the air outside. But the garage was warm. The air inside thick as you pressed two fingers against your lips to keep a laugh from spilling out. Glasses of half empty wine, stolen from Tommy and Maria’s cupboard, balanced on the table that sat directly in front of the couch you were cuddled into.

The feeling of wine drunkenness always made you giggly, but your girlfriend parading around her small living space with her camcorder, well, that made you even more prone to bursts of laughs. She had gone from filming and rambling on about what wine you were drinking to zooming into your face, chuckling with breath that smelt like red wine. “See how pretty?” Ellie gaped to no one, stepping closer to you on the couch. The whole garage was painted a light orange from the setting sun outside, but it didn’t stop Ellie.

“El, you’re being a dork,” you chide, shaking your head as more compliments spilt from her. She shoos off the bitten remark with a sound that boarders on a coo, leaning over you as the lens of the camcorder sat close enough to pick up the smaller details of your face the grainy film usually could not.

“I’m just showin’ how perfect you are..” Ellie explains, a softer tone edging into her lungs as she presses her thumb to your cheek, drawing a new heat under the digit. “Perfect cheeks…” her finger traces over your jawline next, and then your chin. Each new landmark of your face that Ellie doted on swept closer and closer to your soft lips. You were no idiot, you saw how the green of her eyes fell to the fat, watched as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and then out again. You made no move to stop what came next.

That next move was your girlfriend’s finger following like a moth to a flame to the one spot that teetered on that blurry line again, thumb pressing softly around the curve of your lips.

“Perfect lips,” Ellie continued, eyes flicking back and forth from the camera screen to you. Soon the pad of her finger is right against your bottom lip, and the room seems to slow.

The both of you hold bated breaths as you mull over your options. But this mulling is no longer than a few seconds, feeling overwriting the more logical side of your brain with a gushy type of tightness in your chest.

Your lips part, eyes meeting the lense as you suck the tip of Ellie’s thumb into your mouth. Lips wrap around the soft skin, salty and cold, and Ellie has little to say other than a slow and breathy, “Fuck..”

Your tongue peaks out just for a moment, lavishing over the wet skin, but Ellie is quick to pull away, leaving your shining lips parted in confusion. The camera falls to her side as her free fingers wrap around your wrist. Just like last time, the little red light twists away from your face. Ellie’s toes step backwards from that oh so mysterious line you two made.

“You know what you do to me, hm?” Ellie questioned as she hauled you up by your arm, a sharp giggle following as she stomped to the bed. The camera is discarded on the table near her pillows as you are thrown back on it.

“No,” you tease, your next giggle cut off by a thump noise that was Ellie pushing you back against grey sheets, you make a sound that almost sounds like “oof” as you try to readjust. Ellie clambers on top of your squirming frame as another sputtered laugh escapes at the messy, and not very seductive, way you two found contact against the creaking mattress.

“Tell me,” you prompt, meeting Ellie’s narrowed green eyes. “Why should I? You’re laughin’ at me.”

Your eyes roll as Ellie’s lips fall into a pout that you want to kiss clean off. “Stop being a baby,” you mutter before letting your impulse win, your hands cupping the freckles cheeks of your girlfriend and pulling her down for a soft kiss. Her pouted lips quickly shape to your own, and you sigh in approval as the hand not holding herself up traces down to your waist.

“I’m not a baby,” your girlfriend complains when your lips part from each other, and you nearly pinch her cheeks from just how lovely you find the whiny drawl in her voice, instead you just shrug, biting back another half bubbled up laugh, “mhm, prove it.”

Ellie does just that. One tug on your hips has you flatter against the bed, one poke at your side has a squeal leaving your mouth. You see how Ellie’s lips quirk up, but before you can admire the sight, she kisses you again.

“So,” Ellie punctuates the word with a kiss, the sort that makes a loud and annoying smacking noise, before trailing her lips to your cheek. “Fuckin” Ellie’s lips find home on your jawline next, and act that has a simmering heat grow between your legs. “Perfect.” Ellie finishes the repeat of what her fingers had done earlier by nudging your head back, lips pressing softer kisses to the flesh of your neck.

Your eyes flicked to the side table, pupils finding the little camcorder as the auburn haired girl bit at your neck, your attention pulled away as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. “El,” you breathe out, a hand finding her messy hair, nails scraping at her scalp as she bit harsher at the column of your throat. You aren’t sure why her name had been your first thought to say after seeing the camcorder, swallowing as your fingers itched to reach toward the side table.

“Hm? Tell me,” Ellie taunts, words muffled as her next target becomes your collarbone. Your own words biting at you again as your eyebrows furrowed together, watching as your girlfriend’s fingertips find the edge of your shirt, pushing it up as your hand falls from her hair to help take it off.

You pull her back for another kiss before you can even think to answer her question, one you weren’t even sure you could explain. Ellie’s needy fingers come into contact with the fat of your tits, tweaking at the perked nipples, nails pressing in just a little too hard, earning a mewl directly against the spit slick kiss. As Ellie kissed you, you tried your best to focus on the feeling, and not how you were acutely aware of the camera beside you.

Her tongue swiped at your bottom lip, warm against your parting lips as she searched to deepen the kiss, messy sounds of half breaths and kissing all sounded through the small area, your hips rolling up as her knee slotted itself between your trembling thighs.

You can’t help but wonder what this may look like on camera, and as Ellie pulls back, you notice the green of her eyes had dimmed, pupils blown as the pretty eyelashes fanned lightly. The freckles splattered over the apples of her cheeks were particularly prominent tonight, and you suspected it had something to do with the blood that rushed there, rosy and all around causing that same lovesick feeling to creep up your weakened bones.

You wonder if she would look as pretty on that grainy screen too.

Before your mind can even form another thought, Ellie is pulling away from your lips, a small whine the response she received. You can’t complain for long as she moves down, wet lips trailing sloppy kisses to your soft stomach, planting the ember of a growing fire in your groin, causing your hand to flex. Your eyes are pulled by an invisible string to the side of you again, the black material of the camcorder your gaze’s target. Ellie grumbles in response, and a small pinch on your hip has you yelping.

“What’re you looking at? Look at me.”

“Ellie,” you try again, lip quivering nervously as she ushers you to lift your hips, tugging off the bottoms you wore. “Fuckkkk,” she drawls, lost in her own little world as a large hand presses your thighs open. “You see that?” she marvels, a finger pressing against the wet spot on your panties. When she presses, you can feel the fabric stick to you, nearing translucent as she teases, your lips hugging the now soaked panties. It has your hips stirring in their spot, the flame in your stomach burning your liquid feeling stomach. “Ellie,” you sigh again.

Finally her gaze looks up, “Yea?” she asks, her voice softening. You can see the flash of confusion, her hand falling from your thigh as she searched for any apprehension. “You ok?”

“I can’t—“ your voice comes out whinier than you would like to admit, harsh against your ears with a feeling of embarrassment. “Can’t say it,” you finish, eyes moving to the camera sitting on the small wooden table beside you for the umpteenth time.

Ellie follows your eyes, and when you look back to her, there’s a flash of surprise in the shade of green you loved so much. It was replaced quickly, her eyelids drooping as her chin tilted up. “Hm. Don’t know what you mean,” she shrugs, fingers going back to teasing your panty line.

Her tone is laced with sarcasm, the teasing tilt to it is a voice you had heard many times before, many times in this exact position. Ellie liked to make you say things, liked to watch you squirm. You were convinced at this point she got off on your embarrassment, and she probably wouldn’t even deny that.

“Gonna have to spell it out for me, babe,” Ellie added, dipping down to place soft kisses at your hip-bone, pink muscle licking over a mark there.

A low and annoyed sound escapes your throat, and your girlfriend chuckles against your flesh, one finger curling around the fabric of your panties, tugging it down a little ungracefully, your shaking thighs to thank for that.

“Barely even touched you yet and you’re shakin,” Ellie teases again, whispering softly, “Such a pretty pussy..” as the sight of your weepy folds meet her eyes. “This all for me, baby? Or somethin’ else on your mind?”

Your eyes squeeze shut again, hoping to rid your mind of the film reel like thoughts of the camera pressed in Ellie’s hand as she did this. They played over and over behind the black of your eyes, and another frustrated sound fills the garage.

“Not gonna answer?” Ellie was quieter now, repositioning herself, parting your thighs even more. A finger ghosted over your dripping cunt, a hum following the action. “Can’t make you feel better if you don’t use your words, y’know?”

The warm air hit your folds as Ellie exposed you more, thighs burning from the stretch, from the tight grip of one of her hands, fingers digging into and squeezing the fatty flesh.

The blanket beneath your bare ass is no comfort as you move around, and Ellie’s nose bumps against the softness of your thigh. So close, so fucking close to giving exactly what you were searching for, so close to your aching center that your resolve cracks lightly, head tilted back and against the pillow.

“The camera,” you croak, your mouth dry as your lips part, refusing to look at the other girl.

“What about the camera? Look at me and tell me what you want.”

The crease between your eyebrows likely was gaining small droplets of sweat just from how hard you were attempting to avoid this entire fucking conversation, but Ellie kept pressing you further, and who were you to deny her?

“Wanna film this,” you eventually admit, head dipping down to meet her darkened eyes.

“Yea baby? Wanna see what a mess I can make you?” Ellie’s words start to blur together, the idea surely muddling any coherent thoughts together in her mind, licking her lips as she awaits your response.

“Fuck— mmph, yes El. Please.*”

Ellie’s lips curl into a smile that’s more wicked than loving, “Red button starts it, you can hold it.” She instructed, and you scramble to reach your arm out, grasping at the little hand strap connected to the camcorder.

“There you go babe,” she nods, “give it a go, let me see what you’ve got.”

Your fingers are shaking so badly it takes a moment for your thumb to hit the button, to see the soft little red light noting the start of the film.

The grainy screen doesn’t pick up on all the freckles adorning Ellie’s face. The ones that made you feel all gooey, that you wanted to kiss until her face was a pretty shade of red. But it did capture her parted lips, the expanse of your thighs, and your shaky grip tilted the camera down as Ellie’s head dipped between your thighs.

Her mouth latched to your achy cunt, tongue licking up the drops of arousal that covered your slit, pearling on the petal like lips that she spreads with her fingers.

Your arms almost immediately gave out.

Clearly, you were not as skilled in the art of film making as Ellie had been, the camera dropping almost completely to your tummy as Ellie sucked at your cunt. Her eyes flicked up, and she unlatched from the saccharine slick that pooled on her tongue.

“You keep that camera steady,” she muttered, thumb rubbing tiny, tight circles on your throbbing clit. “Or I stop, yea?”

You nod quickly, hips grinding into the slow and steady motion of her thumb, wet with your sticky . You would have agreed to anything she demanded of you right now anyway. Too needy, too desperate to feel her lips on you again.

“ ‘M counting on you to make a pretty movie for me.”

The sentence tapers off as she disappears to the space between your thighs again, and you nearly and truly sob as her nose bumps your clit, her tongue poking experimentally against your hole, feeling as it clenches against nothing.

You know your whimpers and quick little puffs of air are being picked up by the camera, but you’re too focused on keeping the lense directly focused on the auburn tendrils of hair, on where her face was covered by your thighs caging her cheeks in, keeping her in the place she most needed to be, drinking down every single single drop you gave her.

“Ellie,” you whine, toes curling when she presses away from your clit, two long fingers coming to part your folds, admiring the sticky sight.

“Shhh,” Ellie coos, eyes glancing up at the camera again, the burning sight of her fern colored gaze through the tiny screen has your stomach clenching even harsher, hands trembling lightly.

The air on your exposed center lasts no longer than a few seconds, Ellie’s head dipping down as the warm, wet feeling of a glob of her spit trails down your clit, finding your pulsing hole. Her tongue swipes it quickly after, suckling gently at the shiny bubbles. The sound that follows, the loud wet squelch of your wetness mixing with her spit is enough to make you want to cover the speaker of the camcorder, fingers gripping tightly at the little contraption. She focuses on licking at your sopping cunt, her head moving slightly, moaning against your folds.

“Oh—nnh—El!” you cry, your chin trembling in tandem with the hand you try desperately to keep still. Your hips rut up, and Ellie’s face moves up with you, an arm detaching from its place on your squishy thigh to instead wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. Impossibly closer.

You can feel yourself closer, closer to that delicious peak, Ellie’s nose bumping your clit, tongue working mind numbing ministrations on you.

Then she pulls back.

“Fuckin made for me,” Ellie groans, taking a deep breath as she unlatched from your pussy, her fingers sweeping through your puffy lips. “Was fuckin’ made to let me taste you.” Her eyes flick to the camera, her tone louder than usual— a little less breathy. She wanted the microphone to hear.

You cry pathetically at the loss of her tongue, lip quivering.

“Tell me,” she demands, voice overpowering the slick noises of her now shiny fingers rubbing between your folds, the tips pausing at your pulsing hole, dipping only a little in, teasing. “Tell me this pretty pussy was made for me.”

And then Ellie is reaching forward, letting go of her grip on your hips to grab harshly at the camera, maneuvering it to show your trembling body, her fingers pressing open your lips, giving the camera a pretty close up of your soaked cunt. She croons at the sight, her fingers pressing together to land a short and sharp slap against the swollen lips. “S’pretty.”

“Ellie,” you choke, chest heaving up and down as the embarrassment creeps up, making that coil in your tummy even tighter.

“Tell me,” she says again, smoothly.

Desperate to have her fingers opening you up, to have her filling you and breaking that tightly wrapped tension in your groin, you break.

“I’m yours el. ‘m all yours, was made for you,” your voice is restrained, quiet as you chew at your lips, stirring in your spot as she continues the teasing.

“What else? Tell me more, baby,” she insists, one long finger sinking into you, hissing at the feeling of your cunt molding to her, perfect for her as you clench.

“A—ah!” your voice is a sweet little cry. You grind down into the feeling, searching for more. “It’s yours El,” you babble— louder now, head thrown back. Ellie captured the moment with a quick tilt up of the camera. “M-my pussy s’all yours.”

“Fuck,” Ellie breathes, her own, usually steady camera hand, wavering as you speak. She grants you with another finger as she thrusts harshly into you, a shriek pulled from your open mouth.

“So—s-so fucking perfect,” she grunts, curling her fingers gently, hitting that squishy spot in your walls that has you keening, eyes rolling back. “Love this pussy so much, shit—shit, love you so much.”

“Love you too El,” you blubber, your chin tilting down to stare directly at the camera for a second. That awkwardness, the fear from the early days of when she’d film you completely gone as you moan pathetically, eyes shiny with complete and utter adoration.

She only pistons her fingers into you harder, faster, relishing in how you moan, how your toes curl and your chin wobbles. You’re the prettiest fucking thing she’s ever seen.

The camera points down to where she’s thrusting into you, watching through the screen as you meet her thrusts, your hips moving against the grey sheets, your thighs squeezing her hand in between them as you sob out.

Ellie meets your eyes, stealing your attention from the camera she keeps focused on your squirming frame, pounding her fingers into your cunt. “Cum for me, you can do it baby, go on. Give me a pretty show.”

And you do. Your sweaty back lifts off the bed with a sharp sob as the cord in your tummy snaps, gushing around Ellie’s fingers, pulsing around her as she thrusts shallowly, riding you through it.

Your vision goes black for a second as you heave, hands shaking as you reach out for Ellie, fingers looking to curl around her warm skin.

You don’t even notice the off click of the camera, of how she lets it softly drop to the side as she climbs up your shaky form, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“So pretty,” Ellie hums, “Prettiest movie star ever,” she mumbled, and you pour your lips— getting another soft kiss as she continues to plant tiny loving pecks around your face.

“Never should’ve let you keep that camera,” you whisper gently, smiling right when she does against the corner of your mouth that she pecks at.

“Yea fuckin’ right, we just made the movie of the year babe.”

[vivwritesfics]

Mafia Lando smut request where Lando get jealous and takes out his fustrations out on the reader

I've changed this one up a loooot nc i don't like the frustrations being taken out

More requests I beg

Warnings: smut, p in v, they're cute I swear

"Yeah, and the bullet went right through!"

Ever since her engagement to Lando Norris was announced, she'd been allowed to finally have fun. An arranged marriage sucked, but an arranged marriage between two people that had secretly been together for years didn't suck.

Lando sipped his drink. He himself was meant to be talking business for his father, but he was watching her, watching as she told the story of the time she got shot.

"I bet you've got a wicked scar," George Russell replied.

She held up a finger and passed him her drink. Lando watched, the horror not quite written on his face, as she hitched up her skirt to reveal a pretty grim scar.

Lando damn near choked on his drink. Any higher and her underwear would have been on show.

He didn't mean to march over to her, didn't mean to grab her skirts and lower them over her legs. "Hi, baby," he said, pulling her into his arms.

To anybody else, it looked like a sweet moment between a couple in love. But Lando leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Showing off my scar," she said almost innocently. But the smile playing on her lips revealed that she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Showing your scar off to George?"

She nodded and slipped her hands into his, gently swaying their bodies to the music. "I should take you home," he mused.

"What would you do with me at home?"

His answer was to take her hand and lead her through the hall. Fuck big fancy events.

Lando got her into the car. But, the minute he began driving away, she was slipping off her underwear down her legs and placing it in Landos lap.

"You little shit," he said as he pulled over.

It was late. The roads were quiet; there was no chance of anybody seeing them as Lando pulled her into his lap. He put his seat right back, giving them more room.

His hands gripped her ass. "You gotta stop showing off your scar, baby," he mumbled as he pulled her down onto him. "I don't like George seeing what's mine."

She pulled away from him, eyebrows raised. "What's yours?" She questioned, and Lando's cheeks flushed. "Try that again, Norris."

He gripped her tighter. "I don't like George looking at my girl."

"Better." She leaned down and kissed him.

Getting inside of her was easy work. Lando freed himself from his trousers and bunched up her skirts. Her hands were on his shoulders as she held herself up, allowing Lando to slip inside.

Content, she let out a sigh. "Think we'd crash if we drove home like this?" She asked, laying her head against his chest.

He gave an experimental thrust and she cried out, the noise involuntary. "You really wanna drive home like this?"

She wriggled slightly, and Lando gripped her, holding her still. "Well, think about it." When he thrust his hips towards her own, her words came out a stuttered mess. "If George saw us driving home like this, he'd never ask to see my scar again."

Any other words died in her throat as Lando began to move his hips, to well and truly fuck her. "Shit," she gasped, eyes squeezing shut and teeth meeting his shoulder. She didn't bite down, not hard enough to be considered a bite, anyway.

"'m hoping somebody does drive past," he said, lips meeting her neck, words muffled against her skin. "None of them would try flirting with you again."

She laughed, but her laugh was lost. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly what put her on the edge. "Jealous, Norris?" It was such a struggle to get the words out, but a miracle that she'd managed it.

"Not... jealous," he answered through grunts. "Just... don't like my girl... being looked at... like... a piece... of... meat."

It had her tumbling over the edge, had Lando stilling inside of her. He kissed her head almost sweetly as the two of them laid against each other, attempting to catch their breaths.

"If you pull out you're gonna ruin my skirt," she mumbled, eyes shut, hand against his chest to feel his erratic heartbeat.

That was fine, they could sit there for a few minutes. Lando didn't mind holding her, but his clothes were sticking to his skin in the most uncomfortable way. "We gotta head home," he said, lips against her hair. "Get in the shower and stuff."

A groan left her own lips as she was lifted up. He slipped out and she climbed back in her seat. "Don't get anything on the leather," he mumbled, tucking himself back into his trousers.

Tucking her skirt under her ass, she made herself comfortable as Lando began driving home, his hand on her knee.

[tojisun]

im giggling thinkin about biker!simon finding out you haven’t ever ridden a bike before and so the first thing he does is tell you to stay put before hopping on his harley and driving away.

you stand there, blinking, still reeling over what happened. you’re quite confused if your date really just left you, before giving up on worrying as you hold onto the hopes that he’d come back. he did say he will but how many of your dates and ex-partners fooled you because, apparently, you’re too “gullible” and it’s just too “funny”?

too fucking many times, that’s what.

you amble towards an empty bench while you wait, fluffing up your skirt and dusting your sweater before fixing your hair. you itch to message your friends, anxious thoughts buzzing underneath your veins, but simon had always been such a gentleman with you. always so caring and pampering. always so honest with his affections. he isn’t like anyone you’ve ever been and so you want to trust him.

and you do. god, you do. because you trust him with your safety. with your heart.

time crawls by but the agonizing drag does end. you didn’t have to wait long, you realize with a giddy heart, as you see simon driving back. his head whips around the park, trying to find you, and you giggle as you stand up, waving your hand above your head to catch his attention.

his helmeted head snaps towards your direction and you smile as the purr of his engine becomes louder, his bike devouring the space between the two of you eagerly.

“hey, sweetheart,” he says as he snaps his visor up, his beautiful eyes crinkled as he smiles at you.

the butterflies in your stomach roar, and you almost choke on the intensity of your happiness as you whisper back, “hey there, big guy.”

simon preens like he loves the nickname and you sear his reaction to your memory, already anticipating the next opportunity where you get to call him that again.

“i‘ve got somethin’ for you,” simon announces before twisting towards the other side of his harley, reaching for something that you couldn’t see. you tilt your head, trying to act cool as you wait.

simon turns back to you with a shy smile tickling his lips, and your eyes instantly flicks towards his hands where he cradled a cute little purple helmet – one of the many things you didn’t expect him to return with.

“is that a bicycle helmet?” you blurt out.

“yeah,” he laughs, a pretty sound. “this is all they have.”

“‘they’?” you finally move close to him as you ask this, taking tentative steps on the gravel.

“the closest bike rental,” simon replies, sounding embarrassed. “you said y’ve never been on a bike and, well, this is a safe environment so i thought, ‘why not?’”

you breathe in sharply, his words curling along the crevices of your heart. “lemme get this straight,” you begin, swallowing the lump in your throat. “you heard me say i’ve never been on a bike before so your first reaction was to drive away to find a closest bike rental so you can get me a helmet because you want to give me a safe bike ride?”

“…yeah,” he whispers, hesitant. “i mean, if you don’t want to then that’s oka- are you crying?”

“shut up,” you whimper, hiding your face behind your palms.

you hear him curse, the engine of his bike shutting off, before hearing the way his feet drop on the gravel and march towards you. in a heartbeat, you are pulled in his embrace, with your face pressed on his chest, and you eagerly breathe in the scent of leather and ozone that is stuck on him. he pats your head softly, his palm dragging along your hair as he continues to comfort you.

you sniffle, unable to stop the tears because what the actual fuck.

you have never felt so loved. so adored. so revered.

you chew on your confession, your heart and mind syncing up for once. simon, i-

(later, when you’ve finally calmed down, you will let out a wet giggle and apologize for dampening the mood. simon will just smile at your adorable, tear-swollen face and tell you that you have nothing to apologize for. then, he’ll kiss your forehead before securing your helmet on your head. he’ll tighten the strap around your chin, gently knock on the shell, then pull you onto his bike. you two will spend the rest of the afternoon just making slow and gentle donuts around the park, laughing and chatting.

and then, gritting through the choking staccato of your heartbeat, you will tell simon that you want more than a flurry of dates. that you want something more official. then, you will tell him you love him and simon will buckle before you because,

“me too, sweet girl. i’m so in love with you too.”)

-

(ext.01) (ext.02) (ext.03)

[cursingtoji]

a friday night for most mid twenties should be more exciting than yours, but you wouldn’t exchange yours for the world, not when you could order your favourite meal for dinner then cuddle with nanami watching a reality show he swears he doesn’t like but doesn’t miss an episode either.

“what a bitch” he gasps when it’s revealed the guy’s fiancé had a secret boyfriend, you hold back your laughter from his exaggerated reaction. his hand is on your back, rubbing it and playing with the elastic of your shorts without any malice while you lay on his chest.

after the episode ends he kisses your temple and gently rolls you over to remove himself from the couch.

“don’t go to bed too late” he says moving to the bedroom.

“yeah i’m going right after this one” you reply as a new show starts.

as promised, an hour later you stretch your back and turn off the tv moving to your shared suite and going straight to the bathroom.

“kento?” you call from the toilet, where you kept the door open, he hums in acknowledgement, “what time am i supposed to pick up yuuji from megumi’s?” you flush and go wash your hands and face, already beginning your skincare nightly routine.

“i’ll do it, don’t like the way fushiguro flirts with you” you look up from the sink watching him through the mirror, his reading glasses are on the tip of his nose and he licks his finger before turning the page of his book. such an old man…

“he’s just being friendly, love, besides it’s not like i flirt back” you justify.

“i know, i trust you, just don’t like him. megumi is a good kid though” you hum agreeing with your husband.

with a dot of retinol on the tip of your finger your walk barefoot to his side of the bed, leaning close to his face and gently applying the product under his eyes and where his wrinkles would be in a few years. would, since you’re trying your best to include a little bit of wrinkle prevention in your husband non-existent routine as well.

nanami doesn’t move his head, allowing you to put cream under his eyes, soft fingers tapping the skin behind his glasses, he said he trusted you but he close his eyes just out of precaution.

“i think that’s enough tapping, darling” he holds your wrist gently.

“just making sure your skin absorbs it well. in 10 years i don’t want people to think you’re my father” he watches your pretty ass march back to the sink in order to brush your teeth.

“i thought you liked calling me daddy” he resumes his reading listening to you choke, “everything alright in there?” he asks nonchalantly.

“y-yeah, just… caught me off guard with that, kento” he hears an additional ‘thankfully yuuji is not here’ and as soon as you’re done you apply some lip balm and brings it to him as well.

“no, that’s too glossy” he stops you.

“gojo uses this one too” he knows you say this with the intention of telling him it’s not too feminine but he now despised the little tube even more, “bad argument sorry” you hold his strong face and pepper his lips a couple of times to transfer the lip balm on your lips to his “there you go”

“that’s low even for you” he protests but doesn’t rub it off.

you make your way to your side of the bed, laying on your stomach with your head at the end of the bed catching your phone and scrolling through socials. your husband’s hand naturally finds the back of your thighs, rubbing the skin of your legs softly while reading.

“i scheduled my wax appointment for monday” you try to justify your cactus-like legs.

“you know i don’t mind” indeed, he keeps rubbing the back of his hand on your calf, finding comfort in the way your barely grown hairs trickle his skin, you murmur something about him being too good to you and focus back on your phone.

nanami finishes a chapter and quietly closes his book, he now pays full attention to you and the privileged view he has of your ass and the cute underwear peaking from the hem of your tiny shorts.

“darling? i think my lips could use a bit more of what’s on yours.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A storm falls like a harbinger of his return. Winds batter the siding and the windows rattle with the speckle of cold rain. The chill creeps through the walls as you ration the last few pieces of wood.  

As you quake before the fireplace, the door swings open and hits the frame, adding to the cacophony of nature’s rage. You hardly have a moment to react as his dark figure falls on you like a wraith. You flail your legs as the blanket catches on a lose tile before the crackling flames and he drags you across the floor. 

Your heels bounce futilely on the rug as the rain blows through the open door. The man once known as a hero, the man lost to the ice all those centuries ago, take you into the bedroom and flings you like a rag doll. Like a thing. 

You hit the food of the bed and land on the floor with a crash. You groan as your bones ache, not only with the impact but from the endless tension. As you writhe, he steps over you, smearing blood onto your night gown as he grabs the tinged fabric. 

He hauls you up so you stand on your toes. You smell the iron stained into his body armor. You look up at the mask that hides him. You try to imagine those blue eyes but you only see a monster. He is only the indomitable villain that plucked you out of your own life. 

He hurls you across the bed and you gasp as you land on your side. You roll onto your stomach and crawl up the mattress. He catches your ankle and tears you back as the frame dips with his weight. You rip the sheets into a wrinkle as you fight to escape him. 

This isn’t the man that left. This isn’t the docile stranger trapped in indecision. You sense in him a furor worse than that wailing outside the cabin.  

He flips you onto your back and grabs the front of the linen nightgown. He rents the fabric down the middle and exposes your body. You bat at his hands without effect as you wriggle. He pushes a knee between both of yours, splaying you wide. 

He grips your hips and hauls your closer. You squeak and reach up, clawing desperately for any escape. There’s nothing by the flat pillows and the top of the rumpled sheets. He pushes a hand up your body and stretches it around your neck. 

You still and whimper as you put your hand on his wrist. You flick the tears with your lashes and whine. Terror swells in your chest and floods through your veins like icy water. You can’t fight him. Not physically. 

“Please, don’t,” you beg as you touch his knuckles. “Please, you don’t have to--” You wheezes as his hand squeezes tighter. “You don’t have to do this. Please, please, I’m scared. I’m scared...” you croak between willowy heaves, “it hurts. Please don’t hurt me anymore.” You trail your hand up his arm, feeling the rough fabric, dirty dusting off beneath your graze, “Captain... Steve Rogers--” 

His hand nearly crushes your throat and cuts off your next plea. Your head pounds and your tears trickle out unchecked. No, no, that was wrong. You shouldn’t have said any of that. You’re just so scared. 

You close your eyes as your skull pulse and you choke for a breath, clasping onto his thick forearm as you try to ease his hold on you. His other hand pushes away the night gown so it splays around you. He shoves his hands between your legs, rough as he pokes at your folds. 

He wiggles his fingertips impatiently and rams into you without warning. You smack his bicep desperately as he jerks you with hard thrusts. You whimper and your eyes snap open as his hand slips just enough for you to gulp in a breath. 

He rips his hand away and shifts on his knees. He struggles to undo his fly, growing more impatient as the sheaths and weapons get in his way. You try not to look at him as you know what he means to do. 

All that hope, that sliver of hope that you had before, that he might be gentle, that he might be appeased, is gone. You latch onto his arm as you brace himself. You jostle on the mattress with his movement. He leans weight on your neck as he looms over you. 

He pushes his knees wider and pushes along your cunt once more. You can tell it’s him; not his fingers, but that other part of him. His blunt tip strains against you as your body tries to resist the intrusion. He grunts and bucks his hips. As he breaks through you gurgle and dig your nails into his sleeve. 

He snarls as he curls his hand around your hip and jerks again. He thrusts deeper and your eyes roll back as your body locks up in agony. He dips his hand around your neck and lifts you, bringing you into his lap as he tilts again. 

He bottoms out as he hooks his thick arm around you and cradles your head with his hand. You hang off him limply as you suck in air. Tendrils of pain entwine you and have you paralysed and prone. If you fight, it will only be worse. 

He rocks you in his lap. He growls and hangs his head down next to yours. He moves your head to the side and presses his cowl against your next. You babble and snivel each time he sinks into you.  

The storm has swept away the calm at last and you’re lost to the dark clouds.

[marvelfilth]

Off the deep end (18+)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: ghostface!Sam Carpenter x f!reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, dubcon (just to be safe), knife play, spanking, fingering, choking, degradation, mention of blood, alcohol and weed

Summary: "You're going to spread your legs for me. If you're wet, I'll do whatever I want to you. If you're not, I'll leave."

Masterlist

The floor almost vibrates with how loud the bass is, making your ears ring as you frown in search of Tara. She disappeared some time ago to look for another drink, claiming she was good enough to go on her own. You can already feel the ass whopping you're about to be put through for losing sight of her.

You bump into another drunk frat boy when you finally see her, immediately fastening your pace when you notice some asshole wrapped around her.

You already regret the amount of tequila you've drank throughout the night.

In reality, recent news of Ghostface attacks should've kept you locked at home, preferably with sharp objects by your side, but Tara practically begged you to join her at the party, claiming she needed someone to keep her company since she didn't want to third wheel Mindy and Anika, and follow Chad around while he's trying to find Ethan a girlfriend, so you quickly agreed, feeling the need to let loose after months spent panicking about the killings.

The killings that somehow always revolved around Blackmore ever since they transferred there.

You tried not to think too much into that, but soon enough Mindy deemed you trustworthy and gave you a quick, but intense dive into their story. You understood it all a bit better after that.

And installed a security system.

So yeah, you needed that drink, a couple of them, actually.

"Hey." You get her attention and pull at her hand, but she resists. "It's time to go." You say, watching the way she's blinking slowly, heavily leaning on the arm of the asshole.

"I'm fine. You can go, don't wait for me." She giggles and tugs him up the stairs.

You stop for a second to take a deep breath before following them. Her palm is sweaty in your hand when you tug her back, catching her as stumbles down the stairs.

"Y/n, what the fuck?" She groans, trying to pry away.

"Yeah, what the fuck?" The asshole pushes you against the wall, leering over you before he's sent flying down with a precise punch to his jaw.

"Sam, are you insane?" Tara shouts over the loud music and marches away with a huff when her sister sends her a seething look. You make a move to follow her, but sag back against the wall when you see Chad hot on her heels.

Your attention is pulled to the older woman when you feel gentle fingers cup your jaw. "Are you okay?" Sam asks, her eyes flickering all over your face. Your chest tightens and you fight the urge to lean into her soft palm and press kisses all over her fingertips.

You sigh, nodding. "You got here just in time."

There's a groan coming from the floor and Sam snaps her eyes back to the man, her expression darkening as she makes a move to him.

You get in her way, catching hold of her wrists before she could move any further. "Let's just go, okay? He's not worth it."

Her jaw clenches and you can clearly see the debate that's happening in her head.

"He was going to hurt Tara. He hurt you." She snarls, her eyes trained on the whimpering man.

"And you stopped him. Let's go check on Tara, okay?"

She relents, begrudgingly, and dutifully follows you outside.

The fight between the sisters is anything, but pretty.

You really don't want to stay to see the rest of it, so you wave Mindy over and tell her your uber is waiting around the corner. She looks skeptical for a second, but then there's mentions of therapy and her attention is pulled back to the fight as she mutters something about calling her when you get home safe.

You nod and quickly disappear around the corner, happy to delay the inevitable confrontation. Sam might've been worried at the party, but it doesn't mean she won't chew you out as soon as she's done with Tara. You just hope she won't be as angry tomorrow.

Luckily you live not far away, so you're not even worried, whistling some tune as you make your way home, your eyes dropping slightly from alcohol and exhaustion. Sober you would've thought it to be way too fucking dark and creepy to be walking alone down the alley to your apartment complex, but you're tipsy on tequila and tequila always makes you a little too reckless, so you throw caution to the wind and continue your way.

And then you see something out of the corner of your eye and freeze, when you realize that a man just turned to follow you down the alley. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see him pull out something shiny from his pocket.

You start moving faster, almost jogging the rest of the way and turn around before rounding the corner.

The man is gone.

You make it up the stairs in record time considering your wobbly knees, and sag against the door once you're finally safely inside.

It's nearing midnight, you note, sending Mindy a quick text before making your way to the bathroom. You are tired, but not tired enough to wake up feeling gross after a night out, so you take your time under the hot stream, washing away the smell of alcohol and weed.

And then you hear something fall in the kitchen.

You frown and step out of the shower, drying yourself in the process. You open the door and peek outside, barely breathing to make sure you don't miss anything strange.

When nothing happens again you sigh, wrapping the towel around your still wet body and go to the kitchen to investigate. If your pan fell from its hook again you'll have to ask Chad to come over and fix it for you.

You freeze when you see it swinging from side to side on the hook, clutching at your towel as you turn around to grab your phone, only to run into a solid, cloaked form.

"Hello, Y/n."

You barely register the distorted voice before you're being yanked by your hair and pushed against the counter, a knife flashing in your line of vision.

"Your parents didn't tell you not to walk alone at night? Especially when there's a serial killer on the loose." They continue, pressing the edge of the knife to your neck.

You look up at the Ghostface mask. Dread fills your chest and you shake in their hold, eyes filling with tears while you think of a possible escape, but your body goes numb and your mouth won't open, so you just stand there, gaping at the imposing figure.

"Pathetic little thing." They growl, before placing the knife against your chest and slicing your towel away.

You blink when it falls at your feet, and the sight suddenly spurs you into action.

You grab the pan from behind you and swing it hard against the intruder, but they easily avoid it, catching your arm in an ironclad grip and turning you around to press you against the cold countertop. You hiss through gritted teeth and throw your heel as hard as you can against their kneecap, sending them tumbling to the floor in a heap of black fabric.

You don't get a chance to run too far when they catch your ankle, making you fall face first on the floor. You're turned on your back before weight settles on your hips.

"Maybe not so pathetic," the voice sounds almost pleased before they pin your hands above your head.

You're suddenly all too aware of your state of undress when you feel their eyes on you. You try to squirm, but they don't budge, the Ghostface mask tilting as they look you up and down.

You grow embarrassingly red in the chest, trying to think of something, anything to distract the murderer from you, but you're not sure there's anything good enough to get their eyes off you at the moment.

"Who's blood is that?" You blurt, eyeing the knife on the floor.

They tilt their head to the other side. "Not yours."

You suck in a sharp breath, wincing at your stupidity.

"Okay…" you whimper, closing your eyes, "are you going to kill me?"

They pick up the knife and raise it over your chest before lowering to trail the blade over the skin of your breasts.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"I would've killed you by now if I wanted to," they say and release your wrists to take hold of your neck, not squeezing, just resting fingers on the tender skin of your neck.

The gesture sends shivers down your spine.

"Aren't you pretty like this?" The knife point barely grazes your nipple and you bite your lip, stifling a whimper. You push against their shoulders, digging your nails into the robe as you try to keep them away, squirming in their hold.

"Let me go, please." Your whispers turn desperate when their fingers squeeze around your throat, making it hard to breathe. "Please, I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

You nod feverishly, not trusting your voice.

They pull away, the weight on your hips completely disappears when they shift to sit to your side, trailing the blade down to your belly button.

"Then we'll play a little game." They chuckle and you open your eyes, waiting for them to continue. "You're going to spread your legs for me. If you're wet, I'll do whatever I want to you. If you're not, I'll leave."

You stop breathing altogether, suddenly hyper aware of the wetness pooling between your thighs. You shift unconsciously, edging away from the Ghostface in hopes of escaping before they inevitably notice your arousal. You're shaking, your sole focus on the person that made you tremble with a few simple touches.

You don't know what you feel more, repulsion or arousal, but then their fingers wrap around your jaw and you know you don't have time to debate your feelings.

You have to do something, and you have to do it fast.

"Don't even think about it," they growl, getting dangerously close to your face.

In a flash, they have you on their lap, legs spread on either side of their hips as they push you down hard against their thigh. You moan loudly, rocking your hips against their dark pants, leaving a trail of wetness.

"Fuck," you whimper, clawing at their shoulders, "please…"

They slap your thigh, stopping your movements with a heavy grip of your hip bone. "Please what? Please stop?"

Your head falls in the crook of their neck as you whine, desperately trying to move.

Fuck this. You'll think about the consequences tomorrow.

"Don't stop." You breath against the mask, tugging their gloved hand up to your neck.

Their fingers wrap around the back of your neck and then you're pushed down on your stomach, your legs bent at the knees and forced apart before they deliver a hard spank on your ass, making you cry out against the hardwood floor.

"Such a slut."

Another spank.

"Whoring yourself out to a stranger, a murderer."

You try to rub your thighs together, your pussy clenching when they land another slap to your reddening ass, the sound echoing through the room. Suddenly, they pull away and there's shuffling of the fabric before a pair of leather gloves lands in front of your face.

Your hips buckle in anticipation.

"Don't get too excited," they chuckle, before landing a palm against your wet center, making your whole body twitch.

You pant, reveling in the feeling of their soft fingers gently soozing the pain, gliding through your folds to settle against your slit. You hold your breath, waiting for them to finally push inside and fuck your brains out when another loud spank echoes through the room, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"You look beautiful like this, fuck," they breath out, spreading your lower lips and teasing your entrance, pulling quiet moans out of you.

Your whole body is on fire and you can feel your arousal leaking down your thigh before it's caught by a hot, wet tongue.

"Mhm," the person, a woman, hums and you realize she just threw away the mask with the voice changer in favor of tasting you.

You don't have a chance to say anything when her tongue slides up your slit, lapping at the wetness and dipping down to tease your throbbing clit with the tip of her tongue. Your knees buckle, your body shaking from pleasure. She tugs your head by your hair, pulling you up against her front when you nearly fall, her fingers gliding down your stomach to disappear inside you in one deep thrust. Your eyes squeeze shut and your head falls back against her shoulder as she sets up a fast rhythm, her other hand reaching across to play with your breasts.

"Faster-" you whine, burrowing your nose in her soft hair, clawing at her forearm.

She pulls her fingers out and lands another slap on your inner thigh in warning, and turns her head to bite down at the juncture of your neck, making sure to leave a mark.

"Open your eyes, baby, look at me," she whispers and you think you recognise the voice, but her fingers on your aching nub feel too heavenly to place it and your eyes are too heavy to listen to the command, so you whine and tug her face back to your neck, moaning when she litters it with wet kisses.

She circles your clit with her thumb so slowly and softly, barely applying pressure before diving back in and curling her fingers inside of you, making you come in two hard thrusts.

×××

"Did you get home safe yesterday?" Mindy asks, nudging you with her knee.

You look up from your book, squinting against the sun, your hand flying up to fiddle with the soft fabric of your turtleneck. "Yeah. I sent you a text, right?"

Mindy groans, falling back on the soft grass and nods, throwing her arm over her eyes. "I called you, though, but you didn't pick up. Got me worried for a second."

You wince, hiding your face behind the book. "Sorry. Fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow."

You don't mention the fact that you don't remember ever going to your bedroom, let alone falling asleep. The last thing you remember from yesterday is Ghostface wrapped around you, taking you apart. You stifle the urge to run your fingers along the fabric that covers your bruised skin. It's really not the time to think about it.

She rolls her eyes before looking over at you. "Lucky you. I really hate you right now."

"What did I do?" You ask, affronted.

She pushes your shoulder, sending you a dirty look. "You should've seen the look on Sam's face when she realized you already left. If she was angry with Tara before, she turned positively livid when she realized you went alone. She wanted to follow you, but Tara intervened, calling her overbearing and overprotective and it got even worse. We had to call an uber because Tara refused to get in Sam's car, and Sam didn't even look at her when she drove off to God knows where."

You put down your book. "She didn't go home?" You asked, tugging at your bottom lip.

"She did, a few hours later and drunk out of her mind," Mindy rolls her eyes, exasperated. "They really should talk one of these days or I'll stab them myself."

You chuckle, but your mind is still stuck on the revealed information. You decide to think about it later when you notice Tara stomping in your direction with Chad by her side. "Hey." She mumbles, still clearly in a bad mood.

You send them a small wave and tune out their conversation, butting in only when necessary and mostly keeping to yourself, trying your hardest to focus on the words in your book and not on the way your whole body aches.

"By the way, I'm kinda grounded so we're hanging at my place tonight." Tara's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you groan, burrowing your face in the book.

Fucking great. You can already feel the headache coming. Sam is going to have a field day and you won't even be able to retaliate while your body is still hyper sensitive from being fucked out of your mind.

Someone pinches your side. "Don't be too sad, Sam promised booze," Chad says, sending you a wink.

You let out a soft laugh, your head falling on his shoulder in the process. He grins, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you in a bone crushing hug. You sag against his chest, content to bask in the warmth of your friends' company, until you feel someone boring holes into your forehead.

You look up and see Tara's questioning look, her eyes flickering between you and Chad, and you roll your eyes and shake your head at the smaller girl, jokingly pushing him away and standing up to go to your last class of the day.

"You coming?" You ask and she nods, following a step behind you, hesitating to start a conversation.

You sigh. "Tara, you know I have zero interest in Chad."

She runs into you when you suddenly stop, and scrunches up her nose, hiding her eyes behind her hand. "It's not that," she grumbles and snakes her hand around your elbow, tugging you through the crowd. "I wanted to say thank you. You know, for yesterday. I was really stupid."

You look at your friend, your heart squeezing in your chest at the vulnerable look she sends you. "Anytime," you whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and she finally relaxes.

×××

"My favorite person!" Quinn beams from the couch when you step inside the apartment, holding a bag full of snacks. "Hey there, girlfriend." She presses a kiss to your cheek and takes away the bag, leading you to the kitchen.

Everyone is already here since you were the one to go to the store. Your last class passed without a hitch, and even though Tara kept sending you weird looks every now and then, you figured she was just jealous. That was the main reason why you pushed her in Chad's direction when she tried to join you.

You're more than happy to see them sitting side by side on the small couch, hunched and giggling over something on his phone.

You blush when you notice Sam standing in the corner, leaned over the stove, slowly stirring something in a boiling pot. Even you can admit she looks like shit from the night spent drinking, her hair a disheveled mess and her eyes bloodshot.

"All these snacks and you're still the best one," Quinn smirks, throwing away the paper bag and taking the food to the living room.

You snort and give her the finger.

Sam whirls around with a spatula in her hand and sends a dark glare to the back of Quinn's before looking you up and down with an unreadable expression on her face, taking in your attire, her eyes lingering on your neck.

You stifle the urge to fiddle with your shirt again and curl your hand into fists, nails digging into your palms.

"Y/n." She eventually mumbles in greeting and turns back around to rummage through the fridge.

"Sam." You look around and decide to settle on the counter. "What are you cooking?"

She tenses, the muscles of her shoulders straining under her tank top as she holds her hands in the air, mid way to the fridge. She sends you a look over her shoulder and takes out a bottle of orange juice.

"Pasta. Want some?" She asks like she's just trying to be polite and not actually offering you a meal.

You look down at your feet, your mood dampened by a single sentence. You feel like you deserve the cold shoulder. "I'm good, thanks." You hop off the counter and turn around to leave.

She catches your wrist. "Not so fast."

You try to not pay attention to the way your skin gets hot all over at the simplest touch, fixing your eyes on hers. You think you can drown in their depth.

"I'm sorry about yesterday." You whisper, placing your palm over hers, and gently squeeze her fingers.

Her eyes darken and she looks down at the motion, her lips parting slightly.

You pray she'll let you off easy.

"Y/n, you need to see this." Mindy calls out, gaining your attention.

Sam blinks, her brows furrow. "We'll talk later," she promises and leads you to the living room and tugs you to sit next to her on the soft cushions, her fingers still wrapped around your wrist. You sag against the pillow and focus on the TV.

"Another fatal stabbing happened yesterday just before midnight. A man in his early thirties was stabbed seventeen times…"

"That's your neighborhood, right?" Tara asks, her face a picture of concern. "You always go down this alley."

"Yeah," you gulp, staring at the photo of the man who followed you yesterday.

The grip on your wrist turns almost possessive, and you turn to look at Sam, choking on your breath when you see a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Your chest is starting to feel too heavy, and your breathing becomes labored. Suddenly, you're back at the apartment, with Ghostface pinning your wrists and the blood on the knife now makes perfect sense.

Ghostface wasn't there to hurt you.

She saved you.

___________________________

Do we want a part two?

[imasoftieforbarb]

Floyd x Racer reader pt 2: the Date!!

He’s so nervous

The minute he got home he wrote down the info you had put on his arm so he wouldn’t forget

Definitely gets his brothers opinions on what to wear

Ends up wearing a rock shirt with his big buckled ripped shorts

You are also- very nervous

You played it confident but you are shaking off the nerves as you practically tear your wardrobe apart looking for a good outfit

Whatever you put together- he’s gonna be blushing

He’s so nervous and doesn’t wanna mess it up

“So I never actually got your name, which was super rude of me-sorry”

“I’m Floyd, I- already know your Y/n thanks to my brother”

You both find yourselves easing into the conversation as you walk towards where you planned the date

You decided to go to a slightly oldies diner

“I didn’t know if you were allergic to anything so I kinda went off the top of my head”

“It’s ok! I like the vibe of it-“

Listen I hc him as one of those people (me) who even if their dish is wrong they will just eat it

Y/n, standing infront of Floyd: he asked for no pickles

He was gonna just eat it despite the fact he hates pickles until you saw what was wrong and quite literally snatched his plate away

“Hold up, eat these”

You slid your side of fries his way as you marched you way over to the wait-staff who took your order

And there are two ways it could go:

1- it was an honest mistake and it gets fixed, you look intimidating but you’re really polite

2- they didn’t write it down because they weren’t paying attention and you end up laying into them

“What do you mean you didn’t write it down?! What if it was important? What if my boyfriend was seriously allergic to pickles hmm?!”

You get a replaced meal with no pickles and it’s taken off your bill

You set it down infront of him with a lil smile and start to chow down on your (slightly cold) burger

“Thanks…”

“It’s no problem honest! I wasn’t gonna let bad food ruin our date”

Floyd blushes slightly eating his food before murmuring

“You called me your boyfriend”

You choked on your burger, chugging done a glass of water before apologizing

“Sorry- I probably should’ve asked you out properly first and should’ve made sure you use those pronouns-“

He leans over and kisses you on the cheek

“I never said I wanted you to stop”

Now you’re the flustered one

The long awaited PT 2 of the Racer reader headcannons!

I hope you enjoyed

Bug 🐞

[babygorewhore]

Attitude

JJ Maybank x fem reader

After JJ’s reckless behavior gets out of control, you decide to confront him but JJ decides he’s not going to put up with your uncontrolled mouth. W.C 1k something!

Part of Dolly and Morgan’s writing game! And dividers by the sexy @xxbimbobunnyxx

Warnings! Dom! JJ! Gun play! Argument! Spanking! Choking! Degrading! Unprotected sex! Fingering! Daddy Kink!

You were the only Pogue going after JJ, since the dumbass stole Barry’s money, later that same evening. You marched to his house, making sure his shit father was nowhere to be seen as you heard loud music playing from the backyard.

“JJ!” You called out and you went around the corner, leading you to the back. You saw him holding his gun, pointing it at beer cans lined up in a distance.

Stomping over in your converse, thighs moving from your speed underneath your shorts, you walked closer to him. “JJ!” You shouted and he turned around.

“What?” He snapped and your eyebrows shot up. His t shirt clung to his fit body, shorts above his knees and your eyes swept over his messy hair.

“Oh? That’s how it is.” You remarked and he rolled his eyes.

“The hell are you doing here?” His arms hung by his sides, his right hand gripping the gun. You crossed your own arms, leaning your weight on one leg.

“I’m here to make sure you don’t do another stupid thing, JJ. What the fuck were you thinking? Stealing a drug dealers money? Acting insane?”

“I’m not afraid of that fucker, I’ll just hit him even harder back.” JJ replied, his eyes on fire. You scoffed.

“That simple? Until what? You’re both dead or something?” JJ shrugged and waved the gun.

“I have this, genius.”

“Ohhh, okay tough guy. You got it all figured out. You agains the world, avoiding us, stealing, using a gun-“

“Watch your mouth.” JJ snapped. “Why don’t you just leave? Instead of giving me a fuckin lecture?” Anger boiled in your veins and you stepped closer, giving him a light push.

“Why don’t you MAKE me, JJ? Make me shut up. Oh-you won’t because you’re too busy with your new toy!” Before you could speak again, JJ jerked forward and captured your lips in a fierce kiss, making you gasp against his mouth.

He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, his free hand coming to grip your hip and pulling you close to him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, squeezing his muscular form tightly as you angrily kiss him back, nipping his lower lip.

JJ reaches down, scooping his arm underneath your ass and starts walking towards his house, your legs wrapping around his waist. He kicks open the door, slamming it shut with his boot as he tosses you on the couch, breaking your kiss.

“Fuckin little brat, princess. You wanna talk to me like that? Mouth off to me like I’m some bitch?” JJ heaves and rips off his shirt, gun still in his hand.

“Prove to me that you’re not, Daddy.” You reply and he raises his eyebrows.

His hand yanks apart your legs, exposing your covered pussy and your eyes widen as he taps your cunt with the gun. “You wanna repeat that?” You shudder as he tugs off your shorts, slowly pulling them down your thighs and exposing your black panties. Soaked in the middle. “Wet from this? Already?” He shakes his head before swirling the gun on your clit. “Not so tough now, huh?”

JJ rubs circles with the gun, making your head lull back but he reaches forward and tugs you forward by your hair. “Uh uh. Eyes on me, baby. You’re gonna look at me while I touch this pretty pussy.”

You moan as he pulls the gun away, bringing it to your lips. “Suck it.” You stick tongue out and lick off your precum, tasing the sweet taste from yourself.

“Fuck, princess. You really know how to use that mouth, don’t you? Too bad you’ve been a fuckin brat or else I’d let you suck me off.” You whine with a pout and JJ pulls the gun away, ripping off your underwear.

He slides it in your entrance, pumping you with it and you whimper. Your hand moves to rub your clit but he takes your fingers and shoves them in his mouth.

“Shit-“ You whimper as he finally rips the gun away, setting it down and starts to unzip his shorts.

“Mhm. That’s better. But you still need to work on that god damn attitude, princess.” JJ grabs you by the hair and maneuvers you on your stomach on the couch. He presses you down, your chest flat as your ass sticks up in the air and he slaps it hard.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you know exactly who you’re talking to. But you’re gonna beg for it, baby girl. Make me believe you deserve my dick.” He taunts and you whimper, attempting to turn your head but he spanks you again.

“Please, daddy. Fuck me, cum in me. Use me. Take it out on me, I need it. I need you, I want your cock so bad-“ JJ reaches across and wraps his hand around your throat.

“Nah, you can do better than that.” He squeezes tightly and your eyes water as he toys with your clit with his fingers, barely applying pressure.

“JJ, please! Please, fuck me! God, I won’t talk like that again, please fuck me with your dick-I don’t wanna fucking think anymore, just pound into me like I’m a whore.” JJ growls and slams his cock into you, your body moving forward.

“You’re daddy’s little slut, right? And don’t you fuckin forget that.” He pulls you back by your hair and shoves his fingers in your mouth, making you gag. He gives you a rough thrust, making you grip the arm of the sofa. He yanks his fingers out and massages your clit as he pounds you deeply.

“For a god damn brat, your pussy is squeezin me pretty tight there, baby girl. Luckily I knew what you fuckin needed,” He says in your ear and he groans as you grind up against him.

“I’m sorry, daddy-“ You squeak as he brings you to the edge, slapping your ass again.

“Yeah, you’re sorry. This pussy? Mine. You are mine, and I’m gonna make you leak with my cum. I want it dripping out of you like the whore you are. That’s what you are, right?”

“Yes!” You almost scream as you cream on his dick, burying your face down and your legs tremble as JJ empties in you. His cum mixes with yours and you feel it dampen your cunt, dripping down your thighs as he catches you from falling.

JJ continues to thrust, making you see stars before he flips you on your back. “So fuckin pretty all dazed out from my cock, princess. But I’m not done pulling cum from you. I’m gonna lick up what you gave me and fuck you until you speak to me properly.”

You nod weakly as he taps his cock against your cheek before sliding down on his knees. “Guess I’ll use the gun more often, baby doll. Now open your legs and let me taste this wet pussy.”

Tagging! @drewstarkeyslut @marchsfreakshow @redhead1180 @gri959 @voyeurmunson @rafescurtainbangz @rafesthroatbaby

[natsaffection]

can u write an smutty hate sex story with nat as the mean boss and reader a her assistant 🤭

Distraction. | N. Romanoff

G!P CEO!Natasha x Assistent!Reader

MINORS DNI!!! (18*!)

warnings: Office sex, nat has a penis, Mommy kink, rough sex, spanking, choking, begging, dirty talk

Word count: 1,6K

A/n: I was carried away and hope that’s the task you asked for..Because I totally forget the hate in it :,)

It was a relaxed day, as usual. You got up early today, got ready and showed up at work quite early. Before that, of course, you stopped by Mrs. Romanoff's Cafe to get her usual latte. You paid with the company card and are now sitting ready in your chair, behind your desk. 

You had already started sorting your work and when you saw the plan for today, you had to pause for a moment. You see a name on the list, and you knew what it meant. You try not to wrap your head around it until you notice your colleagues tense around you. You look at the time and realize that there is one minute before Mrs. Romanoff enters. You take another deep breath and stand up and a few seconds later, you hear the elevator door open from far away and get ready as you do every day. She entered without taking her eyes off her phone. Everywhere you could hear a 'good morning' until she arrived in your hallway. She walks past your desk, and before she could open her own office door, you stop her, "Mrs. Romanoff? Your latte." She stopped and looked up at you. 

You hold the latte out to her and she takes it. She smelled it for a moment and then looked directly at you, "What's on the agenda today?" You knew the question was coming. Like every time, and you were prepared, "Nothing big for the first three hours and at noon you have a meeting with..Mr Stark.." You knew what Natasha thought of him. Nothing at all. However, he is one of the biggest sponsors of the whole company, and so Natasha has to put up with him. 

You see how one of her eyebrows twitched, and then she went to her office and the door closed.

You had spent the first few hours planning Natasha's future plans and meetings and notifying the people to be there. You wrote a few emails and made a few phone calls. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn't even notice Tony Stark marching into Natasha's office. 

You know what that entails, and you were lucky that her office is a good distance away from the other colleagues....

You could barely concentrate because you kept trying to catch sounds from the room, but it was no use. The walls were just too thick. After about 20 minutes, the door opened again and Tony came out. He had a different face on, like he did a few minutes ago, so you knew it was business as usual. He looks at you, sighs, and walks out. You try to find connections until you saw the message on your laptop to come to Natasha's office. So you take another deep breath, stand up and walk in.

You like her office. It was definitely bigger than your apartment and was all glass on the left. It also had a huge rooftop terrace that was great for summer. There you had also held the introductory conversation with her and..signed the other contract, for moments like this one. 

She sits at her table, massaging her forehead, "I'm afraid that conversation didn't go well?" If you didn't have such a..relationship with her, you would never have asked that question. But you're here for that very reason. To take away the stress she has. 

She sees you and leans back in her chair, "As usual. This guy is just too cocky! Thinks he has the right to boss me, ME, around! Just because he..Urgh!" She loosened her shirt and undid the first two buttons that were on it, "Come here..." She looks at you and you immediately obey. You walk towards her and bypass the table. She turns in your direction, and indicates that you should sit on her lap. You sit down and her hands immediately settled on your thighs and she looks up at you, "Mommy needs a distraction, do you think you can help me with that?" Her tone was gentle. You just nod, and suddenly you notice a pull in your right thigh. She knees you as it wasn't enough, "Y-yes, I can help here..." She looks deeply at you and smirks, "Good girl..." She turns you both back to her table and leans you on the front so your upper body is flat on it, "Always so good for me..." 

You slowly get ready, but again you had to shamefully admit that just the way she talked to you for the last two minutes was enough to make you so fucking horny. She fucks well..So well that so far no few people had ever made you climax again.

You hear her undo her belt and a little later you notice her pushing your panties to the side and grunting out, "As always..Do I make you so wet, baby?" Fuuck, if she keeps talking like that it will be over in a few seconds, "Always for you, mommy..." That's what she liked about you. You were so fucking obedient, you have manners and of course a good pussy. 

She smirked at herself and pushed right into you. You slid your body forward, and she held you by the shoulders to keep you still. "Fuck..No matter how many times I take you here, you're still so fucking tight, fuck!" She pushed in further and further until you could feel her completely. You try to hold on somewhere to somehow accommodate the feeling, "Stark really thinks he'd do a better job than me..What do you think, Baby, huh? Could he replace me?" You had to pull yourself together not to forget the question right away, "n-No..No one, AH! No one can replace you..!" Your statement seemed to trigger something in her as she suddenly pushed into you faster, "That's right. I'm the only one who can run this place!"

She got rougher. She grabbed your cheeks and pushed into you with more force. You couldn't take it anymore and let out a loud moan. But it was interrupted when Natasha put a hand around your mouth, "How many times do I have to tell you that while I enjoy hearing your sounds, it's more than inappropriate here? Do you want everyone to know what a slut you are for me?" You shake your head, "Thought so." 

"hmph!!!" She pushed in as deep as she could, feeling her orgasm getting closer and closer. "That's right. Show me how good I make you feel!" She didn't care. If someone could hear you, it is your fault and not hers. She took her hand away and sped up her movements. All you could hear was the moaning and skin contact in the room.

"Nata-mommy, please..." you plead. You completely lost your self-control and just wanted your releases. "Please what?" She is annoyed. Do you want something from her now too? Why can't anyone here work independently?

"Do you need more? Do I have to do all the work again? What are you getting paid for anyway?" She moans and snaps her hips at you. "Fuck, Tony really wanted me to know you'd be better off with him..." she snorts. She holds your ass and spreads you open so her eyes have the perfect view of her cock ruining your pussy, "What do you say, would you rather go to him? Do you want him to take you like this?" She began to move even faster, her hand sliding down to your clit, "No! Only you can- fuck! Can- so well...”

She slows down and smiles as she sees your body start to shake more and more. She pulled her hand from your clit and wiped it on your ass, and you were afraid she was done with you, "Please! D-Don’t stop! Please mommy, let me cum, please..." Your face was already so wet and red that anyone would know what happened if you left this room in the next few minutes. So at least it should be worth it....

She leans over you, her chest pressing against your back, "Relax baby..I can feel your fucking fear in your pussy..." You close your eyes, ashamed of being so easy to read. "It's okay..." Her hands slowly slide to your back and push you further down onto the table, "Just stay like that for me, and you'll get filled, is that what you want? Do you want mommy to fill you?" 

"Yes please!!!" you whine. She slaps you hard on your ass and grabs your neck. She pulls you back to her. She fucks you harder and faster as her hand slides down to your clit again and starts rubbing it.

"Fuck!!!" You cry out, and Natasha just had to laugh. "Come on, come on my cock Y/n, cum...!" She moans out as well, and your voice breaks off as you release on her cock, and you squirm in all directions. Natasha clenches your neck with strength to keep her from moaning all over the room as well. Your eyes rolled back and you sobbed. When you came down completely from your height, you collapse like a lifeless body in Natasha's arms. She wraps her arms around you and rests her head on your shoulder, "You did great again, thank you..."

[tw1l1te]

Brainrot- The chain is dealing with a merchant who's got wayyy to high prices for what it is but the chain needs these resources. The boys refuse to pay but in swoops reader who uses words and certain assets to talk the price down smoothly for the chains sake and needed supplies.. queue the boys reactions or actions to it. (Especially the overprotective ones of the group) Thanks!😘

-Anon 🐉

Ok but why do I feel like Ravio is the implied merchant-

Our guide definitely uses their sass and fake giggles to haggle prices. Like, the amount of rupees they've saved the Chain??? Astronomical at this point-

~

"80 rupees for 5 bomb arrows! 80 rupees!!" A merchant yelled out onto the bustling streets of Castle Town. The boys approached his stall, curious about his wares.

"Ah! I see you're interested in my stall! I have all sorts of arrows, armor, and produce!"

Legend hold up a bundle of plain arrows, facing the salesman.

"How much for these?"

"100 Rupees."

Legend just blinks at him, trying to see if he was serious or not.

He was dead serious.

"Are you fucking kidding me-"

"Oh, hello~! What do we have here?" You skip up to the stall, your attention disrupted from the previous stall when you notcied the boys preoccupied with this particular one.

The merchant looks suprised, eyes moving between you and the grumpy pink-haired man in front of him. He chose to focus on you for the time being. Smart choice.

"Oh, such wonderful wares you have! I bet they're the best quality too, I can tell by the craftsmanship." You ramble, examining every item.

The merchant blushes slightly, smiling at your attention.

"Ah, yes! Each of these is either made or grown with utmost care! Has anything piqued your interest?"

Time raised an eyebrow at the shift in demeanor from the merchant.

You knew what you were doing, huh?

"I love all the assortment of arrows you have! You say you carved them all yourself?" You ask, batting your eyebrows at him.

"Y-yes! I have plenty of stock for each type. How many bundles would you need?"

You glance at Time, who mouthed '6', your eyes flicking back to the merchant.

"Hmmm... I think I'll need six! How much for all of them?"

The merchant lights up at your amount, already seeing payday in the distance.

"Originally it would be 580, but for you... 500!"

You purposefully wilt at that, making sure the change in posture and facial expression was very obvious.

"Aw, shucks, I can't afford that.... maybe next time."

The boys and the merchant watch you walk away, the effortless slouch of your form causing Wind and Wild to quietly giggle.

By the Three, this was hilarious.

"W-wait! I can do 250! 250 is my lowest offer! I'll even give you a bundle for free!!"

You noticeably perk up, spinning around on your heels and skip back up to the stand, handing over your rupees. When the merchant hands over all seven bundles of arrows, you blow a kiss to him to really put the cherry on top.

You hear Legend choke on his spit, flabbergasted at the amount of effort you were putting into this charade.

"Thank you!! Let's go, boys." You march off, arrows in your arms while the merchant is caught off guard and the rest of the group isn't sure if they're about to burst out laughing, kill the man, or both.

[hellishgayliath]

Clem’s Log

Hi big brother. Today’s March 10th I think? I’m not so great at remembering dates but Papa was dead set on it because that’s your birthday, it’s amazing how he’s able to remember stuff like that after all this time.

I know it’s been a while since we talked, ever since you left I had to take over bird scout duties and just never had the time to sit down and write. Everyone’s been on edge. Y’know I still hold onto that jar of cinnamon sticks you gave me. Started chewing on them out of habit whenever the anxiety and dread was getting to my head. They taste just like home..

…

Um..

Papa told me he saw you again.

When he and a couple of the others were out on patrol with Mr. Leo and big sis Luci I mean COUSIN SERGEANT Luci haha, I think she’d resent me calling her that but I know she secretly adores me.

…

They said.. they said when they saw you you were.. already turned.

You knucklehead I guess that’s why you left in the first place but to leave without saying anything to anybody?! You know Uncle Mikey would’ve helped you like he did with the others that were infected. Or did you already know that it would’ve been pointless? Don’t you at least owe your own little sister a goodbye?! Dummy dum dumdum..

…

…

Papa thought he could somehow magically get through to you, y’know make you remember who you were before life went crazy.

I heard from Mr. Leo that Luci tried to stop Papa from acting like a idiot and getting himself killed. But she ended up getting hurt instead.

Bad.

…

…

Next thing Papa knew, you and Luci were on the ground, with only one of you moving. Judging by Mr. Leo’s face when I saw him come in, he looked very torn and distraught about a very tough call he had to make. I can already guess what it was he had to do. Cousin Luci is in rough shape but insists on rejecting any medical help saying it’d just be a waste of time and resources. Doesn’t she know we’re just trying to help her? The dumdum… Don’t tell her I called her that. I just don’t want to lose her too.

…

Papa said he could’ve sworn he saw a little smile on your face when he cradled you. Maybe that’s you finally realizing you’re not being controlled by those monsters anymore and can now be at peace knowing you can’t hurt anybody else. At least that’s how I see it. It must have been terrifying to go through that alone.

…

It’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not FAIR IT’S NOT FAIR

They said they couldn’t even bring your body back because of safety reasons and that it would put the base at risk of being tracked so I couldn’t even get to see you one last time!

I miss my big brother, I miss your dumb goofy smile, I miss us having bug eating competitions and laughing at you nearly choking on a beetle, I miss falling asleep on each other while watching tv, I miss seeing you chase after the raccoons with a broomstick whenever they raided our trash cans, I miss the dogs, I miss the taste of fresh fruit, I miss our HOME! I just want this nightmare to be done with. I’m just so.. tired..

…

Papa told me they at least gave him the chance to make a grave for you and to say his goodbyes. I should’ve been there with him saying them together.

He just looks so defeated and sad. I insisted to him that we at least put together a funeral service for you so the rest of us can say our peace.

…

It was nice.

Uncle Mikey and Bao combined their powers to transform the room into a beautiful recreation of a lush meadow full of butterflies and yellow daffodils while Mr. Tello played some lovely music he still had saved recorded in his tech. It was so tranquil it almost makes you forget for a second you’re in an apocalyptic hell scape.

I think you would've loved it.

…

…

Talk to you again soon and happy birthday you numbskull. I love you.

I miss you..

[georgiapeach30513]

Mark My Territory

Summary: You evaded him. Again. This constant game was being played of him getting closer to you before you were ripped from his grasp. Again. He won’t miss this time you sly little fox. Your scent is etched in his brain more than anything else in the world. He won’t let his handlers stop him. He will have you. And he will make sure you stay put. You are his…

Pairings: Captain Hydra/Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: dark!explicit

Warnings:  dark, explicit language, explicit sexual content, non con/dub con, kidnapping, throwing, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.9K

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Captain’s dark blue eyes refocus as he removes his death glare of his next victim.  His fingers still cling to his neck, but they soften enough for a gurgling sound to emit from his disgusting throat.  Lifting his head fully up, the Captain gazes at his surroundings.  He felt it.  There was a shift.

“You fucking psycho,” the man in his grip screams, but the Captain squeezes as tight as he possibly can, cutting off all air to his lungs, before letting his lifeless body fall down to the pavement.  

Now he could focus.  Pulling his mask down, he takes a long sniff of air before his mouth turns up into an evil smirk, “Son of a bitch,” someone in the control center screams.  “He’s got that crazed look on his face.  He senses her.”

Popping his neck, he lifts his mask back up, and stalks down the road, while a team is sent in to retrieve him.  He was useless when he could feel you.  “Get someone in there now!” Nobody wanted to get in between you and the Captain.  There were always a few casualties.  A few soldiers were always lost.  Only one could ever get his focus away from you.

“He can’t find her.  We’re going to have to change her location again,” he takes a slow pause, seeing the Captain’s body cam.  “Too late,” he groans.

You stand up slowly out from under the table.  Trembling a bit, even if you had a feeling that he would never physically hurt you.  His height was vast and he was just as broad.  Terrifying and ways, and you weren’t sure what he wanted from you.  He always just stood there in front of you.  “Won’t you show me what you look like?” He shakes his head no, but extends his hand towards you.

“I don’t know what you want,” he wiggles his fingers, grunting a bit.  “Are you wanting me to hold your hand?” One nod, and another grunt.  Gulping, you step closer, tickling your fingers against his, and a shift happens to his eyes.

“Do I know you?” His free hand starts to pull down his mask as men surround you.  Jerking you away from him, and he releases an animalistic scream, throwing men aside.  And when someone grabs you from behind, dragging you his yells become growls.  

Lifting up grown men to toss onto the road.  His eyes hardly ever leave you.  You feel pity for him.  He was wanting to protect you.  He didn’t want their hands on you.  “NO!” He screams as a hand covers your mouth.  “MINE!” 

That was a turn of events.  He felt ownership over you.  Why?  Why did he feel connected to you?  He always found you.  Marching over to one man, the Captain’s fingers circle his neck as he turns back to you and your captor.  The man raises his gun pointing it at your head, and the tiniest little whimper squeaks out of your throat.

“NO!” He screams, cracking that man’s neck like it was a toothpick.  “NO hurt!” Tears drift down your cheeks, wetting the man’s knuckles.  There was something about his eyes.  “No,” he wasn’t yelling anymore he was pleading.  “Mine.”

“Soldier, we can’t take a civilian.  You have to go back,” he shakes his head no, a choked mine whispers at the man.  “She stays.”

Stays?  An option to take you wasn’t on the table.  You weren’t going anywhere.  “You might as well let him keep his little pet.  How many more missions are we going to have where he senses her?” Someone speaks into the ear of your captor.  “What’s the worst that could happen?  Might work out for our benefit if he knows he gets to go home to that piece of ass.”

“Soldier, at ease,” the soldier shakes his head no, repeating that you were his.  “At ease.  Get in the truck.  She’s coming with us.”

“No!” You wail, but the soldier walks over to you.  Lifting you up to throw you on his shoulder.  “No!  Let me go.  I am not yours!” 

“Mine!” 

Hitting him felt like he was made of bricks.  Solid and thick.  He makes no sound of distress, just keeps walking.  You could practically feel his smirk as he struts to the truck.  “Let me go!  Put me down!”

“No,” gone is the anger.  It was lighthearted.  This was sick.  This is not the way you wanted to die.  Become a play toy for this psycho that was going to do unthinkable forms of torture to you.  

——

The Captain grunts as he walks through the doors of the compound.  He had one thing on his mind, and it had nothing to do with taking his gear off, and being checked over.  A doctor comes over to his side, but he pushes him away.  

“You need to be cleaned, Captain.”

“Mmm,” he growls, continuing to his new mission.  It's what he deserved.

“Oh, let him have his fun,” an older man steps into the light, smiling at him.  “Having that stupid girl here is making things run so smoothly.  Let him pound into her tight twat.  Maybe eventually he’ll literally split her in half and we won’t have to worry about it again.  No more distractions.  Go ahead, Captain.  Fuck your girl.”

He grunts again.  He didn’t fuck you.  He owned you.  He loved you, and he could think of nothing more than sinking into your warmth.  Could already feel your velvety walls cling tight to his aching cock.  Getting out of his suit was going to be a bitch.  But you were worth it.  

He opens the door to your shared cell, and you hurl a shoe at him.  He catches it.  He always does.  Popping his neck, he curls his finger towards you, pointing at his suit, “Go to hell.”

Rolling his eyes, the Captain starts to take his suit off, with much more difficulty than if you would just do it for him.  “Just go ahead and kill me, you fucking asshole.”

“No.”

“Say something more than no or mine.”

“No.”

“Fucking brain dead asshole,” he charges towards you, slamming your body up against the wall.  Using his thick thigh to spread your own apart, he slips his hands between them, rubbing over your panty clad mound.  

“Creep.”

“Mmm,” your body betrayed you every fucking time.  If only you could see his face.  You never got to see it.  Hydra had him muzzled up like the feral dog he was.  

“Ahh,” he squeaks, pushing aside your panties.  Pushing in two fingers.  Your body hates you.  Told on you every time with its loud squelching.  “Mine.”

“It’s my pussy, you weirdo,” he pumps into you harder, hearing you whimper, and grunts at your pleasure.  “It’s mine.”

“Mine!” Slipping in a third finger in makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, and he presses his palm against your bundle of nerves.  Driving into you with such force, you couldn’t argue.  He was playing unfairly.  Your pussy didn’t have a brain.  And right now, your own brain couldn’t think.

His arm pinning you to the wall, drifts up higher.  Adding pressure to your neck as your body starts to tingle.  Pushing you further and further into euphoria before he pulls out of you, and tosses you onto the bed.

“My god!  You fucking asshole!  Quit doing that shit.  If you’re going to make me wet, let me come.”

“Mine,” he growls, pulling off his suit into shreds.  That glorious cock bounces up once free, and you have a giant urge to bite it, and also lick off every morsel of precum.  He didn’t require your mouth.  He just wanted to edge you until you passed out.  You swore he finally let your body come once your eyes closed.

“Bet you don’t even know how to make me come,” the Captain chuckles under his mask.  Stomping over to the bed.  Reaching his hand towards you, his thick fingers grab onto your ankle.  Dragging your body down, he flips you over to your knees.  Trying to get away, he smacks you hard on the ass.  “Prove it then.”

He gives your weeping cunt a few slaps before driving into your warmth.  Giving you no time to adjust.  It was an assault on your mind more than anything.  You hated him.  Hated being used as a cocksleeve, but damn if he didn’t stretch you out in the most beautiful fucking way.

Your walls hug tight to him, begging for his touch, and sucking him back into your depths every time he pulls out.  Your pussy needed him, and you hated her for it.  Hated that you knew he was close to returning because she was already pooling slick into your panties.  

As if your crooked panties were keeping you too far away from him, he rips your off own clothes, and never misses a thrust.  Grabbing onto your hips, the Captain uses you to fuck him.  You hoped you had pushed him enough to let you come because you were right there.  You are tired of his games, and just needed relief.  

Whimpering out nonsensical words when he pulls out, and flips you on your back, “Told ya, you fucking pussy.  Don’t even know how to make a woman come.  You piece of shit.”

He rips your legs apart, pinning them on the bed beside your ears and stabs into you.  His whole weight on you made you feel even more magical.  You hated him, and your body.  Hated that he was doing this to you.  You were going to die in this cell with someone who didn’t even talk.  

“You.  Don’t.  Know.  How.  To.  Make.  A.  Woman.  Come,” each word was drug out with every push into your wet heat.  You feel your juices leak down your ass and onto the bed behind you.  It was cruel.  You just hope taunting him was enough.  “Claim my pussy then.”

“Mine!” He growls, pushing into you hard.  “Mine!  Mine!” You start to see stars.  This was it.  He was finally going to let you come.  It felt like years of no real satisfaction.  Spewing your arousal everywhere, speaking in tongues as you clench your eyes closed, but he keeps going harder.

“Mine!  All mine!” That was a new word.  He was getting somewhere.  “All.  Mine.  MINE!” You couldn’t see, but you could hear the squeak in his voice as he comes undone.  Thick ropes of his cum paint your walls, and you finally feel like you're floating.  

His thrusts slow down, and ever so gently, you reach up to pull off his mask.  Life flashes before your eyes as you stutter.  Trying to find your words.  It couldn’t be.  He had changed, and still had this weird love for you, “Steve?” 

He blinks hard, staring blankly at your face before the softest, “Princess,” whispers off his lips.

“St-St-Steve?  Steve?  Is that really you?” 

“Okay, that’s enough, soldier,” a man walks into your cell, literally pulling Steve out of you, and you sit up crying and shaking your head.  “Erase him.”

“Erase?  No!  No!” 

“Discard the girl.” 

“No!  Mine,” a needle to his neck, makes his eyes close before he’s dragged out of the room.

“I hope you finally enjoyed your orgasm.  He won’t be seeing you again,” the doctor backs out of the cell, leaving you screaming and crying.  You still felt him on every inch of his body, still had his seed dripping out of you.  What was going on.

“You bastards!  You fucking bastards!  Steve!  Steve Rogers, I love you!”

A shadow steps out of the darkness, and raises his finger to his mouth, “Shh,” and then….

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss 

[slutforgarlogan]

Matching Wounds | James Patrick March x F! reader

Summary: James Patrick March killing you while hes fucking you (sorry guys i had a dream about it and had to write it)

A/N: this is so toned down i got too into the killing part the first time

Warnings: blood!, p in v smut, restraints, reader gets killed but shes in the cortez so she'll be conscious again guys its fine

You tug at the restraints, which are currently making sure both your hands and feet are secured onto the bed. Your chest is heaving and you're getting increasingly nervous, heartrate quickening and inducing you into a panicked state wondering what on earth had made you think this was a good idea.

When you had asked James to do the honours of killing you, so that you could be together forever, it hadn't occured to you that you'd actually have to go through the feeling of being killed. You had just wanted him to shoot you in the head or the heart or something, but it was never going to be that simple when you put your life in the hands of James Patrick March.

James on the other hand, felt the complete opposite to you in this very moment. He was absolutely ecstatic when you had asked him to kill you, and he ran through all the possible ways to do it. Choke you to death, cut you somewhere fatal, snap your neck, shoot you. But what he immediately knew for sure, was that he was going to fuck you while he did it.

After a few days of thinking, also giving you time to go back on the request, he had decided exactly what he was going to do. He was going to slit your throat, so you'd have a permanent wound that matched his own. Which is rather romantic in its own twisted, yet endearing way.

He watches you tug at the restraints that hold you down to the bed, laughing a little bit. "Don't worry darling, i promise this isn't going to be a bad experience for you. I'll make it quick, you wont even notice his happening"

You nod feverishly, though you were scared out of your mind right now, you could never deny the effect that he had on you, pussy clenching around air just from hearing his voice.

You try to relax your body against the sheets, keeping you eyes trained on him carefully, as he sheds himself of his 3 piece and boxers, and uncovering his open neck wound - which you'd only seen him do once before.

You're already squirming by the time hes hovering over you, soaked and desperate for his touch. You lock your gaze with his dark eyes - his gaze somewhat ominous, but loving at the same time.

"I love you, darling" He whispers to you, placing a soft kiss on your temple as he slips his dick into your soaking wet cunt. You whine a little at the stretch, and whisper back to him "I love you too, James"

His hips snap against yours roughly, as he snakes his hand between your bodys to toy with your clit, making you whimper underneath him. The moans that escape his parted lips sound glorious, as breathes out his words "fuck darling, you're always so good for me"

His skin is hot and sticky against yours, and the feel of him buried inside you makes your toes curl as you writhe and whimper beneath him.

He can see you're getting closer, your body giving him the same telltale signs as always. Clenching around his cock, squirming and shaking. The restraints that tie you to the bed leaving deep marks on your wrists at the way you're thrashing beneath him.

As your eyes roll back and you throw your head back, James reaches his free hand over to the bedside table, grabbing his knife and dragging it across your throat as he feels you coat his dick in your release.

He lets out a gutteral groan at the sight in front of him. Your fucked out expression, blood pouring down your neck, trickling down your breasts, and he runs a thumb over your nipple, smearing your blood around it as he waits for you.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Taglist: @lacucarachapisser @the-ultimate-theatre-kid @bluerthanvelvet444 @lvxybby

[alwaysmicado]

predator & prey

8.6k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: consensual non-consent, restraints, manhandling, face slapping, hard choking, rough p in v sex, biting, creampie, pain kink, degradation/praise, subdrop, aftercare, soft(ish) Nathan Summary: Nathan fulfills your fantasy of being taken in the woods. Can you handle it? A/N: Living in the middle of nowhere has its perks...Can be read alone or as an extension of in control. I'm so beyond excited to finally share this with you!! It's been wreaking havoc in my brain for months now. Enjoy the ride and let me know what you think! 🖤

As the last rays of the setting sun dip below the horizon, casting the world into a deep indigo hue, Nathan grabs the neatly folded pile of clothes, your trail running shoes, and his backpack. Still in your sweats, you’re taken aback when he steps into your office, his hand finding your shoulder.

“Put these on,” he tells you, his voice betraying no particular emotion. He hands you a pair of jeans in your size and an oversized, white t-shirt, along with a nude bra and panties. You swallow and look up at him, catching the subtle glint in his eyes. 

“Time to go.” 

You dress as instructed, your fingers deftly lace up your shoes, and the two of you set off. 

The crisp air gently nibbles at your cheeks, and the faint glow of twilight casts a soft ambiance as the crunch of leaves and gravel beneath your feet echoes through the stillness around you. The air holds a charged energy, and each one of your steps carries a weight of anticipation. Your muscles are tense, your senses heightened, acutely aware of what lies ahead. 

Nathan’s demeanor is casual. He’s smiling, asking about your day, about the project that’s been giving you a headache for the past two weeks. You give him a semi-honest answer, admitting that you’ve been stressed, but omitting the fact that you’ve cried yourself to sleep over it more than once.

“You’ll figure it out,” he reassures you with a soft smile. Your furrowed brow meets his confident gaze, and for a moment, you study his face. He’s sincere.

You’re used to discussing your work with Nathan, it’s what you’re living with him for, after all. And despite your…complicated relationship with him, he has never questioned your professional skills.

That’s all on you. Your perfectionism is draining.

As you reach the edge of the woods after a half-hour march along the river, darkness begins to cloak you like a shroud. The trees whisper secrets, and the unknown looms like a specter in the night. Nathan activates the small portable light attached to his backpack, rolls his shoulders, and fixes his gaze on you.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and excitement courses through your veins, fueled by a potent blend of curiosity and trepidation. 

“You know what’s about to happen,” he says calmly, tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers to search your eyes. “Take a deep breath. We’re not starting until you’re ready.” 

You take a moment to gather yourself, inhaling the grounding scent of earth and pine, your eyes locked onto his.

“Choose a path and make sure you memorize it. Be aware of your surroundings and where you’re going. Do not look back.” He rubs your cheek softly with his thumb as his dark eyes pierce your soul. 

Sensing the rough leather of his gloves against your skin sends a chill down your spine as memories of pain and pleasure flood your mind.

These gloves have choked you until you passed out, just to slap you awake again. They’ve penetrated all your holes simultaneously, teasing you, stretching you, making you come over and over again. They’ve split your lip, caressed your cheek, spread Nathan’s cum all over your face, wiped away your tears.

There’s no part of your body they haven’t thoroughly explored in a tantalizing dance between violent and soft touches.

And Nathan only ever wears them for you.

As you study the man in front of you, the only man you’d willingly follow into the unknown, his presence feels both reassuring and elusive—a paradox you’ve come to not only accept but cherish. The intricate interplay of familiarity and mystery that shapes your connection is not just comforting; it’s irresistibly alluring.

In his all-black attire, he presents an effortlessly handsome yet imposing figure. You appreciate the boots on his feet, a deviation from his usual habit of walking around barefoot, and how they seamlessly blend into the darkness of his tactical pants secured by a familiar belt.

While the physical marks from your last encounter may have healed, allowing you to shower and sit down again without writhing in pain, the mere sight of the leather item makes you wince and sends a jolt of electricity through the muscles in your ass cheeks and thighs. 

Provoking Nathan is fun, but the consequences hurt. Badly.

Your gaze wanders further up, drawn to the hoodie that tightly embraces his broad frame, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the defined contours of his chest. It’s one of your favorite sights, second only to seeing him completely bare. Beneath his glasses, dark eyes fixate on you with a keen intensity, silently assessing the anticipation evident on your face.

Finally, your eyes reconnect with his, and the magnetic force of his gaze draws you into the depths of his desires. You see the lust in his eyes, the look of raw hunger etched across his face. It’s a look you’ve grown to both crave and fear, a look only you bring out of him.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Alright.” He nods and takes a step back from you, his scowl deepening. “Ten.”

You’re up and running before ‘nine’ even fully leaves Nathan’s lips. You don’t look back as his booming voice echoes behind you. Do you remember the path you chose? Do you know where your feet are carrying you into the mist, through the labyrinth of trees, fast, faster than they’ve ever carried you? You better run, little bunny, run, run away from him.

Ignore your racing heart, ignore the weight of his presence, ignore the forest closing in around you. You need to run. Run through the shadows, run away from him. Can you feel his eyes on you? The predator’s eyes locked on his prey?

Your time is up. He’s coming for you.

Nathan’s eyes follow you, vigilant, watching as your silhouette disappears into the forest, his heart pounding in his chest. Swiftly, he fastens the chest strap of his backpack, tightens his gloves, turns off the light, and lunges into a run. He’s on your trail.

Can you feel him? Can you feel him chasing you, drawing nearer with every frantic beat of your heart? He’s not going to stop until he catches you.

And you know what happens when he does, don’t you?

You’re sprinting, the crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs beneath your shoes creating a frenzied symphony in your haste. Panic creeps in, its icy fingers tightening around your racing heart. The air, now cold and damp, clings to your skin, making you shiver. You run further along the path you’ve chosen, quickly, as quickly as your aching muscles will allow. 

Are you scared? Is that why your breath comes in shallow gasps, and your eyes shimmer with unshed tears? Ah, yes. Yes, you are scared. That’s good. You should be. Let the tendrils of fear wrap around your every move, and embrace the primal instinct that tells you to run, run like a rabbit chased by a hungry fox.

He’s going to sink his teeth into your neck and tear you apart, tear you to shreds. 

Your cold feet carry you along the path you chose, deeper into the woods, deeper into the darkness. Trees blur past, bathed in moonlight, casting enigmatic figures on the path ahead. You can’t stop. He trails behind, a shadow in the darkness, tracking your scent, treading the path your feet imprinted moments before. Can you hear him panting, can you feel his hot breath on your neck? He’s on your heels, inching closer, so close to catching you, so close to having you.

You’re a fast little bunny, Nathan quietly acknowledges, his hungry gaze capturing a glimpse of your shirt. It only heightens the thrill for him, pursuing someone deserving of his dominance.

Oh, how he’s going to enjoy devouring you.

He’s behind you, pacing himself, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He’s calm and calculated in his hunt for you, his feet carrying him swiftly towards you. You must hear the branches snapping under his heavy boots, you must feel the heat radiating off his body.

How do you feel? Are you afraid or turned on right now? Be honest. He’s not going away, you’re not going to escape him, he’s going to get you. Have you made peace with your fate?

You should have listened to him. Fuck. A fleeting glance backward is all it takes for you to lose your balance and trip over your own feet, twisting your ankle. The harsh ground rushes to meet you, hands breaking your fall, immediately sending a sharp pain through your arms and shoulders from the impact. Gasping for air, on the brink of tears, you fumble back to your feet, rising as quickly as your sore knees permit.

Where are you? Where has fate led you? The urgency to run grips you again, urging you to flee, escape. Start moving—now. Away from him. Are you sure you chose the right path? Darkness envelops you. Your vision is blurry, you’re tired, your body hurts. The echo of your breath lingers, a haunting reminder of your vulnerability. He’s so near, closing in. Why are you doing this?

A surge of adrenaline in your bloodstream propels you forward, numbing the pain in your ankle and legs. You push yourself into a sprint, using all of your determination and strength, ignoring the heart in your chest threatening to explode. Do not stop. No matter how suffocating the open space around you feels now, no matter how much the cold wind bites your face, no matter how much you yearn for respite.

Do not stop. 

You keep running, heart pounding, panic rising. You hear him, feel him, know he’s toying with you like a cat playing with the mouse it’s about to rip apart. You like that, don’t you? The anticipation. Dull pain in your muscles slows you down, slows your desperate escape. 

Exhaustion and vigilance intermingle, fear collides with excitement, and amidst the confusion, a strange clarity emerges. This is it. He’s here. 

He’s on you – you’re free. 

Nathan’s weight bears down, the forceful impact knocking the breath out of your lungs, his hands and knees pressing you face down into the unforgiving, cold ground. The weight of his breath, heavy and labored, blends with the earthy scent on your lips, clouding your mind. 

“Caught you,” Nathan growls into your ear, his dangerous tone of voice causing your whole body to shudder with an urgent sense of dread. He’s panting, his teeth clenched as he grabs your neck, his gloved fingers painfully digging into your skin, putting his weight on you as you scream and thrash under him. He caught you, he has you, you’re his now. 

Your brain races in overdrive as the primal fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, telling you to ‘fight, fight, little bunny’.

Go on, act like you don’t want it.  

“No, get off me,” you scream at him, clawing at his hand on your neck, writhing and struggling to escape his grip. You can feel the sneer on his face, can feel his satisfaction with your predicament. Do you really want to resist him? That’s not true, is it? You don’t actually want him to stop, don’t want him to listen to the pathetic pleas leaving your lips. No, no, you don’t want that.

You want him to have you, to take you, to ravage you.

What a sick girl you are. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Nathan snarls, his knees pinning your legs down, his grip on your neck intensifying while his free hand retrieves something from one of his pockets.

“You’re mine now. Mine to take, mine to hurt,” he grabs your chin roughly, his dark eyes boring into you. “And you better believe I’m gonna make it hurt.”

Are you scared of him? He’s stronger than you. He’s going to hurt you. You made him chase you, made him chase what’s his. You’re going to pay for that, little bunny. You’re going to pay for trying to deny him. Can you see the fire burning in his eyes? That’s all for you.

Grabbing your wrist, he forcefully twists your arm behind your back, ignoring your pained groan as you struggle and try to resist. With practiced efficiency, he repeats the motion with your other arm, his gloved fingers digging into your flesh. He needs to use all of his strength to keep your hands in place as he fastens the zip tie tightly around your bare wrists, effectively immobilizing your hands. 

You’re bound, restrained—like a little present on a plate, primed and ready for the taking. Does it hurt? Does it hurt to be this helpless, this vulnerable? Struggle all you want. There’s no way you can escape now. 

Your fate is sealed.

Nathan manhandles you onto your back, grabbing you by your shoulder, then immediately straddles you and sits on your thighs to keep you pinned down. You can see the dark glint in his eyes and the violent desire painted across his face. Does that make you wet? The lust, the hunger, the raw need he has for you? 

He knows, little bunny. You’re so pathetic.

“Fuck you,” you defiantly spit at him, as the subtle smirk on Nathan’s face stirs the rebellious voice simmering in your mind.

It’s the same inner voice that urges you to provoke him when your ass is already black and blue, the voice that tells you to deliberately graze his cock with your teeth, so he’ll grab your neck and fuck your throat harder, the voice that tells you to come without permission, so he’ll overstimulate you until you’re too weak to cry — the voice that tells you you need more.

Nathan strikes you hard across the face, splitting your lip. Tears spill from your eyes, and a surge of adrenaline floods your veins. The impact on your cheek is so intense that your head recoils, seeking refuge away from him, eyes clamped shut in an attempt to find solace in darkness. He denies you that respite.

“Look at me, whore!” His hands are on your throat in an instant, knocking your head against the ground, ruthlessly pressing on your veins, crushing you, choking you. 

His eyes blaze with a wild fervor, pupils dilated to an almost feral intensity. The lines on his face contort, a mixture of raw desire and twisted pleasure etched across his features. Desire and dominance intertwine as his gloved fingers tighten even further around your neck, each breath he denies you heightening the predatory satisfaction he feels.

The crushing grip on your throat sends shockwaves of panic through every fiber of your being, alerting your body to resist. Resist him. Resist him or die. With your hands bound behind your back, your struggles are futile, your desperate squirms and frenzied kicks against the unyielding ground only fueling Nathan’s arousal.

Can you taste your own fear on your bloody lips? Delicious, isn’t it?

The world around you blurs, your head spinning, your heart racing, the dark grip of unconsciousness tightening around you. Dumb little bunny, willingly jumping into the fox’s den. What did you think was going to happen?

You’re so helpless under him, so vulnerable, so utterly…human. 

Nathan’s cock is so fucking hard it hurts. 

Right on the edge, as the vacant look in your eyes hints at a mind detaching from reality, he lets go of your throat with a growl, and takes off his gloves. Convulsing, you desperately gasp and cough and splutter as precious air revives your lungs. Your vision gradually returns, and as you gaze upward through tear-filled eyes, the vast expanse of the night sky unfolds above you, a celestial canvas painted with a myriad of stars.

It’s beautiful. Chaotic. Intimidating. Soothing.

Then, his eyes come into focus. Those deep, dark, intense eyes you could drown in. Wouldn’t that be nice? You see fire in them, hunger, calculated power, and…something else.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re scared,” you hear Nathan pant, his bare hands gripping your cheeks firmly, before he leans in and presses his lips on yours in a messy, violent kiss. You’re still gasping for air, but he doesn’t care. He needs to taste you, to devour you, to claim you as his.

He’s frenzied now, moaning into your mouth, gripping your jaw, sliding his hand under your shirt, along your belly and further up, pulling your bra down. He bites your lip, tasting your blood on his tongue, bruising you, marking you. You sob against his lips, out of breath, in pain, mind reeling, so desperate to be close to him you’re shaking.

He laughs at the pathetic sounds you make as he sucks and bites at the sensitive skin of your neck while hungrily groping your tits, his hand exploring your soft skin, squeezing, twisting, punishing. He tugs at your erect nipples, loving how you arch your back and how your cries echo in the night. 

“Scream all you want, baby,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck before peppering soft kisses along your jaw, his free hand moving down your belly and into your pants. “Nobody’s coming to save you.”

You cry and whimper as blood, spit and tears stain your face, giving Nathan exactly what he wants. God, you’re perfect. 

He slips his hand into your panties, groaning at the feeling of your wetness, his fingers sliding through your folds, making you moan and clench around nothing when he brushes your swollen clit. You beg him to stop, twisting and pulling your arms back and forth under yourself, trying to wriggle your hands free to push him off. But it’s no use, is it? Poor baby. You’re bound, you’re, ensnared, like a fly caught in the spider’s silk, each struggle only tightening the threads around you.

What are you so afraid of? Why are you trying to resist so hard? Is it fear or is it the fact that you’re sopping wet from being violated? 

The truth hurts, little bunny, it really does. But you can’t escape it.

Overwhelmed with Nathan’s assault on your senses, you gaze up at him with pleading eyes, his wicked grin widening with every agonizing second as he’s relishing the betrayal of your body. You’re such a depraved whore, letting him hurt you and getting off on it. He loves that you are, and he wants you to know that. He wants you to know how much he fucking loves hurting you, how much he wants you. All of you.

He can’t take it anymore. He needs to feel you.

Sitting up straight, he kneels between your legs, momentarily abandoning your tit and your pussy to hastily fumble with the button and zipper of your jeans. Can you see how hard his cock is straining against his pants and how hard his chest is heaving? Can you see what you’re doing to him? He’s in agony and he’s finally going to get his relief from you.

If only he hadn’t underestimated you.

A split second. A split second of lust-fueled distraction is all it takes for Nathan to give you an opportunity to get out. And you take it.

It all happens so fast. 

The forceful kick you deliver to his abdomen shocks you both. He gasps as the unexpected blow catches him off guard, and he stumbles backward, crashing onto the backpack strapped to his shoulders. The impact jars through his spine, making him groan in pain as he feels the sturdy surface of the thermos he brought pressing into his back. Hearing his pitiful groans stuns you for a fleeting moment, a hint of concern creeping in. 

You catch a quick glimpse of Nathan’s dark eyes and that’s when the flight instinct finally kicks in, telling you to get the fuck up and run.

Oh, what have you done, little bunny?

You wriggle on the ground, pain pulsating through your body as you scramble to your feet, wrists still bound behind your back. You run, feet pounding against the uneven forest floor, frantically, unsteady, driven by a primal need to escape.

Your eyes, wide with terror, dart wildly in all directions, desperately searching for an escape route. The whites of your eyes stand out starkly against the backdrop of fear, reflecting the moonlight that filters through the trees overhead. Each breath is visible, quick and shallow, as if the very air you inhale carries the weight of your anxiety. The cold air stings in your lungs, each breath hurting your sore throat. 

“You fucking bitch!” Nathan’s furious shouts echo behind you as he pulls himself up with a pained groan, a relentless pursuit that adds to the drumming rhythm of your heart. “Running won’t save you, you stupid girl. You’re mine. And when I—fuck—when I catch you I’m gonna hurt you like I’ve never fucking hurt you before.” 

Your blood freezes in your veins at his words, but you don’t respond, focusing solely on the path ahead. Running, panting, gritting your teeth, trying to keep your balance with bound hands. Twisting and turning through the dense foliage, you try to outsmart your pursuer, relying on instincts honed by fear. The shadows dance around you, leaves crunching beneath your feet. You better run, little bunny, run, run away from him.

You think a little groping and choking was bad? Oh, you naive thing. That was nothing. He means it when he says he’ll hurt you like never before. But you know that, right? That’s why you’re running now even though your body is threatening to collapse. You just had to be defiant, hm? You just couldn’t accept that you fucking loved what he did to you.

Now look where your pride got you. Was it worth it?

He’s catching up to you, determined to win, his quick feet carrying him through the mist, his angry shouts getting closer. Can you feel his anger, his hot breath on your neck? Can you feel the venom with which he spits his threats at you? There’s nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal.

“You think you can escape me, you dumb bitch?” Nathan’s voice is a predatory growl, following your every move.

His cruel laughter chases you like a haunting melody, spurring you on to push your aching muscles harder. The forest seems to tighten around you, an inescapable labyrinth closing in as the predator hunts its prey. And then it happens again. He’s got you. 

As you dart left, he anticipates your move, and your bodies collide with a force that knocks the wind out of you. You both tumble to the ground with a thud, intertwined, leaves and dirt swirling around you in a chaotic dance. 

“No, no, no,” you scream, thrashing about like a wounded animal caught in a bear trap. 

You’re so much stronger than Nathan anticipated, it’s incredible. He knows you have a high pain tolerance, but your resilience is honestly amazing. You truly are the perfect prey.

You squirm and struggle to get away again, but Nathan puts all of his weight on you, pinning you face down under him, your face pressed into the mud, his fingernails digging into your arms so hard you’re making yourself bleed when you desperately try to pull away from his grip. His eyes burn with a mixture of fury and triumph as he pants against your neck, his knees digging into the back of your thighs, one hand moving to press on your neck.

“That’s enough,” he growls through gritted teeth, as you just won’t give up, even though he can feel your exhaustion.

He slaps your exposed cheek as he holds your neck steady, the sharp crack of the impact echoing in the oppressive darkness. A surge of pain courses through you like lightning, leaving a heavy imprint on your senses. Before you can fully register the sting, he ruthlessly yanks on your shirt’s collar, revealing the vulnerable expanse of your shoulder.

Without hesitation, he bites into your flesh, dragging his teeth, breaking your skin. His assault is akin to a wolf sinking its razor-sharp fangs into prey, tearing into your body with a savage hunger. It hurts worse than anything you can remember. Your body’s in shock and your cries come out soundless, weak, futile. He’s pushing you to your limits.

When he’s had his fill, he wipes his bloody mouth, sits up and turns you on your back, immediately straddling your thighs as one of his hands constricts around your bruised neck. The pressure is not yet enough to completely cut off your air supply, but it’s enough to evoke vivid and terrifying memories of how he choked you just moments ago. The implied threat is enough to keep you still.

Nathan slings off his backpack in a swift motion using his free hand and turns on the light. He then takes a few seconds to look into your wet, glazed-over eyes, caressing your tender cheek with an unexpectedly gentle touch, tracing your soft skin with his palm. He can see it in your dilated pupils, he can feel it radiating off your body, he can hear it in your trembling voice as you can’t hold back the pathetic little whimpers escaping your lips.  

You’re flying. 

Seeing the need in your eyes, his handprint on your cheek, his bite mark on your shoulder, and the blood on your lips makes his cock throb in his pants. He can’t wait anymore, he needs you.

He lets go of your neck with a menacing growl, moving back to sit between your legs. His unwavering gaze remains locked onto yours, stripping you of any semblance of agency. He quickly grabs the waistband of your jeans and drags them over your ass and down to your thighs like you’re a doll — like you’re one of his androids. Sentient, but not in control. 

It’s so peaceful, isn’t it? Being his toy. His little slut to play with.

You feel your panties being yanked down, feel the cold breeze on your pussy as Nathan lifts and bends your legs for better access, feel him holding your thighs with a tight grip. He can see how wet you are, how swollen your clit is, how much your body craves his violence. And he’s going to give it to you. All of it. Because he craves it just as badly. His cock is aching for you, rock-hard, pulsating, desperate to feel the warmth of your cunt.

He hastily pulls down his pants with controlled movements, revealing just how much his body wants you. You can see his cock through your wet lashes, causing your walls to clench around nothing and your hips to jerk at the sight; a conditioned response from the hours upon hours of ecstasy he’s given you.

“All for you, my little whore,” Nathan says with a sly grin as he follows your hungry gaze and reaches down to grab the object of your attention. Locking eyes with you and searching them for a second, he strokes the tip of his cock up and down your slick, puffy lips once, twice, and then pushes into your cunt in one forceful thrust.

You whine pathetically as he stretches you open with a loud groan, your toes curling in your shoes, the feeling almost too much to bear. He gives you no time to adjust before he pulls out completely and slams back inside as hard as he can, pushing your body up on the cold ground. 

“F-fuck yeah,” he groans as he bottoms out deep inside you, savoring the delicious feeling of your wet pussy sucking him in. “That’s it…Now, be a good whore and take it.”

You can’t hold back your moans as he starts fucking you at a relentless pace, holding on to both of your thighs, putting his weight on them, pressing them against your torso. The angle makes you incredibly tight and allows him to go deep, deep inside of you. 

Nathan’s gaze penetrates yours, watching in awe as the need in your eyes grows bigger and bigger with every inch of his cock stretching you, with every snap of his hips against your thighs, with every demeaning word he spits at you as he takes what he wants, reducing you to a toy he can use and abuse.

You take it, take everything he gives you, take it so well. You take it until you can’t anymore. 

“Please stop,” you whimper as his deliberate, continuous hits to your cervix cause you immense pain.

Nathan laughs breathlessly. You’re so cute when you pretend that’s not exactly what you need. What hurts more, huh? The pain of him using you or the fact that you’re close to coming from it?

“Can’t take it, slut?” he pants as he can feel his cock swell deep inside of you, your pussy gripping him like a vise. You feel so fucking good. “What happened? I thought you wanted this.”

“Hurts…” you whine as fresh tears run down your temples. You writhe under him, trying to move your legs, but it’s no use. You’re trapped. 

“I know it hurts, baby,” he coos in response, his voice deceptively soothing. “But I need you to be good for me. You wanna be good for me, don’t you? Yeah, you do. You wanna be my good girl. That’s it, baby. Just like that.” 

His words send heat straight to your core, causing your walls to flutter around his cock. God, you’re a perfect little fuckdoll. 

You yelp in surprise as Nathan suddenly leans in, putting your calves on his shoulder, crushing his lips against yours in a feverish kiss. You instinctively open your mouth for his tongue to slide inside, wanting to taste him, to feel him, to have him claim you completely. 

The coil in your lower belly is wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You’re so close. You moan into his mouth as his tongue swirls around yours, and he groans in response, his hips picking up the pace, slamming into you feverishly. Your pitiful cries evaporate in his mouth as his cock hits your cervix over and over again, determined to make you come from pain.

He can feel you burning up against his body, can taste the desperation on your trembling lips, can feel your pussy gripping him so hard it hurts. You’re fucking loving this. He chuckles against your lips as you start jerking your hips, trying your hardest to get more friction on your clit.

Poor little bunny.

He’s not going to touch you. You’re going to come like this or not at all.

Not giving you even one second to catch your breath, he draws back from your lips and immediately grabs the base of your neck with a firm grip to pull himself deeper inside you with every harsh thrust. Lightheaded, mind reeling, your overstimulated body is screaming for release.

“Nathan…” you sob, your voice a mere whisper as tears stream down your temples.

“That’s right, slut. Keep fucking crying,” he groans, his hips stuttering for a moment when he feels your pussy twitch around his cock. You’re so close. Your whole body is trembling and your moans are getting louder and louder as he’s picking up the pace, thrusting into you relentlessly, telling you what a depraved little whore you are for coming on his cock.

It only takes a handful more of Nathan’s measured thrusts before the coil inside you finally snaps and you crash into your orgasm at full speed. Your walls clamp down around his cock so hard he can barely keep moving, and the overwhelming ecstasy that spreads through your body and mind makes you forget who or where you are. You feel weightless, free, whole as he fucks you through your high, drowning you in his touch that masterfully blends pain and pleasure.

He almost comes instantly when he sees and feels you fall apart so completely, your blissed out expression the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

As you start to come down and all sensations begin to blur into an elusive haze, you feel the edges of your vision start to blur and Nathan’s groans seem distant and muffled. On the precipice of your consciousness, in your delirium, you feel the gentle touch of Nathan’s lips on your skin, you see him smiling at you, you hear him whisper in your ear that he lo–

A sharp slap to your cheek wakes you up and has you turning your head to cough and gasp for air. After a few seconds of trying to catch your breath, your chest heaving, your head spinning, you notice that Nathan’s still moving, his hips slamming against the back of your thighs with a relentless ferocity that borders on primal.

“You don’t get to pass out on me, baby,” you hear him chuckle. “I want you to feel it when I fill you up.”

He can feel it building and building, winding tighter and tighter, his cock swelling and twitching inside your cunt. He pants and moans your name, telling you what a perfect little whore you are, how fucking good you feel, how much he enjoys hurting you.

“Holy shit, that’s it. Fuck. Fuck.”

He explodes deep inside you, cum painting your walls, still thrusting as he twitches and pulses, making sure your pussy swallows every last drop. He sits up, panting heavily, sweat running down his temples as he looks down at where your bodies are connected. He slowly pulls out of you with a strangled groan, watches with satisfaction how his cum leaks out of your swollen pussy, and at last lets his spent body collapse on the ground next to you.

“Fucking unreal,” he sighs deeply, covering his face with his hands for a moment before wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. He takes a few seconds to catch his breath and to wait for enough blood to flow back to his brain, then turns his head to look at you. 

You’re lying on your side, turned away from him, your knees pulled up to your chest in the fetal position. Nathan’s eyes are immediately drawn to the burns on your wrists, the scratches covering your arms and ass, and the blood he can see on your shirt’s collar.

Seeing you in this state has his cock twitching on his belly.

He did this to you. He beat you, overpowered you, took you, fucking destroyed you. You were so sure of yourself before, and now look at yourself. Pathetic.

What hurts more, little bunny? Your body or your mind? 

Your pitiful sobs cut through the still of the night, interrupting Nathan’s thoughts.

“Shit.” He snaps out of it and immediately sits up, haphazardly stuffing his cock back inside his pants before opening his backpack to get out the shears he packed. He grabs them, then kneels behind you.

“I’m gonna cut your ties, okay? Don’t move.”

You give no indication that you can hear him, but you don’t move your hands as he cuts the ties around your sore wrists. You lie still, limp, even now that your hands are free again.

Concerned with your body temperature, Nathan quickly reaches for his backpack again to get out a woolen blanket. He drapes it over you, shielding your exposed body from the cold wind blowing around you.

He tries to turn you around, so he can look at you and talk to you, but you start thrashing about and crying violently when he puts pressure on your arm.

“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s over,” he says calmly but firmly, pulling you up into his lap with your back against his chest despite your protests. His strong arms hold you close, the blanket tightly wrapped around you. “Shhh, it’s over, you’re safe.” 

He can feel you stop resisting and your muscles relaxing in his arms after a minute or so, your head falling back against his shoulder, your breathing getting calmer.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, rocking you gently.

After a short while of sitting in silence, he decides it’s best you two get going, so he can clean you up and take care of your wounds. But first, he wants you to drink from the tea he brought, to warm you up and rehydrate you.

With a careful maneuver, he reaches into his backpack while keeping a supportive hold on you, retrieving the thermos that left a lasting impression on his back. He takes a sip to make sure it’s not too hot before encouraging you to do the same. He smiles to himself when you don’t bother asking what’s in it this time, too exhausted to care, apparently.

You feel the soothing warmth trickling down your sore throat, warming you from the inside. A gentle cough escapes your lips, a testament to the wear and tear your body has endured. When Nathan’s satisfied with your intake, he stows the thermos and helps you stand up. He pulls up your panties and pants without any protest from you, then picks up his backpack. 

“Here,” he murmurs, wrapping the blanket tightly around you, so it stays put without you having to hold it. He then hands you a blue cool pack for your swollen cheek and lip and guides your hand to the affected area. You wince and groan when the pack makes contact with your tender skin.

“Keep pressure on it, okay?”

You nod and press a bit harder, the throbbing pain prompting a new set of tears to well up in your eyes, silently expressing both pain and relief.

“Can you walk?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Mhm.”

“It’s not far,” he murmurs, prompting you to walk in front of him. The flashlight he brought illuminates the path, but exhaustion causes you to stumble a few times. When Nathan has to catch you for the fifth time, he realizes this isn’t going to work and finally opts to rearrange the blanket, so he can guide you with a supportive hand under your armpit.

You’re not really here, so you don’t notice that he’s leading you down a different path than the one you came from.

The cold night air is filled with unspoken truths as you walk in silence, the sound of gravel and leaves crushed beneath your feet echoing the muted conversation you’re not ready to have.

Your body is beginning to hurt more and more with every step you take, as you can feel the adrenaline slowly leaving your body. The fog in your mind begins to clear at the same time, revealing a storm of conflicting emotions you’re utterly unprepared for. 

Nathan’s just fulfilled a fantasy you’ve had forever but could never find the right partner for, either due to lack of sexual compatibility or lack of trust. And despite having you climbing the walls with frustration many times over the past few months, you trust Nathan and know he would never seriously harm you.

Not physically at least.

So, why are you pouting right now? He gave you what you wanted, didn’t he? This was your idea and you wanted it so badly.

Is it because you didn’t think it would feel so real? That it wouldn’t hurt so much? Hmm, that’s not it, is it? No, no. What you’re feeling is shame. You’re ashamed. Ashamed at how much you loved it. How much you loved the thrill of the hunt and the pain of being beaten and used.

What kind of fucked up person would enjoy something like this? What is wrong with you?

– – –

“I had it built over the past week,” Nathan murmurs as he’s opening a new pack of sterile wipes. “Pretty great, huh? I designed every room myself, feng shui included.” You dig your fingernails into your palm and suck in a sharp breath when the alcohol makes contact with the bite mark on your shoulder.

You’ve been in Nathan’s new cabin for half an hour now, and he’s been trying his best to make you feel comfortable—turning up the heat, helping you take off your dirty shirt and jeans, preparing a cup of tea for you while you were on the toilet, giving you pain meds a non-billionaire could only dream of getting their hands on, and carefully disinfecting your wounds in the bathroom. He’s even refrained from misquoting Oppenheimer or exclusively talking about himself.

He is trying.

You, however, have remained unresponsive, eyes vacant, lost in the echoes of your scene. Vivid memories pulse through your veins, and when Nathan notices the subtle tremors wracking your body, a flicker of concern shadows his eyes.

“Looks good,” he goes on as he’s done cleaning the mark his canines left on you. “It’s not as deep as I thought. Still looks like it hurts though.”

He can’t help but smile at the sight, the evidence of what he did to you. Beautiful. He puts the wipes down onto the wooden bench you’re sitting on and studies your profile. Silent tears are slowly rolling down your swollen cheeks, your bruised neck, over your breasts, pooling in your bra. Your lip is quivering.

You hear him say your name. “Can you please look at me?”

When you don’t react, he says your name a little louder, his patience waning as he grapples with his own sense of helplessness.

He’s not used to feeling this way—unable to fully understand or solve a problem that’s presenting itself. He’s a genius for God’s sake. Concern turns to frustration, his eyes mirroring the helplessness he’s experiencing—an unusual and uncomfortable sensation for someone accustomed to being in control.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. But your silence persists, and his frustration peaks. With a sudden resolve, he reaches for your chin, intending to force you to look at him. As soon as his fingers make contact with your skin, you slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” you hiss at him with such venom in your voice that he’s momentarily stunned. Your eyes meet his for the first time since you left the woods, bloodshot and watery, pupils dilated. 

The sudden break in the stagnant atmosphere startles both of you and you immediately regret what you did when you see the look on Nathan’s face. Your palms are clammy, the bathroom suddenly feels far too hot, and every scratch on your body burns and pulses in time with your racing heartbeat.

“I–I’m so sorry,” you stutter, your eyes wide, your trembling hand reaching for his arm. 

“It’s okay,” he says calmly, studying your face with a furrowed brow. “Are you in pain? Is that it?”

“No—well, yeah. Of course I am, what the hell do you think?” A small smile tugs at Nathan’s lips, amused with your answer. “But, uh, that’s not it.” You avert your gaze and absentmindedly rub your right thumb over your left thumb in your lap. 

“Was it too much? Did I do some–”

“No.” You vehemently shake your head and look into his eyes. “It was perfect, Nathan. I liked it, really.”

He can see in your eyes that you’re telling the truth, but that just confuses him more.

“It’s just,” you go on, shifting uncomfortably on the bench. “What’s wrong with me?”

A lightbulb flickers to life above Nathan’s head, and suddenly, it’s crystal clear what your pleading eyes are trying to say.

“Why do you think anything’s wrong with you? You just said you liked what we did.”

“But why?” you blurt out. “Other people don’t ask their boss to chase them through the woods. They’re not perpetually bruised. And they wouldn’t get off on half the shit you do to me.” Your voice is agitated now, your hands wildly gesticulating between the two of you.

Nathan can see how distressed you are, but he genuinely doesn’t understand why. This isn’t like you. He sighs and puts his hand on your naked thigh. You let him.

“Pain, humiliation, submitting to me,” he says softly, his eyes locked onto yours. “That’s your thing, okay? Now, why is that your thing? Because you did a detailed analysis of all kinks and you cross-referenced that analysis with a points-based system? No. You’re just into pain and humiliation. You like submitting to me. It’s how you were programmed. Nature and nurture, baby.”

You hear the words he says, but your tired brain and your aching body make it so you’re not really processing them. His logic isn’t what you need right now.

“But…don’t you think that’s weird?” you murmur, your eyes filling with tears again.

Nathan sighs deeply, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “This is your insecurity talking, this is not your intellect,” he says sternly. “You’re better than that.”

He gets up with a suppressed groan, clutching his abdomen, and holds out his hand for you to join him.

As soon as you’re standing, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. Your lips still sting, but you don’t mind. Nathan’s lips, his warm body against yours, and his hands roaming your naked back feel too good to care. You’re losing yourself in his touch again.

He directs you backwards toward the sink without breaking the kiss, pressing his growing erection against your core when your lower back hits the sink. His tongue swirls around yours, his low hums vibrating against your lips as his hands find your hips.

Breaking the kiss, out of breath, he turns you around, so you’re in front of the mirror. 

“Look at yourself,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, his lidded eyes watching you. He slowly traces your skin with his fingertips, appreciating the marks on your body. A shiver runs down your spine and you moan softly at his tantalizing touch.

“I did this. I did this to you.” Nathan kisses your neck with his warm, soft lips, his beard tickling you. You close your eyes and hum at the feeling, resting your hands on the sink.

“And you took it so well, baby,” he murmurs against your skin between kisses, his hard cock pressing against your ass. “You earned every single bruise. You’re such a good little whore.”

His right hand moves down your belly, down between your thighs, cupping your mound over your panties. Gently but firmly. He keeps kissing up and down your neck, his warm breath and soft groans making you wet. You let your head fall back against him, wrapping your hands around his neck, and rocking your hips against his hand.

“Nathan…don–” you murmur, but he cuts you off. 

“Shh,” he purrs against your neck, sliding his hand inside your panties and finding your clit with his fingers.

“Look at yourself.”

You reluctantly open your eyes. His gaze meets yours in the reflection, your brows drawn together, your lips slightly parted. You still wince at the sight of your swollen face, the mark on your shoulder and the bruises and scratches you can see. But all of your thoughts are quickly washed away when Nathan’s fingers start rubbing your clit, his dark eyes never leaving you. 

“That’s it, baby. Look at what I did to you. Look at how much I hurt you.”

Speeding up the movement of his fingers, he can feel your legs starting to tremble as your orgasm approaches rapidly. He wraps his left hand around your front, his hand splayed over your tense belly, holding you against his chest. 

Sweet release. You can already taste it.

Your moans are becoming louder and louder, and right when you’re about to tip over the edge, Nathan roughly grabs your throat and simultaneously pushes three fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out of you hard and fast. Your eyes widen in shock and your hands instinctively grab at his, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but he’s undeterred.

He knows you’re sore, so he’s not going to fuck you with his cock. But you need this. 

“There is nothing wrong with you or with what you want,” he growls into your ear, his eyes boring into you as he feels you coming around his fingers with a desperate moan.

You ride out your high on his hand until your knees buckle and your limp body collapses against his, your walls rhythmically pulsing around him. Holding you upright, Nathan presses a soft kiss to the mark on your shoulder and nuzzles the crook of your neck with his nose.

“You’re such a fucking good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you.

“Now, how about a bath?”

– – –

Lying in the softest bed you’ve ever laid in, feeling the comforting embrace of the satin sheets around your body, and thanks to the pain meds working their magic, you find yourself in heaven. Floating on a fluffy cloud. Mind empty. Content.

“Feeling any better?” you hear Nathan’s voice behind you before the bed dips under his weight as he joins you.  

“Mhm. Great meds,” you murmur into your pillow.

“Yeah, right? I feel like I’m floating.”

“Huh?” You turn around to look at him, his face illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees and the wall-to-ceiling window opposite the bed. “What the fuck, Nathan? You can’t mix those with alcohol.” 

“No worries. My liver’s been training for this.”  

You scoff. He’s unbelievable. “Why did you take them anyway? It’s not like you got hurt.”

“The big, purple bruise on my abdomen begs to differ,” he chuckles. “You got me pretty good.”

You can’t hold back a little laugh. “You’re a baby.”

“And you get a little too bold when you’re high. I’d watch it if I were you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, your eyelids beginning to droop.

Nathan smirks and shakes his head at you. “Hey,” he lightly taps your shoulder, “wanna see something cool? Check this out.” 

He flips a switch on the wall next to the bed, and suddenly, the roof smoothly retracts, unveiling the vast expanse of the starlit sky.

It’s breathtaking.

“Pretty amazing, huh?”

“It is,” you whisper as your thoughts float away like dandelion seeds carried by a gentle breeze, dancing into the realm of dreams. “Thank you.”

The quiet in the bedroom stretches for a few minutes as the soothing embrace of sleep begins to claim you. Suddenly, Nathan breaks the silence with a soft murmur.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” 

“Hm?”

He sighs. “About your masochism. You never told me.”

“Hmm. I don’t always. Only sometimes.” You turn onto your side, your face buried in the pillow. A content sigh escapes your lips. “Can’t help it.”

“Don’t keep stuff like that from me. Tell me next time.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m serious, it’s–” He stops when he hears your rhythmic breathing. He leans over you and looks at your face. You’re sleeping. You look peaceful.

Nathan rolls onto his back and stares at the stars overhead for a few minutes, contemplating the universe and his role in it until your breathing lulls him to sleep.

– – –

Thank you for reading 🖤 ➝ check out my masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Rolling in the Deep

Prequel to Make You Feel My Love 

Warnings: mentions of abuse, violence, blood, miscarriage. Warnings may not be exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

Summary: You try to get out.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Note: Please leave any thoughts or comments or reblogs or anything you like!

You take the suitcase out of the closet. Already packed, waiting, ready to go at just the right time. That moment has come. Bucky’s gone. A mission out of the country.

It’s not just the bag. You have a plan. You’ll leave your phone there. When you get downtown, you’ll find a public bathroom to do a sweep of your clothing for any other trackers. You have cross-country tickets. You don’t need a passport for those, it will be harder for him to find you.

You’ll disembark at a midway point and do something about your hair. A change that obscures your trail. From there, you’ll take a bus and buy a train ticket at the first major city. You just need to lose yourself in the shuffle of life outside your tiny world.

You check the pouch strapped around your stomach. Cash. Enough to get you far away. You’ll figure it out from there. You lift the bag and near the door. You hold your breath. The house is ominously silent. The only witness to your flight.

You look out into the hall. You take a breath and carry the compact luggage cautiously along, steps softened by the long runner rug. Your hand goes to your stomach. It’ll be okay. You’re almost there. You just need to get outside.

As you near the top of the staircase, a shadow appears in the doorway closest to you. You take a step back, stunned by the unexpected figure. No. No. It can’t be. You know you can’t lie, he can hear your heartbeat.

“Steve,” you gasp and drop the bag.

You stand in a deadlock, you caught and him knowing. You swallow and repeat his name again. He tuts and puts his hand on the door frame.

“Why?” He utters. You should ask the same. Bucky’s little lap dog, his left hand, another enabler.

“You know why…” you say crisply.

He rolls his eyes and steps into the hall. You flinch as he grabs your arm. You wriggle and try to rip yourself away. You know it’s futile but your pride makes you fight.

“You’re going to let him hurt me. Again,” you sneer as he marches you backward.

He doesn’t respond as he nearly bowls you over. He gives a small shove so you stumble back into the bedroom. You catch your balance and stare at him. You knew before you tried it wouldn’t work. You don’t even know why you put so much effort in.

“You ask for it,” Steve grabs the door and snaps it shut.

You rush forward and hit the wood. You holler through it as you bring your fist against it, over and over, “Steve. You’re not like him. You can let me go. You can save me. Aren’t you supposed to save people… Captain?”

His footfalls pause not far from the other side. A sigh puffs loudly and he clears his throat. He continues on, the stairs groaning beneath his descent. You back up and cradle your stomach, the bump hidden by the loose fabric. I’m sorry, you look down at your shirt, I wanted better for you.

💔

Dread. That emotion has coloured much of your relationship with Bucky. 

At first, that dread that this man with the dreamy blue eyes and chiseled jaw wouldn’t like you.

Dread again when you sat on the cusp of your wedding day, stressing about everything that could go wrong.

And when it all went wrong and it was the fear of his temper, of his fist. Of how you might unwittingly bring out the worst of him. That part of himself you didn’t see until the last day of your honeymoon.

Now you wallow in it. You sit against the door, waiting. This is it. You know this doesn’t end well for you. You knew that when you packed the suitcase.

The dread twists in your chest, threatening to choke you as you hear movement below. The front door and the exchange of low voices. Silence, and then the unmistakable, discernible trad of his step. You know it anywhere, you’ve learned to listen for it, to recognise it.

You will not face this on your knees. You stand and face the door. You try to shake out your fear but that you cannot escape as much as you could not get away from this man. You take a deep breath as his slow progress creaks down the hallway, his weight shifting down the floorboards.

You stare at the handle as it turns, the lock sliding back. No one would ever know it but if they did, they would indeed think it rather odd that the lock is on the outside. They might even guess why.

You’re speechless and Bucky looks much the same. You see the anger pulsing in his forehead as his glare scalds you. As it all boils under the surface ready to bubble over. He is just deciding how he’ll let it come out. His lip twitches and his hand balls to a fist. Words or force, it doesn’t matter.

“Why can’t you just let me go?” You whisper.

His blue eyes flare and he takes a step forward. You retreat on your heels and he stops short. He sways as a shadow of hurt washes over his features.

“Why don’t you love me?” He grits.

You shake your head and cross your arms, “that’s the problems, Bucky, I do love you.”

He sighs, a deep exhale akin to a growl. His gaze falls and wanders over to the dresser. You wince as he stomps towards it and rips open the top drawer. It’s empty. He slams it and you cower as he faces you again.

“It’s true,” he sneers, “you were going to leave.”

You hang your head. Does he not see that you have no other option? That he has left you with no other choice. It is your life or no life at all. Whether you stayed or not, it would end like that.

“You–” he snarls and you cry out as he seizes the back of your neck.

He moves fast, faster than you can. You untangle your arms and reach back to claw at his forearm. He marches you down the hall as your feet bounce off the floor clumsily. You whine as his fingers curl into the tendons of your neck.

“Bucky, please, you’re hurting me–”

“You hurt me!” He hollers as he urges you to the top of the stairs.

“I… I never wanted to–”

“That’s all you’ve ever done,” he barks into your hair, sending hot breaths across your scalp. “You want to leave me? After all I did for you? After I loved you?”

“Bucky, I was scared–”

“Of what? I’ve protected you!”

“You!” Your squeeze his wrist as his metal fingers threaten to crush down to your spine, “I am terrified of you–”

“So you want to leave? You don’t want to talk?” He hisses as he pushes his head next to yours.

You look down the stairs as he hovers you on the top step. Your toes hang over the edge. You keep one hand on his forearm, the other clinging to the post beside you.

“I tried–”

“You want to go,” he snaps, swallowing loudly, “then… go.”

The last words are a gravelly whisper. He shoves you, throwing you off the step as you fall without obstacle. Your arms flail as he lets you go, as you try to catch yourself on anything. There is only air and then the harsh devastating crack of the first stair.

Your knees hit first and you shield your head against your uncontrollable plummet. Your chest hits next and you go ass over head, twisting around to bounce on your side, rolling and bumping over each step. Your foot flies out, hitting the banister as you hit the bottom and catches between the columns, the wood wrench your leg in the socket.

You stop, one leg bent unnaturally up as your foot stays hooked in the railing. Your breaths rattle as you lay strewn and broken. Agony coils around every part of you, burning most hotly at the base of your spine.

Bucky descends, a step at a time, each echoing ominously over you as you gulp and gasp for air. He looms over you and clicks his tongue as he bends to look you in the face.

“You fell, baby,” he shakes his head, “it’s a goddamn tragedy.”

You feel a churning in your pelvis, a hot pain in your stomach that makes you want to puke. You groan, vision speckling as you struggle just to lift a single finger. You close your eyes and shudder.

“Bucky…” you rest your hand over your stomach, “...the baby.”

[kikis-writing-service]

Spicy Curry (Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader) Chapter 4

Summary: Pro-hero Dynamight hides his developing hearing loss from the public. He doesn’t want them or the villains to know about what he considers his only weakness. His family knows. His best friends know. And now you, the owner of his favorite little curry shop, know. You want to live a quiet life & to protect your son. The last thing you want is to draw attention to yourself. You hide your identity, you hide your scars, and you hide your quirk. And then Bakugou, Katsuki walks in one day with dried blood on his ears, and you can’t help but help him.

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 ? ? ? ? ?

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Content Warning: This fic will contain mentions of past abuse from a “partner”, including sexual assault.

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Silence claws at Katsuki like smoke. His usually buzzing apartment, filled with pre-patrol jitters, now amplifies frustration. Benched from hero work is a new kind of hell – not the fiery adrenaline blast he’s used to, but a simmering resentment that chokes him dry. The sleek case for his new hearing aids mocks him from the table, tiny plastic soldiers against his towering rage.

Water sloshing in his throat does little to quench the fire within, leaving only bitter embers on his tongue. A sharp, insistent rap at the door pierces the suffocating silence. He groans, bracing for his well-meaning mother's lecture. He flings the door open, ready to bite back, but the words die on his tongue. Mina grins, a playful hurricane shoving past him. He shuts the door with a sigh.

Mina talks. He knows that much. Her voice, muffled like a radio stuck on low, washes over him. He wishes he could take back that bitter "nothing to do" that scorched his tongue. Being alone with his despair is preferable to this clumsy charade.

Mina's head tilts, a frown blooming on her face. Katsuki scowls back, irritation prickling his skin. Did she ask a question? Was he missing something? She marches closer, stopping right in front of him, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

"Hearing aids?" she asks, her voice pushing through the muffled haze. Katsuki's ears strain, catching snippets, just enough to understand.

He grunts, the sound like sandpaper against silence. Dealing with this is the last thing he needs, but Mina's stubbornness is legendary.

Scoffing, the sound hollow even to him, he mutters, "Doc's orders. Needs to... heal." He gestures vaguely at the aids nestled in their velvet cradle.

"But you haven't been wearing them all day, have you?" Mina's voice cuts through his fog. "So put them on. Let's hear the world whine with you." Her golden eyes, usually sparkling like fireworks, hold him captive, a silent challenge in their depths.

Katsuki scowls, jaw muscles clenching. Mina, sensing his resistance, pouts. "Why not?" she presses, her voice a nudge.

He grumbles, staring at the hearing aids, delicate birds in their velvet nest. "Not like the others," he mutters. "Don't sit all the way in. Not as..."

"Discreet?" Mina offers, a knowing glint in her eyes.

"Yeah," Katsuki grunts, the sound rough in his throat.

Mina's sigh is a rumble of understanding. "Come on, Kat," she says, tiptoeing to touch his face, but he swats her hands away. Mina puffs up, simmering with anger. "Stop worrying about what people think."

"It's not about them," Katsuki growls. "It's about me. And I—," He stops, choking the rest back, running a hand through his hair. "You wouldn't get it."

"Not if you don't tell me!" Mina fires back. "This is exactly why we broke up!"

Katsuki rolls his eyes, ready to retort, but the words snag in his throat. He pauses, sighs, and looks away. In a quiet motion, he pulls out the hearing aids, one by one. Placing them over his ears, the world snaps into focus, a cacophony of welcome and unwanted sounds. He catches sight of himself in the window, the tiny tube snaking into his ear a jarring clash against his usual stoic image. He hates it, the vulnerability it forces upon him.

"Tiny! Barely see it," Mina's voice, amplified and clearer now, pricks at him. He knows she's lying. The tube, the wire, stares back at him accusingly. He hates them. Needs them. More than ever after this recent slide. No choice, the suffocating reality presses down on him, and he pushes the frustration back down.

He turns to face Mina. "You came to drag me out, didn't you?"

Mina laughs, a bright spark. "Yup! Sulking butt and all, you're coming to lunch with me!"

"M' not sulking," Katsuki mumbles, but Mina ignores the comment, already grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the door.

Mina's words tumble against the cafe walls, bouncing off like pebbles on cobblestones. Fragments snag on Katsuki's silence – a new flame, a promotion, a weekend trip – but vanish before taking root in his thoughts. Every clink of cutlery, every muffled murmur, feels like a needle jab. The world hums like a faulty hive, every buzz amplifying the inadequacy gnawing at him.

He craves the silence, the haven you offered just nights ago, where the symphony of the world couldn't reach him. Water cools his throat, a fleeting respite from the sensory overload. "Hey, you still with me?" Mina's voice slices through the fog.

He scowls. "Don't care about whoever your fling is now."

Mina's laugh, like wind chimes, jars with cheer. "Aww, still hung up on me, Kat?"

Water sputters down his throat as he glares. "Shut up!"

Her laughter fades, replaced by a familiar, reassuring smile. Food arrives, a welcome distraction, but a blur. Katsuki eats on autopilot, flavors dulled, the restaurant's din a muffled roar he can't escape. Every amplified breath, every distant giggle, grates on him.

Sensing his withdrawal, Mina's chatter tapers off. Unspoken understanding hangs heavy, a familiar blanket she offers without pretense. He knows she cares. They're battle-scarred comrades, memories woven into hero training days. Yet, a chasm gapes between them, their languages disparate, his silence a fortress she can't crack.

His hearing loss isn't just muffling the world – it's a vine twisting through his life, draining energy, leaving thorns of frustration. Garbled conversations like whispers behind a wall, the exhaustion of piecing it together, the phantom echoes of missed words – the fear of being left behind gnaws at him.

He builds walls, fortresses of silence that keep others out and himself in. But translating his world, bearing the weight of their understanding, ignites a spark of fury.

His thoughts drift towards your shop, where silence isn't a chasm but a shared melody. With you, anxieties and frustrations exist in unspoken spaces, your empathy a bridge spanning the gap, allowing him to breathe, unburdened by explanation.

Mina's voice breaks through his reverie. "Hey, Katsuki," her eyes dim with concern. "We care, but you gotta let us in. Remember what we always said? Communication is key."

He knows she's right, but dissecting his experience, making deafness the story's center, feels like ripping open a wound. He's Katsuki Bakugou, a damn supernova, and reducing him

 to this struggle feels like a cosmic injustice.

The nervous waitress hovers, her gaze darting between them. He sighs, recognizing Dynamight's face, Mina's fame. This isn't hero worship – it's tiptoeing, a hesitant question hanging in the air. "Anything… uh… else you need?" Her voice, loud and slow, grates.

Confusion mixes with something sharp and hot in his gut. The hearing aids, not-so-discreet, click into place. Assumptions made, lines drawn, a new script written in the blink of an eye.

"Need air," he rasps, the simmering rage bubbling over. He shoots out of his chair, the world a muted hum as he rips off the hearing aids and shoves them into his pocket. Mina's confused call is lost in his wake.

He slams through the door, the cool air a slap against his burning chest. Pavement pounds under his feet, each step a beat against the thrumming anger. No destination, just the blind urge to outrun the sting of pity in that waitress's eyes.

His feet, on autopilot, lead him to the familiar alley, the comforting scent of spices a beacon. He hesitates at the shop's entrance. He craves you, the quiet haven you offer, the understanding that blooms between you without needing words. But seeking solace after his outburst feels… desperate and childish. He's about to turn away, to retreat into the city's anonymity, when the door swings open. You emerge, laundry slung over your shoulder.

You meet his eyes and the world stills. A sunrise smile chases away his shadows. Butterflies erupt in his stomach, fluttering against the bars of his self-consciousness. He feels stupid, a schoolboy caught loitering outside a forbidden playground.

Your head tilts, brows furrowed in unspoken concern. Then, with a gentle smile, your hands bloom, signing hello and his sign name – five fingers unfurl like a budding supernova, echoing the embers in his heart. Warmth floods his cheeks. He mirrors the gesture, fingers stiff yet fierce, signing your sign name back.

You scan the shop, searching for something. Not finding it, your brow creases.

"Doctor?" your hands inquire, urgent whispers in the air.

He nods, explaining his mother's intervention. "Ruptured eardrum. Should heal in a few weeks."

Your apology hangs in the air, a feather against his annoyance. "What for?" he asks, voice gravelly.

"My quirk couldn't help you more," your hands explain, a downcast gesture mirroring his chest.

He scoffs, exasperation mixed with gratitude.

"You've done enough," he mumbles, dismissing your worry.

He watches you wrestle with the laundry bag, a familiar knot twisting in his gut. Without thinking, he steps forward, effortlessly hoisting the bag onto his shoulder. You freeze, surprise etching your features.

"What are you doing?" your hands inquire, confusion flickering in your eyes.

"Heroes help those weaker than them," he muttered, the words gruff but the sentiment clear. "Got nothin' else to do on leave, might as well lend a hand."

Your surprise melts into a grateful smile, a blossom under his unexpected kindness. Just then, a shriek shatters the peace. Kouichi, a miniature hurricane of excitement, bounds down the stairs. Katsuki's gaze shifts toward him, the resemblance to you not lost.

"Dynamight?" he shouts, eyes wide with hero-worship. You step in front of him, your hands weaving a tapestry of sign language, too swift for him to decipher, but he catches "calm" and "quirk."

Kouichi, initially frowning, complies, closing his eyes and taking breaths.

"Sorry," you sign, turning back to Katsuki. "He's, uh, your biggest fan."

Katsuki scrutinizes Kouichi, curiosity igniting. Kids liked his quirk, sure, but favorite hero? That was usually Deku with his infuriatingly sunny smile. "Really? Not usually anyone's favorite," he says, surprise lacing his voice.

Your eyes widen, disbelief flickering. "What? But you're so cool!" The unfiltered admiration floods his cheeks, a blush he can't control. He can't help but be disarmed by your genuine awe.

"Think I'm cool, huh?" he teases, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

Your cheeks warm, and you bite your lip, a nervous but genuine smile playing on your lips. "The coolest."

"Mom!" Kouichi's shout cuts through the moment, drawing their attention. Katsuki's eyes widen. The laundry bag settled onto his shoulder, a familiar weight that suddenly felt heavier, tinged with a new awareness. Katsuki's gaze flickered to the boy, a knot of something akin to recognition twisting in his gut.

You rise, your gaze meeting his, an unspoken inquiry in your eyes. "Can I introduce you two?" your hands sign, pleading and hopeful. Kouichi stands beside you, eyes alight with unspoken questions. Katsuki, drawn by the twin flames of curiosity and a strange sense of responsibility, can only nod. Your smile brightens with an infectious joy that amplifies because it involves your son and his curiosity. Katsuki thinks it's the smile of a good mother.

"This is my son, Kouichi," you sign, your voice barely a whisper against the roar in Katsuki's ears. "Five years old and a ball of sunshine." You ruffle his hair playfully, eliciting a wide, gap-toothed grin. "He's deaf, so he'll use signs to talk to you. Unlike you, he's been at it since before he could walk, so watch out. He can zip through those signs like nobody's business.”

Katsuki blinks, surprise flickering across his face. His gaze shifts between you and Kouichi, a new lens settling over his perception. Understanding dawns, re-framing your connection.

“Don't worry,” you sign. “I told him to keep it slow for you." Katsuki gives you an appreciative look.

Kouichi walks beside Katsuki as you lead the way to the laundromat. They trail behind, silent questions dancing in the air.