#march put me in a choke-hold

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[starkeysbunny]

tears [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - rafe was a busy man. but, when his girl knocked on the doors of tannyhill with tears streaming down her cheeks—nothing was more important than her. and he’d fix whatever was bothering her. or whoever. he hated to see his girl cry.

warnings - none rlly, hurt/comfort, protective and attentive rafe

rafe sighed into his phone call when he heard a knock on the door. he stood in his father’s office—which was now his—pacing the room.

“hey, hey man, just hang on a sec, sorry.” he muttered to the potential investor before he put him on hold. he set his phone down on the desk and marched out of the office, curses and mumbles leaving his lips.

“somebody always fuckin’ needs something.” his hand rubs over his buzzed hair as his other hand curls in and out of a fist at his side. “goddamn. probably fuckin’ sarah and her stupid—“

his mumbles come to a halt when he opens the door and sees his girl standing there, tears staining her flushed cheeks. “rafe..” she whispers weakly, her frame shaking as she looks up at him.

“hey, hey, baby.” he says quickly, completely forgetting the phone call waiting for him as all his attention, worry, and concern is shifted to her. “what’s wrong, c’mere.”

his hand reaches for her wrist, pulling her into his chest. she lets out a quiet sob as she buries her face into his chest, stepping inside. he haphazardly pushes the door shut as he keeps her close to his chest and walks them both inside and through the foyer.

he whispers shh’s, and coos at her in his arms as he heads for the living room, sitting them both down. he softly pulls her from his chest, his head dipping down to her level. his hands come to her cheeks, wiping the tears off her soft skin.

“hey, baby, what happened? talk to me.” he says, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“i-i-“ she stammers, unable to get words out as she chokes on cries. her breathing quickens, getting close to hyperventilating. when she cries, she goes too fast, losing control of her breathing.

“hey, hey, no. don’t do that. c’mon baby, you know better. breathe, baby, breathe.”

she begins to slow down, her breathing coming back to normal. she keeps her eyes on rafe’s, slowly calming down.

“there ya go. atta’ girl. good job. breathe.” he praises, his head nodding softly as he watches her. once her breathing fully calms, she takes one last deep breath and wipes the last of her tears.

“now, gonna tell me what’s got your pretty little head so worried, hm?” he coos, his head tilting slightly. “what’s bothering you? who do i have to kill, huh?” he jokes with a grin. but to be honest—he probably wasn’t joking.

she sniffles, her eyebrows furrowing. “my uterus.” she whines. “i’m on my period. my cramps hurt like a bitch. and my mom is pissing me off.” she sniffles, stumbling over her words slightly. “and i’m hungry. and you weren’t answering, i know you’re busy. but i just really needed to see you, i’m sorry—“

“hey, hey, it’s okay.” he nods softly. “i’m here, it’s alright. i’m not busy, doesn’t matter.” he says matter-of-factly. he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “what do you need? hm? i have that heating pad in my room i bought for you a couple months ago.” he whispers sweetly. “i can make you somethin? buy you stuff? i dunno, what do you need?”

he was willing to do anything, he didn’t care. when his baby cried, he’d move mountains to make her feel better. he’d go to every store in town, run up his credit card, do anything. as long as she got a smile on her face at the end of it.

she nods against his chest, looking up at him. “yeah.. the heating pad. and—and can you make me a grilled cheese? you make em’ so good.” she asks sweetly, her voice gentle and weak.

he smiles softly, looking down at the sweet girl in his arms. “yeah, baby, of course. i don’t know if they’re that good. everytime i make them, you’re usually drunk and it’s three in the morning. that might be why they taste so good.” he jokes.

she shoves his chest playfully. “i don’t care, you can’t fuck up a grilled cheese. please?”

he grins. “yeah, yeah. grilled cheese, heating pad. got it, baby. anything else?” he says thoughtfully, his fingers coming to push strands of hair off from where they stick to her tear strained cheeks.

she shakes her head. “just you.”

he smiles. “okay.” he kisses her forehead. “i’ll be right back, gimmie a few minutes to get all that.” he stands, making sure she’s laid comfortably on the couch. he grabs the blanket from the end of the couch and drapes it over her. his eyes search the living room, landing in the remote, he hands it to her.

he leans down, placing another kiss to her cheek this time. “put on whatever you want. i’ll be back, promise.”

he leaves her at the couch and heads back to the office. he picks up his phone and takes it off hold. “hey, gotta go. somethin’ came up. i’ll give you a call later.” he hung up before the guy could even get a word in.

nothing came before his girl.

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Three

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Four

It all happened so fast. Max grabbed a hold of Charles and pulled him away from you, as your handler grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you away. A good thing, too. Your teeth were bared at him, ready to bite down on any inch of skin you could reach.

The muzzle was fastened over your mouth, keeping every body else safe from you. "Huh," Charles said as he struggled out of Max's grip. He looked at you, at the way your expression changed the minute the muzzle was back over your face. Eyes wide, expression guilty as you stared at him.

I'm sorry, you wanted to choke out. But you couldn't. Instead a whimper left your lips as you tried to beg for some sort of forgiveness. But Max (Max fucking Verstappen! But you could freak out about that later) stepped between you. The look he gave you was enough to shut you up.

"Come on," said your handler as she pushed you through the garage. You couldn't stop yourself from looking guilty as engineers and mechanics stared at you. They'd seen what had just happened, there was no doubt in your mind. Your gaze fell to the floor, unable to look any of them in the mind.

There was your car, your F1 car. Your status as reserve driver had been kept quiet, your seat fitted and the car set up to your liking. Your number sat on the car, number fifty-three. It was real. It was really, really real.

They were still watching you. They watched as you touched the numbers on your car, as you climbed your way inside of it and sat in your seat.

"How does it feel?" Your handler asked, leaning over the halo.

You nodded as you looked up at her. Good. It felt good. It felt right. As soon as this part of your life was over, you could finally be done.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Max pushed Charles through the garage. Through the garage and out the other side. Your focus fell back onto the steering wheel in front of you and you mimicked a lap around the circuit.

You didn't know that Max was pushing Charles into his drivers room. You didn't know just how angry he was with Charles. But you did hear as Max slammed the door shut.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Max roared, his expression furious.

Charles didn't cower at his anger. They were long past the days where Max's wrath would have his retreating to safety. "You saw her, right?" He asked and glanced at the door. "You saw how much she needs me."

"Needs you? Charlie, she went to attack you! She doesn't need you."

But Charles shook his head. "She needs me in the way you needed me, Max. She's what you would have become if you didn't let me in."

"She's dangerous."

Charles's hands were on his cheeks, holding his face. "So were you." He didn't let Max drop his chin to his chest and kissed him slowly. "What if I can help her in the way I helped you? Shouldn't I try?"

Max placed his hands over Charles's. His cold hands, cold from the can of Red Bull he had finished before he marched over, against Charles's warmer ones. "Not if it puts you in danger," he whispered, his eyes pleading. "Charles, I..."

But he couldn't say it.

"Come on," Charles said and let his hands slip away from Charles's face. "I can't top your speed in practice if you're sulking in here," he whispered and kissed Max once more.

As they walked back through the garage (Max continuing on to the Red Bull garage), there you were. Your helmet, Ferrari red and covered in sponsors, nothing personal about it, sat on your head. Acting as a muzzle, Charles realised when he looked at you.

His leg jolted, but he stopped himself from walking over to you. No, not yet. Not after what had just happened. He gave you a smile and you flipped up the visor, letting him see your eyes.

Charles got himself ready to climb into the car. All the time he wasn't wearing his helmet, he was looking at you, watching you. You, in your fireproofs, with your overalls around your hips. It suited you, everything but the helmet. The helmet looked too corporate.

You needed something personal, a design all your own.

"Tell me how she does," Charles said to Bryan before he pulled his helmet over his head.

Bryan passed him his gloves. "You worry about your own drive, okay?" He said and Charles focused his eyes forward.

Formula One was nothing like Formula Two. Everybody on the grid had forgotten it, even if they had all been in the series at some point. Most before it was called Formula Two, back when it was GP2.

There had been little preparation for your transition into Formula One. It wasn't supposed to happen yet, you were supposed to have more time. But then Carlos went and broke his damn leg and here you were.

If only he wasn't human, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation.

Your first lap was, well, terrifying. More than once you wanted to stop the car, jump out and dry heave onto the gravel. Nothing would come up, that you knew. But you kept going, keeping out of the way when the McLaren's came past.

First practice isn't about being the fastest, you told yourself.

"Next lap go," your engineer said, as if you were a dog he had taught a trick to. You gritted your teeth as you took the last corner. And then, you went for it.

It wasn't about topping the times, about being the fastest on track. It wouldn't be for you this weekend, anyway. This weekend was about getting a feel for the car you'd spend the next few weeks in. It was about bringing the car back to the garage in one piece. You didn't need to worry about scoring points or helping the team in the constructors, not this week.

But that was all you were thinking about.

Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points.

The lap felt good. Not fast, but good. But that wasn't enough, not for you. Your engineer said something, something that was met with a snarl as you went again.

"Come into the pits on this lap!" Your engineer was shouting. "Box fucking box!"

Box box. You knew that phrase, even when you weren't thinking right. But the lap was good. You couldn't abandon it, not now. "Box box, beastie."

Slamming on the brakes, you swerved into the pitlane. A dangerous move, one that would definitely see you penalised. You pitted and the car was pushed back into the garage.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Your engineer roared as he marched over to you. He gripped the halo are he stared down at you.

You were still, chest heaving as you waited to be told what to do. Waiting for your handler to come over and give you instructions. Eyes set forward, watching as Charles pulled into the pit. He wasn't there for very long, a minute at most, before he was making his way back onto the track.

"Beastie," your handler said, grabbing your attention. You looked up. Well, looked up as much as you could in the car. "Listen to your engineer. No more driving like that, okay?"

She said it so gently that you found yourself attempting to nod. Just wanting to make her happy, to make her proud of you. Her hand was suddenly on top of your helmet. "You know what happens if you disobey."

Your eyes were still focused forward and you nodded again. You weren't going to disobey again. You wouldn't dare.

When she patted your helmet, you shut your eyes. That was close to what would happen, close enough to have you moving away.

"Get back out there," she said and moved away from you. You drove out of the garage, down the pitlane and out onto the track.

You did what your engineer told you. Did a push lap when you were told and cooled down when you had to. Of course, you didn't see the wave Charles gave you when you went past, couldn't hear as he asked about you on the radio.

"How is she doing?" He asked Bryan.

"She's doing good, Charles, but concentrate on your own drive, please."

You were doing good, that was all Charles needed to know.

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[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.”

[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 it 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.

“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 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 despises 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.

[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.

[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☆

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