#once upon a time tw fanfic

[seven-oomen]

Hi, Ben!  I’m sorry it’s been a bad pain day, and I hope it’s gotten a bit better!  So, I’ve been having severe writer’s block for a while, but with all the hubbub around the movie I finally started working on some of my WIPs.  And one of the ideas I’d had was for a fluffy comfort fic for the boys, and since it’s been a shitty few days and I managed to actually get everything out of my head and onto the screen for this one, uh, here, have the first thing I’ve finished in like two years?  (Holy shit, I finished something?!)  I was gonna put it on AO3, but wasn’t sure if/how to make it private since it’s kinda technically another post-OUAT inspired fic and I wanted to check with you first before posting it?  I tried to avoid any specific references to much.  Also, I only reread it like once and gave it only the vaguest hint of editing because I was trying to do time zone math in my head, and I can’t even manage to think of a title right now.  In case you’re curious, the movies mentioned are Jungleground (which does indeed feature a very bby JR, thank you for that IMDb), Mortal Kombat (because obviously), and WolfCop.  Anyway, enjoy, and I hope it makes your day a bit better!  *HUGS!!!*

If it is anything like this wonderful fic gift below, you have my blanket permission to use the OUAT universe for all your fic writing inspiration. My only requests is that you send me the link to said fics so I may read them too.

Because B, you cannot send me this much cuteness at 1:30 am and not expect me to absolutely flip the fuck out and go to sleep with a smile on my face. I absolutely fucking love this so much, holy shit, and I have FEELINGS. And if I wasn’t half asleep already, I would be writing fic with these feelings. (But alas I have been fighting sleep since 9pm and I am falling over, so writing will have to wait until the morning).

But I am so freaking excited to write more of that buddycop fic now and this is FEEDING ME. Watered my crops, blessed my day. It is a wonderful gift and one that I treasure with all my heart.

Placed the Dilf club/Stetopher sr fic gift under a readmore for people’s dash, but it is very cute, mentions a/b/o, but is fluff/comfort. It’s based/ in the universe of Once Upon a Time

Untitled Shameless Fluffy Comfort Gift Attempt:

Noah handed over the last bag to Melissa with a slightly rueful smile. With a look like she was doing her absolute best not to laugh at him, she got stowed it away with the rest in the trunk, while he leaned into the back seat to give both the twins one final kiss goodbye for the night. They barely seemed to even register it as they continued to giggle and grizzle at each other, staring around the unfamiliar vehicle in wonder from beneath their many layers.

“Thanks, Mel, I’ll owe you one.” He gave her a brief but thorough hug in deference to the chill winds whipping around the driveway and tossing her dark hair around like a banner.

“I don’t mind in the slightest, you know that. They’re too tiny to be too much trouble yet, and frankly I love to see the look of low-key panic on Scott’s face when he sees me with them because he’s worried I’m going to start asking about grandkids.”

Noah snorted out a laugh and gave her one last squeeze before stepping back. “Well, glad to be of assistance then.”

“Exactly. Speaking of, get back in there and look after my other boy. It’s freezing out here, and I’ve got these two.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he cheekily replied, tossing her a jaunty salute as he stepped back inside. He waited until he saw her drive off with a last wave before heading towards his bedroom.

Chris was still curled up where he’d left him, looking miserable but clearly trying to be stoic about it. They all had their fair share of recurring aches these days, courtesy of both the creeping march of time and the sometimes rather unfortunate events of their lives, but due to both his father’s…well, Noah might call them training methods if he were feeling particularly generous about it, which he rarely was…and a couple of hunts gone rather severely wrong, Chris’ bad pain days tended to be far worse than Noah or Peter’s. A passing weather system was causing plummeting temperatures and frankly horrendous pressure changes, and Noah was currently feeling occasional twinges in places he didn’t even know could twinge. He couldn’t even imagine how much worse it was for his husband right now.

Exchanging his more outdoor appropriate attire for a t-shirt and flannel pants, he gingerly climbed up onto the bed and curled up as close as he could to where Chris was propped up with the specially shaped and supportive pillows left over from Noah’s pregnancy, a heating pad across his shoulders and around one knee. At least two layers of blankets were draped over him to help hold the heat in, with more piled at his feet if needed. He leaned over and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to ruffled ashen locks, his hand almost instinctively reaching out to tangle with Chris’, his thumb stroking soothingly along one side as their rings clinked quietly against each other. A brief green glow lit up their twined fingers as he sent a burst of healing energy across. Some of the tension flowed out of Chris’ muscles, letting him melt more comfortably into the cushions, and Noah. He knew it wouldn’t help for terribly long- neither it nor the pain drain did- but it was something he could do to help at least ease some of his soulmate’s suffering, so he’d do it as frequently as Chris would let him.

“Still doing okay?”

Chris heaved a soft sigh and tilted his head to nuzzle his cheek against Noah’s. “No worse, at least.” There was the faintest twitch of Chris’ shoulders in what appeared to be an attempt at a shrug.

“Is it time for your meds yet?”

“I don’t really want to take any more for a bit if I can help it, make me feel too fuzzy,” he said with a slow shake of his head.

“Need anything?”

“Just you.” Chris sent him teasing look up through his lashes with the tiniest little adorable smirk on his face. Noah very badly wanted to kiss it off him, but figured that would be starting something his husband was in no shape to finish. “And Peter,” Chris continued with a glance past Noah’s shoulder, “if he ever manages to make it back.”

They’d managed to clear the house of all but themselves for the day so Chris could have some peace (they loved their kids, but there were just. So many of them.) The older kids were all at a party at Kira’s house (he supposed if anyone could keep most of their hellions and a handful of other kids under control, a 900 yr old kitsune could…), Ben was at a sleepover at a friend’s, and Melissa had generously offered to take the twins to her place since she’d had only a short, early shift today. The resulting freedom had lead to their husband announcing that it was high time they acquired some new films for their collection that they could enjoy for the first time without any “extraneous familial commentary.” After ascertaining that Peter was not intending to buy them any more porn, Noah reluctantly sent him to scavenge the used DVD section of the local Half-Price Books, slightly concerned what sort of travesties he might return home with, but knowing that their Alpha desperately needed to get out and do something to feel useful.

Almost as if Chris’ words had summoned him, Noah felt a tingling on the edge of his awareness that he only ever got around his husbands just as he caught the heavily muffled whir of the garage door opening and closing. Sure enough, Peter soon came waltzing in, one of their reusable bags dangling from his fingers and an elegant cream-colored box in his hand.

“Greetings my lovelies. I come bearing gifts,” he breezily announced, tossing his windblown hair out of his face with a move like he was in a damned shampoo ad. Noah was deeply irritated at how well he pulled it off.

Peter laid the items at the end of the bed and stripped off his coat and jeans, pulling his phone from his pocket and tossing it haphazardly towards the headboard. He gathered up the bag and box without bothering to put anything else on, climbing up next to the two of them in just his boxers and henley. Leaving his video findings to the side for the moment, he very carefully placed the box in Chris’ lap, lifting up the top flap with a surprising minimum of flair. The bounty contained within was a luscious looking pile of chocolate iced cream puffs, the scent of strawberries and cream wafting heavily in the air. They looked freshly made and richly decadent.

“My route home happened to take me past that patisserie you’re so fond of just in time for a new batch of these to be coming out.” He received matching fondly exasperated looks for the sheer unlikelihood of that statement, but neither called him on it. “I thought they’d make excellent snacks for our viewing marathon if you feel up to eating at any point.” As he spoke, he leaned in and sniffed delicately at Chris’ neck to try and get a read on his mood. Finishing with a soft nuzzle to his temple, he leaned back and glanced between the two Omega’s gazes.

“Thank you, Peter.” Chris’ face lit up with that happy little smile that always made Noah’s heart flutter, the faintest hint of a blush suffusing his cheeks. It was far preferable to the pale, pinched look he’d had most of the day, and Noah wanted to kiss Peter for putting it there. And also because his gorgeous husband was currently half naked and wearing smirk that managed to be somehow smug and shy all at the same time. And because he’d been gone for more than a couple of hours now and he still hadn’t gotten an I’m-home-and-I-missed-you kiss. Okay so he maybe had a lot of reasons to want to kiss Peter. Sue him.

Chris glanced consideringly down at the box, biting at his lip. “The nausea from the pain meds is still fading, but should probably be gone by the time we decide on a movie. I’ll look forward to them.”

With a happy little nod Peter moved the box to the far nightstand and snatched up the bag of DVDs. “Very well, gentleman. Allow me to share the wondrous artifacts I unearthed for us today.” Looking at the design of the labels on a couple of them, Noah wasn’t entirely certain Peter was kidding about that. He’d easily guess those titles to be fifteen to twenty years old at least. Their Alpha proudly scooped up one and held it up for their inspection.

“This delightful little dystopian number stars a former wrestler as a cop who gets captured by a gang of adorably young would be drug-runners and has to rescue both himself and his lady love. It looks astoundingly, laughably bad, but the gang leader is just absolutely precious, so I just couldn’t resist.” Noah wasn’t even sure where to start with that, and Chris was already looking amusedly resigned. Peter switched out the DVD for the next one, which Noah recognized and then had to fight the urge to facepalm.

“Next, we have this amazing cult classic that I know for a fact you have not had the joy of experiencing yet, Chris. I have had the pleasure, but it’s been rather a while and I was feeling nostalgic.”

“…Is that the one where they’re fighting demon ninjas to save the world or something…?”

“Indeed it is, in a glorious and amusing display of horrendously cheesy effects and impressive martial arts. So many sexy people beating on each other; it’s really quite enjoyable. I’m rather fond of one of the male leads myself.” He gave an exaggerated little shimmy. “Love me a man who can do the splits.” Chris rolled his eyes with an intensity that would have dropped him back into the pillows if he weren’t already there at that declaration, while Noah just reached up to pinch between his eyebrows for a moment. Blithely ignoring both of them, Peter swapped for the last DVD case. A gun-wielding Wolf Man style werewolf in a deputy’s uniform snarled out from the cover. Noah pinched a bit harder.

“This one is rather new, but I’ve heard good things about it. It’s also supposed to be mind-numbingly cheesy, but surprisingly smart at the same time. Also it’s apparently chock-full of references to older, well-known classics of the werewolf genre.” Noah could practically feel the rant about lore inaccuracies building up under his fellow Omega’s skin. That sort of thing tended to drive Chris absolutely crazy, but it was so cute to watch him vent (a refreshing change to his tendency to suppress most things in the interest of harmony) that they just couldn’t help themselves sometimes. “From what I understand the first part of him to shift is his dick.” Noah dropped his forehead to Chris’ shoulder just in time to feel the full body twitch that went through the hunter.

“You do recall that I mentioned I picked up the box set for Stargate: Atlantis the other day, right? You know, the one with Jason Momoa? I told you both about that, right?” Noah tried with much desperation but little hope to dissuade his husband from his chosen films.

“Yes, yes, dear, so you’ve said several times now. We’ll get to that eventually,” Peter replied without even pulling his gaze from his perusal of the back of the case. He distractedly reached over and picked up the Omega’s joined hands, lifting them up to place an absent, if drawn out kiss to the back of Noah’s. At the same time, he saw black lines begin to snake up his veins from where his fingers linked with Chris’ own. Chris sagged gratefully back into his cushions, sighing somewhat blissfully at his temporary reprieve. Noah was tempted to keep arguing, if only for the sake of his eyeballs, but the wolf looked calmer and less frazzled than he had since they’d first realized it was going to be one of THOSE days for their husband, and Chris looked more comfortable than he had in a while, so he resigned himself to his fate with a mostly performative reluctance.

“Let’s get this horrorshow on the road, then,” he said, snuggling in closer to Chris. Peter snorted, grabbing up the first DVD and heading over to the TV stand. The deliberate sway to his hips as he walked was confirmed as he reached the TV and threw a sassy wink back over his shoulder. The two Omegas didn’t even bother to pretend any innocence, raising their eyebrows at him in sync as they continued to appreciate the view. He shamelessly repeated his performance on the way back to the bed, grabbing another blanket to layer over them as he crawled up to press as close as he could to Chris’ other side. Noah managed to snake an arm between a fold in the pillows so that he could reach across to Peter without jostling Chris, and placed a grounding hand at the bend of the Alpha’s shoulder and neck. The tensed muscles there loosened fractionally, and he felt Peter drop a grateful peck to the side of his wrist in thanks. Giving a quick squeeze of their still clasped hands, Noah caught a glimpse of that tiny smile back on Chris’ face as he tucked his own into the side of Chris’ head on the pillow, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo and trying (and sadly failing) to ignore everything that was happening on the screen.

Ah well, he thought, not an entirely terrible day at least.

[fullmoans]

Home is a Fire | Part 3

They left Stiles out because they knew the nogitsune would tear him apart, but now the nogitsune is gone and Stiles can feel the nemeton telling him it isn’t over — not for him. And maybe not for Derek either.

It was just after noon when Stiles pulled up to a small gas station a few blocks from the address his dad texted him for Derek’s house. He needed gas, a sandwich, and a plan. Would Peter have any idea how to contact Cora? It’s not like they were close. Had Derek ever gotten back into a semi-consistent contact with her? After a few minutes, his tank was full and he’d grabbed a cold sandwich from the store.

The new Hale house was very similar to his fathers’. A simple, two story home likely built in the early 90’s. He noticed multiple locks on the door when he knocked.

“No one’s home,” he heard Peter call, though the locks clicked open one-by-one just a moment later. “Ah, my favorite.” Stiles stared at him. In the back of his mind, he wondered what had changed him so deeply that he didn’t have a sarcastic remark even for Peter Hale.

“We have to find Cora.” Stiles walked past Peter until he found a small living room and sat down. “When’s the last time you heard from her?” Looking around the room, he noticed Eli was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. His attention was pulled up, curious about the new guest in their home.

“I know that Derek had gotten back into contact with her but I’m not the biggest family man these days. He did say she had given him a phone, in case of emergencies only, but I don’t know where he would’ve kept it.”

“What do you want to know about Cora?” Eli’s full attention had shifted to Stiles and Peter now.

“I need to talk to her. It’s important,” Stiles said. He didn’t want to give up too much information to Eli. Getting his own hopes up was one thing but he wouldn’t let Eli think there was a chance until he was sure. Eli seemed to be thinking, deciding whether to trust Stiles with some information he knew, and Stiles took the time to really look at him. He saw so much of himself in Derek’s son. There was an expression on his face that he couldn’t hide – one that Stiles knew well. That was the face of someone who liked getting himself into trouble. “You’re the kid with my Jeep right?” Eli met his eyes then.

“I’m just taking care of it. I get it if you want it back.”

“That Jeep is the last thing my mother left me. She meant everything to me. I know a little about what you’re going through and when I was lost most, when I couldn’t find a reason to keep going, fixing her was something I could focus on. In a way, she gave me a purpose every time that I wasn’t sure if I could live without my mom. As long as you keep her running, she can be your purpose too.” After he spoke, Stiles broke Eli’s eye contact. He could feel tears in his eyes and see them reflected in the kid’s. It was silent for a moment.

Eli spoke more enthusiastically this time. “Dad and I had a plan if anything ever happened to us. We were supposed to meet up in the garage and then we’d leave town and go to Cora’s. He kept a duffle bag there – he called it our ‘go bag.’” He got up and took a few steps towards Stiles. “I can show you where it is. I should’ve called her anyway.”

Stiles considered Eli’s offer. He didn’t want to get the kid involved in whatever he was doing but it didn’t seem like there was another option. Peter wasn’t fighting to take him there instead. Peter, well Peter seemed to have completely disappeared from the room. Stiles spun around but there was no sign of him. He sighed. “Okay, my car’s out front.”

“Are you kidding? We’re taking the Jeep.”

Xx

It was so unusual for Stiles to sit in the passenger side of the Jeep. He had forgotten how rough it was on even the smoothest of roads and being in the passenger seat, not being able to feel the engine from the pedal, emphasized every bump. Still, he enjoyed the breeze on their short ride over to the garage. When they parked, he studied the kid again. ‘He’s so much like me,’ he thought. ‘I bet he gave Derek Hell.’

“What?” Eli asked, when Stiles didn’t make any move to get out of the car.

“What happened to your mother? You don’t have to answer –”

“She was killed.” Stiles nodded, not wanting to push him, but he kept going. “I was a baby so I don’t remember any of it. Apparently, Dad had gone to live with Cora and her pack. He met my mom in Cora’s pack – said she reminded him of an old friend. I got a lot of her features, that’s why I only really have Dad’s hair. One morning, him and Cora had taken me so that my mom could catch up on some sleep. A few rogue hunters attacked. When Dad and Cora got back, the pack had killed the hunters, but not before one of them killed her. That’s the way he told the story to me, at least. I never really knew her.”

All Stiles could think was how hard that must’ve been on Derek. All of his life, he had been through so many shitty things. If there was a god, they really had it out for Derek Hale. “He was lucky to have you,” Stiles said.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I pushed him too far, I think.”

“When my mom died, I pushed my dad. I snuck out every night. Once, I overheard him talking about a body in the woods and I made Scott come out, in the middle of the night, and try to find it with me. That’s how Scott got turned. Anyway, I gave him so much shit. Still, he always said I reminded him of my mom. He said it hurt less to lose her because he got to have me. I know Derek would’ve thought the same.”

It was silent again, until Stiles opened his door. He heard Eli’s door open too and followed him into the garage. “He talked about you,” Eli said.

“I talked about him, too. I should’ve talked to him, instead.”

Xx

Eli left Stiles standing in the middle of the garage. He’d gone into an office where he said Derek hid important things. He came back with a duffle bag that was almost half his size. “This is the bag. I’ve never looked inside of it – always thought it was probably boring stuff like my birth certificate.”

Stiles laughed. It was a small, short laugh, but still something he didn’t do a lot these days. With a smile still on his face, he kneeled down as Eli dropped the bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Eli was smiling too.

The bag did have a lot of boring stuff. Eli was right about the birth certificate – it was in a big file folder which had the deed to the land of the Hale House, a few old car titles, and more papers. There were also a few pairs of pants and approximately 20 black shirts. There was a smaller black bag at the bottom which Stiles pulled out and unzipped. Inside were 3 burner phones, all turned off. He switched each of them on and looked through the contacts. One had names he knew – Malia, Peter, his Dad, and Scott. One had Deaton and a bunch of names he didn’t know. Family friends, maybe. Maybe other packs Derek had come across. The last one that he turned on had only a single number in it. There wasn’t a name on this contact but he knew it had to be Cora. He pocketed this one, turned the rest back off, zipped the bag, and put Derek’s ‘go bag’ back together. “Got it,” he said.

Eli took the bag back to where he’d gotten it from before returning. On the way out, Stiles noticed that Eli was putting a code into the office door. He hadn’t been paying enough attention before. “You keep it locked?”

“Yeah, no particular reason. Dad’s big on security. The code’s 7687-9653 if you need to get back in. The numbers spell ‘sour wolf.’ Some kind of joke he always set his passwords to.” Eli passed Stiles on the way to the Jeep because Stiles had stopped walking. He’d made the wrong choice when he left. Lydia had been everything he told himself he wanted ever since he could remember and she’d become smarter, stronger, and even more beautiful with every passing day back then. And yet, it was so obvious now that he’d made the wrong choice. “You coming?”

“I need to take a walk.” Stiles said, making his voice loud enough for the feet between them now. “Thanks for your help, Eli. Cora should hear what happened from me so I’ll call her. I’ll drop the phone off to you later in case you want to talk to her, too.”

He could feel Eli’s eyes on him as he walked away. Still, he needed to be alone and he didn’t want Eli to hear what he had to say to Cora.

Xx

Cora picked up before the first ring finished.

“Derek? What happened?” She said, immediately.

“Hey Cora, it’s Stiles,” He said so softly he worried she didn’t hear him. She didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, Cora.”

“What happened to him?” She whispered back

“He sacrificed himself to save everyone else. He did save everyone else.”

“Of course he did.”

“Cora, I know this isn’t the right time to be asking you for a favor, but I was hoping you might be able to help me. Deaton said Talia kept information on your family, Beacon Hills, and the nemeton. If any of it survived the fire, I need to know where it is now.”

“You don’t think he’s dead, do you?”

“I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” Stiles said, avoiding answering the question. The answer was simple though – no, he didn’t think Derek was dead. Not for good, anyway.

“We re-built the library. Before Derek came to live with me, we re-built it underneath our house. The door is under the wolfsbane. Everything that was left and everything that we’ve found since – it’s all there… Don’t tell Eli about this. It wouldn’t be fair to him,” She finished. Of course they’d built a secret bunker underneath the Hale house. Of course they would.

“I told him I’d give him this phone after we spoke. No matter what I find, he’s going to need you. Scott is a good leader when he needs to be, but he doesn’t believe in the pack like Derek did.”

“Give me a week,” Cora said and hung up.

Stiles looked up at the afternoon sky. It was going to start getting dark soon. If he headed towards the Hale House now, he could reach it before the sun went down, but he’d have to go home in the dark. He pocketed the phone and started walking. Walking through the woods, the sky darkening, headed to find a secret buried under wolfsbane on Hale land, he felt like he was 16 again.

[opheliajupiter99]

Sweetheart Pt.2 (OUAW Horror Fanfic)

*The Genasi known as Gideon Coal found himself sat in the far back of the old candy cottage, locked away in a room, its door hidden behind a wall facade. A man that spent so many years locked away in seclusion and chains, had found himself imprisoned once again*

*He wasn't bound by physical means; his chains remained as they always did, dangling limply at his sides, nor was he restrained in any other fashion. No, his bounds came from within. What once was simply an odd, tired feeling had grown into feeling horribly, pestilently ill, the once bright colors of the fiery man having dulled as he sat in one corner of the room, feeling truly cold for the first time in his life*

*He sputtered and wretched, vomiting crimson and sticky globs of sugary sweets across the floorboards at his feet. He vomited twice more before collapsing on his side, making the ground shutter as his chains clattered. He had only felt this sick once before; when he and his friends had first began their journey that would lead them to this accursed place. When the feted airs of the swamp made him believe he was dying, vomiting his entrails and rotting away before his very eyes*

*This was no trick, though. Even though the illusion before had felt very real, he knew in his gut, both metaphorically and literally, that this time was real. That this...this would be his end. Of course, he'd thought this before, even before they'd entered the Feywild, but that didn't make his certainty in this moment any less total. He just...laid there, for who knows how long, just...thinking*

*He wasn't afraid to pass on, ever since his escape from that horrid train, he'd indulged in every way he could, because he knew he could die at any time, and he wanted to enjoy whatever time he had left. But he loathed the idea of dying here - locked away all over again, his every move and action dictated by a master. If he could just get out of here, out of this house, even into the yard, he felt he'd be at peace, but not here*

*But how could he escape? He was too ill to even stand, and he doubt he could get far crawling, not with that hag still out there, and especially not with the door locked. He squirmed, trying to move, and managed raise his head a bit. As he did so, though, he noticed his hair was clinging to the floor. He tugged weakly at first, and when it still wouldn't pull free, he managed to flip himself onto his back with some effort, his hair coming free with a sharp ripping sound*

*He panted heavily, as even just that bit of moving made him feel exhausted...but as his head lulled to the side tiredly, he saw the strands of his hair that had been left behind. They were...rubbery? His hair always had a kind of sheen, but not like this...it was...almost like...*

*...Taffy*

[ask-the-nine-links]

Hey Twi, I think your tattoos look cool! But what do you think of them? And did they just appear randomly after getting cursed by Zant or did they appear slowly and eventually got darker?

Twilight: During my adventure, they appeared only when I was going wolf, but towards the end and after my adventure ended they started to fade in.

Twilight: I use to hate them, tried to scrub them off until my head bled. But now I’m fine with them, they are there to stay and I don’t think of them much anymore.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"Wishing it Wasn't" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 14/18: Something to Believe In Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: Teen Word Count: (1K/19.5K) Summary: Season 2 Canon Divergence: When Neal tells Emma he has a fiancée, she claims to have a new boyfriend of her own, and blurts out the first fairytale name she can think of: Captain Hook. Killian agrees to this ruse, but when feelings grow between the two, will the con be more than they can handle? Chapter Summary: Killian rushes to Emma's side to let her know he believes in her, but he may be the only one who does- which will come with dire consequences Tags: season 2, canon divergence, gun violence, angst with a happy ending, fake dating, mild character death, mildly anti neal Author's notes: While writing this fic, I sent snippets of this scene to my best friend, basically explaining how I left Greg unconscious and handcuffed to a pipe and in that draft I'd never resolved that. I found out forty five minutes later that I had instead sent that information to our camp's discord server. Our camp director's name is Greg. Anyways enjoy this chapter lol someone had better 😅 Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza @pawshapedheart [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

 Killian fumbled about with the handcuffs. He would've assumed the hard part of this job was dragging the unconscious man to a pipe in the wall to cuff him to, but instead he found that it was getting these blasted handcuffs around his wrists- not that they were difficult to use, even with one hand, but he was rushed, and frantic, because he heard the kerfuffle going down just around the corner, and he couldn't let Swan go through it alone again.

 "They don't believe her." He yelled through a whisper as he dragged the cuffs around a pipe in the wall then attached one end on Greg's other wrist. "They don't believe her!"

 He ran down the hall as fast as he could, knowing that Emma needed him- or, at the very least, she needed someone to believe in her, just some reminder that even when she felt like they all turned their backs on her- again- she wasn't alone.

 Admittedly, it seemed a compromising position he found Swan in- wielding a crowbar like a weapon while her ex's fianceé wept in his arms. Still, Killian ran in and stood by Emma's side.

 "I believe you." Killian said.

 Sure, she already knew he trusted her in this- he was the one who revealed it to her, after all- but she looked up at him, looked at him like he was some kind of safe haven, a haven of hope.

 "Emma's telling the truth," Killian added, "and you'd do well to trust her."

 "Oh yeah," Neal said. "Like I'm gonna trust you over the woman I love."

 His statement didn't matter to Killian- he was used to being insulted like that, used to not being trusted- but the verbal attack ricocheted right into Swan, right through her heart- watching the man she loved not believe her, then hearing him confess his love for another.

 "She's playing you, Neal!" Killian tried to reason. "She wants to get rid of all the magic in the realm and kill all of you to do it."

 "And how would you know that, pirate?" David asked.

 "She told me her whole plan." Hook said, ignoring David's usual judgments of him. "Thought I was on her side. But if I'm to get my revenge on the Crocodile, I'll do it on my own terms, and I'll fight fair."

 "I don't believe you." Neal said. "Either of you."

 "Dad?" Emma asked.

 Killian as well turned to David, hoping he would listen to his own daughter.

 "I'm sorry, Emma." David said. "We'll look into this later, but for now we should let Tamara go. She's had a troubling day already, I'm sure…."

 "No!" Emma said.

 "Emma." David responded, like a father correcting an insolent child. "We'll work this out. Calm down."

 "No," Emma said. "You're making a mistake."

 Killian watched Neal embrace Tamara, then walk away together.

 "We'll get this worked out once we get some more evidence, figure out what's going on…."

 "That won't be happening."

 This time it was Tamara who interrupted him. She pulled a gun out of a concealed jacket pocket and pushed Neal aside, back towards the rest of the group, gun pointed at all of them.

 "What are you doing?" Neal asked.

 "Can't have any loose ends, and the savior and the pirate know too much," Tamara said.

 Killian stepped in front of Emma, shielding her from Tamara.

 "But if I just take care of them," Tamara said, "it'll draw suspicion. Gotta finish the set. Might even buy us a little time."

 "Tamara?" Neal asked, sounding broken. "What are you doing?"

  "I have to keep magic out of this world, Neal." Tamara said. "It doesn't belong here."

 "You've been lying to me?" Neal asked.

 "Duh." Killian interjected.

 Neal ignored him. "How long have you been lying to me?"

 "Since the beginning." Tamara replied. "That coffee spill wasn't an accident."

 "You planned it all?" Neal asked. "None of it was real?"

 "I had a job to do." Tamara said. "An important one. Surely you understand, Magic is dangerous."

 "I won't let you do this." Neal said. "Not if Storybrooke goes down with it. I've got family here."

 "Good luck getting back to them." 

 "Back?" David asked.

 "Can't have any loose ends, and I'm not about to clean up messes."

 She reached into her pocket- and Killian knew what she kept there- a magic bean stolen from the dwarves' growing efforts. Using a bean for an escape didn't make sense- unless they were the ones she wanted to escape, through a portal made for them. And without them in the way, Tamara and Greg could pull off their scheme without difficulty- and that would be the end for Emma's family.

 "No!" Killian yelled. He ran at her to try and stop her, but forgot to take into account one thing- the gun Tamara was holding- and the bullet inside, the bullet that was quickly outside it- the bullet that quickly found its way into Killian's chest.

 He almost felt the shot before he heard the gun fire, almost didn't know what it meant until he hit the floor. He heard Swan call his name as he tumbled back, felt the blood pooling on his shirt. And he knew what would come next- she and the others would try to help him, a portal would open at their feet, and they'd lose any chance they had at saving the town. There was no way he could die knowing that his sacrifice meant the death of Emma's family.

 Fighting every instinct to scream in pain and call for help, he tried to get them to run from him.

 "Get back!" He said. "She's got a bean!"

 Before anyone could question him, he heard the subtle clatter of the bean against the floor, and could already feel its woosh, pulling him in, hoping his death would be alone, that the heroes wouldn't be pulled in with him, that they'd get to Tamara in time to save the day.

[bg-sparrow]

Story Title: Once Upon a Time in the West

Summary: Depression hits hard when Marty gets stranded in the nineteenth century. While he believes he has a handle on it by 1889, crossing paths with Buford Tannen again in a vulnerable state leads Marty to act on an impulse with damning repercussions. My entry for Cowboyvember!

Rated M || TW: Depression, Suicidal Thoughts

Chapter Six: Family

Thus concludes the beginnings of an unlikely partnership between Buford Tannen and Clint Eastwood. Until next time!

[lillchris]

You with the dark curls; You with the water colored eyes (Two Shot)

Chapter One: A Sour Apple Can Spoil The Whole Bunch

Responding to @my-favorite-sign-blog Word Count: 1.7k

a/n: The book title is inspo from the song "Dear Arkansas Daughter" Anyway seeing that this is my first fanfic in a while, I thought it was no better time to start than the present. Most of the plotlines in this book will be ideas from my delusional brain. In this fanfic, Jalen and Paige actually dated so just keep that in the back of your minds ;) I hope you all like this first chapter! <3 TW: Angst, Jalen Suggs, Mentions of cheating and divorce, Swearing, Homophobia

It was Christmas morning in the Fudd household, and with that came Christmas breakfast, it was a tradition the family had yet to break.

It was precisely 8:30am when Azzi looked at the alarm clock beside her bed, and heard the sound of her father's voice ring down the hall as he banged pots and pans that woke up all those who were sleeping.

"Come on everybody up! Rise and shine it's Christmas morning and you know what that means!"

Tim Fudd's morning enthusiasm was not reciprocated as Azzi rolled back over, and pulled the comforter back over her head, in hopes of blocking out the loud ruckus outside her room.

"I'll rise but I sure won't shine." Azzi mumbled groggily.

Just then the door burst open, and she soon felt a dip in the mattress as she groaned from the sudden disturbance.

"AZZI! AZZI! AZZI! Wake up! Come on get up!" The sound of Drew Bueckers voice blared in her ear as she rolled over once again.

"Wow I guess that didn't work, maybe you should try since your besties." Drew shrugged before getting off the bed and walking out of the room.

"Come on you big head, get up. It's rude not to greet your best friend after it took three-plus hours to get here." Paige said in a teasing tone as she attempted to pull the comforter off of Azzi.

"Just five more minutes Paige, pleaseee. You know I'm not a morning person."

"Okay fine, but I'm sitting on the edge of your bed waiting here until you decide to get off your ass and wake up." Paige teased as she picked up a mini basketball that was lying on the floor.

The constant sound of the ball hitting the door and bouncing back, over and over was enough to drive Azzi nuts, she sighed before pulling off the covers.

"When, and how did you even get here? I thought you were going back home to celebrate Christmas with your mom's side of the family in Montana?" Azzi asked sleepily as she rubbed her eyes.

"Well, it took me a minute to realize after I said goodbye to you at the airport a month ago, that I wanted to spend Christmas with you instead. So I bought tickets for the next flight out to Virginia, and viola here I am."

"Paige do you need me for anything else, me and Jose want to play Fortnite," Drew said with a sigh as he trudged back into the room with a PS5 controller in hand.

When Paige didn't respond, Drew took it as a sign, rolling his eyes before leaving once again.

"Come on Azzi I want some of your mom's famous maple apple pancakes fresh off the griddle before your brothers eat them all". Paige says with a long pleading, drawn-out sigh.

"Don't make me force you out of bed".

"Noo Paige Please. Just let me wake up naturally. Jose forced me to watch some stupid ass Christmas comedy movie, and I am so tired." Azzi says with her eyes closed still as an annoyed groan falls from her lips.

"You're getting up whether you like it or not, come on," Paige says mischievously as she swats at Azzi's knee lightly as an incentive.

"Alright guess I'm going to have to carry you out like the princess you are." Paige says before picking up Azzi and slumping her over her shoulder carrying her out.

" Think you might want to carry Azzi more gently, she is Sleeping Beauty." Tim Fudd laughs upon seeing his daughter carried out Fireman's lift-style.

"Well, she is a princess after all," Paige says with a smirk before carrying Azzi bridal style in her arms.

"Wait before you put her down," Jose says laughing, before taking a picture of a sleepy Azzi, as Tim and Katie just laugh.

"Alright, Paige wake up Azzi it's almost time to eat." Katie says with a smile as she sets the last of the pancake on a plate.

"Wakey, Wakey princess, it's time to wake up for real this time." Paige says with a smirk as she bops her best friend on the nose, as she puts Azzi down forcing her to stand up despite how groggy she is.

"I'm up, I'm up! " Azzi says yawning as she puts on one of Paige's hoodies that she's currently "borrowing"

"Hey, that's my hoodie! Haven't you had it for over six months now?" Paige says jokingly with an eyebrow raised and a smirk plastered on her face.

"Whatever Paige. I like it, it's so comfy and it smells like you. I've worn it for the past month since I missed you." Azzi says as she leans against Paige's shoulder, and everyone sits at the table.

"She has hardly taken it off since we picked her up at the airport a month ago." Katie states as she passes the syrup bottle.

"Yeah, she practically lives in it." Tim chimes in, as Drew and Jose give each other knowing looks, as they look across the table at the two girls, who seem utterly comfortable and relaxed in each other's presence.

"Oh? So you actually missed me?" Paige says teasingly to Azzi as she eats her scrambled eggs.

"Of course I missed you! Is that even a question!" Azzi says with her mouth half full of food as she half-jokingly rolls her eyes. She glances over at Paige, before nudging her in the side playfully.

In Azzi's mind, she wanted to say: of course I missed you I always miss you. But she refrained, something in her mind stopped her.

Just as everyone was finishing eating, the sound of the doorbell ringing shifted their attention.

"I'll get it" Tim said as he rose from the table, before heading to the door.

"Is Paige Bueckers here by chance?" A young man says as he stands on the snowy outside steps.

"And who are you?" Tim asks curiously.

"I'm Jalen Suggs, Paige's- friend. I would like to talk to her for a second.

"Oh, so you're- never mind, sure come in," Tim says clearing his throat, letting the young man inside.

"Paige, someone's here to see you."

"Here to see me? On Christmas? I don't know who could possibly want to see m-." Paige's words stopped just as quickly as they had been spoken. Her mouth suddenly goes dry, upon seeing him standing there.

"I need to talk to you, please." Jalen says with a insistent look as she approaches him, firmly grabbing his forearm, and leading him into the living room.

"What the hell are you doing here Jalen on all of the days Christmas! I thought I made myself clear-"

"You did, baby, but I-I want to apologize, for everything." Jalen pleads as Paige's blood almost boils upon hearing him call her baby.

Paige sighs, looking down and shaking her head, before glancing over at Drew who is watching them talk. He quickly snaps his head toward the TV acting like he isn't staring.

"Look, can we just- talk about this outside. The at least decent thing you can do is not have this conversation in front of my little brother." Paige sighs in frustration as she and Jalen walk out onto the small front porch.

-----------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Azzi is helping her mom and dad clean up the kitchen.

"Whoa, what did that plate ever do to you?" Tim jokes as Katie shoots her husband a not the right-time look.

In Azzi's mind, the thought, the sight, the mention of that person, that man- Jalen Suggs, makes her blood boil to no avail. He was a dick, an asshole, hell, every insulting name in the damn book of insults, for what he put Paige through the last year and a half.

She despised him, how could he do that to Paige, Her Paige. She dismissed that thought quickly, as her mind trailed back to Jalen the more she thought about him the more her mind reeled and turned at just how much she disliked him.

"Azzi." The sound of someone's voice and the feeling of her mother's hand brought her back to reality, and it was only then did Azzi realize that she had been washing the same damn pan for over five minutes. She released the death grip she had on the pan before taking a deep breath.

"Azzi, are you alright?" Her mother's eyes met hers as she looked up from her feet.

"Yeah, I'm fine. its-just why the hell did he have to show up, right here, right now, on Christmas of all days- I just." Azzi sighed and threw her hands up in the air.

"I'm walking out there, I know it's not my place but I'm giving Jalen a piece of my mind."

Azzi says determined, walking out of the house before Katie can tell her not to.

"ooooh weeeh, man! Watch out! Here comes Azzi. That boy is gonna see some Fudd fury from her! That's my girl!" Tim says proudly as Katie shoots him another unamused look.

"One! You are not calling me baby, and two! Don't you dare bring my parent's divorce into this! I might have been only three but that does not make it irrelevant. " Paige says beyond angry.

Azzi stomped out onto the snowy driveway about to give Jalen a piece of her mind, but she stopped beside the two, seeing that she had come at a bad time.

"And don't bring Azzi into this either leave her out of this!" Paige says before realizing Azzi is standing right there.

"Oh I'm sorry did I hurt your "girlfriend's" feelings." Jalen shoots back.

"Don't talk to her like that don't you dare!" Azzi says stepping in front of Paige protectively.

"Oh does Paige need her best friend- or shall I say girlfriend to fight her battles for her? Is that why you broke up with me just so you could fuck your best friend instead?"

That was it Paige had officially snapped.

"I'm not the one who cheated, with my used-to-be friend Hayley Van Leith! And no that's not why I was going to break up with you! I broke up with you because you kept fucking continuously lying to me!" Paige says with venom in her voice.

"You need to leave now." Azzi says firmly as she once again steps between Paige.

"Yeah alright, whatever Paige, at least I tried apologizing. Yeah, you just have fun with your girlfriend here. She'll never be able to give you what I could." Jalen says mockingly.

Before leaving Azzi and Paige in the snowy driveway.

a/n: lmk what y’all think :)

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

can you make a little fanfic about andrew being a fucking yandere? or hc's? i beg youu

Well since you begged <3

TW: Kidnapping, Starvation, Forced kiss, also- Yandere shit so be weary y’all

Yandere!Andrew Graves x Reader

Truly, you don’t know how things got like this

Your stomach churned with hunger, so much you feared it would start eating itself if you didn’t eat anything soon

Though you didn’t trust what he would bring you

The cold chains digging into the skin of your wrists was a good reminder of what trusting him brought you

If you had the energy, you would chew through the piece of cloth he gagged you with. Spit it out and scream for help

But- that wouldn’t end well for you

He made that clear last time…

“Relax beloved…” his voice was so calm as he circled you, the only indication of his anger being how white his knuckles were from clenching his cleaver, “I’m not gonna kill you..”

You wished he would. You wished he would slit your throat with that fucking thing and finally release you from this torture you’d endure for a week now. But no…you were his beloved. He would never harm his beloved, not unless they deserved it.

Harm, but never kill. Fucking psychopath.

Your attempt had been utterly futile, having managed to wiggle the Christmas lights tying you to the pole- leaving you to slink away like a slug in an attempt to get away. Andrew had come down to investigate the noise, where he found your pathetic slug ass on the floor, crying with fear.

He knelt down beside you, taking your chin in his hand.

“Awww…sweetie…” his voice was sickeningly sweet, like he was trying to provide you with comfort. If you weren’t gagged, you would’ve bit him. He helped you sit up, you flinched under his touch, “Why do you resist me? I’m helping you..”

He wiped your tears with his sweater sleeve, though your eyes were fixated on his cleaver- prepared to duck if he used it. Andrew wouldn’t use it if you didn’t give him a reason to, he’s exclaimed multiple times your first few days here.

He cupped your cheek in his right hand, you tilted your head into it instinctively. He had done this so many times before…

Before he showed you what he was like..

Andrew leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips felt cold, sharp- taking away any tenderness he could provide to you.

“I’ll let you off either a warning this time…but if you try this again…” he roughly grabbed his chin, pulling your face close to his. He glared at you, his green eyes filling you with nothing but fear as his true intentions were clear behind them, “I won’t be so nice..”

You nodded the best you could with how he was holding you. He was satisfied with that, his expression changing on a dime to that of adoration.

“That’s it.” Andrew kissed your forehead again, releasing your chin, “Come on…let’s get you back to your spot, I’ve picked up something that’s a bit….heftier to prevent something like this from happening again.”

You lost track of how long you’d been here now

Realistically, it was probably a couple of weeks

But it felt more like years

You perked up, hearing footsteps at the top of the stairs- and then the faint sound of a lock clicking

Fear coursed through you. The pole you were tied to was just far back enough that the railing blocked the top of the staircase- but you knew the footsteps anywhere

In your time living in the basement of the Graves house, you’d memorize the two sets of footsteps that visited you: Andrew, and his little sister, Ashley.

More often than not, Andrew would visit you- Ashley only did once a day to feed you- so it was a safe bet to assume it was him before you memorized Ashley’s somehow heavier steps.

Andrew’s were light, like he’d have practice not drawing attention to himself while walking

He maneuvered down the stairs slowly, his frame slowly coming into your view. He carried two plates in his hands, each with a fork set upon the conglomerate of spaghetti noodles piled on top of it.

His eyes met yours, and he gave you a smile. A warm smile.

You hated that smile

“Evening beloved.” He greeted you, striding over to your bounded self. He set a plate down in front of you, “Dinner time! Tonight’s meal is pasta, I thought I’d eat with you.”

He seated himself across from you, leaning forward- his hands going behind your head. Fear flashed through your eyes, but his poisoned touch left as he removed your gag.

You could scream. You wanted to scream. So, so badly. But he was right there. Scrawny as he was, he had the energy and upper hand against you to silence you…permanently.

So you clamped your mouth shut, which made Andrew frowned.

“Aww, come on sweetie..” he twirled some of your pasta on to the fork, “You need to eat.”

His face went dark as his sickly green eyes stared holes through your wide, teary eyes.

“I know you haven’t been eating what Ashley brings you.”

Your muscles tensed, and you did the foolish thing of opening your mouth a little with surprise for him noticing. He took that moment to thrust the fork into your mouth. You gagged on it, the prongs poking the back of your throat. You didn’t want to eat this, but Andrew retracted the fork and took your jaw in his hand. He manually made you chew, the noodles felt heavy in your mouth. Before you knew it, the cursed nutrients flowed down your throat and into your empty stomach. Andrew gave you a satisfied smile.

“There we go..” he released your jaw, picking up the fork again, “Come on, I want this plate cleaned.”

Each time he forced the food into your mouth, you wanted to vomit. You didn’t trust any of this. You have no idea what he laced this with, but the paranoia was already making your stomach ache. The plate was soon cleaned, and the feeding stopped.

Thank god, you would’ve said if you were coughing on pasta. You inhaled sharply, suddenly you were silence again- although not by the usual cloth you’d grown used to.

Andrew’s lips crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face to stop your squirming to try and get away. You screamed into his mouth, demanding to be released. Your teeth met his, saliva shared between you as he opened his own- then..

“OW!”

Andrew hissed, moving away and bringing a hand to his mouth. You had bitten his tongue…hard.

What were you thinking?

Cold terror filled your body as you struggled against the chains- and suddenly your mouth felt the familiar taste of the cloth gag. Andrew tied it tight around you, his eyes flashing with fury.

“Well…someone’s in a mood..” he grumbled, standing up and taking his plate with him. He glared down at you, “Look at all I’ve done for you? I’m protecting you!”

He clenched his plate- you could tell he wanted to throw it at you.

“You know how many people out there want to hurt you? Want to mistreat you?” His words felt like daggers, “You may not understand it…but I love you. And I’m doing this because I love you..”

Andrew turned on his heel, heading over to the stairs. He placed his free hand on the railing, glaring back at you.

“Happy 1 month beloved…” was all he left you with as he stormed up the stairs- the singular lightbulb in the basement being turned off, covering you in darkness.

You didn’t sleep that night

You sobbed into your gag until it felt gross in your mouth

A month ago, you had met a sweet boy in the library

He was browsing the poetry section, rambling to you about the underrated works of Edgar Allen Poe

He was so sweet

He was so caring

….maybe in a twisted way he still was.

[hammysando]

“Thank-You's and Goodbyes” Floyd Leech x Bullied!GN!Reader

AN: This is pure angst. Hurt and no comfort. Can you guys tell I really like to write angst? I SWEAR there is fluff coming soon- It's very similar to the Jing Yuan fanfic toward the end, but I like this one too XD. Anyway, don't forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed! And drop a comment if you so feel like it! <3 Reader is Gender Neutral!

Wordcount: 1.3K+ words~

Prompt: Nothing hurts more than almost. And being too late.

TW: Mentions of suicide, Major character death (Reader), Topics of bullying and grief.

Please read at your own risk!

More below the cut~

Floyd noticed them on a random Thursday, when he decided to be early to Crewel’s Potionology class. He had been ready to skip completely, but decided that if he wanted to pass the next lab, he'd better attend. He slunk toward the entrance, lanky frame bobbing slightly with his laid-back, slow steps. Though, his feet came to a stop as he heard sniffling from inside the classroom.

”Ehhh? Is someone already here?” He mused this to himself as he peeked into the room curiously.

Someone stood at the furthest desk from the doorway, head bowed as hot tears slid down their cheeks. They seemed to stare down at the desk for a while longer before wiping their eyes and taking out a cloth and tiny bottle of liquid from their uniform jacket. Quickly, they poured the cleaning solution on their desk before scrubbing away at something. This piqued Floyd’s interest as he stepped in and made his way over, his signature smile in his face. Bending down, he hummed in the student’s ear and spoke, voice playful and probing.

“Say, I haven't seen you before.” His grin deepened, dual colored eyes squinting slightly with mischievous amusement. “I'll call you flamefishie.”

Floyd Leech’s second encounter with this stranger happened when he came early once again. Except this time, he peeked over their shoulder as they started to erase black and red words off their desk. The ink ran and disappeared quickly, but Floyd could feel himself tense as the words flashed in his mind.

“Worthless freak.”

“Gonna cry?”

“I bet your parents are embarrassed of you because you're practically magicless.”

“Say, Flamefishie… Who-” The student broke away, leaving wordlessly and in a hurry. The teal-haired man didn't get a chance to say anything more. Floyd waited for them to return, but the one he had dubbed as “Flamefishie”, didn't show for the rest of Crewel’s class.

Their third meeting, occured when Floyd arrived at the empty classroom, early yet again for the third time. He was in a terrible mood, being stuck with Azul’s yammering about customers and the Monstro Lounge. Did he never learn to loosen up? What irritated Floyd even more, were the three students crowding around a certain desk. They snickered loudly as they marked up the poor student’s desk. Ah, what a perfect opportunity to vent a little of his anger.

In a few lanky steps, he was upon the three students. One, was from Savanaclaw, while the other two were from Flamefishie’s dorm. Oh, that somehow made Floyd feel more murderous. His looming presence alone was enough to silence the snickering as the three students turned slowly. Heterochromic eyes glared down at them intensely as he spoke, cheery voice a contrast to the expression on his face, and the terrifying look in his eyes.

“Say… So you're the three that make Flamefishie cry…?” He smiled cruelly and a little unhingedly as he descended. “I'll give you a count to three before I squeeze you all.”

It was safe to say that the three scrambled away without as much as a glance back. Floyd fixed his uniform tie before the sound of books thudding against the floor caught his attention. His head snapped up and he turned, to see the familiar student he had come into contact with a few times before. Their (eye color) eyes were wide, already filling with tears. Were they always crying? Before Floyd could say anything, another thud filled the silence as the crying student dropped their bag and rushed over, throwing their arms around Floyd. The eel man froze but threw his head back and laughed. This was a surprise. One that put him in a good mood. It sounded as if they whispered something to him under their breath. Something he couldn't make out, but decided not to bring up as he took their hand and dragged them out of class.

“We're skipping class, Flamefishie~!” And it seemed like they were okay with that.

There had been buzz around the NRC, about the death of a student. Suicide, the whispering said. They weren't known very well amongst the student body, but that didn't stop the solemn feeling of mourning to choke the air. Floyd had a bad feeling in his gut, suddenly. Wait a second… Months had passed since he saw Flamefishie. It irritated him at first. Were they avoiding him? Why? But soon their absence became a normal occurrence that he had gotten used to. But now, oh, what could he say to that horrible dread he felt sitting in his stomach as he raced to his potionology class?

Floyd stared down at that specific desk; the one that peculiar student occupied for every one of Crewel’s boring lectures. Disbelief ran through him before rage replaced it. But that rage quickly died as he stared blankly. There, sitting atop their desk, was a vase of orchids, soft and white. He knew what this was.

Under the vase, was a letter addressed to him. It was simple, the only embellishment on it being a scribble of an eel on the corner of the envelope. Floyd tore the letter open with slightly shaking hands, unprepared for what he would read.

Many students say you're scary. But… You were so kind to me. Especially that day. I'm so grateful to have encountered someone like you.

So thank you. And goodbye.

It wasn't even signed. Floyd felt his frustration, anger, and sorrow all boil over as he turned and kicked over one of the chairs violently. Was he stupid? He had never even asked them their name. Storming out of the class, he couldn't bring himself to look back, the letter clutched in his hands tightly.

The next few days were like a blur. And before he knew it, he was attending an assembly for that student’s death. It was a blur as well, and he wandered his way around before a hand on his shoulder caught his attention. Floyd flared up, ready to beat someone to a bloody pulp, but stopped when he recognized a familiar shade of (eye color) eyes, looking at him. For a second, he could feel himself grow hopeful before realization crushed him. No, this wasn't his Flamefishie.

“Floyd Leech?” A man’s voice sounded, calm yet laced with hurt and sorrow.

“What's it to you?” He spat this, feeling a bad mood coming on.

The man simply smiled slightly. “I'm… (Full Name)’s older brother.. I just wanted to thank you, for being the reason they smiled so much. (Name) never did much, as far back as I could remember… I don't know what you were to each other, but they seemed alive when they spoke about you.” He seemed to stop, smile faltering before it perked up once more.

“So thank you, for giving them good memories.” Floyd turned in that instant and left, scowl deepening until he found himself far away from everyone. The NRC campus was empty, every student having gone to that assembly. Without the suffocating air of sorrow and sadness, Floyd started to question himself. Question why he cared at all in the first place. They had barely known each other. They'd only encountered each other a handful of times. So why did the sadness eat away at him from the inside? Why did the sorrow burn his eyes so?

Floyd felt a tear hit his hand, followed by another, and another. He couldn't stop the rain clouds that had started to gather round his mismatched eyes. And a realization hit him. About why he cared. Why it hurt like this.

He loved (Name).

[luna-writes-stuff]

Gonna Join Or What?, Dean Winchester

Fanfic, fem! reader

Mutual pining, it’s spicy, fluff

Word count: 3130

Tw: Closest I’ll ever come to writing smut. Mutual pining, kissing, (consensual) groping, lewd comments. You’re both naked. But no sex (I know). Description of injuries, blood and aching muscles.

Summary: After a long drive, you, Sam, and Dean finally find a motel along the road. Upon finding out your motel room has a tub, you claim the bathroom for yourself. But you and Dean have been playing cat and mouse for months. Maybe he finally grew tired of small talk, no action.

“You think Ozzy wrote Road To Nowhere when he drove here?” You voiced from the backseat, fatigue heavy in your features. You have been driving nonstop for three hours now and you had yet to pass a motel, city sign or even a gas stop.

“You’re hilarious.” Dean voiced from the driver’s seat, his eyes focused on the road, though he himself had begun to tire as well.

“According to the map, the motel is only a few miles away.” Sam reminded. Yes, you had found a motel on the map, but the drive to the thing seemed to last forever. You had left from a poltergeist hunting, which had been more violent predicted. Though no one came out with any severe injuries, your muscles ached for cheap motel beds and cold showers.

“It was a few miles away two hours ago.” You muttered. “Told you we should’ve just stayed for one more night.”

Sam turned around in his seat, flashing you a sympathetic smile, clumsily reaching his hand behind him to squeeze your knee in comfort. “No one’s stopping you from falling asleep in the car.”

“I am,” you mused, forcing a smile in return. “You’d die of boredom otherwise.”

A scoff of humour escaped the youngest Winchester’s throat as he turned back, returning his hand to his lap.

It was another hour before the motel finally came into sight. To no one’s surprise, the parking lot was empty. Of course it was; it was in the middle of nowhere. The ‘24/7’ neon sign glowed brightly in the dark night sky, the look of it so inviting, you could have ran to it and kissed it.

Per custom, you shared your room. There was a time you’d have a seperate room, but since that werewolf followed you to your motel, you’ve given up on privacy whilst travelling with the Winchesters. You were safer with them than from them.

Stumbling through the door, you threw your bag onto one of the beds, claiming it for your own. Sam followed suit, copying your actions before Dean could, throwing him a coy smile over his shoulder.

You hissed at the sight, forming a tight lipped smile at the oldest. “Looks like it’s couch for you again, Winchester.” You teased.

“Don’t gloat, sweetheart. I can still kick you out of bed once you fall asleep.” He grumbled, yet a tiny smile graced his face as he spoke his words. “I remember when you still had your own room.”

With his words, he threw his bag on the couch, before sauntering through the room. “It was so peaceful at night. An own bed, no snoring, no “turn around, Dean. I’m changing.”” As he mimicked you, his voice raised an octave, throwing his hands up dramatically.

“This isn’t gonna work, Dean.” You mentioned, gently unpacking your things as you folded your pyjamas. 

“I haven’t felt the warm embrace of a motel bed for so long,” he sighed exasperated, waltzing up to your bed, before sitting down on it with a loud huff. His arms extended as he slowly fell down, wrapping them around your waist when his stomach was on the mattress completely. You paused for a moment when his face dug into your side, mumbling against your shirt. “If only for a night.” 

He had pulled this trick more often. Because he was the driver, he was the last one to get out of the car. He never made it to motel rooms in time. And first come, first serve. That had become the rule. No remorse. But you and Dean had this….unspoken thing. And - unfortunately - he wasn’t oblivious, and used this to his advantage. He might not have been aware of your heart speeding up as his arms wrapped around you, or how goosebumps covered your arm as you felt his hot breath against your shirt, but he knew damn well how to push your buttons in all the right places.

“How I hate to disappoint you,” you returned, keeping your voice surprisingly steady. “I’m sure Sammy would love to bunk with you.”

“No, thank you.” Sam called from the other side of the motel room, throwing salt in front of the windows just in case.

“Sammy hates me,” Dean mumbled against the fabric of your shirt. “You don’t.”

“I don’t?” You mused, a teasing edge to your voice. Upon the sound, Dean turned his head slightly, looking up at you from your lap. The sight was almost endearing, and you found it difficult to not give in right there and then. But you knew you would never look at him the same if you’d ever wake up with him beside you. You might never want to wake up without it again. Some things were better left unsaid.

“You’re cruel.” “Demons aren’t killed by kisses, Winchester.”

Reluctantly, you stood up from your spot on the bed, walking up to the bathroom. Not hearing Dean move, you looked over your shoulder briefly.

“Not your bed.” You reminded him before finally opening the door to the bathroom. As you did, a loud gasp escaped you, and before you could even blink, both brothers were beside you.

“What?”

“This room has a tub?” You questioned excitedly, your eyes widening upon the sight of the stall tub.

“I didn’t know motels came with tubs.” Sam mumbled, somewhat awestruck as he took a look in the bathroom.

“I call dibs.” You announced, walking into the room without hesitation, locking the door behind you, not giving the Winchesters any time to argue.

“Come on!” Dean shouted from the other side of the door. “You’ll use all the warm water!”

“Take a bucket!” You shot back, putting your towel in the sink as you let the water in the tub run. It took a few seconds before shuffling was heard at the door, announcing to you that the pair had left and were probably moping in their seats as you adjusted the temperature. Perhaps, somewhere, you should’ve felt bad for them. But Dean called shots to the shower first and he was usually the one to use up the warm water. And if not him, his brother was an expert in taking long showers as well. You deserved a good bath once in a while. It would do good to your aching body.

Not letting your thoughts dwell on the Winchesters any longer, you stripped off your clothing, holding your hand under the stream of water to scrub off dried blood and scabs from your skin before entering the tub.

It wasn’t until the water pooling at your feet turned red when you realised you had left your pyjamas on your bed. Groaning at the thought, you wrapped a towel around your figure, nearing the bathroom door. Screwing it from its lock, you poked your head into the room. 

You could see Dean’s head rise from behind the couch cushions upon the sound, but you were unable to spot the youngest sibling. His absence took you by surprise. 

“Where’s Sam?” You wondered aloud, causing Dean to quirk an eyebrow up. “You gonna ask him to join you?”

You could feel your face heat up at the thought. Noticing your hesitance to answer that question, Dean’s face turned slightly sour. And that was something you noticed. So, you decided to have fun with it: “I might.”

Rolling his eyes at your statement, he let his head sink back on the couch, pointing his thumb towards the motel door. “Grabbing the first aid kit from the car.”

Silence passed between the two of you. Not that this was unusual. You and Dean have had your fair share of uncomfortable silences. It didn’t help that he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you, but simply refused to act on it. It was as infuriating as it was pathetic. There were nights you could cry about it and there were nights you could punch his teeth out for it. 

And there were nights you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

“What about you?” 

Oblivious to your underlying intention, he turned his head slightly; “What about me?” “You gonna join me?” You prodded, a teasing smile graving your features.

A low chuckle escaped his throat as he shook his head. “Don’t tease me like that. I might take you up on it.” Then, he laid back, his attention returning to the magazine in his hands. 

You shrugged at the sight, silently mumbling the words “or not” under your breath. “Dean,” you spoke up again, gaining his attention, though his eyes remained focused on the papers in front of him. “I forgot my pyjamas. Can you hand them real quick?”

“What?” He replied, his eyes falling on the neatly folded clothes on your bed. He knew damn well what you were talking about. “Own legs stopped working?”

“I’m naked, asshole.” You returned, opening the door slightly to show him the towel around your body. His eyes widened slightly upon the sight, but the rest of his face didn’t give anything away about him. Suddenly growing conscious of the single layer hiding your body from him, you closed the door a nudge.

“Your point?” He asked, not breaking eye contact with you. It was then that you realised he wasn’t going to help you. And thus, reluctantly, you stepped out of the warm bathroom, into the cold bedroom. Your wet feet padding across the wooden floors. Dean didn’t seem bothered by the slightly red colour of it.

Grabbing the clothes from your bed, you turned back around, ready to make a bee-line to the bathroom. But Dean’s figure interrupted your path, making you halt suddenly. In his hand, he held one clean boxer short, stolen from the pile of clothes that was now in your arms.

He knew you forgot your pyjamas before you even mentioned it.

“Very mature, Winchester.” You snarked, grabbing the piece from his hands.

“Only for you, sweetheart.” He winked, yet refused to step aside just yet. You were now nose to nose with him and neither of you intended to move yet. Being so close to him wasn’t rare for you, but it did nothing to soothe the turmoil in your stomach.

You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly, but he just shook his head once, refusing you passage.

“So?” You asked him, now taking over his overly confident gaze.

“So, what?” He repeated, surprised by the sudden change in your face. 

Laying one hand on his shoulder, you leaned in closer, silently surprised at the lack of hesitation in your voice and actions. “Gonna join me or what?”

With that, you pushed him aside slightly, stunning him enough to successfully walk back to the bathroom. When you turned around, you still found him standing there, unsure of what to do.

“I’m serious, Winchester.” You confirmed, nodding your head towards the tub slightly. “It’ll be cold in a while.”

That was all he needed to hear, apparently, for his feet suddenly dragged him after you, both towels and clothes already forgotten. As he entered the bathroom, you already placed your clothes on top of the toilet lid, your heart beating in your throat.

Did you want him to join you? Yes. Did you expect him to actually do it? No. But if you’d grow nervous now, you’d lose it all again. Fuck self consciousness.

From behind you, you could feel Dean’s finger ghosting over your shoulder blades, your shoulder moving away from his touch slightly. A light wound had begun to form on top of it, and though you have had worse, the sight of it still wasn’t pretty. A mix of purple and green was littered around the open wound, and a small amount of blood still dripped from it.

“What’s the word, doc?” You tried to humour him. “Am I gonna die?”

“You need to clean this.” Dean ignored your question, holding his hand under the streaming faucet before using it to lightly dab the blood away. You winced slightly at the feeling, but let him do it all the same.

“I have priorities.” You mumbled, referring to the bathtub in front of you. Then, you turned around to face him, shrugging the injured shoulders to prove to him it didn’t affect you much.

It did. And he knew. But he let it be for the moment. Instead, he leaned his head down slightly, looking into your eyes with an intent you haven’t seen since you got locked in a closet together hunting a vampire nest. You’ve never been this close save for that moment. And now, you weren’t confined in a small space. This was a bathroom with relative room to walk.

“When are we going to do something about this unspoken thing between the two of us?” He dared to voice lowly, taking you by surprise. Swallowing down the nerves bottling up in your stomach, you tried to resist the urge to lean forward just slightly. You could feel his hot breath on your lips, yet you remained frozen in your spot.

“When someone decides to stop toying with me.” You spoke honestly, your confidence now fading as your voice turned soft.

“Don’t play all innocent.” Dean accused, not in anger, but in some form of humour you couldn’t quite place.

“I only play your game, because you wouldn’t bother to blink at me if I didn’t.” “That’s not true.” He interrupted. Now, it was your turn to look at him incredulously. “I’m serious.” He defended.

“Right,” you agreed sarcastically, forcing yourself to break away from him, putting distance between the two of you. “Then, how is it we are now in the bathroom together, one of us naked? Would we have ended up here if I hadn’t said anything?”

Dean remained silent at those words, staring at his feet as all flirtatious remarks seemed to fly out of the window. “Didn’t think you’d be interested.” He confessed.

Halting your movement, you turned around in surprise, scoffing slightly as you observed his hesitant gaze. “You’re joking.”

“Usually, a girl doesn’t leave me hanging for years.” He went on, shrugging the vest off his shoulders, much too interested in the warm tub now.

“Usually, you wouldn’t follow her if she gave you a chase of years.” You filled in, carefully shedding your towel before lowering yourself into the tub. You were painfully aware of Dean’s eyes on you, but you refused to acknowledge them, frightened you might say the wrong thing or do something stupid. 

You waited for him to make the next move. He hadn’t done anything besides talk and get rid of that flannel. He was still there in his pants and shirt. It was a miracle his shoes were already off.

“That tub is never going to fit both of us.” He finally spoke, referring to the amount of space left. True, it hadn’t been a huge tub, but it would do. 

To make your point clear, you moved to the middle of the tub, folding your legs together so your knees were resting against your chest. Putting your head on top of it, you looked at him in suspense.

“Is it not?”

Exhaling deeply, Dean ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “You gotta stop this game, sweetheart.”

And again, he froze. You were so close now. What’s a few more words? 

“Cold feet, Winchester?” You tried to challenge. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

It was true. Sam and Dean had no problem walking out of the bathroom without a towel. Dean more so than Sam, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t seen anything before.

Then, Dean knelt down, his face now at level with yours. Before you could let any other sarcastic comment fly from your mouth, Dean’s lips found yours, his hand flying to the back of your neck to keep you close. Clumsily, you leaned forward, your wet hands now clinging to his shirt as you greedily kissed back. 

Now falling to his knees, Dean hastily removed the shirt from his head, his pants following soon after. His lips returned to yours whilst his hands struggled to take off his socks without looking. Your arms wrapped around his neck, nearly forcing him into the tub already.

“Baby, give me a moment,” he mumbled against your lips, parting briefly to take off the remainder of his clothes. If it hadn’t been for the kiss, you might have looked away in embarrassment and privacy, but you had no time for it now. The second Dean set foot in the tub, you had reached for his hands, dragging him down as your lips found his again. 

His hands wandered to the small of your back, grabbing you flush against him as he placed you in his lap. Holding his arms tightly, you tried to force him to lean back slightly, holding your weight completely in his arms.

“Dean?” A voice called through the room suddenly. For a moment, he stopped moving, his hands grabbing your hips tightly, his mouth removed inches from yours. You could feel his eyes staring into yours deeply, but you were too focused on his lips.

“Yeah?” Dean called shamelessly, almost smiling as he watched your expression turn sour.

There was a beat of silence, of realisation, before a loud groan came from the bedroom. “Really? Right now?”

“Don’t worry, Sammy,” you called. “We’ll keep it PG.” That is when Dean’s face turned sour.

“I don’t even want to hear it!” Sam called through the walls.

“We won’t do any funny business.” You continued, shrugging as Dean looked at you in exasperation and disapproval. Yet, a small smile climbed onto his face as his eyes now travelled lower, placing a kiss between your neck and shoulder.

“Dude, she’s smoking hot.” “I need to bleach my ears.” The younger sibling answered, ending the conversation from both sides.

A smile climbed on your face as you leaned forward, resting your head against Dean’s chest as he wrapped his arms around your body.

“No funny business?” He repeated through a whisper, looking down at you in disappointment.

“The mood is kind of ruined right now, isn’t it?” You looked up at him, smiling as his eyes met yours again. “I don’t know.” He mumbled, before leaning forward, pressing his lips against yours as one of his hands travelled up to wind into your hair. Humming in satisfaction, you shifted in his lap, grinning against his lips as he groaned from under you. 

Parting from you again, he looked at you through his lashes. His face was flushed, his hair dishevelled, and his lips held that same boyish grin you had fallen in love with all these years ago.

“Is it?”

[inoshibi1]

-Yandere! Doma X Fem!Reader-

⚠️warning⚠️ mentions of death, obsessive actions, NSFW moments and non-consensual actions towards reader (!only kissing though, nothing other than kissing! But still worth the tw)

Fandom: Demon slayer. Character(s): Doma [upper rank 2 demon]

A/N: I don’t know a lot about Doma other than he’s a psychotic outwardly friendly demon. So if this fanfic isn’t very accurate to how Canon Doma would act then I’m sorry pls don’t hate me. :]

*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧880 words *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧

*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧ *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧ *.:✧*.:✧

Doma held the shaking woman close to him, arms tightly wound around her waist in a loving embrace. His head propped on her shoulder to peer at the carnage he had left behind. The demons breathing was calm, the complete opposite of the girl stuck with him.

She was crying, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. Her eyes here red from so much crying, lips still wobbling despite the triggering event happening an hour or so ago. She sniffed, a stray tear falling onto Doma's outfit.

The pale man sighed and shut said book, discarding it to the ground beside him. Doma's arms pulled her closer, alerting her of his full attention. "Darling please, why are you still crying?"

Y/N kept her mouth shut, still sniffing and wiping away the tears that just kept coming. Her body began shaking again being Doma to lightly rub her sides to try and comfort her. She still flinched at his touch, though who could blame her?

"Y/N my sweetheart, I asked you a question, I'd like an answer please." His voice still remained calm, a sweet symphony of death and cold. She shivered under his touch, now moving up to her shoulders and back down again.

"Y-y-you k-killed them... y-you murdered t-them...t-they didn't do-do anything wrong t-to you...."

"Y/N my dear, they tried to help you escape, give you a place to stay while you ran away from me." Doma calmly retorted, his hands stopping on her hips to trace his thumbs on the dip. "Next time you leave me I'll find your loved ones and take care of them, but if you stay that won't happen at all. It is in your hands what happens to the people in your life, those people's death was nobody's fault but yours."

Y/N began to sob harder with every cruel word, she knew they weren't true, she didn't kill her dear friend. He did. Doma was just trying to shift the blame and make her feel guilty about finally escaping him. Y/N  knew this, though she couldn't help but feel guilty anyway.

Doma sighed as he used his sleeve to wipe her face clean of the tears and snot. The hair in his face tickling her nose. "You know Y/N, I can make all your pain go away. You just have to say those words. I won't hurt anyone else if you do. Say them, and we both can be happy for all eternity."

The air remained still for a moment. The only noise in the room being the small yet passionate kisses that Doma placed on the woman's sweating forehead. Doma went lower, kissing her cheeks and gradually lowering down to her neck. No area of her body was left untouched from his lips, soon the demon was kneeling down infront of the shaking woman. Taking his sweet time kissing her shaking hands.

She began to protest when she tried to pull away her hand but he wouldn't let her; the harsh bite of his teeth brought the woman back to reality. She couldn't stop the whimper that slipped past her lips at the dark scowl on his face.

It wasn't when he finally stood up did she finally breathe- chest heaving while she stared at him once more with wide eyes.

"Say those words."

The grip on her hand increased; giving her no choice other than to look directly into the hollow depths of his eyes.

"Say it."

"I love you." Y/N's throat went dry, Doma wrapping her in his arms turning her to face him, to cradle her hips. He placed his free hand upon her cheek, his thumb tracing the puff red skin with a pleased smirk on his features.

He softened the grip on the woman's hand, trailing his hand down her body as he placed his lips onto hers. He felt more confident this round, not leaving the woman enough time to really get her breath back as he worked his lips against hers. The hand still gripping your own moved to intertwine her fingers with his while the other hand slid down across your waist as he pulled you right into him, causing your bodies to clash against each other.

The poor woman shook as tears fell down her eyes. She was so scared. How could she not be? These actions were so cruel. What had he done to deserve such cruelty?

Before any more tears could fall down, Doma’s thumb brush away one of the tears that fell.

It became oddly comforting, then. The way Doma was holding her. All she could sense was him. The mild scent of pine with metallic undertones nearly becoming overpowering has he continued to kiss the woman breathless. It was almost enough to forget what was about to happen.

Almost.

The woman began to protest when she tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her go; the whine she let out muffled from his mouth over hers.

When he finally let her go, he left her breathless - chest heaving while she stared at Doma once more with eyes as wide as plates.

"I know you love me Y/N, and I love you too."

[seven-oomen]

I'm gonna write a sequel to Once Upon a Time for camp nano, starting with a recap of how that story ends. But reading B's oneshots, and with everything in my life right now, I only feel joy when reading that universe. I felt joy and comfort when reading B's oneshots. And you know what, that story, that world deserves its ending and its sequel.

[arsensonfire]

Wedding Bells 🕊️ A Trevor Phillips Fanfic

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡

ﾟ。 𝒘𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏�� 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒔

　ﾟ･｡･ 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤

🤍 🕊️🖇️ any!reader x fluffy!trev

🤍 🕊️🖇️ no major TW (kinda horny lol)

No one thought they would see the day—-After months of seeing each other and spending time together, Trevor had finally done it. He proposed to you. It was a grueling process (Mikey and Franklin usually having to hear long rants about how badly he wanted to commit and he should finally just pop the question), but when the answer came it was no less than a ‘Fuck Yeah!’

Many days had passed of planning and discussing details—finding exactly what theme and colors you both wanted—It was really exciting going to different stores and watching Trevor try on different suits. You both decided on a pink wedding. There would be no fancy reception or anything like that (Trev had made it clear that it was the D train to pound town right after) but there was a nice venue by the beach that you picked.

It was happening, and the days that followed felt surreal as you clung to your fiance—fiance, it was fun to say and you used it as often as you could. Correcting those that didn't get the news, correcting yourself and when the day of the wedding finally turned up, it was like a dream.

You stumbled back in from your no-longer-not-married party at around 12am and found yourself crashed on the couch of your apartment around noon. Dehydrated but excited, you walked and stretched in your early state of wakefulness and opened to door too your bedroom, expecting to see a sleeping Trevor. Once the door finally opened, The bed laid empty with messy sheets.

Confused and starting to panic, you lightly sprinted back to the couch and fumbled for your phone. After finding it, you dialed Trevor. Getting no answer after calling and calling, you finally rang Michael, who picked up. Having no idea what to think, Michael answered.

“Hey, (Y/N), I, uhhh-... I got some bad news…”

His voice sounded more fearful than dooming. You took a deep sigh as frustration fell on you suddenly. It occurred to you what was going on instantly.

“Did you guys do a fucking Hangover?!” Irritation evident in your voice, Michael started defending himself immediately.

“Of course not! We just got fucked up and now we can't find … oh shit, that is a hangover. Fuck! Yeah we did a Hangover…”

Now pinching the bridge of you're nose, you heard Franklin's voice jump on the line. Reassurance washed over you, as you felt like you were about to hear something reasonable. “Look, (y/n) We’re sorry but we're still looking for him. We guarantee he'll be there by the start of the wedding.”

“Oh, God, I can't believe you guys are doing a Hangover to me- Fine! Okay, just make sure he's all in one piece please. Thank you.” With a click, you signed deeply and started getting ready yourself.

Within the span of four hours, guests and family pulled into their seats. It was small but Wade and Ron were there, even in actual formal attire!

You stood at the altar, looking out past the venue entry way as you grew more anxious than angry. A pair of headlights pulled into view and shut off once parked in the lot nearby. Watching closely, you saw a well dressed Michael and Franklin jumped out to retrieve a battered and bruised Trevor from the back.

Out of excitement and shock, you grabbed the arm of the officiant (Elvis, upon Trevor's request) and let go to rush to your soon-to-be-husbands side. “Trev, baby,” You cooed, getting a closer look at his injuries; minor cuts and littered small bruises but you were concerned no less.

“You look beautiful,” Trevor spoke seductively, pulling you closer by the waist to plant a long and deep kiss on you. The two of his friends both beside him, both looked away awkwardly until you both were done.

Taking you by the hand to lead you away and back to the altar, the rest of the wedding carried on with Elvis doing his best funky interpretation of the Officiant Script. During which, Trevor even shed a few tears.

With about as much if not more partying, he kissed you again, this time firmly squeezing your ass while he did it. You held his face and leaned into it, the small crowd writing in cheers and yelps of happiness.

“Now,” Trevor started, lifting you up in both arms. “Time for a little consummation.” He insisted, walking you both down the aisle again.

𝓯𝓲𝓷.

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 01)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): 18+ NSFW SMUT, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talk, slight mdom/fsub dynamic, praise kink (?), dubious consent (only because both of them are kinda drunk), alcohol consumption, cursing (a lot of it)

Word Count: 3700-ish

Author's Note: sooo I used to write for law and order svu a long time ago on my old account, but I haven't really picked up fanfiction writing for a long time now, but this is definitely a first time for me writing smut so pls keep that in mind lol. that being said, I was absolutely APPALLED by the lack of derek fanfics on this platform, hence why I decided to take matters into my own hand and wrote this little piece right here :) this fic is gonna be divided into several parts and I'll try to post an update asap. the tw will be adjusted accordingly on each part of the fic. I'll also be making a masterlist for the whole series hopefully sooner rather than later. in the meantime, I hope you enjoy the story below and don't forget to drop a like/comment/reblog xoxo

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Since the first time you met him, Derek Morgan was never less than 200 pounds of danger and charm, and he wore that fact with immense pride.

"I'm Derek," he offered smoothly, palm extended to shake yours the moment Hotch introduced you to the team.

"Nice to meet you," was your reply. His hand felt sturdy against your clammy one. "You can call me (Y/N). Or Beetle. Whichever works."

"Beetle?" Someone in the room interjected. You were pretty sure her name was Emily. "How'd you get Beetle from (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?"

"It's a childhood nickname. Kinda stuck." You shrugged. "It's a long story."

That was how everything started.

Flirtatious was Derek's second nature. You convinced yourself not to be swayed by the sweet nothings he kept on dropping wherever he went, especially when you began to understand more about his dynamics with Penelope Garcia. You were just another side quest in his little game, and Derek was merely eager to be the number one top player in the leaderboard.

But your heart, unfortunately, had always been much more vulnerable than your head.

And Derek Morgan, as you came to find out, was its biggest kryptonite.

"Hey, Bug." Derek had approached you after one particularly grisly case. The nickname he had chosen to adopt for you after a couple of weeks being on the team dripped easily from his tongue. "Drinks afterwards?"

"Sure. Who else is coming?"

"Just us two tonight, sweetheart." He winked.

You should have seen it coming.

You should have known that getting drinks late at night with Derek Morgan--alone--was going to be the start of your rapid downfall.

Derek Morgan was the kryptonite to your heart.

Yet then again, you always knew you were secretly a masochist.

"Okay, okay, back up a minute," Derek choked out in between laughter. "That's how you got the nickname Beetle?"

You were quite enjoying the sight in front of you. Twinkled eyes, carefree Derek, who was finally able to let himself loose thanks to the alcohol in his system. The smile lines on his face miraculously made him appear younger, and you could almost catch a glimpse of the young, ambitous football star he once had been before he began pursuing the life of law and justice.

"Yep." You nodded sheepishly, stirring the remaining liquor in the glass in front of you. "I didn't know, okay? How was I supposed to know that beetles can reproduce and multiply that much in the span of a couple of weeks? And frankly, I blame my teachers for failing to satisfy the curiosity of an eight-year old me."

"Alright. Blame the underappreciated heroes of this country, then. How were they supppsed to know you'd actually manage to cause a beetle infestation, Bug?" He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "Please tell me you got punished."

"I did. Mandatory volunteer work." Derek stared in disbelief at your answer. "Well, they wanted to suspend me, but my mother could be very persuasive."

"Meaning, she threatened to sue the school?" Derek raised an eyebrow, remembering the one time you told him that your mom was a lawyer before she passed away.

The rest of the night unraveled similarly. With more anecdotes shared and less sobriety kept, conversation with Derek flowed effortlessly. It felt like a swimmer being back in the water after a year-long sabbatical. Before the two of you realized it, hours had passed since you and Derek first stumbled into that bar, and the finale of an exhausting day had at last morphed into the premiere of a better one.

At Derek's insistence, he accompanied you on the taxi ride back to your apartment, ignoring the constant protest that you kept voicing out loud during the entire journey.

"This is absolutely unnecessary. I told you I'm fine," you grumbled as you staggered from the taxi towards your apartment bulding.

Derek caught up with you easily despite having to linger back to pay for the taxi fare. You stopped on the steps leading towards the front door, too busy fishing for your apartment key to notice that your balance had started slipping from your state of inebriation.

You laughed drunkenly when you felt yourself fall into a pair of strong arms. "Whoopsies. Sorry."

"Careful, Bug. Don't hurt yourself," Derek muttered softly.

Your whole body shuddered at the sensation of his breath on your ear. Derek had never felt this close before. Not even when you hugged each other goodbye or when you embraced one another after a close call in one of your cases. This time, his arms around you felt intimate. That fact alone managed to sober you up even if only for a fraction.

"Okay. I'm okay."

You scrambled out of Derek's firm but gentle hold, finally producing the offensive key from your purse before inserting it into the key hole.

"Thanks for taking me home. You didn't have to."

"I know." Derek raised his fingers, pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen over your eyes as a consequence of the passing wind. "I wanted to."

You stood there under the darkness, body nailed in place by a force far greater than anything you ever knew. Derek was looking at you with an unidentifiable gaze. One that seemed to burn brightly beneath his eyes, but warm and tender once they fell upon your skin.

The intensity was new. Overwhelming. It struck your core, stripping you bare of any defense left in both your body and soul.

Perhaps, that was exactly why the next words even managed to leave your mouth.

"You're pretty."

And God, he really was.

Derek Morgan was beautiful. All six feet and two inches of him. He looked pretty in the mornings when he slid a warm cup of hazelnut latte across your desk, and he looked just as pretty in the evening under the delicate strokes of moonlight.

At the sight of his amused beam in response to your sudden remark, you began to contemplate why anyone hadn't tried to claim him as the eighth wonder of the world.

"I'm pretty?"

"Very."

"I think you're prettier."

"Hm?"

Derek took another step forward, closing the distance between the two of you until the air you exhaled became the very one he breathed in.

"Good night, (Y/N)." The rare sound of your name out of his mouth made you shiver.

Derek exterminated the remaining gap between the two of you. For a second, your entire nerve endings stood in anticipation, waiting for the moment that his plush lips would touch yours.

They never did.

Instead, his kiss had landed on your cheek, viciously close to where the line of your lips started that you could almost picture how he would taste when you closed your eyes.

Derek started to pull away, but he never got further than a mere centimeter before you decided to take matters into your own hand and pressed your own lips to his inviting ones.

He tasted of alcohol and mint. But most importantly, he tasted of Derek. A distinctive sweetness that erupted the dormant butterfiles in the pit of your stomach. They began to soar freely inside of you under the influence of Derek's touch.

Your entire being was on fire. What started as sweet and alleviating soon turned into a contest of desperation. Before you knew it, you somehow had managed to unlock the front door and moved inside, all the way to the door of your own apartment.

When he nipped your bottom lip, you couldn't help but moan into the kiss.

"Fuck," Derek murmured against your lips after hearing the needy sound you just made. "Fuck me."

"I'm trying to," you said impatiently, scrambling to get ahold of his collar and brought his lips back to where they belonged.

Your ministrations screeched to a halt with Derek's hands around your wrists. "Hey. No, Bug. Stop."

Derek took a step back then, letting your hands fall back to your side. He never strayed far from where you stood against the wooden door, but even that tiny bit of distance was enough to make you crave more of him.

You needed to feel his body pressed up against yours, to have him incredibly close that you had no idea where he ended and you began.

"Derek, please..."

You should have been ashamed by how wretched your voice sounded, but you didn't care. You wanted him past the point of caring.

His smile was gentle and forlorn at the same time. "No, sweetheart. Not tonight."

Just like that, your heart plummeted straight out of your chest. "What?"

"Go inside, (Y/N). Get some sleep."

"No!"

Had it been any other day or any other person, you would have chastised yourself for your lack of propriety. But it wasn't any other person standing in front of you. It was Derek. Beautiful, kind, and courageous Derek. Your friend. Your kryptonite.

The oblivious owner of your heart.

"Don't go," you whispered. "Come inside. Stay with me tonight."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

Your gut churned with dread. "Y-you don't?"

"Christ. I didn't mean it like that. Hey, look at me." He tugged a finger under your chin, forcing your eyes to stare into his dark ones. "You have no idea how much I want to. But you're drunk."

"So are you."

"Exactly my point."

"Derek--"

"I'm not gonna have you forget our first time in the morning just because you were too drunk to remember it, Bug."

The urge to chortle was almost unbearable.

Derek seemed to notice the comical mischief shining in your eyes. "What?"

"It's funny that you think I would ever forget the first time we fuck."

A breathy laugh rumbled out of his chest. "You're a menace, woman."

"A menace who wants you. Please, Derek," you started to whine. "I'm sober enough to give my consent. Hell, I could even recite the entire FBI oath to prove it if you want. You wanna see? I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), do solemnly swear that I will support and defend--"

"Bug--"

"--the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic--"

"(Y/N)--"

"--that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same--"

You never did finish reciting the remainder of that oath.

The taste of Derek's lips on yours was an interruption you'd gladly welcome at any time of day. Through some sort of miracle, you managed to drag the two of you inside the safety of your apartment without ever breaking the kiss.

When it was time to come up for air, Derek's voice was raspy in your ear, "Sweetheart, I think--"

You didn't give him a chance to protest.

The kisses you peppered started on his neck. When your teeth gritted over his pulse point, Derek let out a low moan that vibrated through your entire being.

"Oh God..."

You continued showering kisses down his body, enjoying the way Derek had been bespelled by the magic of your touch. The buttons of his shirt came undone, and when you finally fell to your knees in front of him, you sucked hard on the skin where his abs met his pelvis.

"Shit. (Y/N), you don't... we don't have to--"

"For God sake, will you shut up?" You chuckled. "Did you not hear anything I said? Or should I just demonstrate how badly I want you right now?"

You took Derek's lack of further objections as permission to go ahead.

His buckle and pants came off pretty quickly. The next to go was his boxer, and the sight that greeted you afterward had your most intimate part gushing in excitement.

You wrapped your fingers around his hardening length. Tentatively at first, but the blissed out look on Derek's face only spurred you on even further.

"Is this okay?"

Derek gulped down before answering, "Yes."

You began to move your hand up and down, feeling Derek going stiffer and stiffer in your hand.

"Holy fuck," Derek cursed when you took his tip in your mouth.

He tasted divine on your tongue. It took a little while for your muscles to fully relax around his impressive size, but when they did, you began to bob your head back and forth, moving in tandem with the hand still wrapped around the rest of him that you couldn't fit entirely in your mouth.

"Yeah, just like that, pretty bug. You're doing so good," he panted.

Derek continued giving his praises, his words--along with his fingers in your hair--doing things to your body that had your thighs clamping down tightly. You began rocking in rhythm with the pace of your head and hand, trying to put pressure against the pulsing need inside your warmth.

"Fuck. Trying to relieve yourself, sweetheart? Sucking me off gets you all hot and needy, huh?" Derek moaned at the sight of you on your knees, teary eyed and full of him, writhing from the budding heat in the pit of your stomach.

You gave him one last suck before he pulled you up to your feet.

"Come here," Derek ordered before kissing you fervently.

He maneuvered the two of you from the doorway, following the direction to the bedroom that you had vaguely gestured at him. Once inside, Derek pushed you towards the bed while he threw his shirt onto the floor.

"You're naked," you mused in between giggles.

"And you're overdressed," he retorted. Your hands began to undo the buttons of your shirt before Derek's hand stopped them. "Let me."

He discarded your shirt in no time, your bra following not far behind.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered before leaving feathery kisses across your collarbone.

He started sucking on your nipple while fiddling the other one, enjoying the way your body reacted to every stroke of his tongue and every pinch of his fingers.

"Derek, please. I want to... I want--"

"Hm?" Derek paused his ministrations, keeping his hand busy by running it up and down your side. "What do you want, pretty bug? Tell me."

"I want you to touch me."

"I am touching you."

You whined. "You know what I meant."

With a chuckle, Derek left one last kiss on your breastbone before continuing his erotic journey southward. After sucking a mark underneath your belly button, he started fumbling with the button of your slacks.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart. You're soaked," he mulled out loud once you were free of the confine of your pants.

Even with your panties still standing as a barrier between Derek and your mound, you could feel every breath that Derek blew against your most sensitive part. There was no doubt surrounding the truth behind Derek's words. You could feel your wetness dripping down your thighs. It didn't exactly help that Derek had begun littering tiny kisses around your hip and pelvic bones.

When his lips made contact with your clothed core, the strangled moan you let out almost sounded animalistic.

"You taste so good," Derek said before diving in once again. "I could spend an eternity between your legs and die a very happy man."

"That's nice, but I don't want you to die just yet."

You tugged at his neck to bring his face back to yours, pressing both of your lips together in another heated kiss that had your toes curling inward.

"No more playing, please. I need you inside me right now," you rasped desperately.

"I still need to get you ready for me, sweetheart." Derek pecked your lips once more. "Why don't you lie back and relax, hm?"

Gingerly, you followed Derek's instruction. He made a quick work of removing your panties before his deft fingers began exploring your folds.

"So wet for me."

He inserted one finger at first, two, and then three inside your pulsing channel. It was a bit of a stretch, tight but not uncomfortable. Derek slid them in and out of you until you turned into a panting mess underneath him.

"Derek--"

He shushed you gently. "I know, Bug. I know."

He worked as if he was a musician and you were his favorite piece of instrument. The heel of his palm found solace on top of your bundle of nerves, drawing circles over and over again to the rhythm of his fingers inside of you.

Before long, you could feel the coil inside of your body snapping, sending your whole entire being shaking as you fell to the edge of a newfound ecstasy.

Throughout all of it, Derek kept his fingers sliding in and out of you, helping you ride your orgasm until your body had finally stopped spasming.

When you opened your eyes, you were welcomed with Derek's awed smile and warm eyes.

"Hi, gorgeous," you murmured breathlessly, still floating along the aftermath of your earlier pinnacle.

"Hey," he whispered back, kissing your temple with the most delicate of touches. "How are you feeling?"

"Blisfully sated."

Derek laughed at your overtly honest answer.

"Are you tired?" he then asked. "Because we don't have to do anything else if you feel--"

"Derek Morgan, I swear to God. If you try to talk me out of this one more time..."

His responding grin was mischievous. "Yes, ma'am."

After one last kiss to your lips, Derek started lining himself up with your entrance. The sensation of his tip pressing against you awakened the momentarily satiated hunger inside your lower belly. And when he finally entered you--slowly but surely--you could physically feel the air being punched right out of your lungs.

"Oh my God," you breathed out once he had filled you to the brim. "You're huge."

"And you're so fucking tight."

He pulled out his length until only his tip was left inside before driving back in with enough force to shatter your entire world. In no time at all, Derek had finally found a steady rhythm. Moving in and out of you while his lips and hands paid attention to the other parts of your body.

"Derek, Derek, Derek," you moaned his name endlessly, relishing every drag of his member against the pulsating muscles of your inner wall.

You could feel every ridge of him inside of you, along with every brush of kisses that he scattered all over your skin, every lazy drag of fingers on the curvatures of your body. All of your senses had been heightened around the presence of him.

"So fucking beautiful. Fuck. Such a good bug for me, hm? So desperate for my cock that you couldn't even wait to sober up."

The heat of Derek's words fueled your fire even further. You began to writhe underneath him, scrambling to make sure that every inch of you was touching every part of him.

"Tell me how good I'm making you feel," Derek ordered between his thrusts.

"So good, Derek. Oh God, you feel so good inside of me. Please, please, please."

Your desperation was the motivation he needed. Derek shifted you both until he was on his knees and your body lying halfway across his lap. When he continued to move again, the vigor of his pace nearly had you seeing stars.

"You feel like heaven, pretty bug. So tight and warm. Bet no one can fuck you as good as I do."

"No one, Derek. No one."

"Are you close, sweetheart? Hm? Tell me how close you are."

"I'm close. So close," you cried out. "I'm gonna... Derek, I'm gonna--"

As if he was reading your mind, Derek brought down his fingers and started drawing tight circles on your clit. All the while, he never relented the pace he had set inside your pussy.

"You wanna cum?" Derek groaned as he continued to nudge you further towards the edge.

You blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over, nodding your head frantically.

"Use your words, Bug."

"Yes, yes. I wanna cum. Please, Derek, make me cum."

And just like that, Derek sent a powerful thrust that had your toes curling, ears buzzing, and body shuddering.

Your second orgasm washed over you in big, tidal waves. A silent scream broken into desperate pleas and moans as you rode the high with Derek still inside of you. It didn't take long for him to follow behind. The sensation of you cumming around him became the very thread of his own undoing.

He spilled everything he had inside of you before his spent body fell into your arms. The air was heavy with the smell of sex and the panting of both of your breaths. You reveled in the aftermath of what just transpired, running your hands up and down the muscular back of the person responsible for your satisfied smile.

When Derek finally lifted his head up, he was adorning a smile identical to the one you had.

"That was--" you started, but struggled to find the right word to say.

Fortunately, Derek knew exactly what you meant. "Yes. Yes, it was."

He left a single kiss, then two, and three under your breast, before resting his chin back on the soft cushion of your abdomen.

"Derek?"

"Hm?"

You smiled at his tired hum. "You're sleepy, aren't you?"

"No," he replied, betraying the slight droop in his voice.

"That's okay. Go to sleep, baby."

You weren't even sure that Derek had heard your last statement, because not even two seconds later, he had started snoring softly against your skin.

Slowly as to not disturb the sleeping giant on top of your body, you pulled the comforter and tugged the edge across Derek's shoulders. Before long, you, too, were slipping into the deep slumber with Derek's steady intakes of breath as your lullaby.

Derek's weight on top of you was an anchor, one that you could have never dreamed of physically having outside of your hopeless fantasies. But Derek was real, and he was there with you in the comfort of your bedroom.

For a moment, everything was alright with the world. But then again, this was only the beginning of an unforeseen end. And as much as you wanted to convince yourself otherwise, you knew that inevitably, something was bound to go wrong.

You just hoped that when it did, you would have the strength to make it all right again.

[yanderestarangel]

Omg you write RAIDEN? GOD YES BY THE ELDER GODS i need MK11 dark Raiden with an FTM reader. I just need a fanfic of him coming back home all stressed and the reader offering to help him out but the reader slowly realising how different Raiden has become, of course smut and rough play if you don't mind

Sorry if i sound desperate i'm just happy someone writes for MK11 Raiden

✰ RAYS OF PLEASURE | DARK RAIDEN X FTM READER

TW: dacryphilia, rough sex, degradation, creampie, ftm reader, vaginal sex, blowjob, fingering, extreme, praise kink, afab anatomy

A/N: I love seeing people so excited about their favorite characters and I'm happy to make their wishes come true. I started here on Tumblr as an FTM writer precisely because I couldn't find fanfics with my favorite characters - one of them at the time being dark!raiden.

You were dating a god, Lord Raiden, he was a good man, serious but sweet, but that night everything changed.

You saw Raidem arrive, with different clothes and his previously white eyes now red with rays of the same color.

He went to the entrance of your house, putting his shoes outside still in silence.

"-Oh, hi my prince." -Raiden spoke calmly but coldly, colder than normal, now, he was no longer the kind god, he was extremely different.

Raiden's lips curled into a sinister smile as he noticed your curiosity. He approached you slowly, the dark aura emanating from him making your heart race. His voice was laced with an unsettling charm as he spoke. "-Ah, my love, you have a keen eye. Indeed, this is Shinnok's amulet. It holds immense power... power that I have fully embraced."

As he drew closer, you could feel the intensity of his presence, his hand reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. "-I have shed my former self, my dear. The righteousness that once defined me has been replaced by a darker desire. A desire for control, for dominance."

His touch sent shivers down your spine, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through your veins. Raiden voice dropped to a low, seductive whisper: "-I have come to claim what is rightfully mine, to indulge in the pleasures that have long been denied to me. And you, my love, are at the center of it all."

Raiden's hand trailed down your neck, his touch igniting a fire within you. His eyes burned with a newfound intensity, their red glow piercing into your soul. "-Tonight, my love, we shall explore the depths of our darkest desires. I will show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams, pleasures that only a god can provide."

His words feel a surge of anticipation through your body, your heart pounding in your chest. You surrendered yourself to his dark allure, knowing that this encounter would be unlike anything you had experienced before, with a wicked grin, Raiden led you towards the bedroom, ready to unleash the full extent of his newfound power and passion upon you.

Raiden's dark transformation unleashed a primal desire within him, and he wasted no time in taking control. When he threw you onto the couch, his dominance was palpable. Your body shuddered with anticipation as he parted your legs, his fingers teasingly brushing your clothed pussy, the fabric dampened under his touch, evidence of the desire pulsing through you.

With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Raiden presented his thick, throbbing cock to you, demanding your attention. His commanding presence overwhelmed you, and you eagerly obeyed, parting your lips to take him into your mouth, his taste, a mix of salt and musk, filled your senses, fueling the fire that burned inside you. Your tongue danced along his length, swirling around the sensitive head, eliciting a deep moan from Raiden, he reveled in the power he had over you, gripping your hair tighter as he guided your movements.

Each stroke of his mouth brought him closer to the edge, his cock growing harder and more deliciously swollen with each passing moment. As your greedily sucked and licked his cock, your own desire grew, your pussy throbbed with anticipation, the wetness between your legs soaked throuh your panties, aching to be touched and pleased, but Raiden had other plans, his focus solely on his own pleasure for now. Raiden's grip tightened on your hair as he thrust deeper into his mouth, establishing a rhythm that matched the intensity of his new power.

His mastery of touch and the strength of his movements brought you to the brink of ecstasy. The taste of his precum mixed with his saliva, coating your tongue with an intoxicating flavor. He pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. He looked at you with hunger in his eyes, his voice dripping with dominance: "-On your knees, my love. Present yourself to me." Without hesitation, you dropped to your knees, your heart pounding in your chest.

Raiden approached you, his hand caressing your cheek before going down your neck, putting his entire cock back down your throat, making you choke and tear, Raiden's fingers passed over your tears, then tested them with a sadistic smile. As the intensity increased, He could no longer contain himself. With a grunt of satisfaction, he released his hot load deep into your mouth, filling it with his essence, you swallowed hard, savoring every drop, savoring his pleasure. Raiden's eyes gleamed with a mix of desire and dominance as he saw the hunger in your eyes. He wasted no time in pushing you back onto the sofa, his hands gripping your hips with a firmness that left in the room for resistance. With a swift motion, he turns your panties off, exposing your wet and needy pussy to his hungry gauze.

"-You are nothing but a filthy, eager cunt, craving to be filled, you're just a dirty little boy with a tight pussy." -Raiden growled, his voice laced with a deliciously wicked tone. He positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock brushing against your slick folds, teasing you mercilessly. Aching to be taken, you arched your back, silently begging for him to enter you.

Without further hesitation, Raiden slammed his cock deep inside you, filling you completely. A mixture of pleasure and pain coursed through your body as he pounded into you with an unrelenting force. Each thrust pushed you further into a state of raw ecstasy, the intensity of his dominance overwhelming your senses.

His grip on your hips tightened, leaving marks as he pulled you closer, urging you to take all of him, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the room, punctuated by your moans of pleasure and his grunts of satisfaction. You could feel the power radiating from him with each powerful thrust, driving you to the brink of pleasure. "-You're so small and weak, I could easily destroy you, I'm going to mark that little pussy as mine, do you hear (Y/N)?"

As your bodies moved in perfect sync, the intensity escalated. Raiden's lips claimed yours, the taste of dominance and desire mingling on your tongues. His kisses were demanding, his teeth nipping at your lips, marking you as his own, the combined sensations of his cock deep inside you and his lips claiming yours sent you spiraling into a whirlwind of pleasure, you cried from the overstimulation of Raiden's hard cock hitting your uterus, making you tremble. "-Awww, is that the best you can do? Stupid hole, I’m gonna fuck you like the little slut you are.”

Raiden's pace quickened, his grip on your hips bruising as he chased his own release while pushing you towards the peak of ecstasy. "-You're so pathetic its adorable, whimpering on my dick like a cum-starved slut, is that all you’ve got? Pathetic slut."

With a final, powerful thrust, Raiden's cock pulsed inside you, his hot seed flooding your depths. The sensation of his release triggered your own orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing through your body, you cried out his name, surrendering yourself to the blissful chaos that engulfed you.

Collapsing onto the sofa, your bodies intertwined, you both lay there, basking in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. Raiden's gauze softened, his hand gently caressing your cheek. "-You have pleased me, my good boy." -He whispered, a hint of tenderness breaking through the dominant facade.

[bg-sparrow]

Story Title: Once Upon a Time in the West

Summary: Depression hits hard when Marty gets stranded in the nineteenth century. While he believes he has a handle on it by 1889, crossing paths with Buford Tannen again in a vulnerable state leads Marty to act on an impulse to free him with damning repercussions. My entry for Cowboyvember!

Rated M || TW: Depression, Suicidal Thoughts

Chapter Three: Music