#patient gaming cons :/

[ninoochat]

Nominating stardew valley for the labor of love award every year

[urdreamydoodles]

"A UNIVERSE WITHOUT YOU" — Mark Variants x Fem!Reader Fanfic

CHAPTER 1 OF ?

(Mark Variants: Sinister Mark, Mohawk Mark, No Goggles Mark, Prisoner Mark, Bald Mark, Goggles Mark, Sheisty Mark, Omni-Mark & Viltrum Mark)

WARNING: Heavy smut, Violence, Emotional and physical abuse, Non-con (at first)

SMUT WITH A PLOT!

SYNOPSIS —

You exist in a world that should have been safe. But safety is an illusion, and so is peace.

They arrive like a plague, tearing through your city with hands built for slaughter, eyes sharpened by obsession. Mark Grayson—many Mark Graysons—each one twisted, each one wrong. They have hunted you across universes, through blood and ruin, through lifetimes lost to grief. And now, they have found you.

Sinister Mark is the first to taste you, the first to carve his claim into your skin, his hunger slow, deliberate—inescapable. But the others will not be denied. Mohawk Mark wants you wild and breathless, a creature of instinct. Hoodvincible, all fury and need, wants to break you into something that belongs only to him. Prison Mark, silent, watching, waits for his turn to unravel you with patient hands. Each of them will take you. Each of them will ruin you. And you—

You will learn what it means to be wanted.

The multiverse is vast, infinite, cruel.

It births and kills versions of the same soul over and over again, shifting fates with a careless hand, allowing some to prosper and others to rot. For some, it is a playground of endless possibility. For others, it is a prison, one in which they are forced to watch the echoes of a life they will never have.

And for them the ones who have lost you it is a nightmare they cannot wake from.

●

It begins with loss.

A singularity of grief, festering across countless realities, bound by one constant: You are gone.

There are worlds where you died in battle, torn apart in the ruins of a dying Earth, your hands still reaching for him even as the light faded from your eyes. There are worlds where you were murdered, where a crueler Mark snapped your spine in a fit of rage, only to regret it for every breath he took after. There are worlds where you simply ceased to exist, erased by the cruel machinations of fate.

And then, there is this world the one you call home. The one where your Mark, your love, is the one who died instead.

Here, the sky is calm, the streets are quiet. There are no Viltrumites looming above, no blood painting the clouds. The war that destroyed countless other Earths never touched yours. But you, the one who has seen too much, who has survived what so many versions of you did not, carry the weight of it all.

You exist in a universe untouched by their ruin, unaware that they are coming for you.

●

Across shattered dimensions, the hunt begins.

Sinister Mark Capevincible never grieved like the others. Grief was for the weak, for those who still held onto human things like regret. And yet, he felt your absence like an open wound, like a thing gnawing at the edges of his mind. He had killed for you. With you. And when he found you lifeless in his arms, he slaughtered an entire world in your name.

But the void you left behind never filled. Not with blood, not with screams.

Mohawk Mark Movincihawk was less composed. He raged, he laughed, he tore through entire cities just to feel something, to make the world suffer as he did. He mocked the idea of love, spat on the memory of you, and yet, when he thought no one was watching, his fingers traced the phantom shape of your face in the air.

No Goggles Mark Nogogglesible made a game of it. Of pretending he didn’t care, of sneering at the pathetic ache that settled in his bones. But he did care. He cared in the way a starving man cares for food, in the way a drowning man craves air. He wanted you back, but the universe had taken you from him, and he would make it suffer for that.

Prisoner Mark Prisonincible was methodical. He didn’t scream or rage. He simply decided that if he could not have you, then no one could. He had nothing else to live for, nothing else to fight for. And so, when Angstrom Levy came to him with an offer, he listened.

And he was not the only one.

Hoodvincible. Capvincible. Gogglesvincible. Viltrumincible. Omnivincible.

They had all lost you in their own way, and each of them, no matter how cold, how cruel, how merciless they had become, wanted you back.

Angstrom promised them that.

All they had to do was take down the one Invincible who had everything they lost.

●

The war was brief but brutal.

Main Mark fought with everything he had. He was strong stronger than many of them had anticipated. He fought for his Earth, for his mother, for the life he had built. He fought for the people who depended on him, for the future he dreamed of.

But more than anything, he fought for you.

The you of his universe had been gone for years, torn apart by his father’s wrath when she dared to stand beside him. He had never truly recovered from that loss, but he carried on, because that’s what you would have wanted.

And that was why he had to die.

Because he still had you, in another universe.

He fought. And he fell.

They tore him apart in the ruins of his own city, surrounded by the corpses of those who had tried to defend him. He was bloody, broken, but still defiant to the end.

“You’ll never have her,” he spat, teeth stained red. “She’ll never be yours.”

It was Capevincible who delivered the final blow. A hand through the chest, fingers curling around a still-beating heart.

“You don’t get to decide that,” he whispered.

Main Mark’s body crumpled to the ground, and the war was over.

●

Now, they are coming.

Your world is untouched, peaceful. You wake every morning to the rising sun, to the hum of a city that still thrives. You go about your days carrying the weight of the past, of the love you lost, unaware that across the multiverse, echoes of the man you loved are tearing through reality to find you.

They are different from him. Twisted, cruel, shaped by loss and rage. Some of them will claim to love you still. Some will see you as a possession to reclaim. Others will simply want to break you, to make you suffer as they have suffered.

But they all want you.

And soon, they will have you.

This is shaping up to be an intricate, dark, and poetic story of obsession, grief, and twisted devotion. Since you want this next part to be even longer than the last, I'll take my time building the eerie tension of their arrival, their interactions with each other, and the looming dread of the hunt.

I'll weave in their personalities, how they view you, how they react to the idea of having you again.

This will be a descent into the mind of monsters who believe they have earned you.

●

The first thing they notice is how quiet your world is.

The sky is still, unbroken by the charred streaks of dying ships. There are no sirens screaming through the streets, no blood soaking the pavement, no desperate, last-breath cries for help. It is a world untouched, soft in a way that feels wrong.

They step onto this Earth like wolves entering a sanctuary, their mere presence a corruption of its peace.

Some of them sneer at it Mohawk Mark, No Goggles Mark, Hoodvincible. Weak. That's what they see. A world that has never known their wrath, never earned the scars of war. They walk its streets like ghosts, watching the humans move about their day with sick amusement, wondering how long it will take before terror consumes them.

Others are indifferent Gogglesvincible, Capvincible, Prisonincible. They have no interest in the people who roam this Earth. No interest in the mundane, fragile lives that scurry beneath their feet. Their purpose is singular.

And then there is Capevincible.

For a long moment, he does not move. His fingers flex, curling, twitching at his sides as he breathes in the air of this untouched world.

You are here.

Not an echo. Not a memory. You.

He has not seen you in a long time, not since your body lay limp in his arms, warmth fading, breath stilling, eyes staring through him like he was already gone.

He has not forgotten that moment.

The way his vision had blurred, red creeping at the edges, heartbeat drumming, pulse roaring in his ears. The way rage had swallowed him whole, the way the universe had been made to suffer for what it took from him.

And now, it dares to give you back?

Something dark coils inside him.

Something violent.

"You feel that?" Mohawk Mark is grinning, his hands clasping together with a crack of his knuckles, his eyes wild. "She's close. Shit. It's been a while since I've been this excited about something."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Omnivincible says, his tone even, detached. His eyes flick toward Capevincible, watching the way his breathing has slowed, measured, controlled.

Omnivincible is a calculating man. Where the others are eager, he is patient. He does not let his emotions rule him the way Capevincible does. But even he knows this is different.

This is her.

"Do we kill her?" No Goggles Mark asks, tilting his head, his smirk lazy and sharp. "You know, like we did with him. Would be kind of poetic, wouldn’t it?"

The air shifts.

It is sudden.

One moment, they are standing as they always have monsters in the shape of men, beings of unshaken power, unchallenged dominance.

And then Capevincible moves.

No one sees it.

Not even Omnivincible, whose perception is unmatched, who has always been the first to anticipate a strike before it lands.

All they hear is the sound.

Flesh breaking.

Bone cracking.

No Goggles Mark's body slams against the concrete, his ribs caved in, blood splattering across the pavement, a gurgled breath wheezing from his throat as he chokes on the force of the impact.

Capevincible stands over him, his hand still outstretched from the blow, his expression unreadable.

And then he speaks.

"If you ever suggest that again," he says, voice low, deadly, "I will break you into so many pieces even we won't be able to count them."

Silence.

No Goggles Mark coughs, rolling onto his side, a sputtering laugh bubbling from his lips even as his lungs struggle to repair themselves. "Damn," he wheezes, wiping the blood from his mouth. " Someone's sensitive."

But he does not repeat his question.

Because now he knows.

There will be no killing you.

Capevincible will not allow it.

And the others?

They are no different.

Mohawk Mark clicks his tongue, but there is something hungry in his gaze. "You know," he muses, "for all your dramatics, you are right about one thing." His smile widens, all teeth, all threat. " We deserve her more than he ever did."

Omnivincible does not argue.

Neither does Viltrumincible.

They all know the truth.

You were theirs in every universe.

And now, you will be theirs again.

●

Somewhere in the city, you shiver.

It is an ordinary day, as it has been every day since your Mark was taken from you. The world continues to spin, unchanged, indifferent.

And yet, for the first time in a long time

You feel watched.

A presence, unseen but there.

A warning, whispered into your bones.

Somewhere, far closer than you think, something is hunting.

And it will not stop until it finds you.

●

The sky splits open like a wound.

They arrive in silence. No grand entrance, no dramatic descent from the heavens just a slow, deliberate bleed of presence, as if the universe itself is trying to pretend it never let them in.

The city does not notice at first. People go about their lives, oblivious to the wolves that have slipped into their midst. They are insects, ants scurrying across pavement, murmuring into phones, sipping coffee, clutching bags of groceries with hands that have never held blood.

They do not realize that they are already dead.

Sinister Mark moves first.

Not to kill, not yet.

His movements are slow, measured, purposeful. He breathes in the air of this world, of your world, and feels something inside him snap into place.

He had wondered if this version of you would feel different. If you would be someone new, an echo rather than a resurrection.

But no.

He feels it already, like a tremor in his bones. You are you. The one who was taken from him. The one who left him with nothing but rage and emptiness.

His fingers twitch. His jaw clenches. His vision narrows.

Somewhere in this city, you are breathing. Existing. Untouched.

And that will not do.

The others spread out. They are not patient like he is. They are wolves with snapping jaws, hyenas tearing into the throat of something too fragile to fight back.

Mohawk Mark is the first to strike.

A man in a suit, rushing across the street, briefcase in one hand, coffee in the other. An insignificant thing. An insect, like the rest. Mohawk Mark lands in front of him with a grin, cocks his head, and watches him stumble back.

"P-please," the man stammers.

Mohawk Mark laughs. " Please ?" he echoes. "Man, I love when they beg."

His fist moves too fast for the human eye to track. One moment, the man is whole. The next, he is red mist.

The street falls silent.

Then, the screaming starts.

And that is all it takes.

No Goggles Mark vanishes into the crowd, reappearing in the center of a busy intersection. "Oops," he hums, before grabbing the nearest person a woman, her mouth open in terror and crushing her like paper. Blood splashes his face, and he laughs. "Damn, that was fast. I was hoping she'd scream more."

Hoodvincible is less creative. He simply starts ripping people apart. Limbs fly, bodies drop, the pavement darkens with blood. He is snarling, cursing, relishing the slaughter.

Gogglesvincible is clinical. No rage, no joy, no amusement. Just cold efficiency. He moves through the city like a shadow, erasing life with every flick of his wrist.

Viltrumincible and Omnivincible are more restrained. They watch. They study. They take note of how quickly this world crumbles, how fragile it is compared to the war-ravaged Earths they have known.

Prisonincible? He lingers. He does not lose himself in the bloodshed like the others. His purpose is singular. He watches the skyline, waiting for the moment when you appear.

They are enjoying themselves.

Sinister Mark does not care.

He lets them play, lets them tear through the city like feral dogs, lets the streets run slick with the blood of people who never saw it coming.

He is focused.

Because you are near.

And then

A flicker. A heartbeat. A presence that does not belong to this ruin.

His head snaps up. His eyes darken.

He moves.

●

The alley is dark.

You press yourself against the cold brick, your breath sharp and uneven, your pulse hammering against your ribs.

The city is screaming.

You do not know why.

You do not know what is happening.

All you know is that the air feels wrong , that something is crawling under your skin, that every nerve in your body is shrieking for you to run, run, run

But it is too late.

He is already here.

The shadows shift. A shape steps forward, slow, unhurried.

You feel it before you see him.

A weight. A force. A presence so thick, so suffocating, that the air itself seems to cower from him.

And then

A voice.

" There you are."

It is almost gentle. Almost.

Your breath catches.

He is

Wrong.

You know Mark. You loved Mark.

But this is not him.

This is a monster with his face.

His eyes are different. Darker. He is taller than you remember, broader, his frame coiled tight with something hungry. His hands flex at his sides, fingers curling, twitching, like he is holding himself back.

You take a step back.

His lips twitch. A smirk.

"You remember me," he muses. "Good."

His voice is deep, smooth, threaded with something dangerous. It slithers through the space between you, wraps around your throat like a vice.

"I " Your voice breaks. You do not know what to say.

He takes a step forward. You take a step back.

And his smirk widens.

"You do ," he breathes. "I can see it. You feel it, don’t you?"

His head tilts, eyes raking over you. Slow. Lingering.

You want to run.

You try.

You don’t even make it a step before he moves.

It is not a fair thing, the way he moves.

One moment, he is a breath away. The next, his body is pressed against yours, his hands braced against the brick on either side of your head, his breath ghosting over your skin.

"You think you can run from me?" he murmurs.

His voice is velvet and knives.

You shudder.

He leans in. His nose brushes your jaw. His lips hover at the curve of your throat.

"You feel it," he repeats, softer now. "Don’t you?"

His mouth is so close.

You gasp, twisting away.

His fingers curl around your chin, dragging you back.

"Ah-ah," he chides. "I lost you once."

His grip tightens.

His voice drops to something almost reverent.

"I'm not losing you again."

This is where it begins.

[bullet-prooflove]

This God Damn Fucking Day: Jack Abbot x Reader

Tagged: @kmc1989 @dizzybee03 @noxytopy @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis

Companion piece to:

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Boston - You reflect on the past after your ex-husband makes an appearance on a trying day.

Up until the day your ex-husband Richard infiltrates The Pitt, Jack has a very fixed image of the man. He imagines him to be older, portly, Freudian, nothing like the GQ model that steps through the door with a con man’s smile.

There isn’t a single thread of silver in his dark hair despite the fact he’s five years older than Jack and his beard is immaculately groomed to the point of being designer. He wears a navy blue tailored suit that costs more than a nurse’s yearly salary and a cologne he allegedly picked up in Paris during his last conference with the Royal College of Psychiatrists where he was a keynote speaker on manipulation and obsessive behaviour.

The irony of that is not wasted on Jack, considering this asshole has a master’s degree in mind games, which is why he’s here in The Pitt, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you into the empty family room before you even know which way is up.

Every single fibre of Jack’s being tells him to intervene, to murder this smug son of a bitch and then stuff his corpse into the overpriced Mercedes that’s parked outside but he doesn’t because he made a promise to let you handle this, because this was always an inevitability.

You knew as soon as Richard heard you were getting married again that he’d try and waltz his way into your life. He doesn’t want you of course, he never did. He just doesn’t want anyone else to have you.

“That Peach’s ex-husband?” Myrna questions, scootching her wheel chair alongside his work station. “He looks like an asshole.”

Peach is what she’s been calling you ever since she cottoned onto the princess nicknames he’d been using. He’s quit with that now but Myrna keeps it up. He’s been Sweet Cheeks for over a decade now because she has a thing for the way his ass looks in scrubs. Robby got off lucky with Fruitcake.

“You know I can’t discuss Doctor Doran’s personal life.” He mutters as he busies himself with his patient charts.

“Uh Sweet Cheeks.” Myrna says, the back of her hand slapping against his forearm. “I think you need to get in there before she kills him.”

Sure enough, Jack’s head jerks up just in time to see you break Richard’s nose. He stumbles back as blood erupts from his nostrils, jetsoning all over his thousand dollar shirt. Jack’s on his feet in an instant, the wheely chair he’s sitting on crashing into the wall behind him as he hurtles towards the family room, his sneakers squeaking on the tiles.

There’s two things that happen when you get punched in the face, you fight or flight and he can tell from the look in that asshole’s eyes he’s about to fight. He already has his hands on you by the time Jack gets through the door, gripping your arms, shaking you and you respond by attempting to claw his motherfucking eyes out.

“He fucking slept with her. He fucked Abby!” You snarl as he gets in between the two of you, his palm on Richard’s chest shoving him away from you. “You were supposed to be helping her!”

“I was helping her, I helped her the same way I helped you!” Richard snaps back, cupping his nose to stem the bleeding. “Jesus fucking Christ, I didn’t realise how much of a bitch you’ve turned into since coming back here. You’re just as deranged as she was!”

You lose your shit then and Jack just about manages to get his arms around you, caging you in so you don’t commit a fucking homicide in the family room.

“Honey.” He says calmly, his forehead coming to rest upon yours, grounding you. “You need to take a walk and let me deal with this.”

“Jack-” You protest.

“Faye.” He asserts, looking into your eyes. “My E.D, my rules. Go take a breather.”

Your jaw clenches as you look away. He’s going to be paying for this tonight, he knows he is but he doesn’t care. He needs to get you out of this situation. He waits for you to leave, the door closing quietly behind you before he turns to face Richard.

“You’ve got her trained well-”

He drives his fist into Richard’s gut, hard enough to hurt like hell but not enough to do internal damage. His fingers wind through the other man’s hair, grasping it tightly as he yanks his head up to meet his gaze.

“You come near her again and I will end you.” He tells the other man, his eyes blazing. “Faye is off limits. You fuck with her, you fuck with me and trust me the shit that I could do to you wouldn’t leave marks, just pain, life altering fucked up pain that will make you wish that you were dead.”

He thrusts Richard away from, causing him to collide with the wall as he tries to catch his breath. Jack reaches for a box of tissues, tossing them onto the chair closest to him.

“You’ve got ten minutes to clean yourself up. If you’re still here when I get back, I’ll make sure to finish what she started.”

He leaves the room, closing the door behind him. His eyes coming on rest on the vacant wheelchair, an empty pair of handcuffs swinging from the armrest.

“This fucking day.” He mutters to himself before he goes in search of Myrna. “This god damn fucking day.”

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[jymwahuwu]

idk i like to think sunday is a firm believer of no sex before (cough forced) marriage. but when the vows are exchanged, the first kiss is celebrated, and the doors are closed… he’s more than ready to take you to poundtown.

he takes you in all the right angles and even in the most humiliating positions, and makes sure every hole of yours is satisfied and fulfilled.

he has an elegant smile that charms even nuns, but behind that seeming innocence and grace is a lustful sinner with a relentless libido he’s been patiently keeping away until now. he adores and coos at your dumb-looking face as you were being fucked dumb by him. what, “no more”? ah, he thinks you meant “please more” when your eyes involuntarily rolled back with your tongue lolled out. you look so happy and cute, a stark contrast to your ever so vicious, and wild nature when interacting with him.

he likes you this, so fulfilled without that savagery of yours to ruin it. he feels like he successfully domesticated a wild animal, and the only finishing touch is having your belly round with child… or children ;)

and if you ever complain or say those disgusting, sinful words against him, it’s okay. he’ll wash that filthy mouth of yours, over and over again until it’s only praise about him that’s dripping from your tongue.

tldr; sunday’s always been a freak but has hidden it all his life until he married you.

>_<🪭anon thank you for such a great story!! I love how Sunday changed after marriage. He hides his true nature and controls himself…

cw: yandere, dub-con, overstimulation, penetration, nipple stimulation, gag, spanking, reader has female reproductive system

Sunday believes in chastity before marriage and protecting chastity before eternal commitment. He does not indulge you in your desires. The body is a sacred temple and cannot be defiled.

And this not only means no sex before the wedding, it means you can't masturbate, read erotic novels, comics, watch pornographic movies, none of these are allowed. Before the engagement, Sunday showed appropriate care and closeness. After the engagement, you had just platonic dates, walking together, dining in restaurants, watching movies and playing games. Sunday likes to read some books with you and share opinions. He doesn't mind if you read books other than philosophy, even popular ones, but… there's only one category he doesn't like… He checks your browser and reading apps.

Switching accounts to browse pornographic novels/browsing pornographic websites will not work. You had done this sneakily, and after you were discovered, your hands were on the table, your underwear was on your calves, and the whip in your fiancé's hand was in close contact with your butt. Clearly, you violated his trust and indulged in lewdness.

Depending on your personality, you might scream and curse at him. Or you whimpered and repented. You emphasize that you will really correct yourself and beg for forgiveness. Both options without exception ended in a spanking. (He also tells you to bend over his lap and get spanked…it's important to bend over in humiliation first. Your butt is so sore it feels like it's burning.) After the punishment is over, Sunday rubs ointment and lotion into your butt. He puts you on his knees, wipes your tears and kisses your forehead.

It's for your own good, he insists. He derived no pleasure from it. You wisely chose not to point out his rising smile.

Wedding!! Sunday was months in preparation for the wedding. He and you exchanged vows and kissed each other. Robin even shed a few tears. She was deeply touched. She was glad that her brother had his happiness. When you get married, you think it's going to be a conservative life, like once a week, missionary position, that sort of thing.

But, no… it was completely unexpected, like you said, Sunday penetrated you at every right angle and humiliating position. He had never done it before but was a quick learner. He explores your sensitive areas and sweet spots, focusing on attacking and teasing those spots. The gloved fingers circled your areola, occasionally pinching and scraping gently. He pinched your raised nipples as if you were about to produce milk. His balls ravaged and slammed against your vulva, his elegant glans hitting your sensitive spots accurately, and his thick cylinders stretching your tight, layered flesh. Fill you with seeds not just once but several times a day. Long periods of abstinence can make you very sensitive to touch. Just caressing your breasts can bring new excitement and tremors to your body, not to mention creampie. You… squirted. When you get your first squirt, Sunday watches you curiously and the amazing amount of squirt. You look completely engaged and surrendered, muttering shakily, rolling your eyes, and spreading your legs.

"No - no more…"

Uh-huh, yes, and if you keep that mean attitude when you're in a relationship with him. The satisfaction this gives Sunday is indescribable. Watching the look in your eyes go from aggressive to melting into orgasm, screaming and begging for no more rounds. You didn't know that a man who had been abstinent before turned out to be like this… His load that had been accumulated for a long time was released inside you, flowing through and filling you up. His cock stayed inside you for a moment, until it was hard again and the thrust returned, slamming into your ass.

And wash your mouth haha, that's a little too hardcore(?) for me and that's just for being a mean and condescending reader. Sunday might not like a rough approach, so… maybe a gag? As long as you keep being mean and saying horrible shit, eventually your mouth will get gagged. All you could say was "mmm!!" and "eh", "wh…" and other unwritten sounds, and you glared at him. Regardless, eventually you'll learn how to compliment him properly and without any swear words. (If Sunday realizes your taunt, he will put the gag in your mouth again without hesitation.)

All in all, you discovered another side of Sunday after marriage. Maybe he is not an ascetic man. He knows how to control. He knows he wants you.

[softsunnyy]

🚨 dom!quinn, at first it's a little non-con since she's sleeping. He took your first time. Rubbing. Using his tongue to push his cum back into your pussy. A little bit of breeding kink. He blames you a little bit for losing his cool. Wet dreams. Leaving marks on each other's bodies 🚨

poorly written

Quinn considers himself a patient person, someone who understands instructions and follows them to the letter. It's part of his job, part of his day-to-day life.

but there's something—or rather, someone—that incites him to break every rule he's set for himself. And that's you. And you don't even do it on purpose. You just need to exist, and immediately his self-control is trying to fly out the window.

so imagine the challenge when he finds out you haven't had your first time yet. When he finds out you still need some time and trust.

he wants to be good to you, to give you time, to try not to force you or scare you, even when you make it so difficult for him, when you walk around the house in just your underwear and one of his shirts; when you go to watch one of his games; when even a sliver of your skin is on display. All of those are challenges, and he's worked hard not to fall.

however, it was one particular night, when he came home from a game, frustrated, his blood boiling, and found you asleep in his bed, that he knew he couldn't stand it anymore. He quietly took off his clothes, trying not wake you up. He left only his underwear on, almost trying to contain himself.

but then he lifts the sheets and sees you.

and now, he knows the last few nights have been warm. But you're being cruel by lying in his bed in only your panties and a tank top that barely covers your abdomen. It's like you're torturing him, and he doesn't know why.

his hands are almost shaking; the desire to touch you, to break his word, is growing stronger and stronger. A desire to possess you, to take your body and claim it as his own.

you move, still dreaming, rolling onto your back, murmuring things he can't understand. And his hands move, grabbing your thighs, separating your legs, letting him see your pussy covered by the fabric of your panties.

he takes a deep breath, tries to look away, but can't. His body moves between your legs. His mind is racing. Thousands of ideas are coming to his head. And he moves. He gives a fake thrust, rubbing his bulge against your pussy, and you unconsciously move to feel him again.

he does it again, and he has to hold back the moan that wants to escape his mouth.

he feels like a teenager, like a man who hasn't been able to have sex in years. But that's what it's like to have the most beautiful woman next to him and not be able to touch her, not be able to make any advances for months, having to watch you from afar, in clothes like this, or his, or even barely any clothes at all; having to touch himself in private, as if he's doing something wrong; having wet dreams about you as if he's gone back to puberty. That's what happens when you start driving him crazy.

a small moan leaves your lips, and then he moves one of his hands to your pussy. He begins to rub, running his fingers over the fabric, between your folds, touching your clit, making your dreams begin to change tone, and what used to be a dream of the ideal date with your boyfriend soon transformed into something more heated.

your cheeks began to flush, your body began to sweat. His hand continued to play with your pussy, watching as a wet, dark patch began to form. The groans began to transform into small moans, and he swore he heard his name leave your lips.

he teases your pussy a little more until you begin to move your hips, trying to receive more stimulation, trying to get him to touch you a little harder, a little faster. Your body began to ask for more, so he gave you more.

he removed his hand so he could remove his underwear, freeing his cock, which stood proud, hungry, and glistening. He carefully takes it in his hand and begins to rub himself against the fabric.

your legs tried to close, but his body prevented it. The stain on your panties began to grow larger, and your pussy began to soak his cock even with the fabric between them. And even though it felt weird, he became addicted to the way the fabric clung to your folds, parting your lips so his cock could pass between them, rubbing your clit again and again, making you arch your back, making your eyebrows furrow.

you moaned his name, louder this time, and he smiled completely proudly, knowing that right now you're dreaming about him, about all the things you want him to do with you, and that he'd be willing to do.

he began to move faster, rubbing himself harder, making you feel the full weight of his cock in your soaked pussy. And between dreams, you could feel your clit growing more and more sensitive, your hole throbbing, wanting something inside.

you're so soaked that the friction makes a wet, obscene sound. And your panties are starting to become transparent, almost letting him see your skin on the other side without any problem. And he wants to rip them off, wants to tear the piece of clothing into a thousand pieces, but he doesn't want to move and he doesn't want to be too rough, so with his fingers he creates a hole, just big enough for your pussy to be at his disposal, shiny and delicious for him.

he feels himself drooling, as if the most delicious dessert were right in front of him. And technically, it is. So he's not going to waste it.

he brings two of his fingers to his mouth, wetting them, then brings them to your clit, which he rubs, watching with amusement the way your body reacts, moving unconsciously, and your nipples hardening beneath your shirt.

he continues for a moment, traveling between your folds, soaking his fingers, lubricating them so it's easier to insert them inside you. And so he does, sliding them slowly inside your tight walls, going as deep as he could. You stirred, and one of your hands fisted the sheet beneath you.

he slowly began to move them in and out, stretching you, obsessing over the way your walls hug his fingers, suffocating them, receiving them with warmth, as if you wanted them there.

he wonders what it will be like to bury his cock inside you, forcing your sweet pussy to swallow him. God, you could break just by adding another finger, how will you ever resist his cock?

he wants to see you cry, whimper his name, beg him to slow down, to remember it's your first time. And his fingers unconsciously begin to move faster, making your juices spurt, wetting your inner thighs, making the sound of your soaking pussy grow louder.

and he wants to devour you, wants to swallow everything you have to give him, like it were his daily juice, when he wakes up, before training, after training, coming home, before a game, after a game, and before bed. He wants to smell your arousal all the time, and live embraced by your walls.

he wants to own your hole, so that you can only desire him. He wants to destroy you so much that your pussy can only receive his cock. He wants to train you, teach you what you should like, so that you can only fuck and touch yourself if it's his way.

no one will ever be able to replace him, because he'll fuck you stupid, until his cock is the sole owner of your body, no matter how much time passes.

his fingers move intensely, hammering inside you, and from your moans, he knows that your dream right now is interesting.

and he loves, loves the idea that you're a heavy sleeper, that you're so unaware of what's happening that you think you're feeling good about something you're imagining.

he loves the thought that he can take your body like this, using you whenever and however he wants. It's primal, it's obsessive. He feels like he owns you even before he's inside you.

and your legs have spasm, and try to close. Your brows furrow again, your mouth opens wide, and you let out one of the most beautiful moans he's ever heard. Watching you cum in his hand, leaving a pool of fluids, juices that make your panties stick even more to your skin. Skin that now shines, soaked.

and he's not going to stop, not anymore, so he grabs his cock, bringing the tip to your hole, sliding in a little faster, easier. He doesn't even finish thrusting when one of your hands goes to his back, and your eyes open wide, staring at him in surprise, your eyes glassy and cloudy, trying to close. A mix of how sleepy and aroused you are.

"Quinn, what...?" he finishes sliding in, slamming deep inside you, causing your words to be interrupted by a loud moan of pain and pleasure. Your face transformed into a combination of both, and he leaned in, kissing your neck, letting his beard irritate your skin.

he doesn't have to be delicate or careful anymore. Not now that you're awake.

your legs instinctively hug his hips, both of your hands now on his back, and when he starts to move, you bite his shoulder, leaving a mark, but also silencing the scream you wanted to let out.

he feels huge, like he's ripping your pussy in half. And he doesn't even let you breathe when he starts moving, fast, hard, your juices staining his thighs and yours.

you feel overstimulated by your recent orgasm, and your bodies are so close that his skin rubs against your clit with every movement.

the pain quickly turns to pleasure, but there's also a huge tingle that makes your legs spasm, your pussy throb, eagerly swallowing his cock.

his kisses turn into bites, and then he sucks, leaving a trail of reddish bruises on your shoulders and chest, reaching the edges of your shirt. And you're no different, leaving bites on his shoulders, and long reddish trails down his back, which will later burn and remind him of how good he made you feel.

his cock hammers inside you, the bed frame hitting the wall, and fat, hot tears fall down your cheeks at how good you feel.

his name falls from your lips like a broken record, and when he kisses you, you feel like you might explode with love and arousal.

you can't stay mad at him, not when he feels this good. Not when he moves his hips, taking your first time, your hole. Carving his name deep inside your pussy.

and you scold yourself for not trying sooner, though you're grateful he broke his word.

he's fucking you, stupid, and babble comes out of your mouth. You're irrational, asking him to cum inside you, to fill you with him, with his babies. You beg him to let you cum.

and he gives you permission, causing you to release once more, in an orgasm that made you roll your eyes, your nails digging into his back, his name spilling from your mouth once more. Your toes curl, your juices making a mess again, but this time? This time, he keeps moving, until he's filled your walls with thick, white strips of his cum, filling you to the limit, leaving you well fucked and satisfied.

when he pulls out of you, he wants to moan at the way some of his cum comes out of your hole, so he bends down, using his tongue to put it back inside your walls, taking the opportunity to lick between your folds, leaving a trail of his cum there, since some remained on his tongue.

his hands gripped your legs, and before he pulled away completely, he began kissing the inside of your thighs, leaving another trail of bites and bruises. Marking near his favorite part, leaving a mark on your body of the moment he took you.

and this was just the first of many times, because now that he knows what it feels like he won't be able to stop.

[dedmerath]

Hell is NOT Forever! a Hazbin Hotel Fan game

Hi! I'm Merath, and I'm developing a HH fan game, where you play as a brand new Sinner Adam in a quest to redeem himself and find his place inside the hotel.

What kind of game is it?

This is an exploration game mixed with relationship development! Explore the hotel, avoid death, find collectibles and talk to the Hotel Cast to learn more about them and unlocking new rooms and guests. Fulfill character request, learn their secrets and get them to like you (?) and forgive you. (Yeah, you heard right).

See that GREY HEART? Get the characters from grey, to blue, green, yellow and RED and unlock their friendship.

Will there be romance in the game?

Romance is a Patreon Support Tier. We are not selling the game, it will be free! But we need support to create it and keep working on it, so, we will have support tiers that will unlock cool features, like romance and more!

Also: Romance will not be forced as a "MAX LEVEL" relationship, you should be able to choose between romance and further your friendship!

How many possible relationships will there be?

All we can get. For now, Adam can have his little harem like:

Angel, Alastor, Charlie, Husk, Lucifer, Nifty, Vaggie.

There are some more characters there that for now are NPC only. But might get their own heart in the future. And we plan to add more characters to the hotel, like Lute, Pentious, Mammon...etc. Again, if we get the support.

(Also, we include all ships, except maybe Cain.)

Will there be mini-games?

Yes. Support tiers. We are thinking cooking mini-game, drinking...?

I dunno, Adam likes it tough.

He can also take a relaxing bath!

When will the game be ready?

The beta is under development! So, we hope soon. (And I say we but its all a one person effort, so be patient, haha!)

Where can I support the making of the game?

Here on patreon! Thank you very much! =D Hope you all enjoy my content! If you have a question just ask!

Estará el juego en español también?

Si, el juego contara con idioma español.

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

Patreon Support Tiers:

The more monthly support we get, the more extras we can work on!

Collectibles System (Collect stuff to unlock prizes)

Friendship System (Befriend the cast up to "Friends")

Trophies/Achievements (Unlock cool trophies for Adam's room)

Extra Room: Bathhouse (Make Adam take a relaxing bath)

Bathhouse System (Make Adam take a bath with others)

Regrets System. (Be hunted by the shadows of your past, who will try to kill you on sight!)

Kitchen (Give Adam a place to cook food for others!)

Crafting System (Craft gifts and stuff for Adam’s room)

[meolia]

. *. ⋆ twisted wonderland: how dateable are they? (heartslabyul ver.)

a/n: so. back in 2022/2023 i vaguely remember doing this on an old blog i had and i thought, since im obsessed with this game again i should redo it with newfound knowledge el oh el / oh and feel free to debate me on this i just need people to talk to 💔 . also i apologize that the cons have more words than the pros because i have a lot to say about them BYEHEYE

cw: profanity, troubled teenage boys, no sugarcoating, involves content from the vignettes, main story & events from the eng server, involves SOME headcanons.

1 (extremely undateable), 10 (extremely dateable); im also kind of biased but i swear to remain neutral💔💔💔

SAVANACLAW | other parts tba.

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts

PROS: hardworking, determined and adaptable. we've seen this guy study so hard ever since he popped out of the womb and it resulting in him coming out on top, and he could've easily skipped a few grades because of how smart he is academically and magically. he's also able to remain coolheaded in stressful situations, oftentimes coming up with (usually) rational solutions. he's also really cute when it comes to cakes/tarts. he'd get mad on your behalf, he'd also be kinder towards you, he'd offer to tutor you on subjects you don't understand and tries to be patient, just for you. chronically offline (thats a good thing yes)

CONS: well. first, he's got some serious anger issues he needs to work on; it's not his fault per se, but with how unpredictable the bursts of angers are will probably be tiring. he takes offense to a lot of things and admittedly, he's better post OB but he's still got a long way to go. second, his obsession with the queen of hearts' rules are INsane. there's been instances where he expects outsiders that aren't even in heartslabyul to abide by her rules which is,,, haha lol ermmmmm. he'd probably expect you to do the same. just because youre his partner doesn't mean he'd let you go scot-free if you break any one of them...! again, he's better post OB but still. third, his mother and overall tense family relationship. he's probably this way because of his mother's influence and insane expectations of him, so it won't be very surprising if his mother has a LOT of opinions on you. lastly, he lacks joy and whimsy. he literally never watches movies or play games etc., deeming them unnecessary which is insane????????? HOLY crap im surprised hes still intact

MY FINAL VERDICT: 7/10 — he would make a decent boyfriend. me personally i probably wouldnt date him people like him stress me out but each to their own! he needs to sort himself out before even thinking of dating though

Trey Clover

PROS: he's very big brother like, the kind that's reassuring and makes you feel safe whenever he's near. he rarely gets mad, and if he does, he wouldn't resort to yelling or act irrational. mature, maybe overly so for a guy his age and surrounded by the people he's around, but that's a plus for him. CAN COOK AND CAN BAKE. his family owns a bakery too so you'd probably get discounts because you're dating him. also, his love language is probably acts of service so you can probably expect him to carry most of your stuff, help you with organizing spaces etc. gives in easily... could be both a pro and con. soft-spoken teeheeHEE... he didn't make it into the top 30 of male characters japanese women want to date for no reason.

CONS: that god awful fucking obsession he has with cleaning teeth. OH my god the way he was all like "im the only normal one here omfgggg" during twisted halloween part 2 and then when sebek mentions that his father is a dentist he immediately starts smiling WIDELY and kept pressing him for more info about his dad's dental work like that scene of shrek signing a contract by that little man. whenever he mentions "brushing your teeth" it's going to sound like a threat even when he doesn't mean it that way. going back to gives in easily; it'll become a problem because you know damn well he'd go "umm... nevermind" very often.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 8/10. deducted two points because im genuinely terrified of his cleaning teeth HOBBY. otherwise id say he'd make a really sweet boyfriend. would date, probably.

Cater Diamond

PROS: he's chill, laid-back and easygoing (are there any differences between those three words im sobbing). he plays mediator during tense situations, and he offers peaceful resolutions (most of the time). perceptive, and he's got some nice intuitions. his psychic abilities are cray craaay... I just stared at what I typed for a full minute. I'm never doing that EVER again. he's usually optimistic, and he's also really cheerful so if you like some rainbows in your life, he's your guy. i KNOW he's good at photography since he posts on magicam so much & probably has a decent following. he would take the most godly pictures of you if you wanted. i think he'd break his back and knees to get that angle for you.

CONS: The way he incorporates hashtags in almost every single conversation will kill me. youd be talking about something horrid that happened to you that day and he'd say some shit like "oh no! that's hashtag #diabolical!" (double hashtags since the game does that... ik they dont mean it like that but i just feel like that'd be funny). apparently has a death glare so terrifying it'd kill a man on the spot? you'd either be wetting your pants or be more attracted to him. either way, if you guys ever get into a heated argument and he pulls that out umm bless you i think? and he maybe posts on magicam. too much. it'd be something insignificant and not very worth journalling but he'd take a picture anyways and post it online with some long stupid hashtags like #DelightfulFurry #HotPinkBangin #OneWithTheCrowd with an image of heartslabyul freshmen wearing pink and feeding the flamingoes. but i guess that's part of his charm...?

MY FINAL VERDICT: 7/10. he's handsome and he's a cool guy but the way he talks in hashtags and how he lives on magicam will be a big fat turnoff for me. if you like it, good for you! cay-cay would make me decay-cay!

Ace Trappola

PROS: he'd get mad on your behalf (see to when he punched riddle in the face because he insulted mc). cares for you even if he doesn't admit it outwardly, but will do stuff in the background to help you, even if just a little bit like that time in the halloween event where he and deuce personally went to ask the ghosts to make a costume for mc and grim so they wouldn't have to miss out. playful, there wouldn't be a day that's boring when with him.

CONS: got an extremely loose tongue that got him into trouble loads of times. can't really shut up which is very bad...! he sometimes doesn't think before speaking so ahaha. SO irresponsible sometimes he can fight grim on that. remember when he ran from his punishment at the start of the game? yeah. also is really embarrassing sometimes i have to turn my phone off to ponder about life whenever he says some stupid crap that WILL come back and bite him in the ass later on. also will probably get bored of you? like that one time he ghosted his middle school girlfriend because he doesn't wanna do it anymore... eeeeyikes.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 6/10. the honeymoon phase will be the best, and the rest you just gotta hope he doesn't pull an average teenage boy.

Deuce Spade

PROS: so so so extremely sweet. is willing to do almost anything to make it up to you if he ever wronged you. is willing to change, like how he decided to try and become a model student because he saw his mom crying about him being a delinquent, so if he has any flaws/bad habits that make you uncomfortable he'd try to be better. brave, like stupidly so. was ready to fight malleus in malleus's sr lab coat vignette even if it meant he'd die LMFAOOO. he's also someone who'd get mad on your behalf, but even more than ace. dude WILL get into a brawl with ten people for you. passionate. he'd also be so gentle and kind towards you like how he treats mc in game, never raising his voice at you and if he inadvertently does it he'd apologize immediately. his determination is amazing too. his love for eggs is also really cute... sorry im just rambling now i just really love him bye

CONS: oblivious and very gullible. there's been SO many times where he agrees too fast or just believed everything without a fact check. like in glorious masquerade where azul was talking to him about taking his UM he just went "okay!" without asking why. would probably get into a lot of unneeded trouble for this fact alone.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 10/10. this is a bias on my part but he'd make the sweetest and most amazing boyfriend EVER. he's trying!!! he really is!!! i think he's charmingly idiotic gahahahha hhahaa

HEARTSLABYUL MOST DATEABLE TO LEAST DATEABLE:

DEUCE > TREY > CATER > RIDDLE > ACE

[pure-smut]

obsessed.

featuring: Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

contains: college!Sukuna, somnophilia, dub/non-con (reader is asleep), cunnilingus, fingering, toxic love, stalking, panty stealing, mentions of male masturbation

note: all characters are aged up to 18+!

word count: 1.3k

series: 1. infatuated | 2. obsessed | 3. addicted | 4. toxic | 5. feral

masterlist

MDNI | 18+ content

It had been one week since you fucked Ryomen Sukuna. One week of you going to class, meeting up with friends, reading in your favourite café. One week of total, blissful obliviousness to the effect you had on Sukuna.

Stalker is a loaded term, but probably an accurate one, Sukuna thinks to himself as he watches you walk home. He’s no stranger to one-night stands – in fact, he tends to thrive off them. But you’re different. Sukuna can’t stop thinking about that night. The noises you made, the way you felt, the euphoria of marking your insides with his cum.

Sukuna is obsessed.

Luckily for him, you live on the ground floor. And he’s just spent a week learning how to lockpick a window from YouTube.

He waits until the lights go off in your bedroom before sidling up to the window. He’s big and not always graceful, but he’s extra careful tonight. He waits outside the window until the moon hangs high in the sky, until he’s sure you’ve fallen asleep. And then he puts everything he learned to use and carefully breaks open the window.

It’s not his fault, not really. It’s not like you left him your phone number and he has no idea what your socials are – he guess you’re pretty private? And every time you caught each other’s eyes on campus, you only looked away. Worse, you looked uninterested.

Didn’t you feel what he felt that night? Didn’t you share in that ecstasy? He knows you did because he watched you cream on his cock.

So this little game you’re playing is irrelevant. Sukuna wants you now. He wants you always.

He stands in the dark of your room, watching you sleep in the dim, silver glow of moonlight. Truthfully, he didn’t think much of you when you first came up to him. A pretty face, no doubt, but nothing special. Nothing unlike all the other girls he’s fucked and never spoken to again. But something unlocked inside him that night. Now, looking at you, he feels a rush of affection. Sukuna bends down to brush a lock of hair from your face, desperate to kiss you again. You don’t even stir.

Sukuna smiles to himself. Even in your sleep, you trust him. It encourages him to slowly pull off your blanket, leaving you only in your panties. He stands back, taking a moment to admire you. The beautiful curves of your body, the gentle rise and fall of your naked chest, your hair splayed out across the pillow.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmurs to himself under his breath. Because that’s what you are – his.

Sukuna slowly crawls onto the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress. He makes sure to move carefully so as not to wake you. He know he can’t fuck you, not like this, not when you need to work his cock slowly inside you. But he’s okay with that – tonight, he wants to taste you.

That night, after you’d left, Sukuna had run his fingers along his cock, scooping up a mixture of his and your cum. He recognised his own taste but yours was new. Delicious. He’d spent the whole week thinking about it, fisting his cock to the thought of tasting you again.

Now’s his chance.

He gently lays himself between your legs, nudging between them. With the size of his body, it spreads your legs nicely for him, affording him a clear view of your panty-clad pussy. Sukuna casts a longing glance at your bare tits but tells himself to be patient – this won’t be the last time he gets to touch you.

Sukuna turns his gaze towards your pussy, taking a deep inhale. You’re not wet yet but he can still smell you, sweet and feminine. It makes him ravenous.

Carefully, keeping one eye on your face to check your reaction, he drags your panties to the side. You don’t stir.

My sweet angel is a heavy sleeper, he notes to himself happily. Perfect.

Faced with your naked pussy in front of him, so inviting, Sukuna leans forward and licks a tentative stripe along your lips. He glances up to check your reaction. Nothing.

Encouraged, Sukuna laps at you softly, slowly dipping his tongue between your folds to seek out more of your nectar. He wants so badly to wrap his large arms around your thighs and hold you flush to his mouth, to eat you the way he knows you deserve. But he has to be gentle right now.

Sukuna is not a man who begs. He won’t suffer the indignity of seeking you out publicly, making the first move. No, he wants you to come to him. He wants you to say please, please stuff your cock inside me again.

The thought makes his cock stir, throbbing against the confines of his sweatpants. Sukuna trails his tongue up to your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking softly. You whimper in your sleep and the sound is music to Sukuna’s ears. He starts to grind against the mattress, desperate for some friction.

With one hand, Sukuna cautiously dips a finger between your folds, now puffy and slick with arousal. He can feel your hole, the tight ring of resistance that he pushes past slowly, and he remembers how it felt wrapped around his cock. He pulls back and bites his bottom lip to stop from groaning. Fuck. He’s not going to last long like this.

Cum for me, pretty girl, he thinks, pressing his finger deeper and sucking on your clit again. Cum on my tongue.

As if you can hear his thoughts, your hips start to buck. Even in your sleep, you can’t get enough of him. You need more of him. Sukuna curls his finger, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you and stroking it. You gasp and groan, still asleep but your body responding. Sukuna licks your arousal before circling up to meet your clit once more, swiping the flat of his tongue against it.

A dam inside you breaks. In some distant dream, your orgasm ripples through you, making you fist the bedsheets and curl your toes. Sukuna feels you clench around his finger and nearly cums himself. How this tight little hole swallowed his whole cock is a wonder.

Not to risk overstimulating you and waking you up, Sukuna withdraws his finger as your orgasm subsides. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sucks your arousal from his finger.

Fucking delicious.

He’s painfully hard now and wants desperately to coat you in his cum but he can’t give away that he was here. He needs to be patient. And if Sukuna wants something, he can be patient as a saint about it.

But he's not leaving empty-handed.

Quietly, he pulls your panties back into place, smoothing them over your now soaking mound. In the corner of your room, he spies the laundry basket - it doesn't take him long to find what he's looking for.

Sukuna restraints himself to only one pair of your used panties, plucking them from your other clothes. He brings it to his nose to inhale the scent of you, your taste still lingering on his tongue, and he has to stop himself from groaning. You have no idea how badly he wants to be inside you, to feel your heavenly pussy around his cock.

He had promised himself he was going to leave but how can he? You're lying there looking so fucking perfect, so ripe for the taking. Sukuna balls his hands into fists to stop from reaching out to you.

No, he has to go. If you discover he was here, you'll never come near him again. This is his little secret and he'll take it to the grave.

Later, he knows he'll spend the rest of the night with your panties pressed against his face and his fist around his cock, replaying the night you spent together in his mind. It'll be a cheap imitation but it'll have to do... for now.

He withdraws into the shadows of your bedroom, climbing back through your window and closing it silently behind him.

Until next time, he thinks.

Taglist: @tojis-ball-sack @moonjellyfishie @kalulakunundrum @benimarusimp33e

masterlist

Support me on Ko-Fi! ♡

[dellieghtful]

LADS: Game Night! Uno Edition

🍓 A/N: I'm glad you guys enjoyed my last work abt the guys being stuck under one roof. I'm super happy it got a lot of good feedback which is why I'm working on making more humor/fluff content! bc i really think we need more of that for comfort reasons lol I hope you'll like this one ;3

p.s: also was written based on my free-will, not proof-read as well :p it's a rushed work ;3

SYNOPSIS: Ever thought about them and how'd they'd play uno?

📍Characters: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, and Caleb (separate but they'll pop-up from time to time in each other's portions ;p) Looking to get notified? Tag yourself here!

It was game night at your place and of course it was mandatory for everyone bring in their own gameboards. What fun would game night be with just one choice of game?

"Tonight's game is," you start, shaking the see-through fishbowl before picking out a piece of paper to reveal the first game of the night: "Uno!"

From the background, you could hear Caleb and Xavier yelling out a cheer.

"So, let's start?"

XAVIER

Knows how the game is played and is actually pretty good with the game of chance.

For unfortunate reasons he falls asleep mid-game which gives you and the others a chance to get a sneek of his deck of cards

"Quick, he's asleep! Check the cards!" Caleb quietly yells on the otherside of the table as you and Rafayel take a peek of his cards. "He's got, green, two greens, and four blues, and a red card". You respond, raising your hand to show off the numbers indicated on each of the colored cards.

"And you'd never think one of Linkon's best hunters would cheat on an honest game of chance." Sylus said without looking away from his cards. Out of the six of you, Sylus and Zayne chose to sit on the couch while the rest sat around the table on the floor.

"You should know better than to cheat." Zayne added, taking a short sip from his cup of tea before carefully placing it on table and resuming focus on his deck of cards.

"As if any of you play honest during Kitty Cards." You pointed out, giving both of the men your meanest side-eye to which both of them had the nerve to avert your careful gaze.

Xavier is actually good with card games?? Much to everyone's surprise, he actually wins MOST of the matches (a literal back-to-back champ lol)

Cons: Caleb always beats him when yelling out "uno" because as far as "yelling" goes, Xavier can only hold a whisper.

"Uno." Xavier says, attempting to raise his left arm to carefully place the remaining card he held in his hand on the pile in the middle. But, unfortunately, because he said it too low for anyone to hear, Caleb took the opportunity to scream at the top of his lungs: "Uno!" and slammed the card on the pile.

"Take about fear of losing," Rafayel comments in a voice too low enough to be heard but not low enough for Caleb to not pick up. "Hey, I heard that!"

ZAYNE

Super chill throughout the entire night and suprisingly knows the in's-and-out's of the game.

"Wow! You're actually pretty good at this Zayne." You commented, your gaze focused on your deck as you skimmed through your cards in search for a green, before placing it neatly ontop of the other cards.

"Of course, being a doctor grants me the fun of engaging with my patients on the clock. Both, children and adults, I mean. Board games help pass the time and in some sense, builds self-confidence in one's skills and way of thinking".

"You must've let them win all the time." You said, as you throw a teasing smile and a slight poke to his leg with your finger which earned a small smile from Zayne before he lifts his gaze away from the cards and looks over at Caleb, who sat across the table.

"Who ever said mercy was ever part of my job description?"

Then Zayne, with all the grace and calmness, places a card on the deck and you could hear Caleb yell out a curse in the background. "Screw you, Zayne!"

Mostly focuses on eating the sweets you've prepared on the table instead of focusing on the deck of cards.

Can be easily bribed with the right treat

"I'll give you my plate of macaroons and this sweet bag of banana muffins with chocolate chips, ozzing with creamy chocolate filling". Rafayel says as he opens a bag of mini muffins, showing all six pieces of sweets, neatly packed inside the bag.

Trully a tempting offer indeed, one that Zayne could not deny despite all those grueling years in training to become a well-disciplined and leve-headed medical practitioner, he could never say no to sweets.

Taking in a deep breathe he carefully takes out a card and hands it over to the man sitting right infront of him, to which both exchanged goods. Rafayel receiving a pair of multi-colored uno cards to use at his advantage later in the game and Zayne, with his even-numbered macaroons & muffins.

"To think, a doctor would risk morality in a game of chance over a plate of treats". Sylus said, letting out a click of his tongue once or twice, expecting more from Zayne's better judgement.

"If it puts food in my stomach and sweet to taste, it's worth the risk".

"But you didn't even bother trading with me?" Caleb asked, raising a brow as he glances across the table to meet zayne eye-to-eye.

"Because carrots don't count". Then Zayne places a card that skips Caleb's chance in taking his turn.

RAFAYEL

He fumbles so bad in the game.

"And, here we go!" You cheer as you slap a +4 card on the pile, oh how unlucky the next person would be having to add another stack of cards to their own growing pile.

"A little more and you could dress up as a peacock with the deck of cards your holding". Xavier teases at Rafayel, who's currently handling about 20 cards plus an additional four to his already growing stack.

"This is just a warm-up, just you wait. I'll be bringing home the winning trophy tonight."

He in-fact did not bring any wins that night, just about 25 loses after 3 hours of trying.

For some reason, his turn either gets skipped or he has a full set of cards added to his own deck.

Tried to actually trade with Sylus but ended up getting an unlucky deck of cards.

"For a man who's feared in and out of the N109 Zone, your deck of cards aren't really instigating any fear from me".

"Oh believe me, it will." Then Sylus pulls out his ultimate weapon: a +4 card.

"Fuck my life."

SYLUS

For a game that involves bargaining (for his version of the game at least lol) and chance, you'd think the leader of the notorious group would actually bag the wins but no.

"Kitten," Sylus starts off, staring at your direction hoping you'd give him the gentle mercy of not pulling what he thinks you're about to throw onto the pile.

Deadass you stare straight into his glowing red orbs with all the courage you could muster: "No." Then slam the skip card on the deck.

"You should've called it quits when you had the chance". Zayne commented, who was now sitting near the kitchen isle with his own winning treats after beating Rafayel again.

He does get back at you though after a little while, making sure it would be your turn getting all the plus cards on your deck.

He gets to call in "Uno" once or twice throughout the night, not even with all the talent and skill that Sylus would've thought he had mastered in winning and negotiation would pale in comparison to Xavier's skill in the game.

He does in fact quit the game after the 12th round saying he needs to stretch out his legs but in reality is sitting in the other side of the room and looking up for ways he could actually win in the game without cheating or creating a crime scene.

CALEB

Hands down, he cheated in the game for about twice, using the full-length mirror he strategically placed near the couch and moving it with his evol from time to time to get a view of not just yours but everyone else's deck of cards. No remorse, no guilt.

Tries to smooth-talk you into giving up the good cards for his bad ones that he unfortunately, picked out himself.

Gets super competitive after losing the first 20 rounds. You offered to get everyone a drink while it wasn't your turn to give out a card yet. Besides, it was only you, Xavier and Caleb who were left playing the game.

"No. No one sleeps, eats or drinks not until we finish the game."

"But, we've already played more than 20 of this." You whined, already wanting to grab some snacks and refreshments before moving on to the next round of the game.

"The game doesn't end until I beat this guy," Caleb says, pointing over at Xavier who was half passed out with only three cards left in his hand. "The game ends when I win."

And so he did, after another 10 rounds of playing, he actually won once. Just once for a full hour worth of gloating.

Although game night came to an end, Caleb's the only one showing up to your door step at ungodly hours (also because of his not-so regular work schedule) to play uno.

You could hear your phone buzzing for the 10th time tonight, you weren't sure if it's a call or a text but you were sure it was Caleb asking you to play with him again.

With no choice, you groan in agony and rise from your already-comfortable sleeping position to pick up and answer the still-ringing phone.

"For the love of God and this goddamn city, the answer is no". And you quickly end the call and go back to sleep, peacefully going back into your dream state.

While you were peacefully sleeping, Xavier was the unfortunate next victim of the Colonel, showing up at his apartment at 1:12AM to play Uno cards because aparently losing 20 rounds against Xavier did not sit well with Caleb.

"Why are we doing this?" Xavier asked, rubbing his eyes as he and Caleb sat on his kitchen table chairs with cards in each of their hands.

"Because I said so".

"Dude, you need to get more friends in your socual circle".

Caleb laughs. "Hell no." Then pulls out a +4 out from his deck.

˚₊·check out my other works here—̳͟͞͞♡

[0-n-1-x]

Hiro Hamada x Reader Headcanons

Link to my masterlist <33

-its the hiro that can't always make it to dates but will never hesitate to invite you over to his lab

-its the hiro that never shares ANY of his gummy bears with ANYONE but where he's churching on you always shares

-its the hiro that is so confused why you don't pick up on his "obvious" flirting

-its the hiro that asks baymax to fly by your window to check that your safe

-its the hiro that will invent a machine to fix any moderately annoying problem in your life

-its the hiro that also doesn't pick up on any of your actually obvious flirting

-its the hiro that goes on dates with you before you start dating but doesn't consider any of them as actual dates (he was too oblivious to realize then and regrets not acting upon his feelings for you)

-its the hiro that yaps so much about what on his mind to his friends, but when you start dating he will somehow find every way to talk about you, but he genuinely does not realize because you are what's on his mind

-its the hiro that is initially shy around you, stumbling over his words and avoiding eye contact (especially when you smile at him GOD this boy is whipped)

-its the hiro that tries to impress you with his knowledge of robotics and tech, but he sometimes gets too excited and rambles on about things (that go over your head) When he realizes it, he gets all flustered and apologizes, which you find adorable.

-its the hiro that texts you late at night, usually about something random that made him think of you, and you end up having long conversations that go on until one of you falls asleep.

-its the hiro that has movie nights with you but you CANNOT watch a sci-fi movie with because he'll just critique the ability of technology to take take over the world

-its the hiro that BEGS you to couple cosplay with him at san fransokoyo comic-con (yall are beast boy and raven you cant prove me wrong)

-its the hiro that loves helping you with your studies, especially if it's anything science or math-related. He’s patient and explains things in a way that makes sense, and you can tell he genuinely enjoys spending this time with you (but not without a little teasing as is LOWKEY did skip almost all of highschool)

-its the hiro that gets upset when he has a cute contact name for you and his is ‘Captain Cutie’

-its the hiro that is a sweat at games like smash bros and mortal kombat, but always has time to sit down and play mario kart and animal crossing with you

-its the hiro that cares so so so so much for you

[muletia]

Happy Christmas Mul and a happy new year! 😊🎁🎄

I've been thinking of the shatter glass universe and what our bots and cons counterparts would be like 🤔

Optimus Prime: Has no rizz, is so deep in his fantasy with y/n that he mistakes them for real life, protective and wants to be pegged

Shattered Glass Optimus: Roses are red, violets are blue. I'd let you hit my valve if you want too

a pinch of 18+ valveplug content

If they were to be compared to dog breeds, Optimus would be some kind of livestock guardian dog:

Patient, gentle, incredibly defensive of you, but never the one to start a fight.

A gentle giant type, content just being in your presence, although secretly (key word) yearning for closeness.

If you don’t take the first step yourself, he’ll torment himself with his intense feelings for the rest of his life—or until he loses his mind.

His main shtick is that, for your sake, he’d only ever harm himself, and others only in critical situations. Literally the "I’d die for you" type beat.

SG!Optimus is a rabid Rottweiler:

Aggressive toward anyone who gets too close to you, or even dares to linger their gaze a second too long. Such a bot is immediately punished because he’s always with you. You’re always nearby. Sometimes, it’s just so he can deliberately bait some bot into looking at you, providing Optimus with entertainment. The torn, energon-drenched optics are then presented to you on a tray.

SG!Optimus doesn’t need extra inspiration to ruthlessly crush millions, but when you’re around, it suddenly brings him even more joy. He doesn’t need a reason, but if you asked him to destroy an entire civilization, he’d do it with fiery enthusiasm, only to return to you smeared with energon/blood/bodily fluids and demand interfacing.

He’s also incredibly touchy and starved for stimulation. At the most unexpected moments, you feel his servos slipping under your clothes, indifferent to time or place.

This openness, combined with a complete lack of morals and his bloodthirsty nature, means you immediately know about his bizarre attachment to you. There will be no playing games here. The moment SG!Optimus realizes his spark craves you, you end up in his servos, and the most venomous and perilous valve stands open before you, ready to serve.

[astraloverflow]

Depraved and Obsessed König Teaser 2

warnings: König is an INCEL, power dynamics, fear, manipulation, implied smut, implied non-con This fic is taking way longer than I anticipated. I'm at about 16k words right now and they haven't even gotten freaky yet oh my god,,, I hope to be done sometime next week, but while you guys wait, here's another small part hehe enjoy ;) PS. This takes place before the first sneak peek I put out!! (THE BUILD UP MAKES IT BETTER I PROMISE, JUST WAIT MWAHAHAHA) WC: 1362 MDNI

“Really, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammer. Your heart shivers in its cage of bones; it makes you sick. Instead of whatever twisted game he was trying to play, where he tries to figure out what you know while ignoring the obvious, he should be apologizing to you, begging for your forgiveness. Though you were uncertain you would even receive an apology at this point, even if you did, you doubt you would be willing to forgive him— you realize, a second too late, that it should be the least of your worries right now.

He brings his hands from behind his back towards the desk you’re pressed against, placing both palms on either side, essentially trapping you within his hold, bending at the waist to meet you at eye level. You almost jump at this, and your breath catches in your throat before he begins to speak again, piercing cerulean taking in your mortified face. “Listen, Schatz. I’ve been patient,” he huffs out, eyes burning straight through your own with an intensity that makes your stomach churn and knees wobble, “I wanted to wait. I really did.” He pauses to take in a shaky breath, “I had hoped that by teaching you, by being kind to you, by showing you how to become a better sniper— that it would bridge that gap, and allow us to become closer… naturally. You know?” A beat, and he inhales again, eyes now darker, glaring, “I must confess, though, meine Leibe, I got impatient…” 

Leibe. 

He has never called you that before— it sends your head spinning, heart sinking, stomach churning as you try to find any way you could comprehend this situation. He brings his frame a bit closer to your own, enough for you to feel his body heat on your skin, hot enough to burn.

“I should have been better, Schatz, I am sorry for getting...” There it is, the apology you've been waiting for, but it’s followed by silence— an empty regret. You try to respond to him, tell him that you’re uncomfortable at the position that you two are in, your hands finding the table behind you, pulling yourself deeper into the wood, trying to put distance between you and him, but your voice dies, a small squeak coming out instead. He chuckles slightly, almost sheepishly, before speaking up again, “Honestly, I’m really embarrassed that you… found that. You weren’t- you weren’t supposed to.” 

The first time you’ve heard him sound so nervous. 

“I want to— I want to make it up to you,” he whispers, eyes flicking down to your lips before they meet your eyes again, “I really do.” His left hand reaches up to place onto your shoulder, and he exhales, “I see the way you’re looking at me right now. Leibe, please, you don’t need to be afraid.” His heavy hand makes contact with your shoulder, resting on it, thumb rubbing small circles that were meant to be soothing, only they made you violently ill instead, his touch scorching you. “I only ever wanted to protect you. Everything I did— it was for you.” His voice cracks slightly, but he covers it with a deep inhale.

He looks inconsolable, but you try nonetheless; a part of you feels afraid to set him off if you decide to be too direct or ignore him, so you decide you have to take the route in between. “I understand how you feel, I just— you're my colonel," you shake your head, "I can't— please— you have to understand why this is a shock to me,” you murmur out, looking at him with pleading eyes.

After a moment of quiet, he speaks out, sharply, hand tightening on your shoulder, “No.” He growls, and the armoury suddenly feels too small, like the walls are closing in on you. 

Wrong move.

“You don’t understand anything.” There’s an ugly, wretched note in his words, sharp and rising with each syllable that leaves his throat; his words come out as a hiss, and it terrifies you to no extent. His grip on you becomes almost painful as he barks out another sentence, “You think you can just walk away from this? From me?” His breathing grows heavier, each word dragging out of him like it physically hurts, desperation evident in his eyes that were quickly flickering between your left and right eye. “After everything,” he takes in a hefty breath, “you smile at me, you talk to me, you laugh with me,” a pause, “you touch me.” Suddenly, you’re brought back to just yesterday when you hugged him, and you feel your stomach twist, feeling partially responsible for this outcome. No. He had that photo of you before yesterday— this is all wrong. “Schatz, you let me think that—” He cuts himself off with a choked noise, taking his hand off your shoulder to slam against the desk, balled in a fist. The knives on the table behind you rattle slightly, and you flinch. “You made me need you,” his voice is a growl now, full of accusation, “and now you want to act like I’m the problem?” Another harsh breath, chest heaving as his eyes darken further— betrayal, rage, heartbreak all tangled together.

You feel your heart squeeze itself in your chest, your rib cage not big enough to hold the feelings in. The fear rising in your veins constricts your circulation, causing you to go lightheaded— you need to get out of here. A lump forms in your throat, making it hard to speak, but you do so regardless. “I need to go,” you manage to say, vision obscured by the formation of tears starting to pool in your eyes. You’re inching sideways, trying to find a gap to slide through, considering ducking under his arm to make an escape.

“Don’t you dare,” he snarls, eyebrows furrowing in anger, “I’m laying out all my feelings out for you here— I’m being vulnerable with you, Leibe, and you want to leave? You’re unbelievable.” His hands lift off the table, and he places them on the left side of his chest, eyes now suddenly desperate, pleading, “I am trying to have a heart-to-heart with you,” he chokes with what sounds like a sob. 

As his hands move off of the table, your blood rushes, your vision tunnels itself, and you use the movement of his arms as leverage, in a haze, you push past him, ducking low, as you sprint for the door— your boots slam against the concrete as you sprint, the fluorescent lights of the armoury buzzing overhead, overstimulating your senses. Behind you, heavy boots pound, twice as loud as your own— the noise of pure rage. As you rip through the entryway, cold air of the night hitting against your skin, pumped full of adrenaline, you put a considerable amount of space between yourself and the entryway. You don’t hear footsteps past the concrete floor of the armoury, and you come to a stop and turn your body around to assess your situation, backing up still, ready to bolt if he starts moving towards you. Turning to face him allows you to see his body, leaning against the door frame of the small building, huffing with what you can only assume is unbridled rage. You could see just through his eyes how defeated he looked, head tilted down, to look at you with resentful, heartbroken eyes. 

“Fuck Schatz,” his sighs, voice breaking with desperation and he pauses, watching you hastily walk away, “you want to do things like this?” He breathes in deeply, lifting his head and widening his eyes at you in what feels like a challenge, wildly. You can see his chest rise and fall unsteadily as he does so, “Fine.” The last bit of his monologue was a growl, anger lacing his words with a small puff, “Have it your way.” He pushes off the doorway with his forearm and begins walking over to you. Each one of his steps, two of yours, and with your body turned to face him, stepping backwards, it was almost three— he didn’t need to be fast. You did.

[your-nanas-house]

The Beginning

◇ Pairing: Tom Riddle X professor!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, manipulation, forbidden relationship, Tom Riddle, bath, nudity, dub-con, short age gap

◇ Summary: Tom notices that his favourite professor is a bit stressed.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Both character are aged up. Part 2 Part 3, Part 4

The room was filled with the chit chat of students who were taking the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, a subject often called simply DADA by everyone.

In the background of the big lesson room, there was soft music that created an almost pleasant atmosphere in contrast to the type of class that was taking place which had quite heavy topics that frightened many and intrigued others.

One of those people who were fascinated by the subject was Tom Riddle himself, clever boy, Slytherin and much more, especially the darling of professors, of every professor, except Albus Dumbledore, so the young professor Y/l/n was no exception.

There was a special bond between the wunderkind student and the professor, almost intimate if someone misinterpreted it but it was nothing like that or at least that was how it was for Y/n, the young witch had only managed to get her job a few years earlier and right from the start, thanks to the passion for her subject shared with Tom, they began to bond.

The Slytherin student who had now come of age and managed to become the head boy as well as a prefect, had approached the teacher to find out more secrets about magic and because he surprisingly found their conversations interesting as well as entertaining.

This was the real reason why he had started a few months after he met her to pretend to meet her by chance while walking around the castle, thus starting a routine between the two of them that happened almost every day if Y/n wasn't busy with her duties as a Hogwarts professor, which happened sometimes and which annoyed Tom for some strange reason.

Y/n was convinced that Tom saw her as a mother figure, someone to follow and learn from, and so did the young adult, but everything changed one evening.

After a busy astronomy lesson Tom wanted to visit his favorite teacher before heading back to his dormitory but when he reached the door of her classroom, hoping to find her still there, voices made him stop in his tracks.

The door was slightly open and he could easily see what was going on inside Miss Y/l/n's classroom.

She was inside, leaned against a table as she listened attentively to what someone was saying to her, Tom couldn't recognise the man so close to the woman with that look that the student had learned was lustful from the experience of his peers.

The whole situation awakened something all too well known inside the Slytherin heir, envy, pure green envy and resentment turned against them, something animalistic flared up inside him, a need to prove himself just as he had done at the orphanage when he was still a child.

Perhaps that was the reason that started the break of the platonic feelings the student had for his teacher.

New thoughts ran through his head as he decided how to move the pawns of his game in such a way as to receive what he wanted and thought he deserved, waiting patiently for the most suitable moment which came one summer night.

It had been a few months since the beginning of her senior year but they were almost at the end, his attitude had not changed in the slightest towards Miss Y/n and so the young woman did not suspect anything when she received a letter from Tom asking her for urgent help and giving her the coordinates of where to meet.

Worried, the young woman rushed to what she discovered was the prefects' bathroom, she was breathing heavily and was ready to solve whatever the problem was.

The young woman however had expected everything but her favorite student to wander calmly around the bathroom as he arranged the water and suds, meeting her eyes with his cold black ones, a faint smile forming on his face when he spoke "professor".

The atmosphere was suspicious in a way, suspicious but relaxing, since the aroma of soap filled the room as Tom tended to his clothes leaving them propped elegantly on a chair so they couldn't get wet "what's going on, Tom? I got your owl and I came as soon as I could" Y/n declared while she looked around, studying the bathroom in order to understand the riddle and discover why Tom Riddle had made her run all the way there.

She didn't even realize what the boy was doing before he was surrounded by the water and the foam caught her attention again.

Tom was standing in the tub, his clothes forgotten on the chair as the water made his pale skin and nearly Greek god muscles stand out; Y/n couldn't help but notice how his student had grown over the summer, making space for a decidedly attractive young man who reminded her very much of a Greek statue while her y/e/c moved around studying the parts of his skin on view, reaching his neck and finally his face.

She only realised she was holding her breath when their eyes met again, the situation they were in became much clearer to her and a blush appeared on her face making her turn quickly to give privacy to the young man who was staring at her amused with an unfamiliar twinkle behind his pitch black eyes.

She could hear him moving in the water, probably moving closer to where she was before speaking again "I've noticed that you are under a lot of stress lately....I thought a bath might help you, professor" the Slytherin revealed with a mischievous smile that relented slightly when she politely declined several times before attempting to leave the room, soon ending up in the water though, Tom's arms wrapped around her as if they were two snakes, his breath was warm against her neck and she could feel him take in her scent before letting his lips graze the delicate skin of that area "I know you want it too" whispered the young man almost in an attempt to seduce her as he sensed the shiver that ran through her body.

"No one will have to know, my mouth will remain closed" he whispered again, licking this time behind her ear before starting to play with her lobe using his teeth "come on...professor".

Miss Y/l/n's eyes flattered closed despite the fact that she tried to fight her lust, but it was immensely difficult with Tom's large, long hands, which traveled slowly all over her body exploring and almost expertly touching the areas that would make her give in.

It was as if there was a study behind it, his hands traveled with the wisdom of someone who had studied but not yet experimented with practice, this however did not silence the voices telling her not to do it.

The struggle in her head continued and the more time passed the harder it was to resist, especially now that the young adult's body was right against her back and she could feel everything from his muscular chest to his abs to his hard cock against her lower back.

His warm breath was against her now cold neck, making her

shiver and sigh deeply memorising how Tom was touching her because it had been quite some time since she had fucked anyone.

Despite the urge boiling inside her, Y/n shifted, slipping from the wizard's strong grip, stopping his next movements by placing her hand on his smooth chest.

Tom's black eyes met her y/e/c's, his large hand with long, skinny fingers wrapped around her wrist, slowly moving it to his lips, his tongue tracing its way to the inside of her hand before stopping to allow their lips to meet in a strangely soft kiss.

Miss Y/n's tits were against Tom's muscular, pale chest, her hands buried in his black hair as the boy's arms were around her waist bringing her even closer to him.

Their lips moved slowly, both of them lost in the shared sensation, exploring one of the tastes after another. It all ended, however, when Y/n regained control, noticing the head of his cock brushing against her entrance almost as if teasing her.

Reason because she forced herself to pull Tom away from her before licking her lips, weighing up her various options, she wasn't going to go all through with one of her students, it wasn't even supposed to end up like this and yet there she was in a bath with the most talented student at Hogwarts trying to seduce her.

Tom moved closer just as her internal debate ended, it only took her hand to stop him and her gaze followed by a teacher's tone to make him obey "get out of the water, sit on the edge of the pool...this is to stay between us, it won't happen again and I don't want to talk about it ever again, do you understand?" she asked after a few seconds the last question before admiring how Tom's body, shifted and emerged from the water to position itself like she had asked.

And there he was, Tom Marvolo Riddle, in all his glory and nakedness, his legs spread for her and an intense gaze focused solely on her. The young professor had listened to several conversations of the horny schoolgirls going after Tom but had not at all expected what she had in front of her now.

That didn't frighten her though, they had already reached a moment of no return and her hands instinctively moved to the young man's muscular, hairy thighs; they traveled a slow, teasing pace that made all the remaining blood go right down into his now rock hard cock.

The wizard admired closely as Y/n's hands moved over his length, pumping him a couple of times using the water as lubricant before she moved her face closer and left little licks on the tip.

Their eyes met and her mouth continued to work on him, exactly as her hands did, causing small moans followed by hisses that came out of Tom's perfect lips.

His dark eyes had not yet moved away from her just as Y/e/c's were still focused on him, it was intense.

Her tongue came out of her mouth to lick the entire length a couple of times and then take him completely in her mouth, deep throating him without him expecting it.

Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, Tom's thighs shaked slightly under her hands as sinful grunts escaped his lips; his hips began to move without even meaning to, his tingling hand lusting for dominance gripped her wet hair in a tight grip so that he could choose his movements.

His hips moved swiftly as he fucked her mouth mercilessly focused on achieving his first peak of pleasure, it was a almost suffocation feeling, Tom needed more, much more, but he had almost reached his peak.

The wizard only released his hold when he came, now leaving Y/n free to move as she wanted, despite this the young witch focused her attention till the end on his tip, sucking gently as her hands massaged his balls almost as if she was milking him.

As soon as she realized she had taken every last drop, Y/n slowly pulled away, swallowing it all while looking into Tom's eyes.

The young professor had to avoid him in order to reach the entrance to the prefects' door without falling for another attempt at seduction by the student.

The two looked at each other in silence, Tom wanted to say something but Y/n silenced him with one last kiss, followed by an elegant movement of her wand and three words "this stays here".

As soon as she finished speaking she walked out of the bathroom leaving Tom standing there all alone, looking at the door, his body now dry and his uniform back, it was as if nothing had happened, as if everything had only been in his head but the lipstick marks proved something else.

In fact they only confirmed the wonderful and unexpected sensations he had felt in those few minutes he had been with her, he knew that she had sensed that it was the first time he had done this kind of activity but he also knew that she wanted more, he wanted more, there was something more and Tom was going to take it at all costs.

Things had not begun and ended that night in the prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts, the wizard would make sure of that and he would not put an end to what he had managed to get…what he had been craving for some time and now knew he could have.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @huntress-valkyrie , @lostmyremembrall, @pastelpiisces

[judgedarts]

after 1 billion years.. my shop has finally been updated!!

⭐shop link⭐

i'm most excited to debut my ygo plush coin pouches and liquid shaker charms! the coin pouches have been in development for quite a while and i wanted them to be 1000% ready before showing off any photos 🥺 thank you so much for your guys' patience, and i really hope everything is to your liking!! <33 you can read further below for some thoughts for future products:

thanks for clicking! this year has been really challenging trying to balance cons and finding a routine, and also trying to update my store so i really appreciate you guys for sticking around and being so patient regardless :,) and speaking of the plushies, they genuinely did take 1 year from initial sketches to final product development @_@ this was my first time attempting plush, and i unfortunately chose to do incredibly complicated designs haha.. the amount of back and forth i did with multiple suppliers, trying to fix minute details, all the late nights and frustration was still worth it, because i think they came out really phenomenally 😭❤️ill also be attempting to create samples for a joey, kaiba, jaden, and yusei coin pouch. im honestly a little scared of the yusei design i came up with, but i have a vision that i want to achieve despite the challenges i see up ahead 🫡 ive also been meaning to expand my ygo crossbody bag line this year, but the plushies genuinely took up so much of my time that i couldn't allocate more time/energy into starting them. i already know what i want the GX and 5DS bags to look like, so please stay tuned! im aiming to have preorders for them ready by early 2025. i want to rep a jack atlas bag SO bad i will frow up!!!! i also wanted to try out these liquid shaker charms! ive always wanted to make something like this so im really thrilled with how they came out - im planning on adding more characters to this lineup since they're i can draw the little chibis pretty fast! for non ygo fanmerch - i would love to phase out some jojos items and make merch for some nostalgic video game/anime i enjoyed growing up!! as for comics... please also stay tuned! im really looking forward to prioritizing some sequential art going into 2025. i hope yall will also look forward to my shortbox comic T_T<3! thank you if you read all of this, it really means a lot!

[wondrluv]

୨୧ surprise surprise ; cb98

➪ summary: two things on connor's checklist: one. to get his girl to see a game of his, and two. to get an overtime goal. lucky for him, he gets both in one night

➪ warnings: none

➪ word count: 0.7k

➪ emma's notes: a little connor blurb for the first thing today! i think a nico fic will be out later today but yeah. this takes place after the winnipeg game when connor scored the overtime goal

© wondrluv ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

Y/n sat anxiously in her seat, biting her nails and her leg bouncing as she watched the game. This wasn’t the first overtime that Connor had been a part of, it also wasn’t the second. The Hawks had been to overtime 4 times, including tonight, in the whole season, losing only one. Yet, this was the first time she was present for one, well actually any game.

Being at school it was hard to form and support her boyfriend but with the break being here she finally came to watch him. He didn’t know, which made this all the more exciting for her.

Janelle sat next to her, just as anxious as the girl, as Milana cheered for her dad. They watched and moved their eyes simultaneously for three minutes until they stopped in the Hawks’ zone. 

Tito skated to center ice before swinging back around and passing the puck to Lukas. Lukas waited patiently until his teammate was near and swiftly passed it to Connor.

Y/n prayed silently as he took the puck, easily skating through guys down the ice, getting close enough on the Jets’ side, shooting it, and making it into the goal. 

Janelle and y/n stood up cheering, the younger of the two naturally being more excited. She clapped as everyone surrounded the rookie and she held a smile on her face.

Watching his interview she couldn’t help but tear up a little because just earlier Connor had called her and talked about how he felt he wasn’t contributing much to the team. They had known each other for so long and she always stood by him so being here, knowing that he just proved his own words wrong, felt great to her.

Janelle took her daughter and y/n outside as the girl felt she was suffocating from the number of people that were still in the UC. They waited for their partners to come out, making small talk about how school was going.

They could hear the slight chatter from behind them, turning around to see the team slowly start to file out of the arena. Tito walked out with Murphy and Seth, noticing the two standing there, “They’ll be out soon.”

They both nodded and expressed their gratitude watching them walk off. It wasn’t long before Nick was walking out with Connor, talking about something that was probably hockey-related. Nick looked up and saw his wife and y/n standing there, stopping and nudging the boy, “Hey.”

Connor looked up from his phone looking at his teammate, “What?” 

He gestured to his right and Connor looked that way, “Oh my-”

He wasted no time in dropping his bag and running to his girlfriend, easily picking her up and swinging her around. She let out a loud laugh, wrapping her arms around him, hitting him so she could be put down, “Put me down, psycho.”

Connor placed her down and leaned his forehead against her own, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Nick took his family off to the side to let the two teenagers have their moment. Y/n placed her hands on Connor’s cheek, holding his face, “I’m so proud of you.”

Connor blushed and stayed silently, not knowing what to say. She gave him a look, “Connor, come on. Be proud of yourself.”

He nodded, “I am. But I’m also still in shock that you’re here.” She kissed him and he kissed back, “Best believe it Con because I’m here and I’m coming on your roadie with you.”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way, school is closed for another week so, my family and I decided to fly down to Dallas and then I think my friends and I will go out East with you.” Connor couldn’t stop bouncing on his feet, even pulling away to jump.

Nick and Janelle walked over, Milana following excitedly behind them, “You guys want to go out to celebrate.” Y/n nodded her head enthusiastically and the five of them headed off to go out for dinner.

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[sunflowersbones]

Stalker’s Tango

Warnings: This fic will contain NON-CON, Discussion on mental health, Psychological distress, Stalking, Violence. My warnings are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

[AUGUST WALKER x reader]

18+ only. This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The therapy sessions with your new patient have been going well lately; something that surprises you due to his initial distaste towards the mandatory sessions his unit commands. You’re glad that there is progress in some part of your life, as your own mental health seems to be slowly sinking. You chalk it up to exhaustion and stress; but as the events of your life unfold, you realise that your mind hadn’t been playing games. It had been warning you; that danger truly did lurk around the corner.

NOTE: I'm absolutely devastated that I couldn’t put this out in August; my laptop decided to die on me. I know it's not that big of a deal, but still. So for my sake, let's presume that I did post this in August cuz I'm not waiting until next year.

DIVIDERS: @firefly-graphics

*

You observe him as you slowly twirl your pen around; in between your fingers. He was so unlike any of the other patients you’ve ever had.

He always seems so calm and collected. His attire always put together. His clothes were just as stiff and polished as him. He seems to gravitate more towards a monotone cool palette of blues, blacks, and greys, and if he desires to experiment a little; he’ll try brown or a pale yellow, but that’s about it.

You had been having a hard time, trying to figure out if it was due to his personal likes and dislikes or if he chooses it due to a societal and corporate expectation from men’s fashion, but you dismantled the latter thought quite quickly.

His voice is always loud and clear; it never quivers, and he rarely repeats himself. He always just seems so sure of himself. You suppose that’s why he hated this in the beginning—not that he's so fond of it now, but at least he's moved on from his initial grunts and one-word answers.

It must be an offence to a man like him to presume that he is, quote-unquote, “weak”. That talking about your emotions and difficulties or having regular therapy sessions is only for those who make their way into lunatic asylums. That they; as normal citizens, are better than the others.

Even educated people cannot shroud themselves from the taboo around mental health. You of all people know that very well; you’ve dealt with it quite personally. He reminded you of your father, not just in attitude but also in tone. Both of them carry a patronizing effect in their voice, even through the most simple remarks.

Your father was a man of voice and vigour to whom even the notion of mental health was absurd. His anger, most likely contributing to his denial of most problems. People of his generation tend to be like that, while it is changing—not at the pace you wish it would.

Having a patient who does not even try to get better unnerved you a little. You had never been very persuasive, all you can do is help bring clarity. You tell yourself to keep calm; perseverance is the only way to survive in this line of work.

His eyes land on you, onto your pen, and then above you; on to the clock, you presume. In the beginning his eyes never left it, at least now they only longingly look up half way through the session.

“Well, won't you look at that, doc? Times up,” he says in a tone of farce surprise, as if he hasn’t been yearning for the clock to strike.

You heave a small sigh as a smile forms on your lips; for a man his size, he can be quite childish.

“You know, August, it’s not your job to keep up with the clock; it's mine. Your mind is supposed to be relaxed in here.”

“Of course, I simply wouldn’t want to keep your other patients waiting; you're quite in demand, you know.” Your eyes quirk up in a questioning gaze; he already seems to have anticipated it.

“This generation loves coming in here, they think that you can fix all of their problems. They believe that their minds are broken simply because they can't handle the reality of life,” his voice laced with contempt and disappointment.

“Well anyway, see you next week, doc.” His tone was determined, so you didn’t bother to keep him longer than what was required. Your half-assured goodbye was only met by the creaking hinges of the closing door.

The entire bus ride home, your mind had been preoccupied with him; you nearly missed your stop. To some people, it's just a notion; their rigidity tends to crack from the sides, but he truly believes that all of this is useless, and that’s what makes it all the more difficult. It's not just prejudice; it's a true belief. You have to find a way around this or all your work will go down the drain.

You crack your neck as you walk into your apartment, fatigue taking over your entire body. You’d initially planned on taking a warm, long bath, but now you just want to fill your stomach and pass out. You heat up yesterday's mac and cheese, while it's nothing elaborate; it's enough to fill you up. The low rhythmic whirring of the oven lulls you as you think of all your other patients; you still have to come up with a proper time schedule to alternate between all of them, and then there’s August. You’ve met teenagers who are less adamant than he is, the oven beeps as it snaps you out of your thoughts. The smell of cheese fills you with ease, and you decide not to bring work to the dinner table, you’ll think about it tomorrow.

You walk into your bedroom ready to crash when your eyes land on the bluebells you bought a week ago. You curse yourself for forgetting about it again. None of your indoor plants ever seem to survive, no matter how much you care for them. But the wild ones growing outside your window seem to have no problem flourishing as they grow out through the thin cracks of the wall.

You fill a glass up and move to water the plants. As you lean in, you notice that the soil seems damp; a small crinkle forms in between your brows. You can’t remember watering them this morning, but then again, you did everything in a hurry today. Terrified that you’ll miss your morning bus. You don’t think much of it as you place the glass down. Your bluebells seem to be retaining their colour; you hope this one won't die on you.

A strong thud startles you from your repose; suddenly wide awake, your annoyance turns into dread as you suspect that the noise was coming from inside your apartment—you couldn’t remember if you had locked the front door. Nighttime stirs up the imagination of your ears; as you sit up on your bed, your mind convinces you that you can hear low symphonies mixed in the silence. You're sure that you can hear footsteps outside the room, or was it the creak of the door? You feel goosebumps etch your entire body as you force yourself to take a deep breath.

You slowly get out of bed, careful as to not make any noise. You look around for your phone only to realise that you’d left it on the kitchen table. Now your worry increases even more; you can hear your heart beating in your chest. You’re unsure of what to do. You could simply lock the door to your room, but then what? Wait until the morning? For all you know, it was nothing, simply your paranoid nature freaking out.

Your mother tends to make it a habit of informing you about every single crime activity that pops up on the news; whether you're interested in it or not. Her own fear and paranoia seem to have transmitted onto you in an increasing degree. If you are hopefully alive by tomorrow, you’ll keep in mind to stop watching those missing persons documentary.

You slowly peep out of your room. You look over to the left, slightly straining your neck, only to find the main door locked. You heave a relieved sigh at that. You walk into the kitchen and find your phone on the table just where you had left it. The light from the streetlight fills your kitchen with a low yellow glow as you hear another thud. You look over through the window and see a truck unload some boxes, the noise now you’re certain was from this ruckus. You absent-mindedly wonder if someone new was moving in as you make your way back to bed.

The slow-moving normalcy of everyday life makes you indifferent of others in the daytime, but at night... that’s when every little movement terrifies you. You clutch your handbag around a little tighter, your head spins around every few minutes, and your feet pick up their pace no matter how exhausted you are. A pepper spray bottle has found a permanent residence in your bag. You’ve made a habit to always make sure that your door is closed and locked. You don’t want to admit it, but you're actually a little perturbed after last week's incident, mostly about your own forgetfulness.

You wonder if the stress of it is evident on your face; the raven-haired man in front of you has been rather cooperative today. He answers you without the usual quirky remarks. You wonder if it's due to his own interest in taking these sessions seriously or if it's because of the dark circles that lace your eyes. His eyes landed on your face the second he entered and has remained on them since. He looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it; however, his inquisitive nature could only keep it in for so long.

“Not to be harsh, Doc, but you look like shit. Not getting enough sleep?”

“Sleep has been evading me as of lately, yes.”

“Why?”

“Nothing much, just work.”

“Huh, I didn’t think dealing with a bunch of paper work and people would be that hard; regret signing up for it?,” he says as he crosses his ankle onto his other leg. His condescending baritone reminds you of a familiar one, and you momentarily snap back a “no,” but you compose yourself rather quickly. Deflection—that’s what they all do.

“Every job has its hurdles, August. But we are not here to talk about mine; we’re here to talk about yours.”

“So tell me how’s work?”

“Can’t talk about it; confidentiality agreement, remember?.” He quips.

“Of course, I didn’t mean the intricacies of it. I meant, how does it make you feel? I’m sure working for the government has its own complicacies.”

“Do you enjoy your work? Does it stress you? Do you ever feel like you’ve neglected life?” His jaw clenches at that as his voice turns gruff.

“No, I do what I have to; I’m ready to make sacrifices for my work, and yes, you could say that I enjoy it. In fact, I think it’s the only thing I enjoy in life sometimes...” The last part seems to be a careless whisper, but you catch on to it anyway.

“Well, that’s not very healthy; why? Do you find life outside of work difficult? Stressful?”

“No. I just find it mundane.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes you feel like it's aimed at you rather than the conversation you’re having, but you don’t dwell on it.

The rest of your conversation carries on, and after August’s session, you call onto your next patient. Your greeted by a familiar strawberry blonde; you’d completely forgotten about her.

“Gee Y/N, sometimes I wonder how you even work when you have to deal with a hottie like that fella!.”

“Ha-ha, I survive, Nance. I survive.”

“But seriously, look at him—what an absolute specimen.”

“That he is.”

“Ohhh, I sense tension; is he the grumpy kind?”

“Spot on.”

“Hmm.. well, the hot ones do tend to be like that.”

“So how are the babies?”

“Oh great, its been great as of lately; Charlie said his first words, you know.”

“Ahh, how wonderful!; was it mom?”

The gleam on her rosy cheeks makes the answer apparent. You're so happy to see the girl you’ve now known for two years, who at first meeting was just a gloom of anxiety and sadness. She’s changed so much, and only for the better. You listen to her carefully as she continues; but even then, in the back of your mind, his staring eyes persist.

You huff as you run towards the bus stop, unable to reach on time as you watch your bus leave. You look around; the evening is darker than usual, indicative of the fast approaching winter. You have no idea when the next bus will arrive. This junction being nooked into the corner had fewer buses on this route compared to the main one. So you decide to just walk your way to it.

Your feet ache as your slippers slap onto the road. You should have left the office earlier; it would have spared you the walk. You continue on through the cold night, wrapping your arms around yourself, when you hear a soft snap behind you. You turn around thinking nothing of it, purely based on instinct.

Surprised to find yourself all alone; a tiny part of you is uncomfortable. You start to walk a little faster, restless to reach the bus stop. However, as you turn around a corner, you hear light footsteps behind you; they sound much calmer compared to yours. It means nothing; it’s most likely just somebody walking towards the bus stop, just like you. But your nerves get the best of you, and to ease your mind, you increase your pace. The second you do your followers pace increases as well. They sound much louder now; it puts your heart in a frenzy. You could see the dim light of the bus stop ahead of you. Your body sprints towards it.

You reach the bus stop a little calm now due to the lights that fill the stop; its saxe hue comforts you from the danger your mind intuits. You notice a man asleep on one of the seats. The new-found comfort of the lights and the company gives you the courage to look behind. You come to regret the decision as you feel your heart skip a beat.

A tall shadow stands a few meters away, their figure looming in the darkness. You're unable to see anything but a dark outline; but you suspect it’s a man. Even from afar, his enormous size is terrifying.

You’re so grateful to see a bus approach; you climb into it immediately as its doors buzz open and peep out through the glass window only to find nothing. Nobody’s around except for the man who was asleep on the bench; it's almost as if you had imagined a ghost up. But you know, that was not true because that little heart of yours was still thundering inside you; assuring you that the fear you felt had been very real.

The days ahead had been increasingly difficult, your fear transmuting into insomnia as you lay awake at night petrified of every little noise you hear. The chances of somebody stalking you seem ridiculous, but how many women had believed such and been the victims of an attack?

Your cautiousness skyrocketed these days, and you carried two bottles of pepper spray along with you. You’ve decided to put an installment on a car; your house was not very far away from work but enough to evoke the fear within. You could not rely on the buses anymore; you did not want to end up suffering because of their impunctual timing.

You had been searching through your cabinet to make sure you had all the files that were required. That’s when you found it, it had arrived a week ago; you remember receiving it, but you’d been too busy to check it out. August's health and history files had been finally transferred on to you; you had requested it nearly a month ago.

You skim through the papers, nearly missing it at first, but you reread the part again, and a frown forms in-between your brows. His first mission... he… he’d lied to you.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; all clients lie to a certain extent. Especially during the initial stages of therapy, even when it isn’t a case of "pseudologia fantastica." It's just the initial distress of being vulnerable and the desire to express ones own narrative rather than the truth.

But with August... while you never really thought of it before, now you slightly suspect if August has a case of pathological lying. For some people, it's not about a grand lie; it's about the smaller details. And you're sure it’s the norm in his line of work; the lines between lying and withholding the truth tend to blend pretty soon when one is not cautious. You won't lie; you’re a little disappointed in him, or with yourself; you're unsure.

You don’t know why you thought this conversation would go easily; the clench in his jaw, the anger in his eyes, and the tight grip of his fingers clearly suggested otherwise.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, doc.”

“August please. Let's not waste our time, I know. They sent me your files. I need to have certain knowledge about my patient's history.” His gaze pierces through you at that.

You try your best to approach the topic as softly as you can. “Your mission, your first mission; you weren’t alone; you had a team... and there were casualties. You’d suffered from a severe head trauma too. It was—

“A disaster?” The grimace in his voice was mixed with pain and anger.

“…difficult. Is that why you lied? August I need you to know this is a safe space. I’m not here to judge you; that’s not what we are here to do.”

“You’re a practical person; you know that lying doesn’t help. It simply convinces you that you’ve made progress when, truthfully, you’ve just been stagnant the whole time.”

“I, we, all... all of this,” you say, waving your hand around, “we exist to help you, not to condemn you. You can open up to me; that’s what I’m here for.”

His aggression at that makes you flinch. All you hear is the scraping of his chair, and before you could voice anything, he was gone. No other patient had stumped you the way he had, and when you finally snap out of it and go out in search of him, he’s nowhere to be found.

Your day had gone by uneventfully; August’s departure had been lingering on your mind the whole day. Coming back from work, both your mind and body had been exhausted. You didn’t even bother with dinner, your eyes closing the second you meet the bed.

Your body allowed your mind to sleep for a few hours before the familiar pang of hunger stirred you awake. You turn around and feel your heart clench; an overflow of fear courses through you. Your throat constricted as you whimper; the darkened, sharp outline of the man seated before now moves forward. The small strand of silver moonlight shines onto his face.

“You tend to talk in your sleep, you know.”

Fear paralyses you completely as you stay put. He stands up and walks over to your bed, his entire frame towering over you. He stares at you for a few seconds before flinching away.

One would imagine you were the one who broke into his place to hurt him if they saw him now. The pain etched on his face changes from discomfort to anger. You hear him draw a deep breath in as he composes himself.

“You’re on my mind a lot doc.”

“At first I entertained it, it was just a harmless little fantasy. And you… you’re such a cliché, ” he sighs, “your clothes, your glasses, your office, it doesn’t help.”

“Your table is always meticulously arranged, everything’s always in order, even your stupid post-it notes are colour coded,” he hisses, “I’d wanted to throw everything off of that table and fuck you on it until you were a babbling mess.”

“Not to belittle you doc, but you look like you’d get cock drunk pretty fast.”

He turns toward you, his broad shoulders straightened as he slightly tilts his head

“I’d have my hand around your throat, tight enough for you to barely breath,” he growls, “could make you shut up for once.”

“But then you decided that you wanna fuck with my head. And now I can’t get you out of my fucking mind.”

Your eyes travel towards the door, you could just make a dash for it but he seems to have read your mind. “Don’t even try.”

Your fear overclouds your judgment and you bolt out of the bed, but you barely take three steps, before he grabs onto you and throws you back onto the bed.

“Why do you have to make this so fucking difficult.”

You try again never the less as you smack him. None of this seems to deter him, one of his hand moves to twist your arm around your back. You scream in pain, only to have his other hand warp around your throat. You try to scratch his face, shoulders, neck anything just to make him let you go.

His fingers dig into you harder, his hand now moves around to the back of your neck making you wince “Please,” you whisper as he pushes your face onto you pillow.

“What did you think, you could run away from me? I’m ten times faster that you are. The only way you got away from me is because I let you.”

“Please, please, August. This isn—

You feel him hard against your ass, as he presses himself on to you.

“I didn’t expect you to be begging so soon Y/N, why hurry? we have the whole night for that don’t we.”

Your whole body stills with fear. His hands loosens around you as he’s moves to unbuckle his belt. Suddenly, you sense a rush of energy bloom within you; this might be your only chance.

You use all of your strength to push him away. He slightly looses his balance; just as you use the opportunity to move out of the bed, his hand lands on your ankle making you fall, face flat on to the floor.

You wince as your head and nose pound in pain, your body moving as he turns you around. His hands dig into the flesh of your arms as he looks at you.

“That was your own doing. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can if I wanted to. I can make this really painful for you Y/N, but if you co-operate I’ll go easy on you, understand?”

A slight nod of your head is all you can manage as you hear the sound of your shirt being ripped apart. Your shorts and underpants gone just as easily. Your face ends up on the bed again, as his left arm palms your breast. His other hand moves to coat your cunt with his juices. You feel a rush of disgust and shame course through you.

He rubs his leaking tip on your folds, his teeth gently nipping on your shoulders. He pushes himself into you, your mouth gently  parts as you feel his length inside your body. You hear him curse as pulls you up, your hands extending as you use them to balance yourself.

His hands land on you hip, “shit, your tight. Should have expected that from you.”

He begins to thrust in, slowly at first but then just as he gets comfortable his pace increases. You could hear the sound of his hips slapping into you. The girth of him nearly ripping your core apart. The fabric of his shirt and pants felt like they were made out of small metal pins as they grazed your naked skin.

Your mind still couldn’t believe this was actually happening, your eyes focused onto the movement of the headboard; the bed shaking because of him.

His hand on your hip tightens and as he spills into you, you hear a low carnal moan. You feel him soften inside you as he finally pulls out. You lay down on to your soft sheets— as he lets you go— now stained forever as you feel him trickle down your thigh. You hide your face in the pillow as you feel the tears brim your eyes; you just want to sleep.

“Ah ah, not so fast” he voice carelessly drawls as he pulls you up with your upper arm. He drags you around and before you can wonder where to, he opens the door to your shower.

The expectation is clear in his eyes and as you move in you hear him lock the door. The scalding water helps your mind from dwelling, you don’t want to think about anything right now. You’re more focused on rubbing yourself raw, nearly making your skin bleed as the hot water burning your skin cleans you.

When you come out you’re surprised to find him still there, casually sitting on your hair. He’s tidied himself up, not even a crinkle formed on his shirt unlike your ripped clothes that lay on the floor. Your eyes land on to your bed; they have a new pair of sheets shabbily placed on them. The old ones crumbled, down next to the foot it.

“You should get some rest, your body probably isn’t used to so much work.”

“Now, after you wake up tomorrow your brain will try to come up with ideas to get rid of me. You can try, but let me tell you right now you’ll have to deal with consequences. I can get really, really ugly.”

“It’s not easy to convict people without proof these days. If you try to leave, I will find you and you don’t want that.”

He stands up and walks over to you. You slightly step back, your body moving on its own as he gets closer. His hand moves to lift your head making you look at him.

“I like this arrangement a lot, so be good. We can help each other. So long as you behave I’ll be good to you.” A slight smirk forms on his features “Who knows?, I might just open up to you…doc.”

*