#praying to star that i make sense right now

[symphony-calamity]

Ok so. At least two people are interested in my thoughts about the Mechs and time, which is good enough for me, so here goes:

In order for this to make sense, you must first understand that the world as humans perceive it is made up of four dimensions: length, width, height, and time (physicists claim there are at least theoretically more. I'm not sure I believe them, but most humans only interact with the main four, so it doesn't really matter).

When you move, you're moving through space: made up by the dimensions of length, width, and height. You can control your movement through these dimensions. However, you cannot control your motion through time.

You do move through time, at a rate that is technically relative but in your interaction with it is functionally consistent and uncontrollable. Your movement through time is, in every practical sense, unaffected by your movement through space.

The Mechs on the other hand?

The way I see it, they move through time AS THOUGH IT WERE SPACE. As in, when they fly across the galaxy they're not just controlling their motion through physical dimensions, but also through time itself. Time is something they move through, rather than a line they exist on like it is for the rest of us. They exist outside of linear time, but they interact with those of us who are stuck within it.

This theory also eliminates any problems that might come with them meeting their past or future selves: they can't do it, for roughly the same reason that no amount of walking backwards will cause you to run into yourself. There only is one iteration of them, and they travel through time rather than with it.

I'm probably not making any sense right now, and my attempts to explain my theory likely crumble in the face of any actual understanding of physics, but somehow I feel in my bones like I'm right.

Ah well, maybe if I'm lucky I'm being actually comprehensible.

[mothman-dan]

I havent seen this anywhere yet so

heres the (leaked) origin of the pokemon universe story with the correct pokemon names in place of the beta ones

(original text here)

EDIT: just woke up but theres an updated translated version here. I've gone ahead and changed the text below to the updated version Please note that there is no mention of giratina in the updated version (which makes more sense based on some other info we have)

In the beginning, there was a vortex of chaos. All mixed slowly together, and everything was a blur. One day, a large egg appeared in the center of the chaos. For a long time, the egg continued to shake.

Eventually, the vortex stopped, and the egg broke. The absolute god Arceus was born.

The scattered fragments of the egg transformed into giants, and attacked the newly born Arceus. However, Arceus quickly grew, and continuously defeated the giants. At last, after a fierce battle, Arceus defeated all the giants.

The wounded Arceus created an alternate self. As the left and right side of Arceus’s body were different, it created two selves. Arceus gathered the body of the defeated giants, and poured its blood into them.

From the one who resembled his left poured out light, so Arceus named it Palkia, the god of light. From the one who resembled his right poured out darkness, so Arceus named it Dialga, the god of darkness.

To the two, Arceus commanded that the world be filled with people, and fell into a deep slumber.

Although Palkia and Dialga were different in appearance, they loved one another, were joined, and had many children. However, there still existed no world, and their frail children, who had nowhere to go, died one after the other. Though overcome with great sadness, Palkia and Dialga thought of creating a world where all could live healthy and prosperous lives.

Palkia and Dialga called their children Uxie, the god of eyes; Mesprit, the god of heart; and Azelf, the god of voice.

When Uxie open its eyes, everything that was there appeared. There was now contour and color in the world. When Mesprit wished for it, everything that was there could be felt. A sense of calm spread. When Azelf shouted, everything that was there trembled. A blessed timbre began to resonate.

To the three, Palkia and Dialga gave the seed of life and told them to nurture it.

The three gathered in a circle and prayed, and the seed sprouted.

The sprout quickly grew, and became the giant tree of life. However, the tree continued to grow, soon filling the entire world, and no one was able to move.

The three asked Father Palkia and Mother Dialga for help.

Dialga and Palkia joined once again, and had three children. The god of the sky, RAYQUAZA; the god of the earth, GROUDON; and the god of the ocean, KYOGRE were born.

RAYQUAZA wrapped its body around the tree of life. GROUDON and KYOGRE slammed their bodies into the tree of life. Eventually, the tree fell and broke into three pieces.

Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf prayed, saddened that the tree would rot away like this. Then, the pieces of the broken tree would transform into the sky, earth, and ocean.

RAYQUAZA became the pillar that holds the sky. The shadow that reached into the heavens became the three gods who sustain the sky: Dragonite, Gyarados, and Tyranitar. The air filled the sky, and the stars sparkled.

GROUDON became the land that covers the earth. The roar of the diving land became the three gods who sustain the earth: DAABU, SAAN, and GOODON. The earth shook, and the mountains stirred.

KYOGRE became the veins of water that embraced the oceans. The ripples that disappeared into the seas became the three gods who sustain the ocean: LATIAS, METAGROSS, and LATIOS. The ocean was filled with water, and the waves whispered.

Thus the world was born.

Palkia and Dialga, and the various gods, were very pleased with this, and filled this world with their children.

That peaceful world was a paradise for the children of god.

The children of god would continue to multiply.

Through that, words would change little by little.

Over time, the gods began would call those who lived in the world by two names.

The children of god who resembled the great father, Palkia, would be called “Pokémon”. The children of god who resembled the great mother, Dialga, were called “humans”.

The absolute god Arceus will soon awaken, and seeing the world filled with its descendants, will promise great abundance and prosperity.

[stubz]

Injuries and a ship invasion, no one dies

"Why do they let humans take care of our younglings? If it hadn't been for the coalition then it would've been another century till they realize our existence. Their senses have dulled to the point where its laughable that they are the dominating species of their planet. And lets not forget the fact that they're at constant war with each other over the most stupidest things, color of skin, where one lives, who they love, what they believe, etc."

"Calis stop it! Your being a xenophobe. And while some of that is true you should know by now that the humans care deeply for our children."

"I am simply being concerned parent who worries for their young's safety and well-being...we are in a dangerous area right now, the middle of a war zone, and it would make me feel safer if we had some others at the care centre till reinforcements arrive."

"Trust me my brightest, the humans will do everything they can to ensure the safety of our Dali...and knowing them they'll likely surprise you and live up to their reputation."

"...fine, fine, I apologize, you are right. The humans have surprised me so far, what's one more?"

.

..

...

....

"WHERE IS DALI?! WHERE IS MY YOUNGLING CAPTAIN!"

"Calis calm down! Your arm!"

"NO! YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN WHEN ENEMY FORCES HAVE INVADED OUR SHIP AND NONE OF US CAN FIND OUR YOUNG!!"

"Calis, your hurt and so is your partner. Think of Gala, they need you right now."

"...Gala is hurt because they were looking for Dali. They got shot because they were heading to the centre...I have to find Dali. For Gala, Captain."

"I'm sure that Kim and Max are doing everything they can to keep them safe."

"With all do respect Captain, how could 2 unarmed humans survive what our force couldn't."

"...I don't know but its probably going to be one hell of a story we'll be telling for the ages. Now go get your arm treated. That's an order."

.

..

...

....

"WE FOUND THEM!"

"CAPTAIN WE FOUND THE YOUNGLINGS!"

"WE NEED A CRANK AND SEND EVERY AVAILABLE MEDIC!"

"oh great stars please no...nonononono DALI!" the Delzah rushed forward, breaking through the search party, only to be stopped by their captain.

"Calis...you have to let them do their job. We, we just have to hope." he could not help the hitch in his breath. Hoping, praying, that his own child was okay underneath the wreckage that was once the youngling care centre.

They fight and thrash until eventually grief overtakes them. They collapse into the captain's arms wailing.

"...what hope do I have that my child is alive under all that rubble. Captain...the only hope I have is that they died quick and that they are with the stars now..."

"Oh Calis..." he sobs. He knows it. There was hardly a chance that anyone was still alive underneath there. Only the strongest younglings who were from a strong species may survive and his child was not one of those few. They were strong but his child was like him...a runt, the joke of the family. Too small, too weak, too soft. She was surely dead...why couldn't it have been him?

"MAPA!"

"PAPA!"

One by one, children emerge from an opening made in the rubble, and at the front of them was Dali and a small feline like child.

"my glorious star" flinging themself from the Captain Calis dragged themself to meet Dali who leaped into their Mapa's arms.

The captain was not too far behind, running to his daughter and cradling her close. Words were not exchanged but Calis could feel the vibrations coming from their purrs.

"See...I told you they would be waiting..."

last to emerge from the rubble was the humans, carried out on stretchers. Only one was conscious. Glass glittered from their skin, dirt and dust blended with vibrant red blood, staining their white bandages, and a rebar was poking out of the unconscious one's side.

"You...got everyone right?"

"Yes, human Max."

"Good...that's good..." and finally did they lose consciousness.

.

..

...

....

"Apparently they covered the windows and hid the kids in the storage room, putting them to the farthest corner while they formed a human wall in front of the door.

When those quiznaking bastards couldn't break down the door they rigged the centre with explosives. Lucky for us the humans personally requested that the storage room be made durable for the equivalent of their disasters on earth so it held up decently well."

"But how did they get so injured?"

"Decently well, meaning the room wasn't completely stable. Eventually the walls started to give and the humans had to improvise by becoming the new pillars. They took shifts until they both had to hold up the weight for what the kids guess to be 3 hours...imagine holding up all of that weight until you were on your hands and knees with rebars, broken glass, and debris piercing into your body."

"...Gala said that Human Max nearly flatlined and Human Kim needed 2 liters of blood."

"You seem confused."

"...Humans are impressive but how did they do all of that? They were already injured and yet managed to hold up a collapsed ceiling for hours until help arrived, I thought they were completely average and even weaker than us."

"Apparently when their loved ones, especially children, are in danger they tap into their more primal instincts. Allowing them to withstand a shot to the side, a slab of concrete to the head, and hours of keeping a ceiling from collapsing until they know everyone is safe.

Heard a story of a human who died only after he saw his kids was safe from a fire."

"Looks like Gala was right. Humans have surprised me once again."

[aeonstale]

SUNDAY — REACHING A NEW TOMORROW

┆彡 summary. sunday being a boyfailure ┆彡 cw. not proof read ﾉ spoilers for sunday possible story quest ﾉ slight gore ﾉ trying to get a grasp on sunday's personality ﾉ sunday is just a big loser who's in love lmao. 600+ words .

Formally known as the Oak Family’s head, Sunday was a many man. A brother, though he had failed at it multiple times yet always tries to do his sister right. A man with high responsibilities, in which he lets them deteriorate his health with each paper added to the already growing pile. 

But what Sunday wasn’t—a free man. 

Tied down by his title, worshiping a dead god, and seemingly never getting rid of his exhaustion. Stuck in a loop of work, work, work and the occasional rest. Sunday never had much, but he had his sister. And he had you.

Sweet wonderful you, Sunday swears he has never felt the need to abandon all, just for you. To hell with his work, your endless stories were far more interesting, far more alive. Sunday knows indulging in desires will only result in issues further down the line, but could anyone blame the man? Could anyone look at your beauty and ignore it? 

Sunday knew himself as a restrained and patient man, yet the slight touch of you—the feathery breath of yours caressing his cheeks as you kissed him goodbye on your way to your new adventure. —made him mad with love. Finding it impossible to get back to work without another kiss, then another, then one more, he swears that it was the last yet when you are 20 minutes late to your appointment you guess it was never just ‘one more’. 

Sunday knew you were loyal, he knew you would never harm him, he knew you would stay by his side. Yet sometimes he wishes you aren’t as tied down to him as you are. The disaster that took place the eve of the charmony festival is proof. 

Never would he have confessed, never would he indulge himself in you, never would he have loved you (No, the correct one would be ; never would he have let you love him.). If he had known you would stick to his side, despite his wrongs, despite his crimes, despite him. 

Never would he have murmured those three words in the dead of the night, only the stars as the sole witnesses, your face cradled in his hands. Words of endearment weaving his hearts and yours together. 

Had he known you would’ve stepped between him and your friends, your companions—your found family. Sunday never would have. 

And yet, as you fight those you hold dear—making your choice. Sunday felt pride swelling his chest. An ugly feeling of happiness, all because you chose him. All because you sided with him. 

He swore to give you all. To tear his heart from his ribcage and give it to you. That ugly sense of joy he felt, joined by grief as you were struck down. Maybe it was his fate, the punishment meant for all his deeds. 

A necessary act to reenact order.

And selfish as he was, Sunday wished for more. Prayed for you, and the eternal oasis that awaits you both. 

And on the eighth day, Sunday was no more. 

But on the Astral Express, he was whole. Tedious details on the story of his new coming, Sunday only new he was whole once more as he stood by your side. His outfit is carefully selected by you. 

The hands that were cold just before were now warm as he held your own. Amber eyes taking in your beauty, your smile—oh how he missed it all. 

It’s okay, you reassure. I’ll always stand by your side, you add. 

I know, he affirms. You always do and I'll always stand by yours, he added. 

And as you ramble on of your newest adventure, eyes sparkling as those stars who bear witness to his love. Sunday thinks. 

Perhaps the order he was so obsessed with attaining was beside him all along, that perhaps the one he needed most was already his. 

Sunday maybe will have those answers. But for now, he’s content with you.

@/AEONSTALE — all rights reserved. do not repost, modify or edit my works in any way.

[streamofcolors]

𝔐𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲.

Cregan Stark x Reader.

Summary: Your husband, Cregan, has been preoccupied with his duties, neglecting you in the process. He makes up for it in a delightful way.

Warnings: SMUT (mdni), p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), mutual orgasm.

Author's note: I must admit I'm petrified about posting this. It has been ages since I've written, but this gorgeous man has sparked my imagination. I hope you all enjoy! 🖤

You find yourself pacing back and forth in your chamber, unable to find rest. The pale blue sky of the day has transformed into a somber, dark canvas. Stars illuminate the sky like snowflakes in the night.

Cregan has been preoccupied with his duties as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, resulting in a lack of attention to you. And you could never begrudge him for it; his duties came first. That is something you came to terms with a long time ago. But, oh, how you desire his attention.

You succumb to your desires and slip your robe over your nightgown before crossing the hall to Cregan’s chamber.

“Who is it?” grumbles Cregan, who is taking a bath when he hears a knock at the door.

“It is I, your wife,” you say softly, leaning your forehead against the door as you silently pray Cregan will grant you entrance.

Cregan raises an eyebrow as you speak. He had assumed it was one of his servants. "Come in," he replies, readjusting himself in the tub.

With a sigh of relief, you open the door and enter the chamber. The pleasant aroma of the bath envelops your senses, creating a soothing atmosphere. Your breath hitches at the sight of Cregan in his tub, his bare, chiseled chest protruding from the water.

“To what do I owe your presence at this hour?” Cregan asks as you approach his side.

You kneel alongside the tub and gently take the sponge from Cregan’s grasp. “You’ve been awfully preoccupied lately,” you point out cautiously, scrubbing his shoulder for him. You can see the wheels turning in Cregan’s head as he thinks about how to respond. He can sense your frustration.

“Duty is sacrifice,” he sighs, his gaze softening. Though he would never admit it, the last few days have been tiring.

You hum in agreement. “I am aware of that, my love. But that does not change the fact that I miss my husband.”

Cregan’s lips twitch upward into a grin. “You miss me? I am right here.”

You grin and huff, “Not in that way, Cregan.”

Cregan gently grasps your forearm, halting your scrubbing. “C’mere,” he says softly as he gently tugs on you.

He slips the robe off your shoulders, leaving you in your nightgown. He guides you into the bathtub with him, unconcerned about soaking your nightgown.

As you sink into the tub with Cregan, your nightgown becomes clingy, the thin fabric immediately soaked through and rendered translucent by the water. Cregan's eyes roam over your figure, taking in the way the water has made the fabric cling to your curves, accentuating every contour. He reaches out, his hands finding your hips and slowly guiding you to sit on his lap, facing him. The water ripples gently around you, lapping against your skin.

“Tell me, in what way does my dear wife miss me, then?”

You awkwardly place your hands on Cregan’s chest, a scarlet flush creeping up your cheeks as you silently curse yourself for being so bold as to come here.

“You haven’t summoned me to your chambers in days,” you whisper so softly that it is barely audible.

Cregan snickers, attempting to maintain composure for your sake. “Come on now, love, don’t get all shy on me.”

“I have missed you too. You have no idea how much it pains me to spend so much time apart,” he consoles you as his thumb caresses your hip comfortingly.

“How about this? Tonight, I am all yours,” Cregan says in a husky voice as he raises your face by your chin in a gentle manner.

Your gaze flickers from Cregan’s grey eyes to his lips. The subtle gesture is all the confirmation he needs, prompting Cregan to delicately press his lips against yours.

You shriek against his lips as he rises, holding you in his muscular arms. He carries you to his bed with ease, leaving a trail of water droplets on the stone floor.

Cregan chuckles as he drops you on his bed, watching you bounce. You are soaking the furs, but he could not care less. He gets to his knees at the foot of the bed and pulls you down to the edge.

"I've been neglecting you," he murmurs against your calf, kissing his way up your bare leg.

His lips are soft, almost silken, and pillowy against your sensitive skin. Your soaked nightgown is bunched up at your waist. You can feel the soft tickle of his breath on your thigh, your fingers carding through his hair as he hovers near your core.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs before placing what he often referred to as a “northerner’s kiss” on your bundle of nerves.

Cregan’s tongue moves with precision, finding every sensitive spot that makes you whimper and writhe. Your hips begin to move in sync with his mouth, craving more of the delightful sensations he is giving you.

Cregan begins to suckle on your bundle of nerves, his eyes locked on your face as you let out a sharp gasp. Your fingers tug at his hair, eliciting a deep moan from him.

His fingers tease your entrance, delicately circling before gently pushing inside. The sensation of fullness feels overwhelming, causing you to arch your back and cry out.

His fingers move in sync with the movements of his mouth, curled inside of you, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Cregan, please,” you beg needily.

“I know, love, I know” he says as he rises from his knees.

Cregan's lips press against yours, your flavour lingering on his tongue. He guides you up on the bed, positioning himself at your throbbing entrance. You wrap your legs around his waist, gasping as he begins to push inside of you.

The pleasure is palpable as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. Cregan groans, his forehead resting against yours as he comes to a halt, allowing you to adjust to him.

“By the gods, you feel so good,” he whispers, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back.

Cregan moves slowly, his thrusts deep and deliberate, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your gasps and moans blend to create a symphony of pleasure that resonates off the stone walls.

"Cregan," you gasp, your voice trembling from the intensity. "I'm close."

"Me too," he replies, his breath hot against your ear. "Come with me, love."

He moves his hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your bundle of nerves and rubbing it in circles. With a final, deep thrust, he pushes you over the edge, your peak washing over you in a powerful wave. You cry out his name, your body trembling with pleasure as he follows you into ecstasy, his own release filling you up.

One of Cregan’s hands is tenderly cradling your head as he gazes down at you in awe, admiring your afterglow.

“Do you still miss me, dear wife?”

[k4vehrtz]

⸻ YOU'RE A CRISIS OF MY FAITH

. ✦ . starring — dom!top! t. fushiguro / m! reader

warnings — porn with some plot, sacrilege, a copious amount of religious themes, priest! reader, virgin reader ergo loss of virginity, allusion to homophobia / internalised homophobia, unprotected sex, blowjob (r receiving), deepthroating, fingering, riding, creampie, toji lowkey has a corruption kink, use of the nickname 'angel', toji refers to the reader as father once but that is entirely in a religious sense . ✦ . wc — 2.1k . ✦ . notes — we'll all pretend that didn't just happen!! anyway!! i'm so so normal about toji...and !! i don't know what exactly falls under dark content but seeing as this contains sacrilege you've been warned nevertheless. not proof read bc t**blr stressed me out

“what does —” he stops himself mid-sentence to motion upwards, “the big man upstairs think about homosexuality?”

you swallow hard, your adam’s apple bobbing. you hadn’t expected the question, naturally. especially from the likes of toji fushiguro of all people. but you answer anyway. “well,” you murmur, averting your gaze so that you’d stare out the window as the first signs of winter begin to settle in for its extended stay instead of being forced to meet toji’s pointed gaze. “we all are subject to desires that may or may not reflect god’s light, but these desires aren’t sinful unless you act or encourage others to act on them.”

he nods almost absentmindedly in response before following up with: ��…even you, i imagine, as a man of god, could fall victim to such desires?”

and you pause for a beat, your jaw tightening as an image escapes the dark recesses of your mind; the neat box you’ve forced what you deemed unpleasant thoughts into.

the man in your mind didn’t look quite like anyone you knew at first. he was just a man without a name or a face — similarly to the world before god’s divine intervention, he too was without form. but then, by chance, you met toji fushiguro and his teenage son. then the man who’d haunt your thoughts began to change.

he was older, weathered by life experiences and parenting, and taller, maybe 6’2, with messy black hair that fell over his brows. his hair reminded you of the cloudless, starless night sky. then there was that scar on the corner of his right lip. you’d imagined yourself on more than one occasion leaning toward him, pressing your lips against it before he’d open his mouth and let you explore the wet cavern.

though you shake your head as if that would dismiss your thoughts, fingers curling defensively around the window’s ledge. “everyone encounters temptation in their day-to-day, but, like god’s son, we must resist.” you counter eventually. “you’re not one for idle chatter.”

“i’m not,” he agrees, his voice smooth, something akin to the feeling of silk against your skin. it gives you goosebumps and makes the hairs stand up. he puts his hands up in mock surrender, his gaze intent. you can feel him burning holes into the back of your head. “you know, i think i’m long overdue for a confession.”

“as you wish.”

“our heavenly father has declared the following in the book of james, chapter five, verse sixteen: ‘therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective’. now, in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit, amen.”

silence — and then toji sucks in a breath, his voice thick with an emotion you can’t quite grasp but has you shifting in your seat on the other side of the confessional booth anyway. you’re, on some level, disgusted by your behaviour. it’s unprofessional at best, or perhaps the beginning of your unravelling at worst. you fear it’s the latter.

“bless me, father, for i have sinned,” the words slide off his tongue with ease, “it has been two months since my last confession.” and your eyes flutter closed, or maybe you forced them closed because you feel no better than a pervert by the way you ache at every sound that comes out of his mouth.

either way, you don’t notice the way the door creaks as toji lets himself out of his side of the confessional booth and opens the door to yours until he’s kneeling in front of you, the pads of his fingers digging into your sides. the skin of his fingers is rough, worn out from the different tasks he takes on to keep himself and megumi afloat, you think. he’s become something of a handyman around town.

“to be honest, father,” he says, now directly addressing you. “i came here fer’ your guidance…you see, i’ve been havin’ thoughts lately that i don’t think align with what god wants.” and you find yourself at a loss, your eyes still closed, though your adam’s apple bobs again as you swallow your suppressed thoughts. “my guidance?” you repeat quietly, “confess your…thoughts…then, and seek forgiveness. it’s not a sin unless you act on those thoughts.”

he lets out a pleased hum at that, leaning forward so that his face is practically buried in your clothed crotch. “so,” he counters, “if my understanding is correct, would it be a sin if i told you to spread your legs f’me?”

you don’t trust yourself to speak right now — not when your thoughts are all muddled. so, you simply nod and toji clicks his tongue. “but sin or not, you’re going to anyway because you and i both know how we feel about each other, right? c’mon, use your big boy words and tell me.”

the smart thing—no, the right thing to do here would be to say no. adamantly deny the lingering touches and glances that the two of you had come to share. affection between two men could only go so far. but then again, you’ve gone so much farther in the safety of your bedroom long after the sun has set. how much longer could you shamelessly show your face to the other members of the church and listen to them confess their deepest secrets to you? you’re parading as a righteous man when you’re anything but.

if it turns out to be as bad of a sin as they say, god will strike you down.

turns out it’s not as bad of a sin as they say — or maybe it is and you’ve yet to receive divine punishment.

“god works in mysterious ways,” you say under your breath but toji hears it anyway. how could he not when you’re in such proximity to each other? you hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it doesn’t matter. and toji (ever the charmer) takes it upon himself to respond, “maybe he brought us together for a reason…or maybe i’m one of lucifer’s lackeys sent to seduce you.”

you make the conscious decision to ignore that which seems to entertain toji even more. he’s ridiculous in ways you can’t fathom. like…the way he’s got your legs spread, back pressed firmly against the wood of the confessional, your thighs trembling as he clicks his tongue, “spread yer’ legs a little wider f’me angel, s’not enough f’me to suck that pretty cock.”

he… he knows what he’s doing. whereas you were clumsy and inexperienced. but, to be fair, you had taken a vow of celibacy when you were twelve.

now, though, you’re experiencing true pleasure for the first time — and with a man, no less. you tilt your head back in what little space the confessional affords you as toji gives your balls tentative touches, maybe light squeezes, as he aligns the head of your leaking cock with his mouth. you’re embarrassed, warmth flooding your cheeks, but you can’t look away. not when this is all you’ve ever wanted.

there’s pre-cum on his lips; your pre-cum. it’s there, as clear as day, and he’s entirely unbothered. all of his attention is on your cock. your cock that’s throbbing as he sucks on it. pre-cum and saliva mixing. it’s all so new to you.

as for him…well isn’t this cute? you’re trying your hardest to stifle those needy moans of yours, he can tell. but no matter how much you bite down on your lower lip or how you press your hands against your mouth those pretty sounds you make always find a way of escaping. part of him, somewhere deep down, feels guilty for corrupting you like this. but perhaps he doesn’t feel guilty enough.

he continues to work on your cock, sucking on it whilst simultaneously fondling with your balls. you’re quivering, rutting your hips forward now and then. occasionally you go too far and it scares you at first — you didn’t mean to push your cock all the way to the back of his throat! ever the unbothered, though, he welcomes it until you’re spurting your load down his throat. and he swallows, utterly content.

then he coos at you, bringing a thumb up to your face, and tracing the outline of your jaw. “don’t worry about me, angel, you’re not going to hurt me. what you’re going to do f’me is let me reposition us so i can see your pretty boy hole, m’kay? my boy can do that f’me, right?”

my boy. the idea of being his. after so long…it only feels right. so, you allow him to readjust your position so that you’re straddling his lap and somewhere in the process you both disregard your clothes.

“you’ve been thinking about my cock? that’s why yer’ hole is winking f’me? all ready to take my cock like a big boy?” he asks and you nod your head eagerly. every word that comes out of his mouth is dirty but your reactions are the icing on the cake. you’re not the quiet, unassuming priest he met by chance all those months back. and to think that he’s the reason why.

well, he doesn’t linger on the thought. you’re impatient, squirming on his thighs in search of friction. but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t get him going and he may be many things but he would not force himself into you without properly preparing you to take him.

so as much as you whine about it, he ultimately takes his time with you. the nearest lubricant happened to be some sort of oil, but he made sure that it was safe to use before coating his fingers in a generous amount. then he oh so carefully drags his finger across your hole. it makes you shudder, but after a few minutes of this, you find yourself unprepared for the stretch of fitting a singular digit in. it hurts and the moment you so much as whimper toji’s pressing his lips against yours. the same lips that were around your cock only moments ago. his lips are gentle, soothing, even.

and he keeps it like that — his lips against yours as he slowly introduces more fingers into your ass. it takes a while but your pained whimpers soon morph into more desperate, filthy little noises as he drags his fingers in and out of your hole before curling them, tips grazing your prostate.

you want it, you decide. his cock, that is. you want his cock in your ass beyond a reasonable doubt. it’s all you need. bouncing on his fingers feels good but you just know that his cock would feel so much better.

“this is a sin, we’re both sinning,” you announce, your words strong but your delivery coming in between laboured gasps as his fingers continue to graze your prostate. “so i expect you to fuck me like you mean it.”

and he doesn’t need to be told twice. with a scoff — one that sounds more amused than annoyed — he pulls his fingers out of you. shaking his head as you whimper at the loss. but it’s soon replaced by something bigger and much thicker. it’s his cock, covered in the same oil, and you almost can’t believe it when he’s aligning it with your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscle.

you have to take a few breaks before you fully sink on him with a low groan. he makes you feel so full and he hasn’t even moved yet. and when you take it upon yourself to ride him you revert to the softheaded boy he makes you out to be.

your movements are clumsy — mediocre, you’re sure of it. but toji doesn’t intervene. he simply leans back, big, warm hands on your hips, while you figure out your rhythm. and after a few failed attempts you find one that works for both of you. it feels good, it feels great even. his hard cock filling you to the brim while you all but mindlessly bounce on his cock, your walls clenching around his throbbing length.

you’re going to cum soon, you’re sure of it. and when you do eventually watch through teary eyes as your cock spurts ropes of cum onto his stomach you’re not surprised whatsoever. toji, however, takes a lot longer to cum. you’ve probably cum at least two more times by the time toji takes control, his grip on your hips tightening as he angles you just the right way to hit your prostate with each thrust of his hips upwards. your toes curl, eyes half-lidded, and you just barely acknowledge the warmth of his semen in your ass.

all you can think of, and just barely manage to stutter out is: “you’ve fucked me,” and he stares up at you with a smug smile, chest heaving as he copes with his orgasm that has been a long time coming, “yeah, i’ve fucked yer’ pretty boy hole.”

[cockslutpadalecki]

There Is A Heaven, Lets Keep It A Secret

Summary: The owner of the brothel you were sold to only offered you to the ghoul in the hopes it would frighten you. To stop you from trying to run away. You weren’t meant to actually like it.

Characters: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x F!Reader.

Words: ~1K.

Warnings: ghoul fucking, what else can I say? Mostly PWP, some initially unintended angst, 18+.

A/N: Dedicated to the queens that are @sweeterthanthis & @likedovesinthewnd ❤️ Not beta’ed so all errors, spelling mistakes and general bullshit are entirely mine.

The smell of leather and day old blood used to turn your stomach. But as Cooper slams his glove over your mouth to keep you quiet, your gut rolls with something that’s so far removed from revulsion, it makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Pavlovian instinct or not, warmth blossoms in your core, and flames take root in your veins until all you can feel is unmistakable heat.

“Ssh sweetheart,” he coos in Texan above you. “Can’t have them knowin’ you like it. You wouldn’t want me to stop comin’ around, would ya?”

He doesn’t need your affirmation in words. The way your cunt pulses around him is more enough to tell him what he already knows.

The ghoul was only meant to scare you into staying. To put you in your place.

But the more he keeps coming back, the more of the man beneath the irradiated skin shines through.

Initial terror morphs into adoration and some nights, when the raiders decide to get a little rough, you find yourself hiding inside your head— fantasising that it’s his hands on you instead.

But the fantasy only lasts briefly. Cooper Howard would never.

Unless you ask him nice and pretty.

You stare up at him, his eyes lost in the way your breasts bounce from the force of his thrusts. He ruts into you with abandon, the loud slap of his hips against your ass echoing around the room. The obscenity makes heat creep up your spine, and settle thick beneath your cheeks.

You can’t have anyone knowing that these moments are all that keep you sane.

“Maybe it ain’t gonna be your mouth that reveals your truth, after all, honey,” Cooper observes with a husk.

A free hand slides up your writhing body, and a gloved thumb runs circles over your pebbling nipple. Your back arches at the contact, forcing your hips up. His stare catches yours over the top of leather.

“There you are, little Jet,” he smiles.

Cooper lifts your leg over his shoulder, the contrast in depth steals the breath from your lungs. He notices— must see the way your eyes widen as he slides back inside you, right up to the root. Your hand flies up, tightening your grip around his wrist.

“Right there, huh?” With another brash smile, he presses his lips firm against the inside of your knee. The kiss sends pulses of electricity firing straight to your core.

Fuck. If there was still a God, you’d pray.

There was a part of you that used to hate how easily he managed to unravel the components that make you weak.

But hate fast became a need. Now you welcome it. Crave it.

Your stomach lurches with heat the moment his pace begins to quicken. Everything suddenly heightens around you— heartbeat and all five of the senses— and it’s evident your end is close to catching you.

“You gonna give me what I came for, sweetheart?” His voice is gentle, but his actions are not.

You nod. You’d give him your fucking life at this point.

His hand slides off your mouth, settling loosely around your throat like a necklace. “Wanna hear you beg.”

You lick your lips wet, the words, “Please, Coop,” hissing quietly through your teeth. Just loud enough for him to hear.

He smirks. His free hand finds its way between your legs without a second thought, and the roughness of the leather against your sensitive clit is everything you need to tumble over the edge.

Cooper clamps his hand back over your mouth, hurrying to stifle your scream as you splinter beneath him. Stars swell, bursting into bright white behind your eyes just as the tremors start off in your thighs. Euphoria claims you for its own, and by the time you’re finished, your entire body is shaking with delirium.

He stares down at you in awe, hips snapping to a rhythm that has you keening into the palm of his glove. Leather and blood encompass you. Your body ripples from the weight of Cooper’s body against yours, your name wrapped up within his lips as he surrenders to his high.

When he moves out from between your legs, you’re too fucked out to pull him back in. Every inch of you needs him back.

You hate this moment the most. The awkward silence before he has to leave. And as he glances at you over his shoulder, tipping his hat in your direction like the goddamn gentlemen he still is beneath the surface, you feel a twinge in your chest.

“Until next time sweetheart,” he drawls thickly.

You flash him a small smile. “I’ll be here, Coop, just like always.”

And just like always, you’ll be counting down the days like it’s fucking Christmas.

[revelboo]

Oh my lanta i swear this blog is single handedly re-sparking my transformers interest. I swear I've read every non-con thing on your master list, I did read the cons for the headcannons though, and I'm getting ready to read all the con stuff now. Pray for me cause that one will take a while 🙏

😆 I’m a bit heavy on Decepticons. I’ve had a soft spot for them since reading Megatron: Origins

Everything is Alright Pt 105

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Watching the Seeker coaxing you to lay your head against him, it’s hard for Soundwave to run his servos against your spine and mass displace when you look up at him with those tired, unhappy eyes. When he wants to comfort you. Shivering at the energy drain, he brushes the tip of a servo against your cheek. Hates leaving you when you’re upset, but hopefully Starscream actually talks to you. Makes this right. Because he needs to talk to Megatron. Do everything in his power to make you and your offspring safe. “Fix this,” he growls at Starscream, looming over him as the Seeker curls his lip at him.

• Wanting nothing more than to ask Soundwave to stay, because you’re off kilter and not at all sure where you stand with either of them suddenly, you just curl your hands into fists. Wondering if it’s the bond making you want to reach after him or relax into Starscream. That humming sense of contentment tricking you. How much of what you feel is really you and how much is that bond? You’re honestly afraid to find out. Not resisting when Starscream tips your chin up and Soundwave closes the door behind him. “Let me in,” he whispers, lips brushing yours and it’s not until he shifts the plating covering his spark that you understand. Wants to make sure. Still doesn’t believe you and Soundwave.

• “He didn’t lie to you.” The hurt in your voice claws at him as you struggle against him, trying to lean away. “Do you think I’m lying, too?” Of course not. But he needs to know for himself. Know that Soundwave didn’t fool you somehow. That you are sparked. Catching your wrist, he’s tempted to force you into contact with his spark, but doesn’t. Waits. And your eyes are angry when reach for him, making that connection on your own. And your hurt and fear and anger spill into him, slicing him open like little blades.

• Dragged into him, you don’t resist as he wraps himself around you, tangling inside you until it’s hard to remember you’re separate from him. His thoughts, uncertainties, and fears mixing with your own. Feel when he finds that otherness that’s not you, but still tangled in you. Part of you and him. A spark. Because unlike with Soundwave, you can’t keep Star at bay. Can’t hide anything. And neither can he. Snatching your hand back, you’re aware of him quivering under you and venting raggedly. Servos framing your face as he presses his mouth against your forehead. “Talk to me. Please,” you whisper.

• Cheek brushing yours, his thoughts are all over the place. Trying to figure out what’s happening. How it happened. Because you’d created a spark when there haven’t been any new sparks since the last hotspot was depleted. But then, no one spark bonds anymore, either. Was this possible all along and the knowledge just lost? “We’re going to need a protoform,” he murmurs, lips against your temple. A little Seeker like him. Primus, he’s a sire. And it’s still absolutely terrifying. And he’s not even sure how to separate the spark from you to transfer it to a frame.

Previous

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[genshingorlsrevengeance]

I need any girls of you choice with a reader who doesn't understand what the word fetish means and thinks it's another word for hobby or activity. Thus reader well say stuff like "Hey you wanna try out this new fetish with me."

(H:SR/GoV: NIKKE/Genshin Impact) Their S/O not knowing what "fetish" means

Honkai Star Rail: Bronya, Seele, Serval Goddess of Victory NIKKE: Anis Genshin Impact: Ayaka, Lisa, Eula, Xianyun

Quoth the Bae, of Hololive English Promise:

"What is a fetish? If you really think about it , the negative connotation of fetish just doesn't make logical sense don't you agree? I just think if you have your preferences you can have your own preferences and that's completely fine but like asking for someone's fetish just seems like you're prying into something but it shouldn't really feel that way? Also eyes and thighs"

Bronya was in the middle of drinking tea and filling paperwork before hearing the question that made her heart stop for a few seconds.

(S/O) "Bronya, would you care to try this fetish of mine?"

(Bronya) "HRK?!-"

Her hands fumble with the cup, causing some of it to spill over in the ground as she violently rocks in her seat, coughing as her eyes widened.

S/O quickly rushed over to her, one hand on her back and shoving some important documents aside as Bronya attempted to stabilize herself.

(S/O) "Bronya, what's wrong?!"

Bronya's face quickly scrunches up with embarrassment, quickly turning red as her voice cracked.

(Bronya) "What kind of question is that S/O? How can you discuss that so openly?!"

(S/O) "I-Is it that weird to paint out in public?"

...What?

(Bronya) "Paint?-...S/O, when you say fetish, what do you?-"

(S/O) "As in hobby? I overheard some of the people from Wildfire say it before."

Bronya blinks a few times before sighing, both her hands slowly dragging down her face before shaking her head.

(Bronya) "Dear...that's...not what that word means..."

(S/O) "What does it mean then?"

Bronya inhaled, trying her best to keep her composure that was snapped in half like a twig before her eyes shifted to the floor, fingers twiddling.

(Bronya) "I-It means..." ahem "...A certain activity or object you like when you are...intimate..."

(S/O) "Inti-?"

In an instant, S/O understood before their face looked similar to Bronya, the couple standing still completely red.

(S/O) "Oh..."

She thanked the Gods above that there were no guards currently in her room right now, lest they get the very wrong idea.

...Not that she was opposed to trying some things out, but this was her main office! Hardly the time and place!

(Bronya) "...Pray tell, who exactly gave you the definition of this word?"

(S/O) "W-Well, it was-"

Seele regrets saying the word fetish off handedly around S/O.

Forgetting that they came from the prim and proper SIlvermane Guard, they didn't know the meaning of such a vulgar word.

Or more accurately, they were a bunch of softies who couldn't bear to hear something so normal in the Underworld.

Regardless, S/O thought it meant something entirely different because Seele was not ready for the question:

(S/O) "Wanna join me in a fetish I've been wanting to try, Seele?"

(Seele) "Hm? Sure-...WHAT?"

Seele immediately spun around, heart racing as she eyed S/O up and down.

They were in the middle of the streets right now! She sincerely prayed that they weren't about to-

Was that a notebook and pencil they were holding?

(S/O) "Seele? Is something the matter?"

(Seele) "Yeah, somethings the matter! Just what the hell do you think that word means?!"

(S/O) "W-Well, I thought it meant activity, or-"

Well, S/O technically wasn't wrong.

(Seele) "Ugh, l-listen! Just...don't go saying that around in public! And just use the word 'hobby' like a normal person!"

(S/O) "So, what does it mean then?"

(Seele) "I'm NOT explaining that in public just...just wait till we get home, alright?!"

She spun around, mostly to make sure S/O didn't see her blushing.

Serval was in the middle of strumming her guitar idly, trying to make sure that it was tuned correctly when S/O came through the door.

(Serval) "S/O! What's up?"

S/O smiled at Serval, closing the workshop door behind her and taking a seat beside the rockstar.

(S/O) "Hey! I hope you don't mind me asking a favor."

Serval tittered, waving a hand nonchalantly in response before going back to adjusting the tuning again.

(Serval) "Not at all. What can I help with?"

(S/O) "A new fetish I want to try-"

A comically loud and out of tune note echoed throughout the shop as Serval's finger stopped flicking mid-motion, her eyes almost bulging out her skull.

The noise startled S/O, but not nearly as much as they had startled her.

(Serval) "Run that by me again, S/O?"

(S/O) "Y-Y'know. A, um...fetish. I want to try this particular song with you-"

(Serval) "Okay, okay! Hold up a second!"

Putting down her guitar and brushing the bangs that had fallen onto her face, she grabbed both their shoulders while she felt her face heat up.

(Serval) "S/O, are you and I thinking of the same word right now?"

(S/O) "I'm just talking about wanting to try an instrument out?"

(Serval) "And...there's no innuendo here, right?"

(S/O) "Does...fetish not think what I think it means?"

Serval gave an exacerbated sigh, though she couldn't help the smile that was forming as well.

(Serval) "Hah, not in the slightest."

S/O was such an idiot.

And by god, Serval was glad S/O was her idiot.

Anis spits out the soda she was drinking, not bothering to clean up as she spun around to S/O.

(Anis) "WOAH! W-When did you get so bold?!"

S/O was stunned by Anis's reaction, but she wasn't able to scan in any increase in heartrate.

Did they just get augmented to become extremely brave, or?-

(S/O) "I didn't think you'd get so worked up over model building, Anis."

...Okay, no they were just stupid.

Anis slumped back down on the couch, facepalming before cleaning up the soda that was covering the table.

(Anis) "S/O, fetish isn't some ol-timey word for hobby!...Well, for decent folk, anyway."

(S/O) "So what's it-"

(Anis) "Agh! L-Look, don't ask me!"

Her core quickly heating up, her fingers fidgeted as she did her best to look everywhere except at S/O.

(Anis) "Go ask Rapi or Ne-N-NO! DON'T ASK NEON! JUST...Just ask the Commander, or something!"

(S/O) "O-Okay? I didn't offend you or something, did I?"

(Anis) sigh "No, but...look it's something you don't ask in the middle of the lobby, okay? It means something pretty...dirty!"

(S/O) "Since when did you care about that kind of thing?"

(Anis) "WHEN MY BOYFRIEND/GIRLFRIEND IS ASKING ME TO TRY A FETISH ON THEM, OKAY?!"

(Neon) "WOAH! You're doing what?!"

(Commander) "...Is this a bad time to come in?"

(Rapi) "Perhaps we should take a break and leave the outpost for a while, sir-"

(Anis) "N-NO! YOU'RE GETTING THE WRONG IDEA!"

Ayaka gasped at S/O's question, a hand going over her chest before stammering out a response.

(Ayaka) "Huh?! S-S/O! W-We can't discuss something so...degenerate out in the open!"

(S/O) "W-Wine tasting?"

Now Ayaka let out a small squeak. She knows she's heard something to do with wine tasting in the bedroom.

(Ayaka) "S/O, please!"

(S/O) "Hang on a second, Ayaka! I don't think you're understanding what I mean!"

For once, Ayaka thinks she knows something that S/O didn't outside of her duties.

That being the true meaning of a word that she found much too dirty to use.

(Ayaka) "S/O, do you know what that word is?"

(S/O) "Hobbies, right?"

(Ayaka) "I'm...afraid not, love."

Looking around to make sure no one was around, she leaned over to S/O's ear before whispering the meaning.

Which doing so caused her to become just as red as S/O.

Lisa honestly doesn't know if she's disappointed or amused by the fact S/O asked her to try a fetish without knowing what it really means.

Maybe a little bit of both, but it didn't fail to get her to laugh anyway, Lisa covering her mouth by balling up a gloved hand.

And their confusion, accompanied by that cute tilt of their head and slight pout, got her to laugh even more.

(Lisa) "Sorry, sorry! Not laughing at you, cutie."

(S/O) "So, what are you laughing about then?"

(Lisa) "Well...that particular choice of phrasing, really. You do know what that word means, right?"

(S/O) "What, fetish?"

(Lisa) "Mhm."

S/O crossed their arms before sighing.

(S/O) "I saw it in a book, though the sentence it was used in was pretty vague. I know it means something to do with an activity, from context clues anyway."

(Lisa) "That book must have been very flowery in its language if you could only pick that up from the context."

Before making a mental note to check out the book S/O was reading, Lisa puts one hand under her chin as her elbow rests on the table.

(Lisa) "Allow me to tell you the definition proper, S/O...Rather, I'll show you it."

Later that evening, S/O did know what the word meant, one sore body later.

Eula goes bright red at the question, immediately raising an eyebrow at S/O.

(Eula) "Is this some kind of joke, S/O?!"

Seeing S/O only laugh in reaction confirmed her suspicions. They were teasing her!

(Eula) "Hmph! Trying to get a rise out of an elegant woman such as I will only earn you my vengeance, S/O!"

(S/O) "My apologies, miss Eula! I did not know that a mere painting could get you so flustered!"

So, it was that kind of painting? Eula had no idea S/O was so...perverted!

(Eula) "Any right person would be, if asked! If you desire a nude model, then-"

Immediately, she noticed how red they got.

(S/O) "W-Woah! Hang on, I meant a regular painting! Like of a smile, or something like that!"

Eula paused for a moment, then furrowing her brows again.

(Eula) "Did you not just ask me to try a fetish with you?"

(S/O) "As in, hobby? Isn't that just a fancy word for it?"

...Oh.

(Eula) "N-Not in any circle I know."

Well, Eula certainly didn't want to be the one to explain it.

Xianyun is relatively unaffected by S/O's question as she adjusts her glasses.

She's rather thankful of S/O being so straightforward about the request, less trying to decipher or beat around the bush for her.

(Xianyun) "One is not opposed, S/O. What fetish would you like to attempt?"

(S/O) "Great! See, I really want to try swimming as fast as I can versus one of your inventions!"

(Xianyun) "...A competition against One's contraptions is enough to stimulate you?"

(S/O) "I imagine it would! If it's made by you, then it's going to give me a challenge!"

Xianyun is honestly touched, that something made by her would get S/O that excited.

Who is she to deny her lover such a request?"

(Xianyun) "One will oblige! Let us head towards the beaches and find a worthy space to try it out."

...

Later as she watched her contraption race against S/O to a nearby rock, gliding against the waters, she heard footsteps behind her.

(Lumine) "Cloud Retainer?"

(Xianyun) "Ah, you return! One is pleased to see you doing well. Though you come at a rather...intimate moment, I believe."

Paimon blinked into existence next to her companion, waving hello excitedly.

(Paimon) "Hiya!...What's S/O doing?"

(Xianyun) "They are indulging themselves in a fetish of theirs."

(Lumine) "HUH?"

(Paimon) "W-WOAH! Did Paimon hear that right?!"

(Xianyun) "One is certainly not to judge. In fact, One can appreciate their openness about the subject matter."

Lumine and Paimon did a double take at what S/O was doing, then back to Xianyun.

...Either she didn't know what it meant, or-

S/O returned to shore a moment later, still clothed in a wetsuit that Xianyun had created and waved hello to the Traveler and Paimon.

(S/O) "Oh, hey you two!"

(Paimon) "Uh...hi?"

(Lumine) "S/O, Xianyun just told us you were...involved in a fetish?"

(S/O) "Yeah! I wanted to see if she could make a machine that was faster than me at swimming!"

(Xianyun) "Are mortals not accustomed to speaking so openly about it to their lovers?"

(Paimon) "P-Paimon guesses? But...do you know what it means?"

(Xianyun) "Naturally. A sexual desire of the partner-"

(S/O) "WHAT?!"

(Xianyun) "...Oh. Well, that certainly explains why you were so calm about it-"

(Lumine) "...I should go-"

[xhoneygirlxx]

In My Feels

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

summary: Steve’s heart now belongs to the pretty woman who always comes in with her two adorable kids. When he finally decides to make a move, he’s shocked to find out she’s not their mom.

warnings: fluff. Barista!Steve. Reader and Steve are both in their 20’s. Nanny!Reader. Modern!au. Readers ethnicity/skin tone is not mentioned. Pictures above are used for aesthetic purposes only. Shitty writing/grammar errors, not proofread.

*if I miss anything please let me know.

a/n: day two of my birthday bash has finally arrived!! I’m so grateful for the amount of love and support you guys have given me. Although this is my birthday week, I wanted to spend it with you guys and give us both something we can enjoy :) I love every single one of you guys and I hope you like this!

Now I’m in my feels 

Way up in the clouds somewhere now 

Don’t know what’s real 

Working at the Java Cup, Steve dealt with a lot of different people. Tired students, doctors and nurses coming and going from shifts, and everyone in between. During the six months of his employment there only one customer seemed to catch his attention, you. 

From the moment you walked in he knew he was fucked. With one kid on your hip and the other in the stroller, you already had him in the palm of your hand. No matter what, rain or shine, you and your two kids always came in with bright smiles. Although a lot of your interactions were small talk or your older son trying to, his heart infatuation for you every single time. 

You were so fucking beautiful and Steve was nothing but a fool for you. So many times he would go home and just pray that you weren’t taken, that maybe somewhere written in the stars there was a chance for him. 

Steve wanted to ask you out but every single time he chickened out, throwing out multiple cup sleeves that had horrible puns written on them in the process. Ever since getting broken up with by Nancy, his self esteem and confidence dropped. No matter how many times his best friend and coworker, Robin, tried to talk some sense into him, he just couldn’t do it. 

It was comical watching him stutter and blush scarlet every time you would speak, tripping over his words like it was his first time ever talking. Because he was so smitten with you, his insecurities grew and poking fun at him any time he would think about possibly asking you out.

Here you were, a pretty mom with two adorable kids that he adored, so sweet and kind to him, and so far out of his league. There was no pot at the end of this rainbow for Steve, but he continued to chase it in hopes that maybe, just maybe he was wrong.

Now it's been six months and Steve has run out of steam, his legs growing tired and his lungs burning with exhaustion with how long he's been running. So, he's decided that it's time to give up on his mission to of getting to the finish line.

There was no point to continue trying, not when you're probably more than happy with the father of your children, going home to your white picket fence and happy home. So he pulled back, watched from behind the counter, and continued to daydream about the life he's always wanted.

“You know you could just go talk to her, right?” Robin��s voice is louder than she thinks, the low music and hum of the espresso machine doing little to cover it up. 

“Say it louder, why don’t you.” Rolling his eyes, Steve continues to wipe down the counter that he’s been working on for the past ten minutes. 

“I’m just sayin’, it’s kind of pathetic and creepy that you’re always staring.” Shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, the brunette girl runs her hands down her black apron. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

“What’s the worst-” Turning on his heel quickly, Steve stares at his best friend with wide eyes, “Robin, there is a laundry list of things that could go wrong.” 

“Yeah? Try me.” Crossing her ankle over the other, Robin leans on the sink with a waiting look.

“Firstly, she could be married,” Steve starts counting on his finger. 

“No ring on her finger.” Robin counters. 

“Well she’s a mom with two kids, I doubt she has time for a twenty something, no good, barista that barely has his life together.” 

“EEEEEEEE WRONG,” She makes a loud buzzer noise, “One you aren’t no good, you’re actually a really great person who needs to see just how amazing he is. Two, you may be a barista who can barely keep his life together but, you’re reliable and take care of yourself, not to mention you have your own car and place, more than other twenty somethings. And lastly, you’re also a mother to a group of teenagers, so it works perfectly.” 

Dropping his hands down to his sides, Steve lets the words settle into his heart. He was a good person, he did have a good impression with the gaggle of kids he sometimes watches, and he did have some of his life together.

“Okay well, she could reject me and I will not only lose more of my confidence but I’ll also lose my favorite customer.” Sighing in defeat, he whips the rag that still sits in his hand over his shoulder. "Either way, I gave up on that dream a long time ago."

Robin shakes her head, stepping forward to the boy she calls her best friend and shakes him by the shoulders. “You are Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington! There was a reason everyone called you king Steve and it wasn’t just because you were a huge dick.” 

“Hey!!” Steve raises his voice in defeat and she waves him off continuing her peptalk. 

“Listen, I know that lady killer is somewhere in there,” She pokes at his chest, “So you’re gonna put your big boy panties on, walk up to her and ask her out! I’m sick and tired of watching you look all sad and depressing, so you’re going to do as I say or I’ll do it for you.” Smiling brightly at him, the girl taps him lovingly on the shoulder.

Robin may be a lot of things, including annoying, but a liar is not one of them. Steve knows that she will one hundred percent walk up to you, throw him under the bus, with a mega-watt smile as she does it.

Watching his friend walk around the counter with a broom and dust pan in hand, her head turns to wear your sat at a table by the front window, talking to your older son, rocking your baby in the stroller with your foot. Turning her attention back to Steve, she smiles wickedly and turns slightly like she’s heading your way. Anxiety rises in the back of his throat, heartbeat picking up and banging hard in his chest.

“Fine, I’m going just- fuck off.” It comes out through gritted teeth. Running a shaking hand down the front of his apron, Steve rounds the counter muttering something under his breath.

As he walks to the table, Robin gives him two thumbs up and an exaggerated smile to which he replies by simply throwing a middle finger up at her.

As he steps closer to your table the thought of turning back around and hiding in the back room comes into mind.

There’s no pot of gold here, only gray clouds and roaring thunder. He can turn back now and continue his sorrowful journey of pining.

But then he looks at you, smiling and laughing at something the young boy next to you said, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back. What a beautiful way to die, Steve thinks. The thunder and lightning is all worth it when he gets to see you as he takes his final breaths.

“H-hey,” His voice is wobbly, nervousness clearly showing as he speaks.

“Hi Steve.” Your eyes meet his, saccharine smile tugging on the corners of your lips.

“Hi steeb!” The young boy next to you waves while clutching a red crayon in his tiny hand.

“Hi Aidan. How are you little man?” Steve seems to loosen up a bit, the presence of your son lets him exhale just slightly.

“M’colorin a pixture.” The small boy’s tongue pokes between his lips, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he draws what looks like a demented stick figure.

“It looks good, little dude.” Steve encourages, cooing sweetly at him.

“Fanks.” Still focusing on his picture, the smaller boy grabs a different crayon from the box that sits on the table.

“What’s up, Steve?” You ask, still rocking the stroller back and forth with your tennis shoe covered foot.

“Oh-h yeah, um I was just gonna ask, ah what you were doing.” Just like a switch, he’s back to being a fumbling doofus.

You giggle at him and he feels his cheeks tingle with heat. Looking between the two kids, you look back up to the older man in front of you.

“Well, I’m enjoying a coffee while Aidan colors and Bella naps peacefully.” You nod your head slowly, eyeing the barista questioningly.

Steve wants to slap a hand on his forehead, embarrassed by the fact he can’t even formulate one sentence.

“Yeah, no I see that. Seems fun, I mean not fun but like ya know, seems-“ His stammering is cut off by your soft voice.

“Are you okay? You seem really nervous.” Your eyebrows are pinched together, worry painted on your features.

“Me? I’m great, fantastic!” It comes enthusiastic and way louder than he intended, so loud that Robin hears and instantly facepalms.

“Well, that’s great Steve.” You’re still eyeing him suspiciously and he really wants to jump ship.

“I’m just gonna go and do my ugh, my stuff.” Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, spinning on the ball of his feet leaving before he can say anything else embarrassing.

No, he can’t leave now, not when he’s made it this close to the finish line. This is what he’s been waiting for, the treasure he’s been searching for. It’s no or never and he can’t go back to praying the same prayer that somewhere in this universe you two were destined to be.

With a new found confidence, he turns right back into the eye of the storm and faces it head strong.

“Actually, I came over here because I wanted to know if maybe you’d like to go out sometime.” His chest is puffed out like, more sure of himself than he’s ever been.

The confidence that’s surging through him starts to falter when he reads your expression. You, and Aidan who has now stopped coloring, stare at him with bugged out eyes and gaping mouths.

“Only if that’s okay with you and all. If you want you can bring the kids along and we can go get ice cream and stuff but if you need it I have some friends who are great with kids and who will be willing to babysit for you.” He’s back peddling, trying to give you a way out in case you want to reject him it won’t hurt so bad.

“Oh Steve,” it’s said with pity and he knows the lighting strike is about to hit, “I-I’m not their mom.”

“Yeah no I get it, sorry if I- wait..” Stopping in his tracks, he looks back and forth between you and the small boy, connecting the dots in his head. “You’re not their mom?”

You and Aidan share a look before giggling together. Gazing back up at the flustered man in front of you, you smile kindly at him.

“No, I’m their nanny, Steve. Although I love them like they’re my own, they’re not.”

“Oh.” Steve continues to stare at you, his pretty pink lips in the shape of an O.

“Yeah, I just watch these little guys.” You shrug your shoulders.

“That’s still cool, I mean the offer still stands.” Even though he’s confused, his voice is a little shaky when he asks.

“Do the kids still have to come?” You ask and Aidan shouts an offended “hey”.

“I mean they can if you want, it’s all up to you.” He eyes you, waiting for your reaction but your expression doesn’t give him much to go on.

“Hmmm, I’m going to have to ask my trusted right hand man.” Holding a finger up at him, you leave over to the smaller boy next to you.

Aidan covers you hear with a small hand trying to cover the movements of his lips, even though Steve can still his his muffled whispers from where he stands.

Shaking your head, you repeat back uh huh’s to him, taking everything that’s being said seriously.

Moving back to your upright position, you stare at Steve with a serious gaze.

“Well, my counsel says I should go but you have to buy me ice cream. No buts about it.” Your straight face begins to falter when Steve’s white teeth shine at you.

“Yeah, I’ll get you whatever ice cream you want.” Steve bobs his head, cheeks flaring pink and eyes shining brightly.

“You can’t kiss, only mommies and daddies do dat stuff.” Aidan pipes in and Steve can’t help but chuckle with how the little boys face is scrunched up with intensity.

“Yes sir.” Steve gives the little boy a solute, while sending you a sneaky wink, and the kid quickly accepts.

“So, I’ll text you?” Steve asks

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth as you say it.

“Okay, cool cool. I’ll ah, see you later.” Steve nods his head, backing away from the table slowly.

Sprinting to the backroom, he sees Robin who pretends like she hasn’t been listening in.

“Robs, I fucking did it!” Steve whisper yells, still cautious knowing your still out there.

“I honestly thought you were gonna back out for a second! I’m so proud of you for hanging in there!”

The two of them start hopping around like jumping beans, beaming so brightly they can outshine any star in the sky.

“So you got her number?” Robin asks, heavily breathing from all their excitement.

“Fuck-“ stopping dead in his tracks, Steve bolts to the door and back out to the front.

That’s where he finds you’ve already left and he’s heartbroken. The only memory that you were even there is your lingering perfume that sticks to the air.

You’ll probably be back some time soon but he’s still a little let down knowing he didn’t fully seal the deal. Looking closely at the table, he notices Aidan left one of his drawings.

Picking up the paper, he looks at it closely realizing Aidan didn’t leave it, you did.

Steve,

You left before I could give you my number. I didn’t want to disrupt your little party or anything.

Can’t wait to get that ice cream.

-your favorite customer

683-027-9305

Folding up the paper, Steve sticks it in the pocket of his apron.

“Don’t worry Steve, she’ll be back.” Robin calls out from behind the counter, apparently not seeing the little not that was left.

“I know she will.” It’s said quietly but the smile on his lips isn’t.

It’s beautiful on this side of the rainbow, Steve thinks, the pot of gold was so worth all the work. Robin was right, he still had it.

Thank you all for joining me on this second day of my celebration!!! I hope you all enjoy!! Love you all ❤️

-

-

-

-

[deadpool15]

Unexpected Visitor

“Fuck I’m so tired, today drained me. I gotta stay off TikTok.” Laughing to myself I make my way through the kitchen, craving a little treat. Looking down I take notice of the kicking. “I’m so glad that didn’t hurt junior because, Mommy doesn’t need anymore pain right now. Especially, since we are supposed to be on the same team.” Rubbing my swollen stomach, is something that has brought me a sense of comfort these days. Hearing a set of knocks stops me from searching the fridge for the much needed snack I had placed in there before I went out. “Christine, who is at the door?”

Back at Kelly’s

“Mike, did you see that shit? Reggie just killed 15 men. When we get back he can eat all the snacks he wants, shit I’ll buy him some of my favorite skittles. He just became my favorite son-in law.” Hearing nothing but praise around the room for Reggie goes on for a while. “Marcus, he is your only damm son-in law. Shit the hell up.” I listen to them bicker back and forth about this man named Reggie and his skills. Until I look at the computer screen for a moment and realize another location has been found. Meaning another set of armed men are coming. “Wait, that’s my house.” Mike speaks ups and looks around the room, hurriedly grabbing his phone to call his wife. Who isn’t picking up the phone at all.

Snatching someone’s phone off the table I hurry and dial the phone number I’ve remembered my heart, praying to whatever God out there that hadn’t given up on me. It rings for a minute and for the first time in my life I’m consumed by fear until I hear her voice. “Hello, who is this? Better not be one of those scams blowing my shit up right now. Not in the mood for all that.” It takes me a moment to speak up, haven’t heard her voice in so long I’m a bit star struck. “Girasol, baby are you there?” “Manny, my fucking god, baby. I mean I saw the news but I don’t think you’d call me.”

“Baby, it’s me but I need you to listen ok, where are you right now?” Hearing her walk for a moment, before responding. “Well, I was downstairs in the kitchen about to eat but now I’m upstairs I waddled up here, fast as fuck. Once, I realized you were the one to call.” She was taking so fast it was hard to keep a stone cold face, until I remembered the situation. “Baby, whose house are you in?” She sucks her teeth, “why, are you asking so many questions I’ve been having a girls day with Christine ever since Uncle Mike decided to go on the run with you.” At this point everyone notices my mood change. “You, have to listen to me very carefully,” I say putting the phone on speaker. “Go downstairs and get Christine and leave the house immediately okay. Do it now.” She starts arguing with me but I can hear her going downstairs.

Then, slowly the phone cuts out we all hear a scream and way too many voices to make out. Then, clearly hear in the background, “don’t hurt her she fucking pregnant.” We all look towards the phone when a man comes on asking Mike to deliver information as well as me. Looking around the room in complete silence, we all hear another scream. “Don’t hurt my baby, please. Don’t. MANNY….

[msbigredmachine]

You Again (Roman Reigns) - Part 2

That awkward moment when the biggest star in pro wrestling happens to be your high school bully…and he’s in your office. A 2-part series.

Pairing: Bully!Roman Reigns x OC

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning: Smut, stalking, bullying

MASTERLIST

The mirror was very good to her today. It was as though it knew she was in dire need of extra positive reinforcements and affirmations. She liked what she saw. Hair on point. Makeup on fleek. Body tea. Her favorite Black-owned swimwear brand came through with an outfit that was sure to turn heads at a gathering as important as this one. Evelyn looked amazing and felt powerful, a far cry from the timid, naive little girl that Joe exploited all those years ago. 

Still tried to exploit only a week ago, with his bullshit talk about wanting her. Disregarding all the damage he’d inflicted on her self-esteem that took her damn near a decade to overcome. It was clear he hadn’t grown out of his childish mind games and she would not stand for it today or any other day. At least that’s what her brain kept telling her, repeating it over and over in her mind.

If only her body could show the same resolve, because it didn’t seem able to rid itself of the feel of his hands and his lips…his fingers...It was all she’d thought about all week, and her dildo was paying the price…

Aboard the superyacht, it was easy to find him, tall and striking, a drink in his hand as he conversed with Tessa and Khadijah, Wow’s CEO. Evelyn embraced the two ladies warmly and tried to keep her interaction with Joe as brief as possible. Of course, ever the one to take a mile from an inch, he pressed too close when they hugged, his hand on the small of her back, lingering dangerously above the curve of her butt. 

“Can we talk?” he whispered; she could have sworn his lips grazed the shell of her ear.

“No.” Her answer was immediate, a fake smile plastered on her face as she smoothly slithered out of his grasp. Suddenly craving a drink of her own, she made a beeline for the nearest bar and ordered herself a Blue Margarita. If she was going to be stuck on a boat with him for the next few hours, it was wise to make the most of it with a strong drink or two. Or three, depending on her level of anxiety which she fervently prayed would not be through the roof by the end of the day. 

From her vantage point, she watched him be the center of attention, everyone clamoring to be in his presence. A slew of conflicting emotions she wanted nothing to do with rushed through her as several women threw themselves at him, eyeing him up like he was a big juicy T-bone steak. All the girls in school had fawned over him like this back then, and even now she couldn't stop the sharp thorn of jealousy from stabbing her insides. Some things had not changed after twenty years. 

“I’m sorry, but I gotta be a fangirl right now. He is so fine,” Faith swooned, fanning herself. Evelyn wanted to hurl, and not from seasickness. “This is probably a personal question, but Tessa said you and him went to high school together. What was he like?”

Yeah, no one needed to know the truth about them. “He was alright,” was her curt reply, changing the subject before her assistant could pry some more. 

As the party dragged on, she noticed to her chagrin that he was almost always in her line of sight. This big ass man was lurking, hovering around her vicinity under the guise of mingling with other guests. Each time he edged closer, she was quick to extend the distance, caught in a ridiculous game of cat and mouse that she was not enjoying. She sought refuge again at the bar, indulging in three tequila shots the bartender placed before her. She knocked back the first without a breath, followed by the second, letting the alcohol burn her throat and numb her senses. She was reaching for the third when a huge hand suddenly swiped it out of her reach.

“You might wanna slow down with that,” said Joe.

For fuck’s sake!

She could only look on with annoyance as he consumed the shot for himself and slammed the glass on the table. “That was mine,” she griped. 

Ignoring her, he rested against the woodgrain with a huff. “So this is your plan, huh? You gon’ keep avoiding me?” 

Evelyn scoffed. “What makes you think I’m avoiding you?”

“You can’t even look me in the eye right now. The minute I come near you, you take off. Someone must’ve told you I like the chase.”

Her laugh was bitter and cynical. “Typical N’Stink Joe Anoa’i. You think everything revolves around your arrogant ass. I ain’t checkin’ for you, okay? I’ve leveled up.”

“I can see that,” he acknowledged, his tone deepening as his eyes slowly swept down her body. The intensity of his stare had her shifting in her seat. “You’re the most beautiful woman here, Evie. You always are.”

Flustered, Evelyn crossed her arms around herself protectively. "I don't know what you want, but—"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, sidling closer.

"What, to harass me some more? You didn't get enough in school?" she ground out, a gasp escaping her when his face neared hers, their lips a hair’s breadth away. That familiar feeling of helplessness she thought she’d conquered long ago overwhelmed her once more, and for a brief moment, she was fifteen years old again, smothered by his domineering presence. He exuded this aura of raw power and heat, branding a sickening cocktail of loathing and longing into her skin. 

"No. I didn't just not get enough," Joe replied. His eyes flickered to her full lips, mouth watering at the memory of their softness pressed against his. "I never got any of you. That was always the problem."

At a loss for words, Evelyn shook her head. She didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it. It was clear he had no plans to make this comfortable for her. Wordlessly, she slid off the stool, sidestepping him and making yet another escape. Despite being in the lovely outdoors, she felt short of air, of breath. Her stomach had twisted in a painful throbbing knot; any more tension and she was going to lose her shit.

She pulled away from the general population and walked around the deck to the rear of the ship. The lower deck took her down a hallway where the guest cabins were situated. Tentatively, she opened one door, grateful to find an empty room. It was much quieter down here, with the music reduced to muted thumping, a welcome respite from the noise outside and the turmoil she’d been plunged into ever since that infuriating man reappeared in her life. She sat down on the small bed and blew out a few breaths, her face to the ceiling, closing her eyes to help her reclaim her composure.

Get your shit together. You’re Evelyn fucking Ashton, one of the most powerful women in fashion. Don’t let nobody play games with you, not even that asshole. He’s nothing to you anymore. Now go back out there and be the boss bitch everyone knows you are!

The door suddenly swinging open startled her. Her stomach dropped as Joe entered the cabin, his massive frame engulfing the door he quietly shut like some kind of horror movie monster. She leapt to her feet, panic swelling inside her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she stammered, her eyes widening as he approached her slowly, deliberately. She scrambled backwards, unwittingly boxing herself into the corner of the room. 

“I’m not letting you get away again, Evie, not this time,” Joe asserted, still advancing. A warped sense of deja vu overtook her as she was transported back in time to just a week ago, in the break room where this mess began.

“Get out or I’m gonna scream,” she threatened, swallowing hard as he stood impossibly close now, their chests touching. 

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Go ahead. As long as you hear me out when you’re done.”

Evelyn stood frozen, numb for a millisecond. Then, rage tore through her; ugly black rage that swept across her mind like dark thunderclouds. Her hand flew up, slapping him hard across the face, the impact rocking him a few steps back.

“Fine! You wanna talk, let’s talk!” she exploded. Struck him again. “You motherfucker! Who are you to demand anything of me? Do you have any idea what you did to me? What you put me through? I was a kid, Joe! A kid just like you and you made my life fucking miserable! Why? Why did you hate me so much?” 

She raised her clenched fists and beat them against his chest over and over. Joe didn’t move, his arms at his sides as he let her lash out. He deserved every blow; his actions had pushed her to this point. He took it even as her strikes became more aggressive, wincing as her nails raked his collarbone at one point. At the first sign of her tiring out, he gently gathered her into his arms, feeling her body tremble against him with sobs that tore at his heartstrings.

“I’m sorry,” he declared softly, cupping her chin to tilt up her tear-streaked face, praying she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, Evelyn. I was wrong to hurt you.”

It was bad enough that she was crying in front of him. Now her whole body was warm and her loins were pooling from the desire that blazed in his irises. Why was this happening? Why did he still have such an effect on her after so many years?

In a move she both hoped he would and would not do, he dipped his head, brushing their lips together. It made her heart skip and drew a sultry moan out of her as she pressed against him, leaving not even a sliver of space between them. Backing her up against the wall, he licked at the seam of her lips, her sigh giving him the opening to slip his tongue inside her mouth. She could feel every hard plane of his body including the hardness that was growing against her belly, the sexual tension reaching seismic proportions.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered, her voice small and pleading.

Joe's expression softened as he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. "Because I can’t help myself around you,” he confessed, his breathing as ragged as hers. “I've never wanted anyone the way I wanted…want…you." 

Those words loosened something inside her. He was telling her what she’d wanted to hear for years, what she’d never thought was possible, and the feeling was surreal.

“And I know you want me, too,” he added, a low groan accompanying his kiss on her cheek. “Tell me. Say it to me.” 

Fuck it. Why tell him, when she could show him?

She pulled his head down for another kiss, their lips parting, tongues tangling with every turn of their heads. He wrapped his arms around her body, almost crushing her against the wall as he released her mouth to kiss her neck, suckling her soft brown skin. Evelyn closed her eyes and tilted her head with a soft bite of her lip, captive to the sensations bombarding her. She was only aware of him, of this moment of bliss and what was coming next.

Joe lowered himself to his knees, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her exposed skin on his way down. He gathered her pants in his fists, pulling them down her legs. Her matching bikini bottoms were next, already damp from her arousal, pushing the skimpy material over her hips and past her ankles before honing in on her bare mound. He made a sound of approval as he circled his thumb over her moistening folds, admiring the puffiness of them, and smiled when Evelyn squirmed, sensitive to his intimate touch. He palmed her leg before slinging it over his shoulder, gripping her thigh to hold her steady.

Evelyn bit down hard on her lip to keep from screaming as his tongue lashed against her delicate, velvety folds. He devoured her like he was famished, his mouth giving long, suckling licks to every crevice and every spot it could find. Grabbing his shoulders, she cried out as he slid his middle finger inside her, right along her g-spot, her back arching against the wall from the dizzying sensation. Another finger followed shortly, her wetness immediately coating both digits as he thrust them in and out of her gushy pussy with ease. 

“You taste better than I imagined.” Joe watched her closely, enraptured by the way she licked her lips and her eyes fluttered. He pumped his fingers faster, sucked her pussy a little harder, making nasty sloppy sounds with his warm, fat tongue that had her grinding into his face. It blew his mind how tight and wet she was; he couldn't get enough of her. 

It was with the strength of Samson that Evelyn managed to shove his head away, stomach clenching at the sight of her nectar glistening on his thick beard. “There’s no time, just fuck me,” she scowled. 

The big man’s eyes lit up at her demand as he made his way back up to kiss her, earning another moan from her taste coating her tongue. She pulled away long enough to yank his shirt over his head, her hungry stare fixated on his exposed muscles, the chiseled abs and chest tattoo her hands couldn't resist exploring. She allowed herself a small smile as his eyes shut briefly at her touch. He backed her towards the bed and dropped her flat on her back with him hovering above her. His hand cradled her thighs, spreading them and pressing his erection to her center. With his mouth back on hers, he pulled her right thigh around his hip, grinding against her, with her grinding with him, her fingers embedded in his muscled forearms.

"Please," Evelyn breathed. She knew it was a bad idea. She knew crossing this line would never resolve her past trauma. But she also couldn't help the way she felt, like her world would crumble to pieces if she didn’t feel him on her, in her; if she didn’t finally give in to the urges that he’d awoken after two decades of slumber. 

Joe tugged down his shorts with one hand, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of his dick protruding from a manscaped tuft of pubic hair. It was long and thick with a slight curve, and her eyes began to water when he pushed it against her soaked opening, entering her inch by inch. Despite how wet she was, she was equally as tight, and he had to work to fit into her. 

“Oh my god.” She had expected this. Almost. The stretch of him, this delicious and this full, inside of her. She knew he would go deep, but here he was reaching her in that spot no one else seemed able to locate. He hooked her other knee over his arm, rolling his hips until he was fully sheathed inside her. He rested his forehead against hers, cursing as her inner muscles clenched around him with each thrust. Their eyes locked as his hands pressed down firmly on her thighs, holding her open to take him balls-deep. Their pants and moans mingled with slaps of bare skin echoing in the tiny cabin, all of it blocked out thankfully by the music blaring obliviously outside.

The haze of pleasure had Evelyn squeezing her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure ravaging her body. Her hands moved up his muscular back, her nails scraping his taut, bronzed skin as he switched up with faster, deeper thrusts. She felt his fingers tighten around the back of her knees, felt his mouth cover her throat with wet, breathy kisses as his voice, low and gruff, penetrated her sex-fogged brain. 

"I never thought I'd see you again," he murmured against her neck, "I couldn't believe you left me.”

"Bull…fuck…bullshit,” She could hardly think straight with his thick dick buried in her, her legs pinned to the bed with no chance to wriggle out. “You hated me, you—fffuuck," Her words disappeared in another groan when he circled his hips, nudging his dick several inches further inside her.

"I never hated you. I hated how you made me feel." One hand came up to yank her bikini top down and knead her breast. "Unsure of myself. Out of character. Weak for you," he continued. “I jerked off to you countless times…I…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It broke my heart when you left. For years, I missed you. I fuckin’ named my daughter after you-”

Evelyn gaped at him in shock. “Your daughter’s name is Evelyn?!”

“No. Amara. Your middle name.”

There was no time to react to this revelation as his big hands lifted her hips off the bed to meet his thrusts, forcing her mouth open in a soundless cry as he slammed breath after breath out of her with gloriously deep, plunging strokes. The force and power of him made her thighs tremble as her pussy finally gave in, gushing all over his groin. She wanted to cuss him out for making her come so hard, but all that came out of her mouth were pathetic, pitiful moans. Joe's eyes shone with excitement at the mess she was making, relishing every moment of her losing control to him. He gifted her a toe-curling kiss before flipping her over, smacking her bare ass. 

“On your knees,” he ordered.

Too worked up to argue, she positioned herself on all fours and looked back at him expectantly. It was hard to deny how hot it was, seeing this big, sexy ass mountain of a man naked, big hand on his equally big dick, massaging it with her juices. Chuckling at the lust in her eyes, he nudged her thighs further apart and rubbed his palm along her gushy entrance, smearing her mess all over, making her moan.

“Mmm. Pussy drippin’ everywhere. You been needin’ me, huh, baby?” he said.

“Put that dick back in me,” she rasped, bumping her ass against him, eager for more. She felt his tip forge inside her, a tortuously slow entrance that had her chin scraping her chest as she moaned out in pleasure. Inch by inch, his own jaw clenching at the greed with which her pussy suckled him in. As she writhed on his dick, his mouth found her ear, tongue tracing the delicate lobe as he slid in deep from behind with his big body hunched over her. He felt huge from this angle, and Evelyn gasped, her mind spiraling from the fullness of him. 

“Since I left your office, I haven’t thought about anything else but you. All my fantasies from years ago returned and I had to have you…Fuck, Evie, you feel fuckin’ amazing.” He leaned back and yanked her hips higher, deepening the arch of her back. The slap of his heavy balls against her clitoris caused her velvety walls to ripple around the length and girth of him. The shit was so good that she dug her fingers into the sheets, throwing her ass to catch his backshots as she whined his name. The husky growls that escaped from his throat gave away how good he was feeling just like she was, the sounds flowing through them both like beautiful music. 

“You takin’ this dick like a champ, baby. Is it everything you dreamed of, huh?" Joe grunted, his fingers clinging to the meat of her thick hips, bewitched by the sight and feel of the big, round cheeks slapping against his pelvis, the mesmerizing recoil leaving him in a heady trance. Even in his nastiest dreams, it never looked this good. 

“Fuuuuck, yes. Ohhh…” she whimpered, her voice cracking from complete bliss. He seemed determined to bury his dick in her stomach and was succeeding, nestling himself in the tight warmth of her cunt and keeping her in place as she gasped from every inch he made her take. He trailed his hand between her thighs, using two long fingers to strum on her clit, and hissed as she tightened around him right away. “Mmm, this little pussy squeezin’ my shit, you boutta come all over my d-”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Evelyn? Are you in here?”

They both froze as Faith’s concerned voice sounded from the other side of the door. Evelyn’s heart rate accelerated; the door wasn’t locked, so Faith could easily walk in if she wanted to. Her career and her reputation flashed before her eyes, her life ruined yet again because of Joe fucking Anoa’i. She started to scramble out of the bed, trying to get away, but his strong, inked arm locking around her waist put a stop to that. She cast a panicked glance back at him but only received an amused wink in response.

“She asked you a question,” he said for her hearing only, kissing her cheek.

Fighting off her rising anxiety, Evelyn called out as casually as possible, “I’m here, Faith. What is it?”

“Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yes…yes, I’m fine. Just a little seasick-” Her words evaporated when his fingers twined into her hair, gently pulling back, his nose nuzzling the crook of her extended neck. Incredulously, he started thrusting into her again, rolling his hips slowly so as to not make any noise. Her agitation levels were at an all time high, battling with the warm burn he was inducing in her tightening stomach. 

“You sure?” Faith was saying.

His other hand cupped her breast, groping generously as his dick nudged right up against her g-spot. The nerve of him, trying to make her climax again even with Faith mere feet away! “Positive,” Evelyn called out, her pussy clenching when Joe angled her face and slyly tongue-kissed her mid-sentence. It took all of her strength to keep talking. “I’m fine, Faith. Go on. I’ll be out in a minute,” she ground out, praying that she would listen.

“Alright. Will do. You’re missing a great party though, so hurry back!”

The second Faith’s footsteps faded, Joe struck, his big paw on the back of Evelyn’s neck pinning her face-down as he upped his tempo, pounding her out with fierce, needy ruts of his hips. “Good girl, you did so good. Now nut on my dick again,” he encouraged with another hard spank to her ass, breathing out soft moans of his own as his own climax beckoned. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god,” Evelyn moaned helplessly into the mattress. Fireworks burst behind her eyelids, her entire body quivering as it exploded from blinding pleasure. Her pussy pulsed and leaked all over his dick, finally dragging him over the edge as well. She’d never heard anything as sexy as his hushed, almost strangled groans as he released inside her, big dick throbbing, emptying his essence into her soaked depths.

For a long moment, neither could move, recovering from the shock of the last several minutes. His hand lightly smacking her ass caught her off guard as he withdrew from her with a satisfied groan. The warmth of his body disappeared, the weight of the small bed easing as he climbed out of it. The ruffle of heavy fabric was loud in the stunned silence of the room as he picked up his shorts and put them back on. Evelyn squeezed her eyes closed, horror dawning as she emerged from her desire-induced stupor and realized what just happened.

Joe cleared his throat awkwardly. "Evie..."

Ignoring him, she rolled out of the bed, hating that her legs wobbled as she stood. She hunted in her purse for a wet wipe, her back deliberately turned as she cleaned up the evidence of their tryst off her body. Without a word, she threw the wipe into the small trash can in the corner, adjusted her bikini top and slid her underwear and pants back on.

"Evie wait, hold on…Evie…Evelyn!" His deep voice rose, more demanding as he sensed her about to run off again. He was quicker, blocking her path to the door before she could. Despite her shame, her ego couldn’t help but swell at how deliciously rumpled he looked, knowing she did that to him. He ran a hand through the strands of hair that had escaped his once neat ponytail. "Look, I still think we should talk," he said.

It took everything in her to not laugh and cry at the same time. “Talk? After this?!” she exclaimed, "I don't know what I was thinking, but this was a huge mistake." More humiliation shot through her as she realized she'd not only let her high school bully fuck her, but they did it raw on a boat filled with her colleagues! Her assistant had almost caught her, too! The embarrassment was suffocating and she needed out asap.

She moved around him but he stopped her again, his hand catching her wrist. "Baby, hear me out." His jaw clenched, his voice hesitant. "I've been beating myself up for a long, long time for what I did to you." He brushed his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “I wanna make things right. Please…let me make it up to you.”

“You can’t. It’s…it’s too late,” Evelyn argued, painfully aware that she was in a losing battle with her emotions.

"No, sweetheart, it ain’t,” Joe insisted. “I leave town in two days. Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I got a lot to apologize for. Give me a chance, Evie. Please."

Her sigh was tired and resigned, recognizing that he was not going to drop this. So she took the easy way out. "Fine. And after that I never want to see or hear from you again."

Joe chuckled, his arm snaking around her waist and drawing her close. This time she didn’t push him off. A good sign. “You already forgot we’re working together soon. Besides, is that really what you want, baby girl?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“You sure?” He leaned down and kissed her softly, his soft lips moving sensually against hers. Like butter next to heat, she was melting into him again, kissing him back once, twice, three times, before she jerked away abruptly. “I ain’t your toy no more, Joseph,” she warned, a frown tainting her beautiful face. “Dinner and that’s it. Text me the time and place and I’ll be there.”

“I’ma make you change your mind about me,” he vowed, the arrogance in his baritone reverberating around the room and caressing her skin.

Meeting his eyes dead-on, a defiant smirk crossed her lips as she opened the door. “Oh, I highly doubt that. See you around, N’Stink.” 

How she got back to the upper deck in one piece, she wasn’t sure. It was as though she was floating on air, her body light as air for the first time in ages. Despite her elation, a part of her still worried about this new, interesting step she had taken and where it would lead her. Confusing. Conflicting.

Faith perked up when she returned. “There you are! I was gonna come find you again.” She peered closely at her boss with a concerned expression. “Hey, are you okay? Feel better? You do look a little flushed,” she observed.

“I’m fine.” Evelyn snatched two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and gulped both of them down in record time, ignoring Faith’s bewildered gaze. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure,” said Faith, eager to help.

“When we get off this boat, get me the sluttiest dress and stilettos you can find in my size, and a box of Plan B.” 

THE END.

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

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[tomriddleslove]

Pt 4 - Drunk words are sober thoughts.

✩ Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: The one where Pansy organises a dinner party, you’re on the run from Theo, and bad decisions are made. Alternatively: Uncomfortable awkward tension, then smut.

A/N: We aren’t out of the trenches yet. We’ve only dug ourselves deeper with this one.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

Please let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the tag list!

MDNI!

Tags: Smut (duh),Drunk sex, PIV, Hair pulling, praise.

Songs: Love survive - Michael Nau

Star Treatment - Arctic Monkeys

The sun filters through the cracks in the blinds, casting an almost heavenly glow on your bed. The warmth was soothing, and you’d almost call it a very peaceful morning.

That is, of course, if you weren’t woken by Pansy yanking the covers off you, tossing them to the side.

You groan sleepily, rolling over as you try to shield your eyes.

“Oh come on! Merlin, you've been asleep for so long! Everyone else is up! I refuse to let you spend all holiday rotting in bed.” She nags, grabbing your arm as she tries to pull you up. You let your body go limp, the dead weight pulling you back onto the bed as you use your free hand to pull a pillow over your head.

“You know Pansy, have you ever considered my idea of a holiday is sleeping in all day?” You mumble and she tuts, grabbing the pillow from you.

“Nonsense. I’ll kill you if we don't make the most of this.”She admonishes, faffing around you like a mother hen as she walks around your shared room with Theodore (who notably wasn't there, his bed made.) She opens your closet and takes the liberty of choosing you an outfit as she flicks through your clothing, speaking again.

“We're going to celebrate the start of this beautiful Holiday I have so kindly provided us with. We’re making dinner and having a small dinner party. Nice clothes, naturally. Mattheo, Lorenzo and Theodore will be making the starters, and Draco, Blaise and I will be making the main, which means you’re in charge of dessert. Consider it a penalty for waking so late.” Pansy explained as she crouched down to sort through your other clothes.

You grumble, muttering childishly under your breath as you sit up, on the edge of your bed as you come to your senses.

“I'm putting poison in yours.” You half-joke, and she isn't phased as she tosses you a floral white sundress and a handful of jewellery. You dodge the assortment of gold sent towards you and you glare at her.

“There. You’ll have to change for dinner but this is good for now. We’re all downstairs, but I sent some of the boys to fetch the ingredients. Chop chop!” She calls out, as she descends down the stairs.

Pansy. She truly tested your patience.

You manage to drag yourself up from the warm confines of your bed as you head over to the bathroom, going to take a shower. You walk past Theodore's bed as you do so, and you see his copy of Little Women lying on his bedside table. Curiosity tugs at you.

It would be bad to take a peek, right? I mean, he did hand it to you that day in the library. Granted, he took it back right after, but surely that implied you could take a look.

You (rather weakly) justify your decision and pick up the book, thumbing through the pages as your eyes scan over the various annotations and underlined passages Theodore had analysed.

One in certain catches your attention. There, messily underlined, is the quote:

“Watch and pray, dear, never get tired of trying, and never think it is impossible to conquer your fault.”

Followed by “No. 4” scrawled in Theodore's handwriting. You frown, confusion etched on your face as you try to decipher what the four could possibly mean. You flick through the rest of the book, trying to spot any other instances.

“You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.”

No. 7

I've loved you ever since I've known you, Jo, - couldn't help it, you've been so good to me, - I've tried to show it, but you wouldn't let me; now I'm going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can't go on so any longer.

No. 5

You couldn't seem to find any rhyme or reason for this labelling. It was simply random parts of the text underlined every now and then with a number next to them, as though some sort of list. Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you're itching to look for more when the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs snaps you out of it. You quickly shut the book, placing it back down as you grab your dress and towel, dashing into the bathroom. You just manage to lock the bathroom door when you hear the door to your room click open, and you let out a small breath of relief. Your mind is working tirelessly, trying to decipher the cryptic annotations as you take a shower.

You finish off and get dressed in the bathroom, taking your time to avoid Theodore. By your luck, when you unlock the bathroom door and peer out the small gap, Theodore is not there, and you let out a small sigh as you step out.

You put on the jewellery Pansy set out for you and slip on some socks, combing through your wet hair as you dry it lightly. Satisfied with how you looked (you did feel rather pretty, in all honesty), you make your way downstairs.

The kitchen is empty, save for Blaise putting the groceries away into the fridge. You grin as you walk over to join him, his eyes flickering over to you as you walk in.

“Morning. You got your rest, didn't you?” He teases and you shoot him a mocking smile, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah yeah, make fun of me all you want.” You sigh as you reach for the second bag, helping him put everything away.

“Where is everyone else?” You ask.

“Pansy and Lorenzo went out to get drinks, and I'm pretty sure the rest found some sort of creek or something so I think they went out for a swim,” Blaise says and you hum, nodding.

Come to think of it, you had completely forgotten about the rather surprising development between Blaise and Pansy. You and Lorenzo had bet on it as well. Deciding to pay Pansy back the favour, you begin probing into their little dilemma.

“So Blaise, tell me. What's going on between you and Pansy?” You ask, and he chokes on the coffee he was sipping as he sets the cup down. You open one of the cupboards, storing away a packet of pasta as he looks at you.

“What do you mean?” He responded, and a small grin tugged at your lips.

“Oh come on, don't act all shy now. This whole flirting thing you have going on.” You say, vaguely motioning in his direction as you put some fruits in the fruit bowl resting on the kitchen island.

“There's nothing. Just friend.” He denies, and you turn to him, resting against the island.

“Sure. Just one thing? You're both stubborn fools. Don't let that prevent anything.” You advise, looking at him. You grab an apple, tossing it into the air before catching it as you walk past Blaise, patting him on the back.

“Right now, out. I need to start prepping the dessert.” You say, and for the first time in your life, you see Blaise ever so slightly red.

He playfully grins as he walks out, and you tie your damp hair up as you look through what the boys bought.

You settle on a classic after taking note of the copious amounts of cream cheese the boys had bought (You were reminded to never ever ask them to go shopping, and you'd be sure to remind Pansy the same.)

A salted caramel cheesecake. You decided to make the biscuit base yourself - it would serve as a good way to pass the time seeing as you had the whole day to yourself.

Before you begin cooking, you wander over to the living room. Your eyes settle on a collection of vinyl records in the corner, and you sift through the sleeves, settling on one that doesn't look immediately terrible.

You carefully place the vinyl onto the turntable, the soft crackle of the needle hitting the record filling the room. The sound of a smooth jazz melody starts playing, creating a cosy atmosphere in the kitchen. As the music envelops the space, you begin gathering the ingredients for the biscuit base.

You preheat the oven and begin making the biscuits, sifting flour into the bowl as you work. It's surprisingly relaxing, the villa is empty and you're left to your own devices, humming along to the music as you bake. Sure, you definitely weren't the cleanest baker. A simple biscuit recipe had left you with a white powder coating over the kitchen, stacks of bowls in the sink and somehow, flour on your clothes as well. You huff, dusting down your dress as you place the haphazardly shapen uncooked biscuits into the oven. It didn't matter whether they looked good or not - you'd be crushing them anyway.

It only takes about 15 minutes before the delicious aroma of vanilla fills the kitchen, You're admittedly pleased at just how good they smell, and you can only hope they taste as good as they smell.

Whilst those finish off, you begin making the actual filling of the cake. You reach for one of the bowls when a certain song begins playing, your ears perking up at the sound.

“This is my conquering song

played on a wave so strong

pulled the broke-down ride for far too long”

You lightly sing along to the lyrics, a small smile tugging on your lips as you do so. You had always imagined this song to be blissfully domestic, something you'd willingly play if you were to cook or bake, so the fact you selected it by chance made you oddly happy.

Sometimes it was the little things that count.

With a little pep in your step, you walk around the kitchen as you gather the ingredients. Liberated by the villa having no other occupants, your movements are freer, a small little (unnecessary) spin or a little break to sing along as you cook.

Now, it had been long established that you really did not have the best awareness of your surroundings. This continued to be the case now because you were sure you would have stopped immediately if you had seen Theodore leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, looking over at you.

Unfortunately for you, you did not notice him.

Theodore leans against the doorway, his eyes fixated on you. They always would be, he couldn't not look at you even if he tried to.

A fond smile is tugging at his lips, watching as you lightly sing along to the song. It's offkey, and your impromptu dance moves incorporated with your haphazard baking skills is laughable, but Theodore can only look at you and feel simultaneously so happy yet also so terrified. Terrified because he acknowledges how such a simple sight can't get that smile off his face, and the fact someone has the capability of doing that to him seems daunting. He was scared because, for a brief second, he imagined walking over and helping you. You'd look up at him with that smile of yours.

God, that smile.

You have that little impish look in your eyes, ready to poke fun at him. He does the same with you. The worst thing is if he hadn't fucked up so royally, you could have been doing that.

Instead, he pushes off the doorway to go and help you. The first part goes as expected, you see him and you yelp, spinning around. He knew your ears would turn red, as they usually did when you got embarrassed. Theodore knew you like that.

He knew you'd look at him akin to a deer caught in headlights because your mind would go blank for a second. Theodore knew you like that.

He also knew you well enough to know that, despite his own hopes of your once confused and mortified face breaking into a wide grin, it would instead fall and you would avert your eyes.

Theodore knew you like that.

He hated it.

“Oh. Hey.” You utter, clearing your throat. You berated yourself for always acting so obviously on edge when Theodore was near. He looks down at you with an indescribable look in his eyes before he speaks.

“Hey. Need help?” He asks, and you look around at the messy kitchen, before shaking your head.

You actually did, but you'd be damned if you had to spend more time with Theodore, alone. You'd either end up dead silent or stammering some embarrassing declaration. You couldn't tell which one would be worse.

“Alright.” He mused, looking down at you. He doesn't make any move to leave though, and you're hyper-aware of the fact that he is very close to you.

His hand comes up, cupping the side of your face gently as his thumb brushes against your cheekbone. His hand is there for a second too long, crossing the boundary of what it should have been. Again, it seemed as though everything you and Theodore did crossed that boundary.

“You had flour on your cheek,” he says, and you nod, drawing away your face. You turn around, praying to the gods above that they'd stop torturing you and make Theodore leave. You keep your back to him as you continue cooking, and he seems to finally leave, making you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You hasten your cooking after that and you're out of the kitchen in no less than 20 minutes with the cheesecake stored in the fridge as you make your way to Pansy’s room. You absolutely would not go back up to yours, as you were sure Theodore was there.

Exactly how long did you plan on running from him?

Hours have passed lazing away on Pansy’s bed, bored out of your mind when she finally returns.

“Finally.” You sassed, sitting up as she raised a brow at you.

“Why are you waiting here?” She asks, and you shrug.

“Can I not miss my friend?” You quip and she eyes you, knowing there must be another reason. She chooses not to probe further, however, joining you on her bed.

“We ought to get ready. I did tell the boys to dress nicely, we’re dignified people.”She chided as she got up, walking over to her closet.

You giggle at her swift change of actions and lean back on her bed, looking over at Pansy.

Her love for micromanaging you often was a negative, but now it could very much be a huge positive.

“Pans… You always know just how to style me right. Can you run up to my room and choose a look for me? I'm hopeless.” You groan, putting your hand on your chin in an exaggerated display of hopelessness. Her eyes light up, as though she was a little kid playing dress up, and she nods.

“Finally, you've come to your senses! I know exactly what I'm getting, wait here.” She gasps, scampering upstairs. You grin, having successfully avoided Theodore once again.

(The answer to the previous question? You'd run from him for a very long time, seemingly.)

Despite her reassurances, Panys arrives a solid half an hour later, a scarlet lace dress clutched in her hands. An impulse buy, the dress was shorter than what you usually wore. It had a fitted bodice but a flowy skirt, though it only reached your upper thigh. The long sleeves that extended down into flowy bell sleeves had to be your favourite feature of it, alongside the bustier style bodice at the front. She grins as she passes over the dress, alongside a pair of black boots.

“Dressed nicely but not too fancy. Plus I've been dying to see you wear this, so up and change.” She demands, pushing you up. You grin lightly at her antics as you take the dress, disappearing into the bathroom to change. You run your hands down your body as you admire yourself in the mirror. A hell of a good impulse buy, the dress looked incredible. The low cut was far out of your comfort zone but boundaries were meant to be pushed, right?

(No, they were not.)

Pansy gasps as you step out, pulling you over as she admires the dress, words of praise leaving her lips.

“You look so good! Oh my god, wear this everywhere.” She gushes, and you smile shyly.

“Thanks, Pans. Really. And you look incredible too, like positively mouthwatering,” You say and she grins, doing a small twirl in her satin black dress. After styling your hair and doing some light makeup, you make your way over to the dining room, which had already been set up beautifully.

The table, adorned with a crisp white tablecloth, is set meticulously with polished silverware, crystal glasses, and porcelain plates. A centrepiece of fresh flowers in varying shades of red and white adds a touch of elegance, their fragrance mingling with the soft glow of candles placed strategically around the room.

Pansy's attention to detail is evident in every aspect of the setup. Delicate linen napkins, folded artfully, rest atop each plate. You begin to feel excited for the evening, walking over to the kitchen as you look for everyone else. Theodore, Lorenzo and Mattheo are all in the kitchen, sorting panicking over the starters as they rush around like headless chickens. You step in and Lorenzo spots you, a wide grin breaking out on his face.

“Wow wow wow. Look at who we have here.” Lorenzo says admiringly, calling over the attention of the other two boys. You grin, ironically doing a small little pose to shake away the awkwardness of their gazes on you.

“Stunning!” Mattheo announces, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he ruffles your hair. You groan with disdain as you jab him in the side.

“Ow!” Mattheo complains, letting go as he frowns, rubbing his side.

“The bloody devil, you are.” He mumbles, glaring at you, A small laugh escapes your lips.

You affectionately pat him on the cheek, before turning to Lorenzo.

“What do you need help with?” You ask them, and Lorenzo shakes his head.

“Nothing. You go and rest, we’ll come serve them soon.” He says, and you nod.

You've been avoiding Theodore's gaze the whole time you've been in here, but you stupidly can't resist looking up at him and instantly regret it when he staring at you so intently. His eyes meet yours and he seemingly snaps out of it, swallowing harshly.

You quickly walk back to the dining room.

A solid 4 hours or so later, you're all lounging in the living room, stomachs full with what was a surprisingly good meal. Whilst the starters were good, Blaise, Pansy and Draco had really knocked it out of the park with the main, a mouthwateringly good risotto that you helped yourself twice to. The cheesecake seemed to be a crowd-pleaser though, with Draco having three slices.

With a glass of whiskey loosely held in your hand, you take a sip, leaning back into the couch. Whilst you tried to fit the aesthetic and sip some wine, you couldn't bear the taste and (truthfully) wanted to get drunk tonight.

It was a lazy and subdued atmosphere, and you didn't even notice Pansy, Blaise, Draco and Mattheo all retiring back to their rooms. You yawn as you get up, stumbling slightly (you had drunk quite a bit actually). You sleepily bid goodnight to the remaining two ( as vaguely as possible because god forbid you say Theodore's name) and make your way upstairs (in one piece.)

You walk into your room and kick off your boots, wandering over to your bed as you begin taking off your jewellery. You look up a mere few seconds later when Theodore walks in, seemingly equally as drunk as he looks at you. He shuts the door, yawning as he pulls off his knitted jumper, leaving him with his white t-shirt on. He throws his sweater somewhere to the side as he flops down onto his bed with a sigh, rummaging through his pockets as he produces a lighter. You can't help but openly stare at him as he does so, alcohol freeing you of what little inhibitions you had.

Something about the sight of Theodore laying on his bed, lazily smoking a cigarette with his slightly messy hair and those damn eyes….

You could see his muscles shift every time he brought the cigarette up to his lips, and you didn't realise smoking could be so erotic.

For some awfully stupid reason, really I mean, you had to question your own sanity, you get up, walking over to Theodore. You're alarmingly quiet as you approach him, and don't say a word as you stand there. His eyes flicker up to you, and suddenly you realise:

Alcohol + tension + two rash people

Is not a very good mix.

You reach down, plucking the cigarette from his fingers. Theodore observes you with a small smile, those sinful eyes of his boring into you as you take a drag, before passing the cigarette back to him.

“He was right,” Theodore says after a second, looking up at you, You tilt your head. If you were already slow at making these connections, the alcohol only made it worse.

“Hmm?” You hum.

“Mattheo. You did look stunning today.” Theodore says, voice low.

Instead of doing what you usually did (some awful combination of looking away, panicking or just remaining quiet), a lazy smirk tugs at your lips as you look down at Theodore.

“Yeah?” You question, and you're 100% sure you watch his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Theodore's eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering across his face as he absorbs your murmured words.

Tentatively, as though testing the waters, he sits up, back propped up against the headboard as he looks up at you. His hand tugs at the sleeve of your dress, pulling you down, His hand rests on the curve of your hip, massaging light circles, and you go dizzy at the feeling.

You make no effort to move.

Rather, in a bold surge of confidence that quite literally materialised from nowhere, you swing your leg over Theodore's lap, straddling him. His hands immediately find their place on your hips, as though they're meant to be there, and he's looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

You knew this was a bad idea, but the alcohol spoke prettier words than your rationale did.

“You certainly know how to make an impression.” He murmurs his fingers trailing lightly along your thigh. You resist the urge to shudder at his touch, goosebumps erupting on your skin as he touches you. You lean closer, admiring the features of his face as you speak, mere inches away from one another.

“Well, I had someone to impress.” You say. He lets out a small, wry laugh, though he's far too consumed with looking at you.

Close the gap. Do it.

You do.

With a surge of hunger, your hands fist his shirt, pulling him in. His hand cups the back of your head as he meets your lips in a passionate kiss, mouths melding together. He holds you tightly, his grip both possessive and comforting at the same time.

The bulge of his clothed cock presses against your wetness, grinding against you with a desperate need. A small meek escapes your lips and it’s as though Theodore immediately swallows the sound, tongue slipping into your mouth as you continue to make out. It’s simultaneously lazy yet desperate - hungry.

"Fuck," Theodore murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with desire. "You're driving me insane." He mutters, trailing open-mouth kisses down your jaw and neck. You moan, arching your back as you tilt your head back, giving him easier access. He wastes no time in sucking and kissing the delicate skin of your neck, tongue soothing the places he nips at you, your skin blossoming red and purple.

His hand trails down your body, his fingertips tracing along the swell of your breasts. A low groan escapes your lips, hands coming up to thread through his hair. You tug lightly and feel him smile against your neck. With deliberate slowness, he undoes the lace on the back of your dress as he continues to press sloppy kisses to your skin, undoing the top as he tugs it down. He pulls back, eyes hungrily taking in the sight.

He flips you over with alarming ease, pinning you down onto the mattress as he hovers above you, holding your hands down by the side of your head as he begins kissing down your neck to your breasts.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, large hands coming up to cup one of them, the other holding your hands in place. He squeezes one of your nipples, pinching the bud lightly between his fingers as you gasp, arching off the bed. The sound is music to his ears, and he grins, his eyes remaining on you as he leans down and takes the other one into his mouth, tongue running over the sensitive bud as he pulls away, blowing lightly.

The contrast sends you into a haze, and a whimper escapes your lips. Theodore wants to devour the sound, he simply can’t get enough.

“Do you know how fucking long you’ve been on my mind?” He mutters, voice laced with desperation as he leans back down to kiss you, bulge grinding against your clothed cunt in a way that had you desperate for more. You can’t even formulate a response, because you’re all too consumed by Theodore. Everything about him.

He sits up slightly, hands resting on your thigh as he runs his hands up and down, his fingers disappearing under the hem of your dress.

You feel his fingers brush against the damp spot on your panties and swear that Theodore Nott will be the death of you.

Seemingly satisfied, a small smirk tugs at his lips, observing your reactions as he slowly pulls them down. He throws them to the side, and words cannot describe the look on his face as his eyes hungrily rake over you.

You needed him, every bone in your body ached with a visceral need for Theodore. Your hands come down to his belt, tugging at the buckle as you look over at Theodore, eyes glazed over as you were driven mad with your need for him.

He undoes his belt, the sound of the metal buckle clinking as he throws it onto your bed, unzipping his slacks. You can make out the bulge of his erection against his boxers and your heart skips a beat. You’re filled with this primal need to just have Theodore, you need as much of him as physically possible.

You tug his boxers down, freeing his strained erection from its confines. You swallow harshly at the sight of his cock, the tip glistening. You lean up to meet his lips in a kiss, your hands wrapping around his length as you give him a single jerk. You suddenly realise why Theodore was kissing you the way he was because the low groan that escaped Theodore's lips had you mad for more.

“Look at what you’ve done to me.” He murmurs, pushing you back onto the bed. He hiked the skirt of your dress up over your hips, eyes straying down as he spoke.

“You’ve unravelled every thread of control I have.” He says against your lips, teasingly running the head of his cock between your folds. A low moan escapes you, desperately seeking more friction.

“I’m going fucking crazy for you. I ache for you every second of the fucking day.” He mutters, and you pull back from the kiss, looking up at him.

“You have me now.” You respond.

His lips surge forward and meet yours in a kiss with renewed intensity, slowly thrusting into you.

You both let out a collective low groan as he slowly thrusts into you, and you can feel every inch of Theodore within, stretching you out so good you feel as though the simplest movement would split you open. A plethora of gasped curses escape your lips, but Theodore silences them instantly, coming down to kiss you deeply. He buried himself inside you fully, savouring the way you stretched to accommodate him, clenching tightly. He gives you a second to adjust before slowly pulling out. He rocks back in again, his moments slow and measured, but strained as though it’s taking every inch of self-restraint to not ravage you there and then.

“More. Don’t be nice.” You moan, and Theodores swears he won’t ever be the same again. One look at you, hair splayed out against the mattress, your back arched off the bed. It’s a sight he’d never forget.

“Don’t say shit like that. I’m already close to losing it.” He utters, voice strained as his hand grip your hips harshly, surely leaving imprints.

“Good. Ruin me.” You whisper, a fucked-out grin on your face.

Theodore groans, pulling out slightly before slamming back into you. You gasp, cursing as your hands grip Theodore's sheets. He sets a ruthless pace, fucking into you hard. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, though you’re sure it had to be muffled by the moans leaving your lips. It was only then that you were thankful for having a room all the way on the top floor. You both were too drunk to realise Muffliato did exist.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Taking me so well. It’s like you were fucking made for my cock” Theodore groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. Your hands come up, running along his back as you lean up (to the best of your ability) to meet him in a kiss.

Theodore's forehead presses against yours, breaths mingling as he shifts slightly, before thrusting back into you. You can feel every inch of his cock brush against your walls, and you can’t help the pathetic plethora of moans and whimpers escaping your lips when he brushes against that spot, stoking a fire in your stomach.

“Theodore- Fuck! ‘m gonna…” You babble, and he lazily smirks, slowing down slightly as one hand tangles in your hair, tugging at it lightly. He experimentally plays with it for a second before harshly tugging your hair, eliciting another moan that felt like it came from the depths of your body, the line of pain and pleasure blurred.

“Hmm? You’ll have to speak up.” He hums, teasing you with shallow, slow thrusts.

You let out a whimper at the loss of contact, frustration gnawing at you as you look up at Theodore.

“Fuck, stop being such a tease. Please just..” You whimper, trailing off and he tuts, his grip on your hair tightening slightly as he forces you to look up at him.

“You have to tell me what you want. I don’t speak in half sentences, sweetheart.” He says, voice laced with an almost animalistic pleasure.

You groan, nails digging into Theodore's back as some slight form of retaliation.

“I’m gonna cum- please.” You say, breathlessly, and a small smirk tugs at his lips, his hand loosening its vice-like grip from your hair as it trails down the side of your face, his thumb running along your bottom lip.

“Good girl. Since you asked so nicely,” He muses, no longer teasing you with shallow thrusts as he wastes no time slamming back into you, cock brushing against your cervix. You moan, eyes rolling back as the heat in your stomach rises rapidly; the sensation of Theodore fucking into you was pure perfection.

“Theo…” You moan, breathlessly. He responds to you moaning his name with a harsh snap of his hips, nails digging into your hips as he grabs them tightly.

“Say it again.” He grunts, his thumb coming down to rub harsh circles against your neglected clit, sending a surge of electricity through you.

“Mmm- Ah, Fuck- Theo-“ You moan, and you’re sure you would have done it without him even asking.

“You close? Gonna cum on my cock?” He groans, and you’re sure you’ve become mush because you can’t respond, can’t think, your mind and body reduced down to one simple thing.

Theodore. Theodore, Theodore, Theodore.

You teeter impossibly close to your climax, nails scratching down his back. The sheer ecstasy was too much, and you felt like you couldn’t handle it but also like you needed more and more.

His eyes take over you, as if even though you're both inebriated, he tried to commit every little detail to memory, the way you moaned, mascara streaked around those eyes of yours.

His thrusts grow more intense, fingers working their magic against your clit as he brings you to your release. His relentless thrusts push you close to the edge over and over again,, eliciting a strangled moan from your lips as you feel his thrusts become sloppier, indicating that he was close. With what little strength you have left you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer as his lips descend down onto you, ravishing you with messy kisses. It takes one last thrust for you to be sent hurtling over the edge, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips as your orgasm crashes through your body with frightening force. Your walls clench around Theodore's cock, eliciting a low groan from him as he chases his own release, eyes never leaving yours.

It’s positively sinful, but he’s sure he’s never seen a prettier sight.

“Fuck-“ He grunts, his movements becoming erratic as you feel him twitch inside you. your legs don’t give in, though you’re surprised you have the strength as the rest of your body convulses with the sheer intensity of your orgasm.

“So fucking perfect.” He gasps, and with one final thrust, he stalls, burying himself deep inside you as he groans, hands momentarily tightening their grip on your hips before relaxing slightly. He utters your name with reverence like a sinful prayer, coming down to press lazy kisses to your lips as he releases deep inside you.

You reciprocate the kisses, and embarrassingly whimper at the loss of contact as Theodore pulls out of you, collapsing down next to you. You’re both breathless, panting as you come down from a high you've never experienced before. The post-orgasmic haze lingers over you, making you feel impossibly sleepy. Your eyes flicker over to Theodore and it’s evident that he feels the same. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the red spattering along his neck, not realising when you had done that.

In any other situation, you both wouldn’t have done this in the first place. But the effects of the alcohol had you both giving into temptation, and you didn’t fully comprehend just how badly you both had fucked up.

You roll over, pressing a teasing kiss to the hollow of his throat as he tugs the blankets over the two of you, an arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him. He rests his face in the crook between your neck and your shoulder, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder with an arm wrapped around your waist. You let out a small sigh of contentment, wrapping an arm around him as his hand massages your back and side lightly, the tender feeling sending you further into that sleepy state. The sheets smell of Theodore, and you find yourself (as you often did) consumed by him.

You and Theodore both fall asleep in each other's arms, holding onto one another as the night passes by.

You had fucked up, truly.

If only you knew the consequences your actions would bring in the morning.

You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, for it was a known saying that drunk words are sober thoughts.

The same undeniably applied to actions too.

@llpovi @camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8

[mad-hatter-memes]

FunkyFrogBait Starters

A collection of dialogue prompts from the videos by FunkyFrogBait. Feel free to edit quotes as necessary.

TW: Swearing, threats, and suggestive references

"My fellow Caucasians astound us with their ingenuity yet again..."

"This is just an evil, evil thing to do with pasta..."

"No spaghetti for you, sir."

"I could be doing any number of things with my life, but I've chosen to share this moment with you...Don't you feel so special?"

"This feels very forbidden..."

"I don't know what this is but it's not fettucine!"

"I just scalded myself! That was uncomfortable..."

"To be clear...I would not feed this to a dog..."

"This esophagus is rated E for everything!"

"Aren't I a lucky little boy? Only 40% of these are broken!"

"Is this a complaint that I'm hearing? Spitters are quitters, [Name]."

"It's just you and me, [Name]. So...who's gonna union with you?"

"If there is a god, he has abandoned us for celestial milk and cigarettes."

"That looks like something that would leak out of an infected wound!"

"This looks like porridge was spilled on the floor of a gym locker room and left to ferment for forty days and forty nights!"

"Trying to boil Pringles to make mashed potatoes is like trying to send her flowers after she's already taken the kids."

"Hahahaha, that's really cute, how about you go fuck yourself?!"

"Being a dad seems pretty fun; All you have to do is sometimes remember their names and forget to pick them up from soccer practice. "

"Now, now, don't be hysterical, dear. This is a nearly painless procedure...For me anyways!"

"I have not been allowed around a glue gun since...The incident..."

"The caveman method usually works in my experience."

"Aw babe, your texture makes me wanna barf."

"Now the nice thing about turkey bacon is that you can eat it raw! I think..."

"This says says it serves twenty four people...They haven't met me."

"Hello, Mr. [Last Name]. I'm here to pick up your daughter."

"Please don't call the police...I know this a weird use of my free time but it's technically not illegal."

"I'm about to give myself an accidental haircut..."

"Can I just call up a priest and have him waterboard me...?"

"Whoookay...This makes me want to join a nunnery."

"Who up praying with they rosary right now?"

"STOP FINGERING EVERYTHING! I AM A CHILD OF GOD!"

"Girl, what foundation is that?! Not a pore in sight!"

"[Name], honey. You're already slaying, you don't need to slay innocent civilians."

"Where did they find this child? The Victorian Era?!"

"ASAB: Assigned Sidekick at Birth. How unfortunate..."

"Who is giving these children access to deadly weapons?! Hello?!"

"The kids like thirteen. Just throw a Roblox gift card as hard as you can and run in the opposite direction."

"[Character Name] is dead, [Muse Name]! And you're worried about the fidelity of this game to it's source material?!"

"Paint a picture for us, [Name]! Don't hold back!"

"I would've bully the fuck outta this kid. And I did musical theater!"

"Where are people getting all this Tannerite?! I want some!"

"Is the cockroach infestation required or optional?"

"I'm being manipulated by a gothic aesthetic and common sense!"

"Yikes! Don't show that to your grandma!"

"That's my heart after the hot girl in my Com Sci class tells me that our star signs are incompatible!"

"I really wouldn't talk how other people look if your eyebrows can't agree on what timezone they're in."

"Is god really rockin' with you? Sinner..."

"Let me eat my oreos in peace goddamnit!"

"I'M GONNA START POWERWASHING THE CEILING!"

"You know what crybaby fumblefingers? At this point you owe me money. Hand over twenty, pretty boy!

"Why is she beckoning me ominously...?"

"That's because you've been selected for ritual sacrifice, [Name]. You know how they are this time of the month..."

"Do you have family, [Name]? Anyone you'd be particularly devastated to lose in a violent and sudden way?"

"You know what, [Name]? I'd probably punch you over a Hot Wheels too!"

"I see god's law not as a restriction...but a challenge!"

"I am deeply dissatisfied with my life choices and I am NOT afraid to make that your problem at five o' clock in the morning!"

"I hope one of your family members is in a car accident this week!"

"It's fucking terrible and I'm overcome by a desire to kill James Corden for some reason!"

"I'm sorry...Do you think mother earth is just lactating blue raspberry surprise, bitch?!"

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: He Came Home [Yandere Michael Myers x Reader]

Title: He Came Home [Yandere Michael Myers x Reader]

Synopsis: You're being stalked by the Boogeyman but no one believes you.

For Horrorfest request:

I'm so happy you write for Halloween omg 👀 can I request a stalker ish michael Myers, more yendere than I'm going to murder you brutally right away lol

Word Count: 1647

Notes: Yandere, stalking, death/killing (not reader); some graphic violence descriptions.

It’s someone playing a prank. People always do it around Halloween.

You shouldn’t make up stories using Michael Myers. It’s not funny. He really killed people, you know.

If you don’t have concrete evidence, we can’t do anything for you. It’s probably just some teen messing with you.. Keep your doors locked and call us if anything happens.

You’re being stalked by the Boogeyman and not a single person in your life, your whole damn town, believes you. And maybe there’s a reason for it, God knows that it wasn’t uncommon for people to pull pranks like this--to turn tragedy into mockery and entertainment.

Damn kids, and all that.

But it’s different now because it’s real and it’s happening to you. And you are not crazy or lying and this is not a prank. You’ve seen him more than once, a shadow at first, something you brushed off.

The next time, he was standing down the street, half hidden by a tree. But you saw him. And he saw you. And every muscle in your body had tensed before you whirled around and ran. It was a joke, a teenager with a morbid sense of humor, maybe one of your friends praying on your scaredy-cat tendencies. 

But then you saw him from your bedroom window, standing down below in the grass. 

And your kitchen window, behind the fluttering sheets you’d tacked up earlier in the day.

And you know, you just know, that one day he will be inside your house.

Coming for you.

--

No one believes you. But that doesn’t stop your friends from laughingly agreeing to have a sleepover to ease your worries, something none of you have done since you were teenagers. Only this time instead of sneaking booze from mom’s locked cabinet using the pilfered key and drinking until you saw stars, you were going to be stone-cold sober and sleeping with a knife.

If (when?) he came for you, you’d be ready. 

Glenn disappears first, after announcing that he’s heading out to the garage to grab a beer. Like he’s at some teenage kegger.

Your friends laugh when he doesn’t return--maybe he’s chugging them all and not saving any for the rest of us--but you start to tear up and Tina sighs and says she’ll go out to get them.

But Tina doesn’t come back, either.

The house is silent and it’s just you and Nancy, and Nancy is the sensible one. She won’t make jokes about what you say you’re experiencing, even if she’s keen to downplay it as a prank. She doesn’t dismiss Glenn and Tina not coming back as something silly. Instead, she locks the door to the garage and flicks off all the lights and grabs a baseball bat.

Don’t, you should say, don’t go looking for them. But you’re too afraid to look yourself and Nancy, Nancy is strong isn’t she? Strong and brave. She won’t do anything stupid. So she heads to the front door and tells you to lock it as soon as she leaves, then wait by the phone and call the cops if she isn’t back in a few minutes.

And you do, with fingers that fumble and sweat. The lock clicks hard and you run to the phone, hand trembling on the receiver so hard that you keep lifting it off and hearing little bursts of dial tone. 

You glance down at your watch, squinting in the dimness to see the time. It’s been a minute, maybe two. How long should you wait? Maybe Nancy was chewing them out, scolding them for scaring you. Yeah. She would do that. Then she’d make them come in and apologize, like she’d had to do before when they pushed your buttons too hard. 

This fantasy carries you through to the next minute, and the next, until the garage door bursts open, and you can hear the wood splintering and cracking, swiping away anything but an awful reality that sends your heart rate sky-high.

You should run, really, but it feels like your legs are stuck to the floor. Rooted like a tree, even though your hands are now shaking wildly. You dimly hear the dial tone and remember what you’re supposed to do, and your finger shoves itself into the rotary dial, twisting and twisting the local sheriff’s office--

Until the phone is ripped out of the wall like a piece of paper, and you turn around to see the real-life boogeyman standing in front of you. No longer far away and through glass, but flesh and blood, close enough to see, close enough to smell. 

Close enough that you can see the glint of a knife in his hand.

You can even see his eyes through the mask and meet his gaze, your own eyes wide with pinprick pupils, and his merely staring at you through the holes in this mask. You hear, softly enough, the sound of breathing; his or yours? 

A gasp is caught in your throat when he grabs your shirt and shoves you away from the ruined phone, hard enough to knock you off your feet. You land on the floor, but your legs no longer feel rooted, and you scramble to your feet and do the only thing you can do: run.

The ruined garage door is the path of least resistance, and you run through the doorway and grope for the railing but miss it. 

You trip down the stairs, landing on the concrete hard enough to make your palms sting and even bleed, but--no, that’s not your blood. That’s not your blood at all. The blood on your palm is thick and wet and when you look up, you see Nancy’s corpse sprawled out on the ground, face down, stab wounds oozing from her back. Tina and Glenn are behind her, both bleeding heavily from the chest. Tina’s red chest heaves and maybe her eyes look at you, but you can’t tell if she actually sees you.

“Oh,” you say, voice suddenly unrecognizable to your own ears. “Oh.”

And there’s a shadow above you, the shadow of shadows, and you don’t even have time to turn around as his hand grips the back of your shirt and pulls you backward. 

Words flash through you--I’m going to die--before there’s a dull awful pain at the back of your head (why the knife blunt?) and darkness overtakes everything in the world.

--

You don’t expect to wake up, but you do. 

And when you do, you’re sitting in an unfamiliar space full of dust and dirt. A simple room with nothing in it but a ragged blanket and some stray, dusty furniture--an old wooden chair, a wooden chest. The windows are boarded up, but you can tell it’s night-time.

A house that no one has been in for years, maybe. A house that has fallen into disrepair and ruin. There weren’t any houses like this in town proper, you knew, so you must be in the woods outside of town, where there were occasionally remnants of abandoned places. 

Why were you in the woods? Why were you in a house?

The thoughts are clear and simple, piercing through a swimming ache in the back of your head. You focus on these thoughts to keep you from passing out again. In the woods, in a house. In the woods, in a house. In the woods, in a house.

But why?

And then you remember. Michael Myers. Your friends. The blood. The pain.

As if on cue, there’s another sound in the house. A sound that is distinctly familiar, heavy footsteps and yes, it must have been his before--the sound of breathing. Soft and subtle, like a stray sound muffled through the wall. 

You move to stand on weakened legs, but keep yourself pressed back against the wall as the figure of Michael Myers walks and stands in the doorway.

It’s as if the air itself becomes thick and heavy with his presence, and you almost want to sit down again. But you force yourself to stay standing. At least if you’re standing, you have a chance to run, if you can.

But he doesn’t give you one, not at this moment, anyway. Instead he stays in the doorway and simply stares at you.

Long enough for your tongue to loosen, words coming out dry through your chapped lips. How long were you out, anyway?

“Why… why did you bring me here?”

No answer.

“Where are we?”

No answer.

Finally, you swallow spit, and ask a question that you don’t really want to be answered. 

“Are you going to kill me?”

You swear you hear him inhale through his nose, a short, thin sort of breath. 

He takes a step into the room. There’s nowhere for you to go, and you feel helpless sobs start to bubble up in your throat. You look down and there’s no knife--that you can see--but that doesn’t stop the visuals of your murdered friends and vague impressions of everyone you know who has been killed by him from flashing through your head.

He stops right in front of you. You half expect him to grab your neck and twist. Or grab your throat and squeeze.

But all he does is tilt his head slightly, looking at you through the holes in his mask. You wish you could erase the visual memory of his eyes, wish that you’d never seen them at all; the faraway impression that he had two big black holes was more merciful than this. 

And then his hand reaches out and touches your face, callused fingertips brushing against your cheek. 

His fingers leave behind traces of grime and your friends' dried blood. 

[blues824]

Hello again bestie coming back with the yandere pic request but for sebek feel free to do what you want to go feral bestie❤️.

The things I would let this man do to and for me…

Warning: This is a Yandere fic. I do not condone this behavior in real life.

Sebek Zigvolt

There was little time until he got in.

You were panting, out of breath from running back to your dormitory, and you immediately started barricading your front door. You knew it wouldn’t be enough, however, so you used whatever energy you have left to sprint to your room, where you further barricaded yourself into it.

“Y/N WHERE ARE YOU?!” A shout came from outside, scaring you out of your wits and making more tears fall from your eyes. 

Why couldn’t he just LEAVE YOU ALONE?!

He already hurt your friends, you remember seeing Ace coughing up blood because of what he had done. Deuce had a blackened eye. Epel and Jack didn’t look much better. Of course, this was not without struggle. They did manage to deal some damage, but not enough to get him to stop chasing after you.

“Darling, there you are!”

Shit, you forgot about the window!

He was standing on a broom to float, and even though you sat on the opposite side of the room, you could see the figurative delusional hearts in his eyes. Quickly, he used his fist to punch out the glass pane of the window, and he quickly got into your room.

However, what he saw only made him angrier. He saw the armchair, the table, and the nightstand pressed against the door, and he immediately knew what you were trying to do.

“Y/N, were you trying to hide from me? Trying to keep me from you?! Well, you should’ve known that it wasn’t going to work!” He got closer and closer, shouting, making you curl up further and further into yourself.

You knew this wasn’t the Sebek that you had grown to care for. He was under the influence of a potion. A few students thought it would be a funny idea to prank the knight and get him to follow you around like a puppy. However, he went total psycho and possessive.

Earlier today, you sought out your friends to ask for their help in getting you away from him until the potion wore off. However, he managed to find you in Heartslabyul, where you were hiding out, and he lashed out and beat your friends to a pulp. 

Jack fought bravely, managing to scratch him and punch Sebek in the nose, which broke something, as blood dripped from his nostrils. However, he lost in the end, but you ran while the fight was going on. You jumped into a random mirror and it just so happened to be yours.

And that’s kind of where you are now. You would have to personally murder those students later, but right now you have to deal with a yandere and angry Sebek. 

“Darling, why are you cowering before me? I would never hurt you. I’m supposed to be your knight in shining armor…” He kneeled before, taking your wrists into his hands and making you reveal your face to him.

You were praying to whatever being resided in the heavens that Lilia had a club meeting and could hear what was going on in your room. You peered into the half-fae’s eyes, and his lips were closing in on yours.

“Remember that you will always belong to me, and only me, Y/N,” You tried to push him away, but he kissed you with the force of a cannon ball, even as you wiggled and squirmed beneath him.

Once he pulled away, his eyes were glowing a bright green, and he had a smirk on his face.

“Why are you doing this?!” You screamed at him.

“Because you somehow managed to make me fall in love with you: a human who won’t live for very long. I need to be there for every moment… to savor it until I join you in the stars. Then, I’ll still be obsessed with you because you are a mystery to me.”

Usually, something like this would make your heart flutter and you flustered, but right now it just filled you with a sense of dread. You had the entire confession planned out, and it would have been simple and normal, and he probably would have shouted his feelings for you.

But now, with him whispering, it felt wrong.

Really wrong.