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covenofagatha · 1 day ago

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A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 6)

You go to confront The Witch and Lady Death

Word count: 3900

Warnings: smut, fingering, more murder

You try to call Tony on the way over, but his number isn’t there. You scroll through your text messages, his thread isn’t there either. You try recent calls. Nope.

It’s like he’s been entirely erased from your phone.

You’re getting frantic, desperate, and you know that you can’t exactly look up the personal phone number for the director of an FBI branch, so on a complete whim, you check your blocked contacts.

Fucking Rio.

She must’ve gotten into your phone when she came by to get your clothes that night and made sure there was no way you could reach your life outside of Westview. No way you could get help.

Fingers gripped around the blade of the knife, you’re about to leave the room when your phone lights up with a call. Tony. You scoff, decline it, and block him. You don’t have time for that.

Grimacing, you massage the area between your eyes. You’ve made a huge mess of everything.

You unblock him and call him and he picks up on the first ring.

“Y/N, where the hell have you been?” He barks and you wince at his scolding tone.

“Things here have…developed,” you start, weighing how much you should tell him.

He scoffs. “None of my calls or texts have gone through. I thought you were dead!” You try to say something but he barrels over you. “I’m on my way to Westview right now. I’m supposed to land in about an hour. I don’t know what’s going on there, but I’m bringing you back to Miami.”

“No!” You cry out. He can’t. “Please, Director, I’m so close, I’m about to get them right now. I know who they are and where they are, I’m on my way.”

You can hear his sharp intake of breath when he realizes what you’re about to do. “Agent, stand down. That is a direct order. You are not to engage with them.”

A blush spreads through your body as you remember just how much you’ve engaged with them.

“It’ll be fine,” you assure him. “They don’t want me dead.”

The sound of him hitting the tray table on the jet reverberates through your phone and you almost jump. “Dammit, Y/N, this isn’t a game! This is life or death, and you are not to try and get them all by yourself. Turn around from wherever you are and go back to your motel and do not leave until I get there!” You’ve never heard him this mad.

But you can’t. You’ve come too far to let them slip away like this. You have your gun and maybe the element of surprise on your side. You have the power to end this tonight.

Tony’s still ranting about how irresponsible and impulsive and stupid you’re being, so you hang up. The call ironically disconnects in the middle of him saying how you never listen to anything he says.

You’re more convinced than ever that Agatha and Rio did something in the woods that day that fucked you up beyond measure.

And who was that other woman?

Somehow, after all of that, you had ended up in the hospital with hypothermia and pneumonia, and the post-traumatic and retrograde amnesia accounts for the block in your mind. Did you hit your head on something?

Or did someone hit you on the head with something?

Agatha and Rio and the mystery woman had been so shocked and afraid when you came across them doing something bad that they had clobbered you in the hopes that you would forget, or die?

It’s plausible.

If nothing else, you need answers before you kill them tonight. Maybe knowing what they did will give you some semblance of peace and you can sleep without fearing that you’re going to murder innocent people.

It can hopefully get rid of your headaches, at the very least.

When you get to the address left on the note, Agatha’s car is already parked out front. You breathe a sigh of relief and the tension in your shoulders you didn’t know you were carrying seeps out. They’re here. They didn’t send you on a wild goose chase.

Your heart is beating so fast you think it might fly right out of your chest and you try to slow down your breathing before entering the viper’s nest.

There’s no telling what you might find in there, or what tricks they have up their sleeves, so you want to be mentally prepared.

When your breaths are finally under control, you get out of the car and immediately slip on ice. You crash down to the pavement with a thud and you struggle to get your bearings and

Snow.

Clearing in the woods.

The woman beckons you forward and you find her with two other women. Out of the three, there’s two brunettes and one with gray hair. The gray-haired one looks older, lines prominent on her angry face. She’s standing against a tree.

The two brunettes smile.

When you get closer, you can see that the gray-haired lady is standing in the middle of a big mound of sticks and branches.

Why doesn’t she just move?

The cold ground bleeds through your pants and brings you back to reality. The big mound of sticks and branches coupled with the fire you started seeing…was she on a pyre?

One thing at a time, you remind yourself, pushing yourself up with the help of the car next to you.

You silently slink up to the front door. It’s slightly open. You pause and press your ear to the wood, listening for anything that might indicate a struggle happening.

Nothing.

You push it all the way open and carefully step inside, wincing when the floorboard creaks under your foot. It’s so silent in the front corridor of the house that you think you can hear your blood rushing under your skin.

There’s flickering light coming from the living room and you make your way in that direction when you hear something. You strain your ears and stop against the wall to try and discern what it is – is that a smacking noise?

Are they kissing?

You dare to peek around the corner and yes, not really to your surprise, Agatha and Rio are making out amidst a crime scene.

A dagger sits on the kitchen table next to a plate of the same cookies from their house, two purple azaleas, and two containers.

Two people, a man and a woman, are laying on the ground gasping for air. Their skin is getting tighter, shriveling, lines etching into their face as their cheeks hollow out.

Their chests are still intact though. Maybe they haven’t gotten to that step yet? Clearly Agatha and Rio have been sidetracked.

You should go help them. You should go in there and save their lives, you should stop The Witch and Lady Death. Why do you feel so hot? You must have a fever, there’s no reason your body should be this warm.

But then you look in their direction and you’re enraptured, all other thoughts leaving your head.

The skeleton mask is thrown on the floor and the glow of the fireplace lights up Agatha and Rio trying to devour each other’s mouths.

A flush of heat stutters through your body as Rio reaches her arms around Agatha’s neck and tries to pull her even closer. Agatha’s hands are clasped on her wife’s cheeks and you can see her tongue sliding into Rio’s mouth. The electricity under your skin is back, roaring to life, while your eyes move from the people on the floor, taking their last breaths, to Agatha and Rio, still kissing like their lives depend on it, to the

Snow.

The clearing.

The sound of a match striking against the matchbox.

You watch it fall, almost as if in slow motion.

A brilliant blaze of fire erupts.

Agatha’s foot squeaks on the floor as she walks Rio backwards, mouth never leaving hers. Your fingers tighten around the gun so hard you think you might snap them. You should shoot them. You should shoot them both right here, right now.

But you can’t move.

You’re stuck, rooted to the same spot around the corner, watching as Agatha’s lips trail down Rio’s neck. The younger woman’s head drops back to give her wife more room and you can almost feel the pleasure she does.

“Agatha,” Rio whines and you never thought you would hear her beg. But the mighty therapist, the same woman who poisoned you after eating you out on your couch, is reduced to holding her wife’s hair so she doesn’t move away.

Your breath comes out in sync with Rio’s, like you’re imagining that you’re her instead of you, that you have Agatha pressed up against you instead of being pressed against a wall.

Rio’s fingers dig into Agatha’s thick locks and she switches positions, whirling Agatha around, and she takes control of the kiss. Your eyes are wide, rapt with attention, not daring to look away as Rio moves down to Agatha’s chest and rips her flannel open, revealing her pale chest and lacy black bra.

Your mouth waters and the ache, the same one you felt in the woods and in your motel room, the same one you feel whenever you’re around them, floods through you, settling right between your legs.

Rio nips at Agatha’s breast over the fabric, mouthing at her nipple, and you would kill to be with them. Agatha is watching her fondly, with heat in her eyes, and you think Rio must be looking up at her.

Now would be the perfect time to shoot, so why can’t you move?

Because you like this too much, your body answers for you. You have to tug at the neckline of your sweater as you feel too hot.

Rio kneels down, hands sliding up and down Agatha’s thighs while she sucks on the smooth expanse of her wife’s stomach. Your body is swimming with desire, it’s dizzying almost, and you think you need to cum soon or you might die.

Agatha gasps when Rio sinks her teeth into her skin roughly and then soothes the spot with her tongue. She reaches up, moves Agatha’s hair out of the way, and unclasps her bra and you feel a guttural moan form in your throat. You have to bite your lip hard so it doesn’t escape.

The pale skin of her chest is flushed red and there’s a slight sheen of sweat on her clavicle. Her nipples are a dusky rose color, pebbled and hard, and you want them in your mouth so fucking bad.

Rio surges up to do exactly that, tugging on them with her teeth, and Agatha groans, eyes fluttering shut.

Your brain finally forgets about shooting them, forgets about the fact that they’re serial killers at all, and you do possibly the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life.

You put the gun into the waistband of your pants and you step out from behind the corner.

Agatha’s eyes fasten on to you immediately, but instead of looking surprised, she looks impatient. Like you should’ve been here thirty minutes ago.

“There’s our superstar,” she drawls, hands tangling in Rio’s hair, forcing her still. “What took you so long?”

You try to think of something to say, anything at all, perhaps a remark about how you caught them, when Rio rakes her eyes up and down your body and chuckles. “Look at her, Aggie. She didn’t just get here. She’s been watching.”

Agatha smirks in agreement. “I wonder what got her more hot and bothered, watching us” She nods to the surely dead couple on the ground. “-or watching them die.”

“You two are crazy,” you say, willing your hand to grab your gun, but it doesn’t obey. The heat in your voice betrays you, though.

Rio simpers, advancing toward you with Agatha in tow. You clench your teeth as they start circling you like sharks. “Want to know how we do it?” Rio purrs into your ear and you shudder.

“No,” you spit out, trying desperately hard to keep your eyes from darting down to Agatha’s breasts. She’s made no move to cover up. Her nipples are still hard.

“First,” the detective starts. “We lace the cookies with a delicate mix of hydrofluoric acid, acetone, isopropyl, and a few other things meant to just confuse test results. It slowly decomposes their body from the inside out and they’re dead within minutes.”

Rio moves your hair out of the way to press kisses to your neck and it sends goosebumps down your spine.

“And then,” Rio says right against your skin while Agatha’s hand slithers from your waist to your stomach up to around your throat. You can feel your pulse throb against her fingers. “I take my knife and carve out their hearts. The first cut is always the sweetest. After that, we use bleach to wash it away and hydrogen peroxide to eat away anything we left: blood, fingerprints, DNA.”

“Voila,” Agatha says, snapping her fingers that aren’t around your throat. You hate how wet you can feel yourself getting. “That’s how you get away with murder.”

Rio’s hands are on your hips now, squeezing in time with the hand on your throat. Your airway is constricted, you know you should be scared, but you meet Agatha’s blown-out pupils and are sure yours look the exact same.

The therapist finds your gun and disarms you. “Or in your case,” she says right into your ear, jabbing the muzzle into your back. “You just lure them into the woods while you’re unconscious and slit their femoral arteries.”

All the air leaves your lungs, both from their proximity and your own weapon being used against you.

“Get on your knees,” Agatha orders, letting go of your throat so you can immediately drop down.

Your knees hit the ground hard, but you barely even register the pain, looking up at them eagerly to await what’s next.

Rio slowly walks around until she’s standing next to Agatha and tucks the gun under your chin, forcing it up even more. “Look at how much she’s getting off on this,” she says in a hushed voice. The air between the three of you is thick with tension, the dead bodies only a few yards away completely forgotten.

“You’re capable of so much more than just being a profiler,” Agatha says wistfully, stroking your hair with some sort of affection. “You can be so much more.”

Snow.

The match drops.

Fire.

The gray-haired lady screams.

You’re running through the woods. Are you being chased?

There’s a crack as your head hits the ground.

“What did you do to me?” You ask, voice breaking. “What did you do to that woman?”

Rio drags the gun up the side of your face, traces your cheekbones, and then presses it to your lips. Instinctively, your tongue darts out to flick at the cold metal, and both their eyes flash. “You still don’t remember everything?” Rio asks.

“I remember that you killed her, and it fucked me up,” you tell them, voice level as it’s finally making sense to you. “I found you two in the woods. You burned her, and then what? You tried to kill the ten year old who saw it? And this is — what? Your way of finally tying up all those loose ends?”

Agatha snorts and Rio scoffs.

“Look at our superstar, thinking she knows everything. We don’t want to kill you,” Agatha says, rolling her eyes. Rio takes the gun away from your mouth and tosses it onto the couch.

Your gaze flicks between them, not sure who to look at. “What do you want then?”

Agatha winds her fingers through your hair and yanks you off your knees, dragging you in for a kiss, biting your bottom lip hard. A metallic taste fills your mouth and it only makes you hungrier, so you open your mouth and shove your tongue into her hot and waiting mouth.

You feel Rio’s body pressing against your back and her hand delves under your waistband to cup you over your soaking underwear. Your hips involuntarily jolt at the contact and you moan, but it’s swallowed up by Agatha’s lips.

The detective pulls your shirt over your head as Rio pushes your underwear to the side and lazily spreads your wetness around your cunt.

There’s a tugging in your gut, a burning, aching, guttural tugging that is going to be the death of you. Electricity skates through your veins, lighting up your blood and setting it to a boil.

You’ve never felt so hot in your life.

Agatha’s lips on your neck do little to quench your thirst for more and Rio shoves two fingers into you with no warning and a gasp tears its way out of you. Agatha bites on your collarbone as Rio twists her fingers and you groan loudly.

“She loves this, Rio,” Agatha says like you aren’t even there. Rio whimpers and curls her fingers, her other hand snaking around to grab Agatha’s throat. The older woman’s breath hitches as she kisses along your bra, tasting the perspiration on your cleavage.

Rio’s fingers inside you and Agatha’s mouth now sucking on your nipples, having pushed your bra down, somehow isn’t enough.

You need to feel them.

Your hands find Agatha’s breasts, kneading them and pulling on her nipples. She makes a noise against your skin and it only sears you more. You slide your fingers down her stomach, over the red marks from Rio’s mouth, and dip them into her pants.

She’s just as wet as you are, and you gingerly rub her clit, gathering wetness from her entrance and bringing it back up to swirl at her. She pants hotly against your skin and you can feel her hand creep behind you to Rio, who has set a slow pace inside you.

“Aggie,” Rio breathes and bites down onto the back of your shoulder. Agatha chuckles breathlessly and you’re able to twist your head just enough to see Agatha’s hands down the therapist’s pants too.

It makes you clench around Rio’s fingers. You’re all being fucked, and fucking someone, and you can feel Agatha’s wetness the same way Rio is feeling yours, the same way Agatha is feeling her wife’s.

You slide your middle finger into Agatha, groaning when her walls flutter around you. Rio squeezes a third finger into you and you keen at the stretch, but then she starts fucking roughly and it’s everything you need and more.

Her thumb swipes at your clit and you try to time your thrusts into Agatha with Rio’s into you.

Rio’s teeth find your shoulder blade again and dig in, and the pain just makes your body feel even more alive.

You’ve never felt like this before. The intensity is tenfold what anyone else has ever given you.

Your ring finger joins your middle and Agatha nips at the curvature of your breasts. Your free hand palms hers and you roll her nipple, enjoying the way she gets tighter around you. Rio plays with her wife’s other boob, and you don’t think you could move a muscle either way because the two women are wrapped so firmly around your body, holding you in place in the middle.

But that’s nothing new. You’ve been intertwined with them since you’ve gotten here, maybe even almost your whole life.

Agatha’s lips capture yours and you can feel her muscles in her arm strain against your bicep. You curl your fingers and find the spongy spot that pulls a resounding gasp from her mouth right into yours. Rio pauses, pulls out, and when she presses back at your entrance, your head almost falls back when you feel four fingers posed.

The detective seems to know because she chuckles against your lips, sucks on your tongue.

And then she pulls away as Rio plunges four fingers into you, the stretch burning. But the pain gives way to even more pleasure and when she twists them upward, you almost cum.

“I’m so close,” you moan and Agatha leans behind you and out of the corner of your eye, you see her kissing Rio. And then Rio pulls your head back by your hair and her mouth is on yours and then there’s a flurry of tongue and teeth and lips and you don’t even know who you’re kissing but it’s someone and it’s so good and you’re about to —

— Rio’s fingers stop inside you and you whine, frantically rolling your hips. Your fingers are still pumping at a steady rhythm inside Agatha and you can feel by the movement in her arm that she’s still fucking Rio.

“Why did you become a profiler?” Rio asks into your ear. “Tell us and we’ll let you cum.” Her thumb brushes against your clit and you’re so sensitive, you think you might be able to cum anyways with that and the fullness.

“You guys…you killed her so I wanted to know why you did, how you could,” you choke out and Agatha peppers kisses all over your chest. The livewire in your body is about to snap.

Rio gives you one harsh thrust and you almost sob. “Try again,” she orders.

Tears prick in your eyes and your fingers falter inside Agatha. You can hear Rio’s breaths becoming shorter and shallower, indicating how close she is. Agatha’s eyes dart from your dark pupils to your swollen lips. She’s still holding onto her composure, better than you and her wife are at least, but you can tell she’s on the edge.

“I don’t know,” you say, but is that the truth?

The thrumming in your head comes back, like a memory knocking on your brain, asking to be let in.

You give in.

Snow.

The clearing.

The three women: two brunettes and one with gray hair.

You can now see that the gray-haired lady is tied to the tree.

The sound of a match on the matchbox.

The match is flicked onto the sticks by someone, igniting the stake and a brilliant blaze of fire erupts.

Who set the fire?

Your eyes snap open, the entire block in your mind gone and the memories flood through your head.

“I wanted to understand why I did it,” you gasp and you know that you finally got it right when Rio starts fucking you with a renowned vigor.

It takes no time at all before you cum explosively all over her hand and the two of them follow shortly after. The feeling of Agatha orgasming around your hand triggers another one in you and you cling to both of them while you come down from the most intense high of your life.

They soothe you, whisper sweet nothings, press kisses all over your face, and you wince when Rio pulls her four fingers out of you, the emptiness filling you.

You start to shake and you don’t realize you’re sobbing until they’re kissing your lips and you can taste the saltiness from your cheeks.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” Agatha says, and they wrap their arms around you, holding you and letting you cry. “We got you. We’re not letting you go.”

You sniff and lean into their embrace, feeling whole for the first time in your life.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along #agatha x rio #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x reader #rio x reader #agathario x reader #agathario #rio vidal smut

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himasgod · 2 days ago

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Wanderer x Cheerful! Reader Headcanons

Where you are traveling companions, and he is gentle with you while you are hyperactive and cheerful.

A series of headcanons based on the relationship you would have with Wanderer if you were a bit clumsy, but very happy and hyperactive. It contains a NSFW section and each headcanon section has sample dialogue.

While you talk non-stop about seemingly trivial things, the Wanderer stays silent, listening to you with a mix of exasperation and fascination. Although he pretends not to pay attention, he can remember every detail of your stories.

"And then the cat jumped off the roof and landed right in my arms! Isn't that amazing?" "More amazing would be if you stopped risking your life for stray animals." "I wasn't risking my life! I just wanted to help him." "Of course, because you're the heroine of all the cats in trouble."

He acts like he’s annoyed by it, always having sarcastic comments ready to respond to your quips, but he actually loves seeing you cheer up. Your laughter is a sound he’s learned to value.

"Look! I bought this ribbon for my hair. Don't you think it looks pretty?" "I don't know what's worse, the ribbon or the amount of time you spent picking it out." "You're so insensitive! I'm not asking you anything again." "It suits you, by the way."

Your energy often brings him out of his state of alienation. Although he finds it hard to admit it, being with you makes him feel more connected to the world.

At first, the Wanderer finds it difficult to fully trust you. His fear of being betrayed makes him keep an emotional distance, but your warmth and patience manage to break down his barriers little by little.

"Why do you always act like you're waiting for me to betray you?" "Because betrayal is the only constant thing I've ever known." "I'm not like everyone else." "That's what everyone says."

When he feels overwhelmed by his past or his internal struggles, it is with you that he finally allows himself to be vulnerable.

"Do you want to talk about it?" "No. Just… stay here." "I'm always here." "I don't know why you trust me so much, but… thank you."

Sometimes you stay silent, resting your head on his shoulder as he closes his eyes and strokes your hair gently.

He loves to make you blush, Wanderer enjoys seeing you embarrassed too much. It can be as simple as getting too close to you or murmuring something in your ear with his low, soft voice.

"Did you know that you look cute when you're focused?" "What are you saying?! Don't just say things like that all of a sudden." "What's wrong? Can't you handle a simple compliment?"

Your reactions are his weakness, even though he constantly annoys you, if someone else tries to make you uncomfortable, his protective side comes out. No one can bother you except him.

"What's someone like you doing traveling with him? You're probably more of a bother than a help." "Say it again and make sure you have somewhere to hide afterward." "Wanderer! It's not that big of a deal…" "I don't care what they think of me, but no one has the right to talk to you like that."

Although he is not the type to openly express affection, his subtle gestures speak for themselves. He places his large hat on your head when the sun is shining hard. He makes sure you always have enough water or food during your travels. If you're hurt or tired, he stops immediately, even if he pretends it's for practical reasons.

"It's so hot here! The sun is burning my head!" "I'll give you my hat. Stop complaining and keep walking." "Thanks… but you could say it nicer, you know?" "That would be unrealistic."

His touches are slow and deliberate, as if he's afraid of breaking something fragile. He prefers quiet moments where he can hold your hand or play with a lock of your hair while you talk.

"Why do you always look at me like that when I'm talking?" "Because you make those weird hand gestures. It's… entertaining." "I don't make them weird!" "Of course not."

Your joy brightens his darkness, your optimism helps him see the world from a more positive perspective. Although he doesn't say it out loud, he realizes that you're a constant light in his life.

"Isn't the sunset beautiful? It's like the sky was hand-painted." "It's just light refracted off water particles." "You're so boring! Just admit it, you like it too." "Maybe a little."

His calmness balances your energy, when you're too excited or anxious, his soft voice and serene presence help to reassure you. Sometimes it's enough for him to take your hand and say, “Breathe. I'm here.”

"Let's go explore that forest! What could go wrong?" "A lot of things. Starting with your tendency to run without thinking." "But you would protect me, wouldn't you?" "That doesn't mean you should purposely put yourself in danger."

Although you're opposites in many ways, you both find something unique in each other that makes you feel complete. To you, he's a safe haven; to him, you're the spark that keeps his soul moving.

Sometimes you argue over silly things, like who's right about a road or how to cook something. It always ends with him winning with his logic and you throwing a pillow or an indignant look at him.

"I told you this was the right path." "And I told you maps don't lie." “Then the map is wrong!” “Or your sense of direction sucks.”

He likes to give you nicknames that annoy you but that you find strangely cute.

“That silly smile again? I should call you ‘Little Sunshine.’” “That's not a nickname! And I don't have a silly smile.”

Even though it's rare, there are times when your clumsiness or your witticisms make him genuinely laugh. When you listen to him, you can't help but stay silent, admiring how beautiful his laugh is.

“I’m fine, don’t worry!” “You’re a walking disaster.” “Are you laughing at me?! It’s so weird to see you laugh!” “Don’t get used to it.”

NSFW.

You notice that something strange is happening when you're talking about anything stupid nonstop and his gaze has a different kind of shine, one that's not curiosity. When you notice that predatory shine and something dark in his eyes, while his pupils descend towards your lips wet from talking so much, you know what he's thinking about instead of paying attention to you.

And so, at the moment when you continue talking, distracted by seeing his eyes like that, you get stuck while speaking and a small smirk covers his lips as he asks you, please, to keep talking.

So, while you are both distracted and trying to continue talking about anything, you notice how his hand absentmindedly travels to your thigh to give it a squeeze.

You're cooked. When Wanderer wants something, he gets it, greetings.

He teases you, whispering in your ear that you dare not continue talking as he begins to lower his lips to your neck.

Likewise, as he fucks you, he murmurs that he would love to see your hyperactive smile that you hide while you bite your lips desperately trying not to moan his name so as not to give him more reasons to tease you.

In truth, he is much softer with you, so those moments are something special. Protect him, he loves you very much, do not hurt him.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

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abby118 · 1 day ago

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This still hurts. They often say you can fear things so much you unintentionally will them into existence... one of Viktor's fears was being forgotten, not contributing to the world in a way that would make a difference.

And you might say he still went down in history, which is true, in a way, but they remember the Machine Herald. The one person who knew the truth, who knew Viktor, died with him and is now seen as the saviour, as the defender of tomorrow, rightfully so, but the people of Piltover (and Zaun) don't have the full context of those events.

Jayce would hate being the only one credited for their work. He would never have been able to pursue his dream without Viktor. The dream would not have existed without Viktor and Hextech would never have been invented in the first place had Viktor not stopped Jayce's attempt and supported him. That is what happened in the reality Ekko found himself in; Jayce had died and Viktor soon followed because their lives are inextricably bound. There was no cure for his terminal illness with Jayce gone.

Jayce always saw Viktor as his equal on an intellectual and individual level, he saw him as his partner, regardless of his origins and his disability. There is freedom in being seen as a person beyond an illness but seeing someone completely apart from disability, it's easy to lose sight of how deeply they're affected, not just as a struggle or a motivator but as something that completely alters world view. He often forgot Viktor was from the undercity, maybe not consciously, I do believe Jayce was aware of the problems related to Zaun, and the prejudice directed towards Zaunites, but he never quite grasped the full extent of how it affected Viktor. It took Jayce getting disabled and walking a similar path to Viktor's to truly see the world through his eyes, or as close to it as one can get. It took him a fall into the depths of Zaun and a crushed leg, hitting rock bottom in the literal sense of the word, and then having to climb up into Piltover, just like Viktor did, to realise he had unintentionally been overlooking how different Viktor's world was. All those years he had been facing struggles invisible to Jayce and Jayce could never have known because he saw him as an equal, he was still detached from the experience because loving someone with a disability and living with a disability are two things. That is why his words mattered so much. It wasn't coming only from the place of love (whether platonic or romantic that doesn't matter, really, though I'd say it was clear enough) but lived experience.

People's worst fear is often others seeing them the way they see themselves and Jayce did, and it changed nothing. He still loved him the same. "-but you were never broken, Viktor" didn't mean 'You are one of us', it meant 'You are yourself and that's enough, it has always been enough' and there is a difference in those statements. To someone who, despite believing in his work's worth, didn't particularly value himself, there must have been a difference.

The Hexgates were theirs.

You know what I hate? The irony of Viktor teasing Jayce for signing every page of his notes during their first meeting, with the implication that he is afraid someone else might claim his work for themselves, only for Viktor's name to then be erased from the Hexgates documents by the end of Season 2 and their work attributed to Jayce alone.

Like yes, in retrospect, they should have signed every page together, and maybe even put some unremovable watermak on their blueprints so Viktor's involvement couldn't be ignored.

#but i digress #Arcane #Viktor #Jayce #abby talks #some Arcane for my main blog because why not

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vengefultakeover · 2 days ago

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Napping Roomie

I came home to my roommate closing the fridge wearing nothing but a pair of blue underwear. He did this often, not that I cared. In fact, I actually really enjoyed it. I'd come home to him in a pair of sweatpants, free-balling it with a semi while playing video games and every time he'd make a successful goal or a multi-kill he'd celebrate while that snake pressed against the fabric. Plus, I couldn't complain because he really helped me when I was in a tight spot - offering up his spare room when I couldn't find a place to stay while I was in school.

"Hey man, I was just about to take a nap." He said, walking towards his room.

"No problem, just getting home. I hope it's alright, but I invited someone over in a little."

"No worries, man. I sleep like a rock." He laughed, waving me off and disappearing into his room.

It took thirty minutes for my friend to arrive. Jerry was a larger guy, tall and stocky, and he was my best friend. He brought over some groceries he wasn't using since he mentioned he was going on a trip. Not sure where, figured he'd tell me sooner or later.

"Is Devon here?" He asked, putting more items in the fridge and then some dry goods in the pantry.

"Yeah, he's taking a nap. He looked tired when I came home."

"Oh, sick. I've got something to show you." Jerry walked over to the door and poked his head inside. He closed the door quietly with the biggest shit eating grin I had ever seen.

"What is wrong with you, dude?" I asked with a laugh. He waved me over and I joined him. He started to strip leaving his clothes outside the door before going in. "Hey, what the hell?"

"Shhh, just follow me." He started to creep into the bedroom and I protested with quiet huffs before following him in. We closed the door and could see Devon passed out on his bed. His cock was poking out one leg and then his balls the other. This was enough to make my cock twitch and I felt a warmth at my neck.

"Watch this." Jerry went around the bed and rubbed his hands together before reaching for his cock. I was wide eyed and hard, but frozen in fear and confusion. I watched him pull his thick meat out from his Calvin's and then shove a hand right into the tip. I don't mean like the tip of it, or even a finger, he shoved his whole hand inside. Devon's cock grew hard instantly, his hand making it bulge. His face shifted, turning into slight discomfort, but nothing that was going to wake him up. Then I watched him shove his other hand inside. His arms were suddenly deep inside his cock, the thick rod growing in size as he wriggled his way in.

"What the fuck?" I gasped.

"Don't worry. He's fine." Jerry whispered. He bent forward, sticking his head between his arms and then pushing his head into his tip. Devon started to writhe, but Jerry kept going. Jumping up and in, his body looked like a cartoon as it expanded his cock and then his body. his stomach bloated, his chest puffed up, even his legs expanded as Jerry disappeared and started pushing himself into each of his limbs. Devon's eyes fluttered and his mouth hung open, a bit of drool coming out as Jerry made his body his home and suddenly it stopped. Devon's musculature returned to the toned sexy body that was napping there before. Devon popped an eye open and that same shit eating grin I had seen on Jerry before appeared on him.

"What the fuck just happened?" I held my legs together to keep the boner from showing.

"Just a little something I picked up from a witch on the corner." He hopped out of the bed and wobbled once he got to his feet.

"Holy shit this is wild." I said, reaching out and touching him.

"Oh fuck that feels good." Jerry said through Devon, shivering.

"Sorry, I -"

"No. Keep doing it." He pulled my hand close to him and then grabbed my other hand. He pressed them against his chest and I squeezed, feeling the muscular mounds under my palms. Flexing, he pulled me back onto the bed and then wrapped his arms around me, going in for a kiss. I fell to the side, making out with my roommate who was now being controlled by my best friend. I could feel him press against me, the blue underwear slowly being peeled off as I reached down and grabbed a hand full of his plump ass. I couldn't control myself, as we made out I kept pushing myself closer, grinding my hips into him until he was turning around.

"Fuck me as hard as you want?" He said, reaching back and squeezing his ass. I leaned into him, kissing his back as I aligned the tip of my cock with his hole. I was slow to push into him, my cock head popping in and I could see his back muscles react.

"Fuck yes." We said in unison as I pushed my whole shaft inside. I let it throb inside, leaning over and laying on him as he was on all fours. He tensed his hole, making me whimper. I pushed myself up, held onto his hips and started thrusting hard. Each slip out and in again felt better than the last and he arched his back in pleasure. Both of us moaned as I slammed myself against him, feeling the euphoric feeling sneak up on me and suddenly I was exploding inside of him. Filling up his hole, we both moaned and the sensation of me busting inside of him caused his cock to erupt, leaving a wet streak along the sheets.

"Holy shit. I didn't think things would feel this crazy inside another person." Jerry said, panting as he rolled over.

"That was amazing." I was also panting, a bit more aggressively from the thrusting.

"I should probably hop out of him. I feel him waking up." Jerry said, jumping up and squatting bit. I watched a hand suddenly appear from his ass, grabbing ahold of his ankles and pulling himself out. The wet squelching was insane as Jerry appeared as his naked self once more. Devon passed out and I pushed him onto the bed. I quickly pushed him into the same position he was in and then met Jerry outside of the door as he was getting ready.

"We should do that again some time." He said, slipping on his shirt.

"Oh, we should do it again and again. that was incredible." I could hear stirring from inside and we ran over to the couch, turning it onto something random. With one final glance at each other, Devon walked out and he had no idea what had just happened between us.

#male possession

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fangel · 5 hours ago

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always, attic angel — jake [ 심재윤 ]

synopsis : jake’s hidden secret isn’t so secret anymore, but he’ll go to great lengths to keep it. he reaches his breaking point when faced with betrayal. he relinquishes any remaining sense of sanctity, surrendering to everything he's spent his life trying to suppress. ⇀ read part 1 here ⸝⸝ updated playlist

pairing : jake sim x fem. reader featuring : heeseung genre : psychological thriller, smut, yandere word count : 7.7k content advisory : dark content ⚠︎ sexually explicit content, obsessive!jake, possessive!jake, jake in general, corrupt!reader, choking, dubcon, somnophilia, spanking, unprotected sex, stockholm syndrome, religious themes and concepts, violence, blood, mentions of homicide/death, open ending - mostly proofread

“can you keep a secret?”

jake wasn’t only asking heeseung the literal question, but he was questioning himself. how long could he realistically hide you away? were you, his sacred secret, something that he could actually keep? he’s thought about it a lot. often losing hours in a day just going over the agonizing idea of not.

heeseung at a loss for words, just watches jake’s body language. jake is like nothing he’s ever seen before. jay and sunghoon have brought up jake’s odd behavior with concern, but he always brushed it off. now heeseung is here to witness it himself, stunned with his brows furrowed and a mouth opening and closing, looking for words he can’t find. he looks back up to the top of staircase, the room that he knows is occupied with someone. hundreds of questions flood his mind but he doesn’t know where to begin.

“jake,” he says quietly, eyes darting from the door up the stairs and to the boys huddled in the living room. “what did you do? who is here?” even if jake did have a girlfriend, or just someone he’s been seeing, why would he need to act this way? with the way the air feels around them, heeseung is sure that there’s much more going on. and whatever it could be, was far from good.

jake still can’t look at heeseung. he just stares to the floor with a death grip on heeseung. his breathing picks up in slow, deep heaves. he holds onto his hyung like a lifeline. heeseung feels genuine dread. the chill he feels run through his body makes every hair stand up. he wants to pull away from jake, to go investigate before the others get nosy or cause a scene. but he can’t. his instincts are telling him that if he moves too quickly that jake will break.

“jake… if i go up there—” he begins to say slowly, quietly. and that’s when jake looks up at heeseung. his eyes look wild, almost like they’re threatening him. heeseung swallows hard, sensing that maybe he is silently threatening him.

heeseung tries to step back but jake only digs his nails into the flesh of heeseung’s arm. he hisses at the sting and attempts to tug his arm away from the hold. jake’s strength is something heeseung never knew he had; he thinks that jake might just fucking break his arm at the elbow right here and now.

through clenched teeth, jake seethes under his breath, “i’ll explain, but get them all out of my house first. and i swear to god if you tell another soul you’ll be buried out back too.”

what the fuck, is all heeseung can think. his eyes wide from the venomous threat. he complies with jake out of fear. these were treacherous waters and he wasn’t going to test it out by diving in. especially with the tension growing too thick and too fast for heeseung to waste any time.

jake follows heeseung to the living, standing behind him, watching and listening. he doesn’t say a word as his older friend handles the situation. he just shifts on his feet while staring into the back of heeseung’s head.

heeseung stumbles over his words, nervously attempting a lie to get the rest of the boys to leave. the words catching in his throat that he masks with a cough whenever one of them makes a questioning expression.

although disoriented and perturbed, they all listen to heeseung. heeseung being obviously troubled with something serious made them gather their things with haste. they were rushing out to the car in minutes with no questions asked. there were many to be had, but they assumed they would find out eventually.

jake and heeseung watch as they drive away, from the front door. neither of them say a word even when the vehicle is out of sight. the taillights fading into the snowscape treeline of gravel road is all to be heard and seen.

there’s a pregnant pause before jake closes the door and locks it, all 5 different locks. heeseung raises a brow, stepping back slowly. his eyes watching as jake stuffs the ring of keys into his front hoodie pocket. he makes note of it.

jake, still yet to utter a word, just walks into the living room area to clean up the leftover mess. heeseung, unsure of what to do, just helps in stillness. the tv remains a static screen displaying no signal: (1) check the cable connections and settings of your source device. the kitchen oven light flickers every so often. and the darkness of the night bleeds into the house. it’s eerily quiet between them.

after some time, there’s a slow creak of a door to be heard. both of the boys heads shoot upward and down the hallway. layla trots away from them and sits at the end of staircase. her head tilted, ears raised, and mouth open in what would be interpreted as a smile.

slow footsteps make their way down. the space between each creaking step of the wooden floorboards shows how apprehensive and timorous you are. once halfway down, there’s a pause. you’re standing there, waiting for a noise or response from jake. you saw the group of his friends leave, but there was still another car parked outside. and after waiting for so long, listening to silence, you had to see why jake hadn’t come up to see you, to tell you it’s safe to come out.

jake stands from his crouched position, dropping the wet wipe he was just using to clean the low coffee table. he throws off his jacket to the edge of the couch. there’s a clink of the cluttered keys, but only heeseung hears it. jake’s already in tunnel vision. he gives heeseung a daring glare before walking away to meet you halfway. heeseung sits down on the couch, his hands folded over his lap while his leg picks up an anxious bounce. he looks at the pocket of the abandoned material. a glimmer of metals peak through the opening.

jake walks up the stairs that you stand in the middle of, layla hot on his trail. he gives you a small smile as he places his hands on your shoulders to turn your body back around. “i didn’t tell you when to come out, did i?” he whispers with small anger, trying to keep his tone light but what’s deeper surfaces regardless.

you very rarely made jake angry. a feeling of disappointment envelops you like instinct. as if you had to feel bad for going against him.

“i’m sorry i made a noise,” you mumble, “i got excited when i heard them mention me.” it’s an honest admission. you turn your head back to jake and your guilt drops to something empty. the color fades from your face when you see him. he looks disgusted. “i-i’m sorry, i-” your mouth open and mind trying to find the right thing so say.

he grabs the back of your neck and begins to walk forward, forcing your body back up to the bedroom. you stumble over your feet, nearly falling. his footsteps stomp against the wooden stairs. his hold on you is squeezing with fingers pressing into the sides of your throat. you want to cough away the feeling but decide on struggling to remain quiet instead. someone is still here. i promised to behave.

when back in the room, he shoves you forward with the release of his grip. the door slams behind him. you lose balance but catch your own feet, your ankle shooting in a great affliction that you’ve become accustomed to ignore. your hands reach for your throat to massage the ache. you whimper at the touch.

“it was a perilous decision, making you my attic angel.” his heavy footsteps march forward. he picks you up from under your arms and tosses you onto the bed. you bounce slightly before gathering yourself. you push yourself back into the corner of the bed, hugging your knees to tuck into your body, like you’re protecting yourself. you watch as he places his knee onto the bed, his hands too, leaning towards you. “i am trying so hard, so why isn’t it enough?” his head shakes in disbelief. “i’m just not enough for you? you want everyone to see you, to know you. why? as if they would need or love you as much as i do.” the last sentence is a scoff, spat with hate. he just stares at you with a tilt to his head. you feel that he’s mocking you in some way with his ridiculous words.

tears brim your eyes, your hands forming small fists that tremble in a rage you’ve always felt within you. “i never asked you to.” your words are firm, a tight lip frown wears your face. you want to argue that this isn’t love and he’s just a sick man, but you don’t want to spill more tears over him. you’ve been drained enough.

jake’s face flashes with an array of emotions. his fingers curl into the blankets so tight his knuckles turn white. he looks irated and dejected, but mostly broken.

“you didn’t have to.” his face is a scowl, glaring at you for the first time. how could his attitude change so quickly? “you wanted me, and now you have me. let it be enough.” he pushes himself off the bed and picks up the metal cuff chain from the floor with one hand. you instantly try to scramble up off the bed but he’s faster; he takes your bruised, weakened ankle in his free hand to drag you into him. you yelp with agony, trying to kick your leg around in a struggle that would hopefully prevent the entrapment. but he secures it onto you with a low growl, warning you that your actions have been enough.

with a burning gaze, he pushes you back down onto the bed before making strides to the door. he’s never been so blatantly mean towards you. it hurts far more than you could’ve ever expected. you slide yourself off the bed with urgency, tripping up behind him. you want to cry so badly, but you also want to show you’re stronger than he allows you to be. your hands reach for him to grab at the back of his shirt, a try of pulling him back from the door. “take it off! take it off now!” you stomp your metal clad foot, the chain rattles against the floor.

layla begins to bark loudly from the other side of the door. her paws scratch at the closed white wood.

jake spins around with your raised voice and slaps his hand over your mouth, “shut the fuck up!” he whispers with heated aggression. his other hand grabbing the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair and craning your neck back to look at him. crazed eyes stare into yours like they want to rip you apart. you can no longer help it now, tears escape and wash down to meet his hand. your entire body is now shaking in fear. “angel, i thought i taught you better than this… haven’t you made yourself known enough tonight?” he softens in tone, but his expression and hands don’t match. they’re strong, keeping you still.

you shake your head frantically under his hold. his large hand taking up half your face, making it hard to breathe. your mouth and nose only taking in larger breaths of air that just isn’t sufficient. fat tears run down your face as you continue to shout muffled pleas into his palm.

“take it off!”

“let me go!”

“stop, stop!”

“help me!” it’s a deadened attempt of a shrill scream.

it’s all lost against his skin. you try to slap his hand and arms off of you but it’s to no avail. you’re simply too feeble to put up the fight you want to. you’ll always be overpowered by man.

his hold doesn’t let up. he just watches you struggle in blazing silence. your lungs losing oxygen make you see bright white stars scatter your vision. the burning tears only make it all the more hazy. your body feels weak, like it’s about to collapse in on itself. is this what it’s like to lose consciousness? weird, it feels kind of good. you use all your strength to keep your eyes open, but they blink slowly to a close.

“please.” is the final beg to be said against his palm.

“i love you.” is the final words he promises before it all goes black.

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　when jake finally comes downstairs, he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

heeseung—who was in the kitchen—heard jake’s descent with the settling creaks of the house’s floors, returns to the couch. he nervously watches jake, who was yet to look over at him, as he stuffs something back into the hoodie that jake left behind before going up to that room.

jake just stands at the bottom of the staircase with a dead stare, eyes unblinking and unfocused. he looks pale, stuck in a state that heeseung is not ready to approach or question. heeseung heard nearly everything from upstairs. it was jarring, and enough evidence to understand that the house is dangerous for everyone in it.

to think that he’s been here before without a clue of what was happening behind closed doors makes his skin crawl. he never could have imagined that his own friend, or himself, would get wrapped up in a scenario like this. was it all merely a matter of time?

heeseung slowly stands up. due to the silence, even the slight sound of movement has jake’s heard turn in a split second to his friend's direction.

unknowing of what to do, heeseung just stays still like a deer in headlights. frightful in nature as if he was the one to be caught in the wrong place. he’s frozen under the cold, black eyes that bore into him.

jake stalks over to heeseung slowly. the unbreaking eye contact and lack of words sends chills through the older male. the kitchen oven light hums in the background, and it’s all to be heard. jake places himself on the other couch in the living room. the light flickers off and on again when heeseung follows jake’s actions, sitting once more.

“i’ve never hurt her before,” his tone hostile, as if to defend himself from whatever he was imagining that heeseung was thinking, “not physically at least, i don’t think.”

heeseung feels a cold sweat take over. his palms sweaty, squeezing his own thighs for a sense of stability. this can’t be real. he couldn’t process any of this. how could this be what jake is? he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and gnaws with anxiety. eyes trained on the intense presence before him.

jake speaks up again, his voice breaking like he’s about to cry, “she looked at me so.. she looked terrified of me, seung. and i made her cry again.” jake has his elbows resting on his knees, his head hung low with hands fisted in his hair. he pulls on his dark locks in distress.

heeseung glances from jake to the front door. then back to jake. and then the staircase. and then the front door again before going back to jake. he feels like his lungs are going to burst, his breathing something he now has to force himself to manually maintain.

“but fuck, man!” jake hits himself in the head once, twice, three times. his smack echoing through the room, sending shivers of panic through heeseung each time. “i-i can’t think! what the hell am i supposed to do!?” there’s a pause. “i want to be good for her. she’s supposed to help me but i’m getting worse everyday.” his hands drag down over his face, covering it.

“jake, i don’t know—”, heeseung’s voice didn’t reach.

“i went to church. i prayed. i couldn’t confess though. i was too cowardly to say what ill thoughts consumed me.” jake looks up to heeseung with tears in his eyes, “too cowardly to admit to what i’ve done. i want to be clean, man. but i am full of greed, lust, and wrath. i can wash my hands over and over, but i still remember the feeling. a damned confession wouldn’t take the weight of that away.” he laughs lowly, shaking his head. a hand lazily wiping his tears from his face. “and i see it every night. the stains that painted me, that should’ve made me feel dirty. it didn’t.”

heeseung needs to get the fuck of here now. he can’t keep up with jake’s insane behavior or confession. this has gone far beyond his expectations; his flight or fight instincts are screaming that this is unsafe territory.

“but when i have her, it’s not so bad. i can’t--i can’t have you getting in the way, or anything, anyone else, for that matter.” jake is hanging on by a thread, it’s clear. he was going to snap soon. “do you understand that?”

heeseung nods his head but can’t bring himself to say a word.

“well say it, damn it! say ‘jake, i won’t get in the way.’” his voice loud, demanding.

“jake,” he stands on shaking legs, “i won’t get in your way. i w-won’t say a thing. this has nothing to do with me, man.” his hands up in a defending position as he makes brave steps that lead to the front of the house. “you can trust me…”

“i hope so, or you’ll end up like her parents… somewhere in the back of those woods to feed the maggots.”

heeseung nods again then darts for the door and out to his car. he wastes no time in getting far away from that nightmare. as he starts the car, he looks up to the window at the highest point of the house. the light is off and there is no face peaking through with hope. heeseung exhales deeply. he recalls the smile jake wore with his leaving statement. closing his eyes, he knows that he is no hero, and certainly won’t be made a victim.

but, he also isn’t someone to do nothing. so, he’ll leave for now.

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　jake’s mind is in a whirlwind. he needs to release the weight of everything that’s suffocating him from the inside. he feels as if all his organs have corroded and are crawling up his esophagus, like hundreds of little centipede feet, only to get stuck in his throat.

he doesn’t even recognize how he got back to the bedroom since heeseung’s escape; unable to realize that some has passed.

he stands in the middle of room, blinking his eyes back to a state of awareness. he was watching you sleep in the bed he placed you in. or perhaps he was just looking through you. he made you pass out in and from his own hands. he despised himself for it, and how it gave him a sense of god-like power.

jake moves towards the bed and creeps in next to you. his hands find a place on your hips to pull you on top of him. the subtle movement of your chest and small breaths assure him of your liveness. he hugs you close like that for a minute.

his fingers trail up and down your body, squeezing and caressing his favorite parts of you. they stop at your ass, full in his hands he begins to move your body back and forth. his growing cock pressing up into your pussy, grinding with the maneuver. the back of his throat releases a soft, guttural sound.

his large hands slip up your night dress and pull your underwear to the side. he runs a finger along your folds, feeling every detail of your womanhood. the callosed tips rub over your core until a layer of wetness leaks through.

you shift on top of him, not awake, but subconsciously sensing an uncomfortable intrusion. a small noise leaves your lips, something of a whine.

“i know you’re not all there. you’re too compliant with all i’ve done. you listen too well.” he’s whispering against the side of your face. his free hand working to take off his pants and boxer briefs. “you’re like me.” he licks a strip up your face, wet saliva leaving a trail. you stir again, face scrunching before rubbing onto jake’s shirt.

he grins at you, thinking you’re cute all out of it and on top of him. his eyes find the teeth marks on your shoulder. the thin spaghetti strap of your dress falling from it, revealing full sight to the scarring mark of his possession. “i can sink my teeth into you and you will do nothing but watch me lick it clean. and you would still let me hold you. kiss you. and,” he’s rubbing his leaking cock against your pussy, humping up into you so the head dips in and out. “fuckkk.” he moans, feeling himself being teased with the enveloping of your creamy, warm hole.

you make another tired, bothered sound with eyes squeezed shut.

“possibly i have let you think of me as tender, but i will prove to you i am everything but.” he thrusts his hips upwards, his cock pushing into your tight core. he moans at the feeling of you wrapped around him, hugging him with wet heat. “i’ve always had these tainted thoughts with me. i could never admit to anyone, or myself, what i longed for.” his arms are wrapped around you, holding you close. his legs propped up, knees bent and feet pressed down to the bed, as he begins a brutal pace to pound himself in and out of you.

your eyes open along with your mouth, a sound in between a moan and gasp leaves your lips. you look up to the man who is fucking you, confused and disoriented. you feel a deep pain between your legs and in the bottom of your stomach. you try to pull yourself back, to sit up, but jake grounds you to his chest.

“i prayed for all the disturbed thinking to come to an end. my mind became more grotesque, morbid.” he looks at you and all you see is misery. his eyes are so empty yet he forces a smile. “i am haunted like a sick man.” i know, you think. your head rests tucked by his chin and neck. you just watch him, letting your body make little moans and chases to his touch like it’s trained to. “i always wanted more. i didn’t want to just think it, i wanted to do it all.”

“mhmm.” your eyes blink slowly, watching the faces of pleasure he makes through your eyelashes. maybe this is all a dream, you imagine wishfully.

“i stopped praying a long time ago, yet kept stepping into god’s house. i knew something, someone, would come for me.” he grunts, squeezing the skin on your back to bruises. his trusts become messy as squelching sounds of your pussy. skin slaps and fragmented noises come from the both of you. “in the bible; tell me, angel, who did god send to fulfill all his obligations?” he nibbles on your ear. sometimes licking and leaving his spit coating it.

him pistoning his cock at his assaulting speed and force, elicits a loud mewl from you. you wish he would fuck you even harder. violent enough that it rattles your brain and body senseless. you don’t want to think at all, just want to see those stars again.

jake is pissed when you ignore his question. one of his hands slides up your back while the other moves down to slap your ass. you whine at the sting. he grabs the back of your neck like he did earlier and you can’t help but grin a little. he yanks your head back and your body sits up on top of him. he feels so deep inside of you. you hum at the feeling, not even realizing your hand drops down to rub over your lower stomach.

you still wear the faint grin on your lips as you look down at him. “hm?”

“who carried out his judgements, served punishments, and set examples?” he fucks into you slower, focusing on your body. noticing how your hips move in small swivels and bounces on his cock. how your nipples peek through in needy points of the thin material.

he gives your ass another slap and your head tips back with a moan, “ngh, the angels.”

he squeezes your neck from behind at your response. your eyes rolls back as you continue to fuck yourself down onto him in severity. a slutty sound leaving you with every kiss of his dick to your cervix.

“yes,” he pulls you back down to his face. his hand is still tight around your neck, borderline suffocating in pressure. “and he sent one to me too.” he feels your pussy pulse around him, signaling you’re close to cumming. “he sent you to me. but instead of learning a lesson i became obsessed just as my thoughts.” jake always had a dangerous personality, hiding inside of him. his obsessions becoming an illness was nothing he should be shocked by. or maybe it’s the other way around and he was always sick so he became it. “i so badly wanted you to be my savior… to tell me lies of purity and goodness.” he feels his cock throb, aching to release. he chases the feeling of pure want, pounding relentlessly into you.

“open your mouth,” he demands with a low growl. you listen without a second thought and he spits into it. his saliva meeting your tongue only to be swallowed down.

he pressed a kiss to your lips while you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure as you cum. your body collapses on top of his like an act of defeat. your breathing so ragged and lungs suffering; jake releases his hold on your neck only to use both hands on your hips to bounce your body on him.

while your body makes small quivers in overstimulation, jake groans loudly as he cums inside of you. as you feel the deep warmth coat your insides, a sense of drowsiness takes over you.

“i feel like a besotted rot has taken over me, and it’s been growing evermore since i met you.” he whispers, relaxing his body flat against the bed. with you still on top of him and his cock still buried in you with his seed, he hugs you. “it’s killing me from the inside out. you’re going to kill me. i can feel it.”

the quiet and gentle honesty of his fearful ending confession lulls you to sleep.

he continues to fuck you until he’s too tired to not.

　　　　⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝　　　　⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝　　　　⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

　when you wake up the next morning, you feel your entire body is in pain. there’s a throbbing pain in your head, a dull strain in your neck, and a heavy ache in between your legs.

you sigh as you sit your body up, hands place slightly behind you at your sides. you make slow circles of your head to stretch your neck muscles. there’s a pang of sharp pain for a split second but you relax once reversing the movements around.

with lazy eyes, you scan the surroundings of the bedroom. the sun shines bright through the thin lace, white curtains. the clock reads that it is half past 10 in the morning. on the white, wooden night stand beside the bed is a note, a cup of water, and a plate of cut up fruit that has probably been out longer than intended. the door is slightly cracked open and the cold, heavy weight is missing from around your ankle.

you stretch your arms and back before leaning over to chug down the glass of water. you think of eating the fruit presented for you, but decide on not. it's hard to have an appetite these days.

you move yourself to sit at the end of the bed, legs and feet dangling off the mattress. you realize how quiet the house is. normally, jake is always with you when he’s home. if he’s working from home then he is next to you, or at least at the desk with his work laptop. but it’s saturday, so why would he be working?

“jake!” you call out his name, but there is no response. your voice doesn’t sound like normal, it’s rough. you call for him again and still there is nothing. only layla comes up the stairs to push past the door. she too looks confused.

you look outside the large window next to the bed and realize that his car isn’t there either.

you look back to the nightstand, remembering there was a note left for you. you pick it up and read: had to run out. i will be back soon. rest and eat well, angel.

with the note in your hand, you squeeze your hand into a fist, crushing and crinkling the paper in your palm. you stare at the destroyed paper, enclasped in your hand, before releasing your fist and letting it fall to the floor.

the sound of a car driving makes you turn around. you don’t know if it’s annoyance or ease that washes over you. but once your eyes see the car, you know that it’s neither. because it’s not jake’s car that you see outside. you can recognize it’s one from the other night though.

you’re quick to stand up and make your way over to the side of the clear glass. you peek over the side of the window, suddenly not comfortable to be seen. is it because you know jake isn’t here? your heart rate picks up rather quick, along with a feeling of anxiety. who is here? why?

a tall man with dark, brownish.. no reddish hair, steps out of the now parked vehicle. he glances around before jogging over to the side of the house. you furrow your brows in confusion, wondering what he could be doing. you bite at your lip, trying to look around the house as much as the window allows.

then you walk over to the bedroom door and close it quietly, leaving you and layla inside. you lean your back to the door and slide down to the floor. your ear presses against the wood, listening to anything that you can. there isn’t much to be heard for a minute or so. and then there is. there’s a landing thud from somewhere downstairs. a clashing of objects hit the floor with it. something like a glass bowl or cup, if you had to assume. you can tell it’s coming from the kitchen based on the direction alone.

your heart beats harder now and you don’t even realize how your hands hold a small tremble. you’re frozen in place; you don’t know what to do. jake always tells you what to do. he tells how to handle situations, how to react, how to respond.

the footsteps of the intruder are rushed. quick feet move through the house and up to the stairs, only to stop right outside the door that you’re in front of. you feel a dangerous panic coarse through you, and unknown to you, you’re holding your breath as if it could give you away.

seconds feel like minutes followed by a knock at the door. it’s slow and just as scared as you are.

you place your hands over your mouth, silencing yourself from uttering a sound or a word. meanwhile layla lets out a guarded growl. you shake your head as you look at her, as if she could understand the notion.

“i know you’re in there. i’m here… i’m here to help you.” the voice is sweet, familiar. it’s a friend of jake that’s been here before. he must have been the one who stayed longer than he should’ve last night.

for some reason, you still remain silent. why would he come back?

“i don’t know what exactly is going on between you two, but i know when something isn’t right. and jake isn’t…” his voice goes soft. he’s worried and nervous.

“he isn’t what?” heeseung hears your melodic voice, weak yet defensive.

“can you open the door? i don’t know how much time we have.” the door knob turns but doesn’t push open. it’s not locked. you both know it, but neither of you bring yourself to break the barrier.

you stand from the door, your legs uneasy as if a baby fawn learning to walk. you grab the door handle with a timid hand. you turn it slowly and pull back the door just a crack. you look up with wide eyes. you’re face to face with someone other than jake for the first time in what feels like forever. someone is finally seeing you, talking to you, acknowledging your existence. why isn’t it as exciting as you anticipated?

heeseung gapes at your disheveled appearance. his eyes quick to find the many bruises that litter your body, from your neck to your arms and legs. then to the scarred bite mark that’s discolored and horrid along your shoulder. and lastly over your face: dry, bitten lips and dark circles around your sad eyes. “i’m sorry.” is all heeseung can say. you think his voice sounds disappointed.

“why? it’s not like you did anything.” you pull the door open a little more, unintentionally though. it furthered the exposure of the room when your hand pulled back to wrap around yourself. your eyes scan over his face, taking in the up close new appearance. you think he’s very cute for a second before a dread of guilt becomes you. you wrap your arms tighter around your midriff, as if to conceal what you’ve begged to be seen. you avert your eyes from his, suddenly embarrassed.

heeseung steps into the room, and you step back. your eyes watch his feet. it feels like you weren’t given the permission to look at him; like you’ve already overstepped jake’s boundaries and broken his rules by seeing and speaking what you already have. yet your heart races with adrenaline.

“that’s the problem. i didn’t do anything the minute i knew something was wrong.”

it’s nice to hear something rational for once.

“i tried to come up with some sort of plan as soon as i could. he left and i found his keys,” you immediately look up at heeseung when he mentions the object you fantasize about. keys. unlocked cage. freedom. “i figured the kitchen window would be the less susceptible.” he attempts a laugh but it’s clearly full of nerves. his eyes dart from you to the outside window. it reminds you of yourself. that feeling of waiting for jake, always mixed with too many emotions to really decipher.

“but for real, you need to get a jacket and shoes on. we have to leave right now.” heeseung deadpans. his eyes watching yours that refuse to look back. you just stand still in the room, shaking like a leaf in the wind. your focus trained to the floor, spacing out from the scenario.

“is this real?” your voice is quiet, unsure. “did jake put you up to this to test me? i don’t want to cause more trouble with him. i don’t like when he’s…”

heeseung begins to frantically search the room. he goes to the closet and shifts through the hanging clothes for the thickest jacket he can find. he grabs a big one with faux fur lining and heavy material, “put this on. where are your socks?” he hands it to you but you just hold it low in your hands, letting it hit the floor. he opens drawers of the dresser nearby, finding a pair of socks.

still spacing out, feeling dreamlike, you sit down at the edge of the bed. the large winter coat still hands in your fingers, half over your lap and exposed legs.

heeseung crouches down in front of you with socks in hand and a pair of boots by his side. he looks up at you with despairing eyes, but you just watch the floor below him. i should sweep the floors. there’s dog hair and dust everywhere.

trepidatious, large and unknown hands pick up your foot. the cold fingers brush over your abused ankle. a sick feeling of flutters fills your stomach, you jerk your leg back from his touch. this isn’t right. something like a stray cat who doesn’t let strangers touch.

“what happened to this?” he lightly taps the bone, “you need to see a doctor.” he tries again but faster this time. gentle hands pulling the sock over your foot and then the other. next he reaches for the boots to put your feet into. “come on, get the jacket on.” he says as he stands, a hand reaching out to you. you stand from the bed and ignore the offered gesture.

you take a few steps forward and stop. heeseung takes notice of the slight limp in your walk. his eyes follow the floor from your feet and that's when he sees it. the long silver chain that’s attached to the bedpost, mounted to the floorboards.

“jesus fucking christ…” he exhales, taking the coat from your hands to put it on you himself.

“i used to try and break that whenever i had the chance, but i ended up hurting myself in the process.” you laugh a little. he sees your blank stare and lost smile. “he would ice my ankle for me though. and he wrapped it up, changing the bandages everyday when it was worse.”

“i’m gonna get you somewhere safe.” heeseung promises, taking your hand in his own to lead you to the door. “you won’t have to live like this anymore, okay? do you have more family somewhere, someone we could call?” heeseung is doing his best to remain calm, but inside he senses immense uneasiness. you can feel how his palms are sweaty and holding too tight of you. you don’t like it.

“my parents…” it’s a whisper. he helps you down the stairs and to the kitchen. your heart feels like it's a ticking time bomb set to explode. each beat a warning that screams louder and louder.

“well, how about anyone else.” there’s consternation.

you stop in your tracks, heeseung tries to pull you forward. his eyes begging to leave through the window he left open for you two. “why anyone else?” you question. you feel heavy again, a boil builds in your body, your heart racing faster than you know it was capable. your breathing becomes quick and panicked. heaves and wheezes now leaving your body. “what? w-what do you m-mean?!”

“they… jake, he…” heeseung stammers, his head moving side to side in a slow display of sorrow. he reaches out to you, to pull you into a hug of comfort.

but you just stand there, unbelieving of what the man is trying to imply to you. “no, no… he wouldn’t—” your bottom lip quivers and eyes sting.

from the corner of your eyes, you see a dark shadow approaching heeseung from behind. a large object hangs high in the air with the shadow. you let out a blood curdling scream, eyes looking past heeseung. the tall man turns his head around before the held object comes crashing down into the back of his head. heeseung drops to the floor in an instant, his hand slipping out of yours.

it all happened so fast.

you’re in a fit of panicked sobs now. your eyes can’t look away from the man who tried to help you; the man you didn’t try to believe in. there’s an open gash in his head, bleeding and matting into the hair. you feel sick.

your attention is removed from the man when a familiar hard grip pulls on your hair. “where the hell did you think you were going!?” jake’s voice is terribly sad, loud and croaking. he’s dragging you back down the hall and up the stairs to your room.

“i wasn’t going anywhere!” you squirm around trying to look back at him, “i was never going to leave! i swear!”

jake sits you down at the chair by the desk, his hands place on your shoulders. he looks down at you with disquiet heartache, “you promise?” he’s fixing to cry. you hate when jake cries.

you nod your head quickly, still having a panic attack, still frightful and overwhelmed.

jake swallows hard, staring into your eyes. he’s trying to trust your word, and ultimately he just does. he places a long kiss to your forehead. you feel a drop of wetness land against your skin. and you just sit there, watching him leave the room with hands of shaking fists.

you hear a lot happening downstairs while you’re glued to the chair. there’s loud commotion and aggressive words being passed between the two. heeseung is still alive. they’re fighting.

unknowing of what to do, you squeeze your eyes shut. you curl your body inwards and cover your ears, gently rocking yourself back and forth to ease your mind of the chaos. this isn’t real. it’s all a bad dream. it’s another bad story you conjured up.

and then someone yells. a painful, agonizing noise that you can’t disassociate from. it sends shivers through you. you can’t open your eyes, you can’t leave the room. if you don’t see it then it’s not happening, right?

the clashing of aggression comes to a halt. and the usual eerily silence of the house stands still.

a few minutes go by.

you lift your head and open your eyes when you sense the door being weakly pushed open.

you gasp and stand up, quickly moving over to jake to help him stand up straight instead of leaning on the door.

“j-jake…” you’re crying, “hey, wha-what happened?” you’re trying to support his weight but it’s too much. you both somehow manage to make it to the bed. did he do it? did he kill heeseung?

jake is covered in blood and he’s crying too. he simply shakes his head and presses wet kisses your cheek, pulling you down to lay next to him. he can’t say anything.

confused and scared, you ask him again, but he doesn’t speak yet. he just holds onto you as tight as his body allows. the blood begins to stain your clothes, the bed sheets and blankets.

he breathes a ragged sigh, looking at you with wet, thick lashes, “i thought god hated me. ya know, for making me the way i am and expecting me to follow him.” he coughs, turning his head away from you, hiding. “but why would he hate me and still give you to me?” he laughs with a small cough, he feels his mouth tinge with metallic iron.

you watch from the side of his face, crying quietly. then you feel it. the warm, seeping of thick liquid spilling onto you. your eyes track down your body and his, landing on the gash of his shirt. an open wound punctured in his side. a wrecked sound slips past your lips with your cries.

“even if it was a punishment, you’ll always just be an angel to me.” his head turns back to face you, his mouth painted red with slips of blood passing the corners of his smile.

you push yourself from his hug, crazed to find some material to wrap around jake and stop the bleeding. but he pulls you back to him, his eyes closing. “h-hey, hey. stop, it’s okay. just hold me close a little longer.” and you do. through all your whimpers, hiccups, and tears. you wrap your entire body into him, legs entangled and arms wrapped never this tight around him before.

eve was made from adam’s rib. so is it really your fault for wanting to crawl inside the man you’re closest to?

jake’s breathing is starting to become dangerously slow, along with the pulse of his heartbeat.

heeseung, who managed to crawl his way up the stairs, waits outside the door. blood is dripping down his face and neck from his head. he coughs, grabbing your attention.

you sit up just enough to not let go of jake, swollen eyes watching heeseung sit at the edge of the stairs. his body is struggling to stay upward, he wobbles and sways. his eyes not able to stay open. he asks you if you could drive them to the hospital, in hopes that there is still time to save them.

you don’t take the risk of losing the only family you have left, so you do what he asks.

　time passes by in a blur. you end up back at house a day later to take care of layla. jake and heeseung are still in the hospital. you don’t know who will recover or die first.

when you return to the house, you do all the things that jake would normally do. you take layla outside for a walk around the house. you make sure she has food and water. you make yourself a meal that will be left untouched.

and then you trudge up to your room and you crawl into the blood stained bed. you attach the metal cuff to your ankle, and lay there in silence. you think of praying but end up crying yourself to sleep instead.

the first man you knew to really sin, not just true nor venially but mortally sin, you can’t help but want to wait for the return of. to be damned with him may be his punishment and your fate, but whatever happens is in gods hands now. maybe it doesn’t really matter anyways because you’ll be his attic angel, always.

꒰ tags & those who asked for part 2 ⸝⸝ if you want removed lmk ꔛ @nshmrarki @enhalxvr @jaengwon @taeminsboogers @beomsdoll @immelissaaa @pshfan0812 @supershy3 @hauntsoul @jenniferecand @randomanothercreature @numnomn @en-heedeungie @hwasangel @thatonedaragirltho @hooneverse @maliakealoha @kon-ss @laybensu @whateveridontcaresheesh @strawberrynull ꒱

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makeyoumine69 · 1 day ago

Text

Merry Christmas, Bitch!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: On your way to the American Gardens Building for your family's Christmas party, you suddenly meet a mysterious man from the 11th floor, unaware that your days were already numbered the moment he set his eyes on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NONCON smut, dark angst, sedating, kidnapping, blood play & kink, overstimulation, fingering, squirting, spitting, multiple orgasms, rough vaginal and anal sex, creampie, dumbification, humiliation, vaginal & butt plugs, sex torture, canonical violence, sex toys, swearing, dirty talk, pet names, masturbating, pussy slapping, nipple play, finger sucking and maybe something more.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 6k

𝐀/𝐍: Merry Christmas everyone! Since the dark option won the poll for the Christmas Special, I brought you this, hehe! I hope you enjoy it, but please read the warnings first!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]🪓

Christmas Eve was one of the busiest times of the year when people would go shopping like crazy and all the stores were so crowded that sometimes you had to spend a lot of time standing in line, but that was something you got used to because it was not a big problem at all. What was really a problem was the fact that you had to work during Christmas and that was really frustrating even though your parents tried to reassure you that they would wait for you and wouldn't start celebrating. That was really sweet of them, but it didn't really help with your exhaustion after a long day at work, and you still had to buy something for Christmas, which completely slipped off your mind - you loved making presents for your family, but oh, sometimes it was so hard to guess what present would really surprise them.

Walking down the street one block away from the American Gardens Building—a place where your parents lived—you stopped at the ATM to get some cash, and from that moment on you had the feeling that someone was watching you, but every time you turned around you saw no one. Although it was not very late, the streets were pretty empty, so when you accidentally bumped into a stranger while walking away from the ATM, you got really scared, but after a brief exchange of apologies, you and the stranger, who turned out to be an old man, walked off in different directions. Still, something was nagging at you, a strange fear, the nature of which you couldn't really comprehend.

A little later, you realized that most of the stores were already closed, so buying a gift was not really an option—you would have to do it tomorrow—but at least you managed to get some flowers for your mother. Soon you reached the American Gardens building—an embodiment of luxury that towered over the streets like a silent sentinel. Holding a bouquet of flowers and opening the heavy door that refused to let you through suddenly became a challenge for you, if not for the mysterious stranger who appeared out of nowhere.

"Need some help?" The man asked, and somewhere you recognized that deep, velvety voice.

As you turned, you set your eyes on the handsome young man holding a briefcase in one hand and a cigar in the other. "Oh, that would be much appreciated," you replied, watching as he gallantly opened the door for you. "The doorman is probably off today."

"Pretty sure he does, it's Christmas," he said, and you both went in, passing the concierge, who nodded politely when he saw the two of you. "Do you live here? I think I’ve definitely met you before.”

As you walked through the polished lobby to the elevators, his question made you wonder where else you could see him other than here, since he seemed to live here, but then a flash of memories pierced through your head like a bunch of small fireworks.

"Patrick Bateman, right?" You smiled and pressed the flowers closer to your chest as you both stood by the elevators, waiting. "I don't live here, but my parents do," the man gave you a cheerful grin, and then the elevator arrived with a characteristic ding. "I remember you used to talk to my dad about some communal problems and stuff."

"Oh, right! Now I totally remember."

As you both entered the elevator and the door closed smoothly behind you, Patrick leaned against the metal wall right next to the control panel, while you stood almost right next to the door, the bouquet of white roses feeling the enclosed space with their sweet scent.

"What floor do you live on?" You asked as the elevator began its ascent.

"Eleventh," Bateman replied briefly, rummaging in the pocket of his trench coat with a rustle. "Just above the floor where your family lives."

Standing half-turned, you could see his looming figure beside you in the reflection of the gleaming metal door of the elevator, and though your inner voice screamed that something was definitely wrong, you couldn't move, as if paralyzed by an invisible spell.

Subtly, Patrick slipped the white piece of cloth out of his pocket, though his face was still blank, not a single muscle twitching, as the mask he wore was practiced to perfection, making it impossible for anyone around to read what was on his mind.

"Hmmm, you surprised me," he murmured suddenly, slowly approaching you. "I really thought you would recognize me right away."

"I have a bad memory for faces," your breathing hitched as you said that. "Meeting too many people every day doesn't help."

Tensed to the limit, you looked up at the small display where the floor numbers changed one by one, and when you finally saw the tenth floor, you felt relieved, but it was too premature, because the doors didn't open. A bone chilling fear crept into your chest, your heart beating fast against your ribcage, and the second you heard Bateman move behind your back, you were on the verge of screaming— unfortunately it was too late.

With a practiced motion, the man pressed a piece of cloth over your mouth. "Shhhh," he grabbed your trembling little form, giving you no chance to fight him, for he was much stronger, much bigger, and the strange odor that filled your nostrils made you see black holes between your eyes. "You don't want anyone to hear you...especially your dear family."

You tried desperately to hit him with the bouquet, but the harder you struggled, the tighter he held you in his arms. The second tears began to form in the corners of your eyes, your consciousness too fuzzy to think rationally, you realized that you were slowly passing out, but the rush of adrenaline was still kicking in.

"Mmhhm!" You squealed as loud as you could, your hands squashing the flowers with a deadly grip, their sharp thorns sinking into your soft skin, but you couldn't feel it anymore. "Mmhm-help!"

Annoyed, the man clenched his teeth and grabbed your throat, almost strangling you here and there as he realized the chemical he used was not enough to knock you out. "If you don't shut your damn mouth," Patrick hissed, pulling you against his strong torso. "I'll break your fucking neck!"

Sobbing into the fabric now drenched in your tears and saliva, your eyes began to roll back in your head as your body slowly but surely went limp, and then you lost your grip on the bouquet, letting it fall to your feet on the elevator floor. Sensing that you were on the verge of fainting, Bateman increased the force of his grip around your neck, pinching the carotid artery until you finally lost consciousness, going weak in his hands like a broken doll.

With a weary sigh, the man kicked the flowers aside, scooped you closer in his arms, and stroked your face with a devilish smile that played on his smug face—a dark gleam sparkled in his dark, mad eyes. "Good girl," he purred into your ear, knowing you couldn't hear him anymore, giving you a light peck on the top of your head before lifting you up and pressing the 11th floor button on the control panel. "Say goodbye to your fucking parents, princess." With those words, Patrick took your hand and waved at the closed elevator door, while his other hand was busy pushing the handkerchief into your mouth to use as a gag in case you suddenly woke up.

Almost a month ago.

It was the last weekend of November and you decided to pay a visit to your family since you hadn't seen them in a long time. Your mother didn't even let you say a word when you entered the apartment because she was so excited to see you, but when you noticed an unfamiliar voice coming from the dining room, you stopped in your tracks and gave the old lady a confused look.

"I didn't know you had guests besides me," you said, taking off your coat. "Who is that?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's Mr. Bateman, he's our neighbor," your mother replied, gently rubbing your shoulder. "He just came by to talk to your father about the problems with the central heating."

Frowning, you didn't say anything in response, just followed your mother down the hall, and soon after you turned the corner, you took a moment to examine this "neighbor", not really noticing that he was looking at you in the same curious way.

This staring contest continued for some time until your father noticed your presence and gestured to the dining table for you to join them. "Don't stand there, darling. There's no need to be shy," he said, waving you over—you didn't know how to refuse in this situation, so you just obeyed. "Patrick, this is my dear daughter!"

As soon as your father said your name, Patrick gave you a toothy smile before taking your palm in his and planting a soft kiss on it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, miss."

Slightly embarrassed, you couldn't even find the right words to reply, but your mother came out of nowhere with the tray of drinks and treats like your savior. The old lady placed the cups of freshly brewed coffee, a bowl of candies and various cookies, small milk chocolates and some truffles. Then she returned to the kitchen, excusing herself that she had to finish cooking dinner.

"So you guys have some serious communal issues here or what?" You asked, sipping your coffee and trying to escape Bateman's scrutinizing gaze.

"Well, I have to say that our utilities are in no hurry to correct the situation," Patrick explained, his hazel eyes tracing your face and then your lips as if he were deliberately humiliating you. "I heard that people on the second floor saw some rats."

"Rats?" You asked in disbelief. "I can't believe it! You're practically living in the most expensive neighborhood in Manhattan."

Your father sighed and put his hands on the table. "It's New York, darling. It's possible that our utility company just doesn't have enough money to maintain our building."

After your father finished his rant about the hard life in New York and how sometimes even rich people could have mundane problems like that, there was a brief moment of silence that was broken by your mother, who reentered the dining room with a phone in her hand.

"Honey, your doctor is calling," she chirped, getting everyone's attention. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Uh, please excuse me," the old man got up from the table and took the phone. "I'll be right back."

With that, your parents left the dining room, and for a moment, you had a panic attack—this man, Patrick Bateman, whose lips curled even more after the two of you were left alone, made you feel uncomfortable, but you couldn't even tell why.

Coughing nervously, you took another sip of coffee to clear your throat. "So," you began after the pause had become unforgivably long. "How are you going to celebrate Christmas?" God, that was probably the stupidest and most primitive question you ever asked, but your brain just refused to work properly. "People used to plan such things in advance."

Bateman raised the mug to his lips and looked at you over the rim. "Let me think," unlike you he drank black tea and never even touched any sweets. "Probably going to some Christmas party. No big deal though." The man licked his lips after another sip, and that gesture sent a tingle through your core that forced you to avert your eyes. "What about you? Pretty ladies like you usually spend Christmas with their loved ones?"

You almost choked on your coffee, choosing not the best time to take another refreshing sip, just to do something instead of sitting idle. "I...uh...to be honest, I don't...don't have any particular company for this Christmas, and besides, I have to work, so..."

"Really? Work? Oh, that sucks," Patrick complained worriedly. "Our government should make it illegal to work on Christmas."

Damn, this man was blessed with charisma and a gab that made you feel like a schoolgirl on her first date.

"Yeah, you're right," you managed to say, not really able to hide the broad smile that appeared on your face. "They definitely should."

A metallic, salty smell filled your nostrils. It took several attempts to finally open your eyes, as the lids seemed so heavy, as if they each weighed a ton. Blinking in confusion from the surrounding darkness, you suddenly felt something dripping on you—a warm, slightly sticky liquid, but when you managed to focus your vision, you noticed that it seemed to be red in color, and then you screamed, but you couldn't hear your voice as something tightly covered your mouth. After a few soft footsteps, a familiar voice echoed through the room, but you couldn't tell where exactly.

"Welcome back," Patrick crooned, stopping somewhere not far away when you heard his voice more clearly. "You had me worried," he said as he turned on the switch and the blinding light made your eyes water from its sharpness and you could finally look around to find yourself lying on the bed in a spacious room with white walls. "Because for a moment I thought you would never wake up."

Weeping quietly, you tried to move your limbs, but it didn't work either, because something was holding you tight. With all the strength you had left, you craned your neck to see a red ribbon wrapped around you, the way Christmas presents were usually wrapped, and you realized that the red liquid was blood...your blood? The thought almost made you vomit, but the duct tape on your mouth stopped you from making any sound.

"Do you like the ribbon? I think red really suits you, although I was thinking of picking something more innocent for you...pink or white or maybe beige," the man kept muttering in a casual tone that only added to the creepiness of the situation. "Oh, I forgot you can't talk," Bateman giggled, slowly sauntering across the room holding something shiny in his hands. "I got rid of your clothes because you looked like shit in them."

Damn it, did he really dare to do that? Tugging at the ribbon with your hands, you closed your eyes tightly, denying that everything here was real - you just needed to find a way to wake up from this nightmare.

But Patrick had other plans, and giving you a break was definitely not one of them, as he quickly rushed to the bed and hovered over you, pressing something sharp against your mound, and then you felt a searing pain as a cold metal cut your skin, as if you were not made of flesh and bones, but of some wax.

"Mhwwww," you cried in pain, jerking on the bed as you heard the oilcloth rustle beneath you. A small scarlet trail of your hot blood ran down your hip after another cut. No matter how hard you tried to free yourself, Bateman knew what he was doing, as the ribbon was securing you just the way he wanted , but still you were writhing as if you were lying on the burning coals. "Mmhm-ple-lease," you managed to whimper through the tape as it became soaked with your saliva. "S-s-t-top," your legs trembled uncontrollably as the man lowered the knife to your now exposed cunt, sliding the blade along your salacious folds but never pressing too hard. "Please-se."

You could even recognize your own voice because of how badly it was distorted. The fact that this psycho was waiting for you to wake up so that you could feel and see everything he was going to do to you made you so disgusted that you almost bit your own tongue. It would be much better if he just killed you and you could only guess what monstrous things he was going to do to you.

"What a pretty little pussy you have," Patrick grinned to himself, the knife still pointed at your womanhood. "When was the last time you had sex?" His question—so full of mockery and disgust, but he was so damn proud of it—remained unanswered, and he didn't bother to ask you again, because in reality he certainly didn't give a fuck. "You're dripping... and bleeding. I hope you know what that means? Luckily, we still have some time before you bleed out completely."

With his eyes still on you, Bateman got up from the bed and brought the knife to his mouth to lick your blood and flavor from it, savoring the taste—you could swear you heard him moan with satisfaction and that sound sent chills all over your body. That was insane. That was wrong. That was sick. And you were the witness to this depravity—you were literally the victim placed on the altar to satisfy all the dark needs of this beast.

Slowly, Patrick got rid of his suit, then his luxury loafers and garters. When the silk boxers were the only thing left on him, the man stopped and, unfortunately for you, walked back to you, but without actually getting on the bed, the man lifted his leg and placed it on the edge of the mattress next to your feet to get a prosper look at your naked, tortured, bleeding frame.

"People usually give each other presents for Christmas," he chimed in suddenly. "And since you already gave me a present," he pointed at your quivering figure lying beneath him. "You can ask me for anything," Bateman sneered in a teasing initiation. "But no cheating, you can't just ask me to let you go."

Panting, you closed your eyes for a fleeting second to consider the possible outcomes and whether you had any chance of getting out alive. Considering the circumstances—probably not. At one point, you even thought that asking him to give you a quick death was the best option, but then you reassured yourself that it was too early to give up.

Rocking from side to side, you mumbled something incoherently through the handmade gag, causing a hearty laugh to break out from Patrick's broad chest. "What is it, honey? Would you like me to remove it?" He leaned down to run his finger along your covered mouth. "All right, all right," he smiled wickedly and tugged at the edge of the tape. "But think twice before you say anything if you don't want it shoved down your throat."

A brief sting of pain rippled through your system as he removed the damned piece of tape and you were finally able to breathe properly, too close to choke on your own saliva. Never stopping to grin, the man stepped back to the floor and gave you an impatient stare in anticipation of your begging.

"You... c-can do whatever you want to me, but please... don't touch my family, sir." Every syllable you said took a lot of strength, but when you finished, Bateman couldn't hold back a wicked, maniacal chuckle.

"Holy shit," he grinned wildly, a knife still in one of his hands while another darted across the toned muscles of his chest before it reached his briefs and he grabbed his groin, rubbing his rock hard dick through the expensive material. "I can't remember the last time someone called me sir as sexy as that, you're something, little one," and with that Patrick finally raked his underwear down to free his thick cock, which sprang out like a fucking arrow. "See, I don't give a fuck about your family," his eyebrows furrowed as he began to stroke himself, the swollen tip already drooling with his pre-cum, which he smeared all over his shaft to smooth the friction. "And I'm gonna have my way with you in every possible scenario. So... enjoy the ride and try not to bleed out before I'm done with you."

Bateman quickly pulled his boxers back and got on top of you, and you began to thrash around on the bed with reckless abandon, giving it everything you had. "You... fucking monster... they will find you and lock you up in prison. You..." His big palm covered your mouth harshly, silencing you as if you were a little bug. In the end, Patrick sealed your mouth with the same duct tape, although it wasn't that sticky, he didn't care because the next thing he did was get up and walk out of the bedroom into another room.

For a moment you thought he went for some deadly weapons like scalpel and he was going to dissect you, cut out your intestines and fucking eat them while you were still alive. But then music began to play somewhere in the distance—a male vocal that was so familiar, but your tormented mind couldn't figure out who it belonged to.

Within a few seconds, the motherfucker was back, this time holding a strange bundle of wires and electronic chips—you watched him in undisguised horror, even though your neck was in excruciating pain from being in such a crooked position.

"Listen to this masterpiece," he hummed mostly to himself as he placed his belongings next to your bound limbs. "Have you heard it before?" Bateman's question forced you to try to roll onto your side, but your body just wouldn't listen. "This is one of my personal favorites by Genesis. 'Land of Confusion'—an epic meditation on intangibility, you can get the meaning of this song from the opening lines alone."

All the while, the man was attaching some clamps to your nipples, which were hard from the cool air in the room. What was this thing? Was he going to burn you with electricity or something? Until you were nothing but ashes. Just the thought of it made your eyes water in a new wave of panic—you didn't want to die, you didn't want to be here—you tried to think of your family, but it only made things worse. Patrick literally sang the lyrics of the song in a soft, peaceful way, like he was doing something casual, but not torturing a poor woman he had knocked out and then kidnapped. The clamps he put on your little tips were connected by wires to a small device that looked like a TV controller, with a precise movement he placed another clamp between your legs, he had to lose the ribbon a bit to spread your hips, and after he pinched your clit, he placed a small clamp right there and pressed it hard into your flesh.

"Mhmm," you let out a muffled gasp as he finished his wicked preparation. "Mmm-please..d-don't do that!"

Biting his lower lip, Bateman picked up the device to press the button and then you felt an electric shock pierce through every little pitch of your body, but it was not real electricity, it was the pulsation that set all your nerve endings on fire. Although you tried to close your legs and avoid the vibration—it seemed to be impossible as Patrick prepared all this absolutely perfectly, he knew how you would try to act, he knew exactly how he had to tie you up.

"Not exactly what you expected?" The man chuckled, watching in pure awe as you twitched along the oilcloth, your chapped skin itching with every frantic move, but you didn't care because you were about to bite into that damn tape from that strange sensation that was coiling in your gut. "'Looking good, princess... but this mode is for weaklings. You can do better, right?"

The man took his previous position beside the bed, but this time he took off his briefs completely, his dick throbbing, so full of blood and the moment he grabbed it, every vein on it tensed, ready to burst.

"Ah-fuck," he groaned, pumping himself faster and faster, every move of his hand greedy and desperate as the muffled sounds you made only fueled him more and more. "You whimper so sweetly, girl."

Tilting his head, Bateman switched the vibration to another mode that was much more intense, making you want to pass out, your pussy now soaking wet from your flavor, your blood drying a bit, now draping your skin in a crimson ornament.

"A-awwhhhhh," you managed to cry out through the gag, your hands aching so badly from being tied up like that for such a long time, but the way those fucking little clamps were working you up, sending millions of little needles into the bundles of your nerves, was something you couldn't handle. "Mmhm-turn it-t off!"

The tape was only partially covering your mouth now because the moisture from your mouth made it so wet, but Patrick didn't care even if you started to scream louder— it seemed like everything was going according to his plan. With the grace of a predator, he stood in front of your trembling legs to spread them, and in one smooth motion, he plunged two fingers at once, curling and twisting them to find the right spot that would make you explode.

"Easy, easy," he cooed as he dipped his long fingers deeper until he reached the spongy joint inside your throbbing slit, and then Bateman began to rub it more persistently. "Your cunt wants to break my fingers or what? Uh, so greedy...starving for a good fuck."

Patrick's words triggered something that was hiding at the very bottom of your sophisticated mind—something you never knew about—it unsettled you in every possible way, both physically and mentally.

The moment of your orgasm could be compared to a waterfall that broke everything in its path, it was unstoppable and brutal, but the torturing vibration didn't stop, nor did Bateman, in fact he did just the opposite, the second he felt you clench around his fingers, the man began to move them faster, scissoring them, then burying them deep down to the knuckles, continuing to stimulate you in this way, feeling the vibration of the torturing device that coursed through your clit, adding to the whole mess.

"Mhmm-enough!" Your voice sounded even louder than a scream, it was a fucking cry for mercy. "Please...please...p-please-"

As soon as he added another finger, you climaxed again, this time even more vividly and you nearly choked on your spit, you stuck out your tongue involuntarily, your eyes rolled back in your head, but as if that was not enough, you felt an overwhelming, strange sensation in your lower abdomen and before you knew it, you were squirting so hard that everything underneath you was soaked.

Watching you gush like a fucking fountain, Bateman couldn't help but grin in dark satisfaction. "Look at you, literally pissing yourself from how good I make you feel."

Completely out of breath, you made no protest as he hovered over your face to kiss you through the wet tape, his tongue sliding along the edge but not going deeper, and that was only a matter of time. With a raspy groan, Patrick removed the gag completely, leaving itchy marks on your skin, but you were too stunned to react, to resist, to fucking breathe?

"Let's see if you can take my dick as well as you took my fingers," he brushed his fat cock against your wet opening, feeling the aftershocks still running through your inner muscles. "You little filthy bitch," his heavy, bulky body pressed you down like a fucking stone, making it impossible to move. "Every little hole of yours is mine to ruin now." And then he bit your cheek, almost taking a chunk out, you screamed, but he silenced you with his finger, shoving it so deep that you gagged in response, while he kept grinding against your abused body to make you feel how heavy his balls were, so fucking tight and full of cum.

Despite your urge to bite his finger, all you could do was whimper around it as Bateman's large palm landed on your overstimulated pussy, the vibration never ceasing to take everything out of you, but the slaps made you cum again before the man aligned himself with you and slowly but possessively sheathed his cock inside you.

“Look at me,” he spat into your face and yanked your hair, almost scratching your scalp. “Fucking whore…pretending being so innocent and all for what?” Patrick pulled his finger out from your mouth only to kiss you hard on your lips, plunging his tongue inside of it, licking it out and sucking on your lips while his strong hips were bucking against yours, his cock so huge that it easily reached your cervix and it hurt so bad. “Only for me to make you moan like a slut!”

Opening your mouth wide, the man spit into it before plugging it again with his thumb. As much as you hated to admit that your body was enjoying the curve of his dick brushing against your already too sensitive G-spot, you couldn't stop yourself from cumming, even though the multiple orgasms were about to kill you. When Bateman found the remote again, without even looking, he set the speed to maximum and threw it away, only to stop abruptly and pull out. That was the little pause you craved, the fleeting second to catch your breath, but it didn't last long as he cupped your breasts and squeezed them painfully, your nipples about to explode from the crazy level of stimulation.

"Mmm...are they natural?" Bateman asked before slapping both of your tits and then squeezing them again. "It would be such a waste if you died right now."

The mischievous grin on his face changed to something more animalistic, but your vision was nothing but a white, shocking veil. With practiced ease, Patrick flipped you onto your stomach and positioned you on all fours, pressing your head flat against the mattress. The man had to tear the ribbon that held your legs together a little more so he could spread them the way he wanted. And then a fucking miracle happened—the vibration stopped—and when Bateman noticed, he cursed and grabbed the remote. You used it as your only chance to escape as he lost his grip on you. Shaking, barely breathing, you tried to crawl away from him, and you even managed to slip off the bed and fall to the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing, you stupid bitch?!" His angry baritone hit your eardrums like a fucking thunderclap, but the worst part was that you couldn't really move since you were nothing but a wet, shaking mess. "You soaked the floor with your fucking blood!"

Bateman didn't get up right away, but when he did, it took him several steps to approach your weak, exhausted frame. Smirking, he looked down at you before stomping on your shoulder blade until you screamed in pain as you thought he was going to crush your bones.

"Stop," your voice broke into a hushed squeal as you ran out of strength. "Just...k-kill me already."

"You don't have a say in this," Patrick removed his foot and grabbed your hair, starting to drag you somewhere you didn't know. "Fuck it...I have to clean the whole apartment anyway."

For a moment you seemed to black out, but only for a moment. The next room you were trapped in turned out to be a spacious living room, but the walls were as white as the bedroom - it felt like you were already in a morgue, the cold floor beneath your hot skin only intensifying this feeling. When the man finally lowered you to the floor, which was covered with many copies of various newspapers, mostly the Times, he placed you on your knees and elbows again before positioning himself behind you. Looking down at your sore pussy covered with his cum, he jerked off for several fleeting seconds that felt like an eternity to you, and you didn't even say a word, you didn't feel a thing, as if you were already dead. When he was hard again, Bateman slid inside you to the brim, stretching you even more in this position, but he still wanted more, so he pushed you face down on the floor, the smell of ink filling your nose, mixing with the smell of sex, sweat and your blood, making it hard for you to resist the urge to vomit, but you had no choice but to hold back as best you could.

Fucking you from behind at a relentless pace, Patrick closed his eyes and threw his head back, his hands holding you in place, using your body like a fuck toy, his girth brutally spreading your little channel in this position and from time to time Bateman would look down to see your cunt struggling to encompass him and it spurred him on to fuck you even harder until he was literally squatting down on you, fucking you in a doggy mating press. Each time he jackhammered into your malleable body, a wet, squelching sound would come from your pussy.

"You're... so tight," he breathed out suddenly, before pushing you down some more, almost cracking your skull from how hard he was pressing you to the floor. "Mmh-fuck!" That little rub on your overstimulated bud he gave you forced you to explode once again, that was another time he made you squirt, your soft inner walls milking him so hard, literally asking him to pump you with his cum and the next second he squatted down as hard as he could, sinking deep before he unloaded the dense ropes of his seed, pumping you hard until his cum began to flow down the insides of your hips, dripping down to the floor and thank God he had planned everything out and placed the newspapers. "So how does it feel to be a cum-dumster, honey?"

Sobbing, you didn't answer, but slipped to the floor and curled up, your knees pressed to your chest. How did you feel? There was probably no right answer to that question, but the only thing you could admit for sure was that this man had literally ripped your soul out of your body, and now you were nothing but an empty shell that had once been someone's daughter, someone's friend, someone's love? All these thoughts were like a whirlpool in your mind, you were drowning in the pain of being degraded to the point of losing your identity—could you be called human after this?

Eventually your eyelids became too heavy and you drifted off for some time, you couldn't tell exactly how long you were unconscious, but the next thing you remembered was a painful sensation pooling all over your lower abdomen as Bateman pushed something like a plug into your creamy cleft to keep his cum inside you because he wanted to open you up later like a fucking bottle of champagne. After another hour of rough anal sex, Patrick was finally exhausted, your asshole was torn and bleeding, but it didn't bother him at all as he pushed another plug into your asshole.

Genesis' tape Invisible Touch seemed to be playing for the third time in a row, Patrick was sitting on the draped couch, naked, covered in your blood and his semen. He took a drag from his cigar and leaned back in his seat, admiring the view in front of him—you, standing on your knees, still naked and bruised, a shiny garland wrapped around you, making you look like a fucking Christmas tree. There was not even a one spot on your body that was left untouched and unscarred, as the man had spent a lot of time carving his initials into your skin, along with words like: hoe, slut, cum-dumster, fuck toy, and maybe something more.

Shaking pathetically, you opened your eyes to see him sitting smugly on the couch, still smoking his cigar. "Kill me...please...just kill me."

"Hey! Christmas trees don't talk," he grinned, fixing his messy hair before blowing out some smoke. "And they don't sob, so stop fucking crying!"

With an exhausted exhale you sat down, feeling the sharp thorns of the flowers you bought for your parents cutting into your knees, but that pain was nothing because there was nothing left of you in this body.

"My family..." you murmured in a trembling voice. "They will find out..."

The man nodded as if he really believed what you said. "Don't worry about it. By the time they find out, your body will probably be dissolving somewhere," Patrick laughed as he noticed you almost falling to the floor. "I cut the phone line, so your family will need some time to fix everything." With that he got up and walked over to you. "You know, I really enjoyed this Christmas...maybe I'll keep you to myself," he stroked your bruised cheek. "I will personally express my condolences to your father about his loss. I promise you, sweetheart, no one and nothing will keep us apart. Not now, not ever."

Phill Collins' voice was still blaring in the background, but the lyrics slept away from you like your life slept away the moment you stepped into that damn elevator, because now your life didn't belong to you anymore.

♪ I must've dreamed a thousand dreams Been haunted by a million screams But I can hear the marching feet They're moving into the street Now did you read the news today? They say the danger's gone away But I can see the fire's still alight They're burning into the night There's too many men, too many people Making too many problems And not much love to go 'round Can't you see this is a land of confusion? This is the world we live in (oh, oh, oh) And these are the hands we're given (oh, oh, oh) Use them and let's start trying (oh, oh, oh) To make it a place worth living in ♪

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 2 days ago

Text

Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Family Line

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 4K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, injuries, harsh language, tw: NOTES OF SELF HARM, ANXIETY ATTACKS/RESPONSE, trauma from abusive mother, description of child neglect/abuse

a/n: I hope everyone enjoys the holiday season and here is a Christmas angsty post

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Scattered 'cross my family line.

I'm so good at telling lies That came from my mother's side. Told a million to survive

Scattered 'cross my family line.

God, I have my father's eyes But my sister's when I cry.

I can run, but I can't hide From my family line

Anything could happen. One wrong move can turn this into a bloodbath. You can see each individual, pausing at a woman who wears a balaclava covering the lower half of her face but you recognize those eyes. Lila squirms seemingly recognizing the group as the woman lowers her mask, both you and Lila saying the same thing.

“Mom..?” “Momma!”

The air is like daggers filling your lungs, stabbing you as you inhale, scraping and cutting you as you exhale. You’re not sure if she knows you anymore. Are you some fleeting memory of her poor child that left her? Abandoned her all those years ago. Do you even recognize her? Of course you do, she is the same in your memories, in your dreams and nightmares. She probably smells the same if you were to be in her embrace. The smokiness and burnt smell that others would cringe away but you seek comfort from it, the smell of burning wood always reminds you of her. The sharpness of almost rubbing alcohol changed to something more fruity whether it was wine or yeasty beer. But that smoky smell never left her. Even now breathing in fresh air you expect to get that hint of smoky. You are surely death gripping the reins as Lila vibrates in your saddle her hands reaching out to be taken…by her mother. You see the shocked looks from Tommy and Ellie as their gaze darts from you to the woman staring at you with equal shock. She finally speaks and it sends chills of fear but also safety through you.

“Y/n…is that really you honey…you’re alive?” She says and you think this a dream? As you see tears fill her eyes. The others that a with your mother lower their weapons and even Tommy and Ellie lower theirs too. You are speechless afraid if you say something you’ll wake up or she’ll disappear hearing you confirm you are the child she lost all those years ago.

“I’m sorry. I know this is all overwhelming. But it’s getting close to dark and infected tend to roam here. Look you should all come back with us to Jackson so we can figure,” Tommy says glancing over at you who is still silent dead staring at your mother someone he can’t help but feel like he knows, “Figure this all out.”

Your mother quickly wipes the tears from her face, “Yes I’m sorry. Thank you that is so kind of you.”

With that decided you all head towards Jackson. Tommy leading up front, Ellie in the middle with the other group including your mother, and you in the back with Lila. You’re sure Red could sense your complete shut off and taking over. You take in everything about her, her hair is longer and greying with age, and she looks the same but just older and weathered with time. She dressed normally for the weather nothing standing out, a sawed-off shotgun in her free hand the other holding her reins. You had so many questions since you knew that Kansas had fallen to infected where had she been this whole time? Lila yawns snuggling into your chest. When did she have time for another child, she could be old maybe five or six. She could have had her when you were gone makes sense, you wouldn’t know if your mother was pregnant when you were in the QZ. Or would you have? The way she just acted was nothing you experienced in the fourteen years with her. Was your leaving cause her change? Did she miss you? Looking down at Lila you feel your chest tighten, did having her change her? Was this child the reason she wanted now to be a good mother? You wince already remember her words at that comment. She was the best mother she could be with the resources she had. It’s your fault you made it harder on her to raise you. You wouldn’t have a better childhood if you listened more. Did Lila listen? Was she better at things you struggled to do before? Did she have your mother’s affection? Did she have your mother’s love? Was Lila being born a way to heal her broken heart from you abandoning her?

Your restless thoughts keep you occupied for the duration of the trip and when you come partially aware you are at the gates of Jackson right as the sunset dips below the horizon and the lights of the community start turning on. Watching the large gates open to a small crowd of people waiting for your return but also hearing of the newcomers. Your gaze sweeps seeing members of the council, Dina and Jesse there most likely for Ellie, and Joel and Maria are waiting in the forefront of the crowd. All your horses draw to a stop the stablehands come and start guiding the Jackson and outsider horses to the stables for food and rest. In your arms is a sleeping Lila, your pack and rifle still on your back an empty expression on your face. There might be a look on your face but you can’t think of one as you stare off as the man with the gruff voice helps your mother off her horse and you see a slight weight shift to her, something is either wrong with her leg or foot. You are motionless as everything else moves around you, Dina and Jesse greeting Ellie who seems to be keeping an eye on you. The council alongside Maria with their son as they speak to Tommy about the newcomers, his gaze also flickering back to you as you still just stand there. Other members of Jackson check out the new people the local doctor coming to check some of their injuries, especially a man who’s currently in a makeshift sling. You don’t notice Joel’s concerned gaze on you as people move around you but remain frozen with a little girl in your arms. One person comes over a nurse or someone comes and takes Lila from your arms and you slip your rifle and revolver off to someone so they can be locked up with the other weapons. You mumble lightly that she might have some minor injuries to check, but it comes out like, ‘Cuts…no bites…she’s hers.” Your gaze is still locked.

It’s a shock to the Millers and even those that know of you. Since you’ve been here, it’s harsh, bitter, curses or glares thrown. A hot temper, but then it mellowed out still a spitfire but wasn’t picking fights. This version was frighteningly silent, like the entire world around you faded away only focused on one thing, but even you didn’t dare to speak up or try and react. Joel just sees someone coming at you and he makes a step to go protect you but a woman throws her arms around your shoulders pulling you into a tight hug and crying into your shoulder.

“Oh thank god you’re alive. I thought all these years I lost you and I never forgave myself.” She sobs into your flannel her tears and snot getting on it, your body rigid hands held at your side as she holds you with such tender affection. This was the first time she hugged you, you would remember other times trying to get one only for her to push you away. It was always you trying desperate to initiate one but here she was holding onto you like you were going to crumble apart if she let go. She pulls away with teary eyes she clutches your cheeks looking over you taking in every detail of you and keeping it in your memory. You shudder at the eye contact, you don’t think she’s ever stared at you for this long and it only gets your heart racing more.

“You are so beautiful and all grown up. I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you then, but I was given a second chance now,” She sniffs and you don’t know what to say your hands clenching and unclenching trying to keep yourself grounded. A burning sensation at the back of your eyes.

Everyone could sense how uncomfortable you looked, not knowing how to act in this very emotional situation, “Tommy who is that?” Maria asks not fully able to hear every word being said but it was clear whoever this was knew you.

“The little girl, Lila that’s her mother,” Tommy hesitates in dropping this bomb, “She is also Y/n’s mother.” Joel’s eyes widen once he gets a better view of the woman immediately getting thrown back almost 20 years ago remember her. It was still early in the Outbreak with people being evacuated to other QZs. They were all together in the Dallas QZ until they got separated when it reached capacity. Tommy and he went to Boston and she went to another QZ. He wouldn’t have forgotten her.

“Tommy what did you do,” Maria asks immediately on edge. If that was your mother she knew exactly what she was capable of. Does she warn them to stop this? Had things truly changed with time? No, she abused you as a child she can’t change…but with her crying in front of you Maria felt hesitation to speak. Both Tommy and Joel give her a confused look before returning to look at what’s happening before them.

Your throat feels tight as you barely get the word, “M-mom…I..I” out and she’s all teary while you feel on the edge of having a breakdown.

“Shhh don’t worry about anything. All that matters is that we are together as a family. You, me, your sister,” Her mentioning Lila pushes you further to the edge, your hands squeeze so tightly you’re sure blood is drawn, “Oh honey you’ll love it,” She gushes. Honey that name you only dreamed she’d call you another step towards the edge.

“We’ve been waiting for this moment and…you have Derek…your father.”

You are shoved off the ledge as tears spill from your eyes but you know they aren’t tears of joy. It’s far from it as you see the gruff man with the bandana now lowered come over standing beside your mother. He rests a hand on your shoulder and you can feel it burning through your clothes and scarring your flesh.

“Hey kiddo…it’s been some time,” It’s like every warning bell is ringing in your head. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You’re not supposed to get a face to the name ‘dad’, he was nameless. A bastard father to a bastard daughter. You were going to die and never know what he looks like conjured up some image of a man that is always changing. You shove your mother off you and she gasps as your father goes to steady her all eyes immediately on you. Your hands are clenched so hard in fists that your face tenses up with these wide frightened eyes. An almost pained noise comes from your throat like you want to scream or cry but are forcing it back.

“Honey..” “Kiddo.” Both your parents try reaching back to you but you take a clumsy step back and then book it pushing through the crowd. Your vision is a blur and you nearly run into Joel who tries to steady you but you shove him away and book it down the street darting down an alley. Your mother tries going after you but is held back by your father.

“Ellie,” Joel calls out getting the girl and her friends' attention, “Try and find her please.” The younger girl nods and the three young kids run off in search of you. Joel turns back to the couple bickering as Tommy and Maria approach.

“I told you it would all be too much,” The man says and the woman runs her hand through her hair, “It doesn’t matter now. We can’t take it back.” She turns to look over at the adults her gaze pausing on one familiar man.

“Joel Miller?” She seemed shocked to see him especially alive after all these years there almost seemed to be a twinge of fear in her eyes.

“It’s good to see you after all these years,” Joel says and Tommy looks between his brother and your mother and it clicks how he recognizes her. The QZ was back in Dallas in their early days. She and Joel were pretty close that was…like 18 ye— Immediately his gaze darts from both Joel to your mother, then to your ‘father’. His first memory of you was thinking how familiar you looked then when he came back with Joel it was like staring at a mirror from face down to attitude. Especially now looking at your ‘father’ you didn’t look a lick like him, maybe Lila did but you certainly did not. He squeezes his wife’s hand and flashes her a small ‘when need to talk’ look which she understands and squeezes back. Your mother laughs awkwardly.

“Yeah, what are the odds…anyway thank you for all you’ve done for our daughter it’s good having her safe with us.” She says and the irony from it given the fact you just ran off.

“It’s glad to see you alive and well,” Maria says fixing her grip on her son, “Y/n has said much about you…but not much about her father.” Her gaze moves from your mother whose gaze almost narrows to daggers to your father who looks a bit nervous.

“Unfortunately Y/n and her father haven’t had the best relationship but we’re hoping to reestablish that, especially in this world where anything can happen,” Your mother says smoothly and Maria tensely nods.

“Well…let’s get you situated with some food, check in on your other daughter, and then we’ll get you and your people settled for the night,” Tommy suggests, and your mother and her group all nod. Tommy begins leading them off to the Tipsy Bison. Maria goes over to Joel who watches the whole scene.

“Joel go find Y/n,” She says and Joel nods but he notices the conflicted look in her eyes.

“You know something,” He questions and she flashes him a look but sighs.

“Just give me time Joel, please. Go worry about her for now.” She pleads and Joel looks at her trying to unpick her but sighs and goes off and looks for you.

Joel hits your normal spots, the stables, specifically Red’s pen but not there, checks Maria and Tommy’s house to see if you’re there, and even goes to his home to see if you decided to run off there but no, he was going to head to the library when he runs into Dina who tells them they found her. The pair head out into the woods to reach a clearing, there’s an unlit stone firepit and some benches made my logs, he’s been here a few times with Ellie and Tommy, but this was mainly a spot for the younger kids.

“Go!” You screech like a wild banshee as a rock hits a stray tree. There he finds, Ellie and Jesse on the outskirts where the forest ends and the clearing starts. You are in the middle of it pacing and he feels a spike of concern seeing flecks of red in the snow.

“Y/n let’s just talk—” Ellie starts jumping back as another object is thrown in their direction a pained held-back scream.

“Fuck off!” You grit out. Your bloody hands grip your hair, your gloves tossed amongst the snow as you pace your heart racing and they can see you choking to get air in your system.

“Kids go,” Joel says and Jesse and Dina nod starting to trail away he sees Ellie look at him hesitant before she too leaves. Joel takes a step into the clearing the crunch of snow makes you whip to face him and he raises his hands like taming a wild beast. Your chest heaves as you eye him with sharp panicked eyes. Tears stream down your flushed cheeks as you continue making that pained noise.

“I’m not gonna do anything kid,” Joel says calmly as one of your hands that grips your hair moves to your flannel clutching your collar as if it’s choking you. Joel rushes as you drop to your knees with an unhuman cry like this tidal wave of emotions finally takes over. He pries your blood hand from your hair to stop harming yourself allowing you to death grip his sleeve as you scream this gutwrenching sound. Joel squeezes you close to his chest as your screams muffle in his coat soon it turns into a heartbreaking whimper. He has to look up to the sky to blink back the burn in his eyes holding you close to him his hand stroking your hair to soothe you.

“It’s okay…I got you,” He says as you tremble in his hold weak sobs and hiccups as you break down. It took a while for your cries to settle down just sniffles fill the clearing, the cold snow seeping into both of your pants a grounding force. Joel pulls back to get a good look at you and you see the pity frown as he takes in your bloodshot eyes, snotty and just out of it from your breakdown. His thumb swipes at your cheek to help rid the stray tears and you don’t even react to it. You don’t flinch at his eye contact unlike your mother, his contact doesn’t send pain throughout your body, your heart doesn’t race, nor does your chest tighten as he holds you. It’s quiet between you too as he helps you to your feet, shrugging his coat off and putting it over your shoulder to stop your shivering. Your stare is endless completely checked out as he rushes to collect your gloves shoving them in his pocket turning and seeing you still standing there. The coat seems to engulf you and he sees little droplets of blood fall from your slack fingers staining the pure snow crimson. Wrapping his arm around your back he begins guiding you out of the clearing to civilization. The other proof something happened would be the stains of blood that litter it. Like a sacrifice was needed to completely let yourself go.

Joel brings you to Rancher Street but instead of the home you’ve been staying at the past month he guides you up the porch steps to the place where it all started. The lights are dim as he guides you to sit on the couch before the still-crackling fire. Footsteps from upstairs and he sees a concerned Ellie coming down the stairs taking in the sight of you unmoving on the couch.

“Ellie get some blankets and a clean rag with water,” Joel says and Ellie rushes off the complete the order. Joel leaves his coat still on you but kneels to untie your boots and you do little to help just a deadweight. Your eyes were almost lifeless the flames of the fireplace flickering in them. Ellie returns with the items before heading off to the kitchen, Joel takes the cloth getting it damp before pushing back some of your hair seeing the scratches you caused, and being gentle to clean them away. You don’t barely react when he accidentally puts pressure on a cut as he cleans the blood and tears from your face. Once your face is clean he goes to work on your bloody hands when their a knock on the door.

“Joel, go I got this,” Ellie says returning with a steaming cup of what looks like hot chocolate, to try and lift your spirits. Joel lets the young girl take over heading to answer the door. There he finds his brother alongside his wife and child.

“Did you find her?” Tommy asks and Joel leads them inside from the cold but not completely in. They can see Ellie speaking softly to you as she cleans your hands but your gaze remains on the flames an exhausted look on your face. “Christ,” Tommy sighs pinching the bridge of his nose and Maria looks over a high wave of emotions seeing you completely shut down.

“Her…her mother…wanted to see know if she would be staying with them,” Tommy asks and Joel immediately feels a rush of anger, “I know it’s a stupid question.”

“Hell no Tommy,” Joel spats, “You think any normal person would react the way she did if they saw their mother and father again? I won’t let that happen.” He points at your lifeless body as Ellie tries offering you the drink but it’s like she’s invisible staring right through her.

“I know that Joel, you think I didn’t see that as well, but that’s her kid. Y/n is their family,” Tommy sighs and Joel scoffs.

“And is she not ours?! Who took care of her all these months? Who let her in their home when she thought she had no one? Who did she cry to and confided to? Us Tommy!” Joel points at himself then at his brother and wife, “Sure I know her mom and we all had our history together, but if my child tears themselves to the point of bleeding at the sight of them I’m not going to stand by.”

“I agree with Joel,” Maria's voice is smooth but a held-back anger in her tone. She holds her son with the protection of a mother and if she could she would be right over by you holding and comforting you. Both Miller brothers are surprised at Maria’s stance and Joel scrutinizes her trying to pick her apart to learn what she knows.

“You know they aren’t going to like this,” Tommy says but the looks on both Maria and Joel’s faces make him sigh. Both of them are willing to die on this hill. “I’ll go let them know that she’s already asleep.” With that, Tommy presses a kiss to his wife’s temple before leaving the home. Joel looks back seeing that you are indeed asleep with Ellie resting her head on the armrests looking over you. Maria rests a hand on Joel’s shoulder as he looks down at his sister-in-law.

“Just take care of her Joel,” Maria says and Joel nods as Maria leaves. Joel comes over to Ellie who looks over you with such genuine concern and care.

“Come on kiddo,” He says offering a hand and pulling the teen to her feet keeping her close to his chest, both drained from the high emotions.

“Will she be alright Joel?” She asks and Joel is silent looking down at you resting on the couch a frown on your face. Even in sleep, you were being tormented.

“She will…come on up to bed,” Joel says and Ellie tiredly listens heading up the stairs as Joel begins putting out the fire. He turns to where you lay lit by the sliver of light from the window and the hallway lights. His hand pushes your hair back making sure you’re comfortable, he doesn’t stop himself from smoothing out the crease between your brows and you seem to settle more a bit of tension released. A flash of Sarah covers your feature and he flinches at the resemblance of his daughter. Why looking at you brought memories of the daughter he lost confused him. There were moments when Ellie acted that reminded him of Sarah but the two of them were nothing alike, while Ellie was loud and brash, Sarah was gentle and soft-spoken This brief moment you look so young and innocent, a child that never got to be a child. You looked like his child.

“No one’s going to hurt you babygirl,” He says as he rises to his feet looking down at his daughter until he blinks and there you lay. He whispers into the air his oath to you.

“I promise.”

Where the Wild Things Are Tags

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the-cosmic-cauldron · 9 hours ago

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𝒫𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒜 𝒫𝒾𝓁ℯ：𝒲𝒽𝓎 𝒴ℴ𝓊’𝓇ℯ 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓁ℯ 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒲𝒽ℯ𝓃 𝒴ℴ𝓊’𝓁𝓁 𝒢ℯ𝓉 𝒜 ℬℴℴ

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

Pile number one, I see that the reason you’re single right now is because you’re avoiding love. You feel that love will disrupt your life, shake things up, and distract you from what you’re doing right now. You may fear that it will cause confusion or force you to revisit old wounds and trauma that you’re not ready to face. Some of you may even have someone who likes you or has a crush on you, but you’re keeping things surface-level, not allowing the relationship to deepen. You’re avoiding intimacy and shying away from getting too close to anyone. There’s a lot of fear surrounding love—you’re scared of falling in love, committing, and even the thought of marriage. It feels like a “hot plate” you don’t want to touch.

You’re overthinking the idea of love, trying to plan it out like you would a career or project, but love isn’t something that can be planned. You’re being too analytical and fearful, staying in your shell and not letting yourself open up. Many of you are repressing emotions, keeping them hidden beneath the surface. You don’t want anyone to see what you’re going through, and you’re afraid that love will bring those emotions to the surface in a way you’re not ready to confront.

Some of you may even be hiding aspects of yourself—perhaps you’re part of the LGBTQ+ community and fear your family or friends won’t accept you, so you’re repressing your sexuality. Others might have had a secret relationship or affair in the past that you don’t want to come to light. You’re keeping things quiet and laying low, avoiding anything that might bring attention to your romantic life.

It seems many of you have gone through a difficult period and feel it’s hard to meet new people. Some of you may be sick, bedridden, or dealing with a disability. There may also be mental health challenges or social anxieties that make it difficult to engage with others. Perhaps you’ve recently been heartbroken and feel like you need time to heal. You might be in a “healing girl” or “healing boy” era, taking things slow and focusing on yourself.

A lot of you are struggling to let go of past issues. It seems like you’re still stuck on an ex, unable to move on or take the risk of meeting someone new. You may not want to compromise, feeling like you want things your way, on your own time. You’re not ready to bend for someone else’s demands or expectations.

You’re dealing with a lot of responsibilities and stress right now. Some of you are single because you’re focused on your children and have no time for love. Others might be working long hours, earning money but burning yourselves out. You might be overwhelmed with schoolwork or taking care of someone who’s sick. Many of you feel like you’re just surviving day to day, and love takes a backseat to all these other demands.

Some of you might be using unhealthy coping mechanisms like drinking, indulging in drugs, or binge-watching shows to soothe yourselves. Some are eating out a lot, treating yourselves to good food, while others might be losing weight due to stress. You’re keeping yourself busy with these distractions to avoid confronting the deeper emotional issues.

Right now, you’re energetically repelling others and keeping yourself away from potential connections. You have a lot going on beneath the surface, and you’re choosing to focus inward, avoiding love and intimacy for the time being. You’re in a very avoidant phase, but it’s clear you have some healing and self-reflection to do before you’re ready for a committed relationship.

I see that for a good amount of time, you’re going to remain single. There will be a period of stagnancy, where things feel stuck in the same routine. You won’t be meeting new people or connecting with them on a deeper level. I would say this period of being single and in this stagnant phase could last for about a year, with some of you possibly experiencing it for even longer. The minimum time I see for this phase is about a year, during which you’ll find yourself stuck in an unchanging, predictable, yet unhealthy dynamic.

However, after this period, I see someone coming into your life very quickly. This person is going to pursue you with intensity, and the connection will develop fast. They really want you, and you’ll likely want them just as much. The commitment between you two will form quickly. I see this person having many qualities you desire, and they will be someone you get very close to. They will take the time to truly pursue you, and as you both get to know each other, you will progress to a point where you’re genuinely dating.

Many of the fears and concerns you’ve had in the past will start to be resolved with this person. They will help alleviate your doubts and provide reassurance. I see this relationship leading to deeper commitments, like having a child together, building a family, and eventually getting married. You’ll likely move in together, and your families will feel comfortable with the connection. This will represent a shift in your life, where your perspective on love will begin to change in a positive direction.

This person will come into your life with serious intentions. They are standing firm in their desire to build something long-term with you. They envision a future together, possibly starting with a pet like a dog or a cat, and then moving on to living together, getting engaged, and ultimately getting married. But this transformation won’t happen immediately—it will come after that long period of stagnation, perhaps after a year or two of being stuck in the same routine. Once this person enters your life, everything will change rapidly, leading to forward movement and eventually a deep, long-term bond between you two.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

To be honest, I think many of you are single because you’re currently in a phase where you may seem a little boring. You might be very focused on practical matters in life, rather than embracing something light-hearted, fun, and full of passion—things connected to love that make you feel energetic and vibrant. Right now, I feel like many of you are more mellow, chill, and disciplined. You’re focused on long-term goals and being patient, which leaves little room for love, especially in a youthful, carefree way. You might not have much to give at the moment because you’re too caught up in your long-term plans, like saving money, buying a home, or building your finances.

For some of you, this focus on saving and being frugal may even be affecting your love life. You’re being intentional with how you spend your money, which means you’re not really putting yourself out there when it comes to dating. If you’re a man, maybe you’re not interested in paying for dates or taking someone out. If you’re a woman, you may be focused on long-term goals or self-love, working on your boundaries so you don’t exhaust yourself with over-giving, especially if you’ve been a people pleaser in the past.

Some of you are also very focused on your career. You might be working on a master’s degree, completing a program, or trying to secure the job you want. Others might be struggling with unemployment, which leaves little mental space for dating. You’re focused on applying for jobs, preparing for interviews, or just figuring out how to establish yourself in your current city. You’re investing in your future, growing your finances, and prioritizing self-care, even if that includes focusing on health and wellness.

I also sense that you’re closed off at the moment. It’s almost like you’re serious and a bit boring right now, and it’s not giving off those passionate, romantic vibes. Instead, it feels more like a routine of work, setting goals, managing your health, and saving money. You’re being very disciplined and sticking to your plans. You may have high standards when it comes to love, and that’s why the people who approach you just aren’t meeting your expectations. You’re thinking long-term—marriage, owning a home, building a life together—and the people around you don’t seem serious enough.

You’re also busy juggling multiple responsibilities, and the last thing you want to do right now is introduce love into an already hectic life. You’re focused on the future and thinking about how love will fit into your life when the time is right. You’re wondering what kind of person will be able to align with the lifestyle you want to live, and right now, it doesn’t seem like love is a priority.

I also see you gaining more confidence. As your standards and boundaries grow stronger, you’re no longer willing to let people just come into your life without offering anything substantial. You can tell when someone is only interested in a one-night stand or a casual fling, and you’re not allowing that anymore. You’re focused on having a successful, long-lasting relationship, and you’re working on yourself to make that happen. You’re hitting your personal goals, whether they involve career, health, or finances, and that growth is boosting your confidence.

However, the relationships you’ve been dealing with haven’t been working out. You might have been talking to people who ghosted you, or situations that seemed promising ended up fizzling out. Maybe you didn’t get closure from past relationships or had a rocky ending that’s still affecting you. It’s been a difficult cycle where attempts at love have either led to ghosting or situations that just didn’t feel right. Now, you’re focusing on healing and building confidence, and you’re shifting your focus away from love because it hasn’t been working out for you. You’re learning to trust yourself and your boundaries, but for now, it seems like you’re better off staying focused on your personal goals rather than trying to force something that hasn’t been aligned.

For Pile 2, I think it’s going to be a while before you’re in anything stable in terms of a relationship. I’m going to be honest with you; that’s what I’m seeing. It looks like many of you have your hearts closed off. A lot of you are dealing with a cold, frozen heart, unwilling to budge on opening up or being vulnerable. Some of you are completely resistant to being vulnerable and reciprocating love. You’re pulling away from love and from the idea of opening your heart.

I see a few things happening here. Some of you may experience flings, and while the reading suggests you’re struggling with being single right now and that situations aren’t working out the way you want, I do think you will have some fun, thrilling, and exciting moments. These flings might happen during travel, possibly when you’re traveling for work or school, or even during a hike in nature. There’s potential for meeting someone during these moments. The relationship will be adventurous but unreciprocal in terms of emotional connection. One person will be more invested than the other—one will be all in, while the other remains emotionally distant, detached, and unwilling to be vulnerable.

The relationship might be passionate, but it will be intense in a chaotic, fleeting way, like popcorn popping in the microwave—exciting, but also loud and disruptive. I don’t see this becoming a committed relationship because of the imbalance in feelings. It will have a spontaneous energy, and it may catch you off guard when you meet this person, like when you’re commuting, hiking, or traveling.

Despite the passion, this relationship will involve a lot of growth and development, but also significant issues. You’ll argue and fight a lot, and you won’t see eye to eye. There may be jealousy between the two of you—one person’s success or achievements might cause envy, or the coldness of one might trigger frustration in the other. There could also be a lack of emotional depth, where one of you is seeking more while the other remains detached.

Unfortunately, I don’t see a committed relationship in your near future. I see more situationships—unreciprocal crushes or even exes who come back, but there’s still no real understanding or resolution. These relationships may cause drama in your life, but ultimately, they won’t be compatible or lead to commitment.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

For Pile 3, oh my gosh, I see so many different energies. I feel like right now, you guys are healing from a really bad ex—someone who came into your life like a whirlwind, shook you to the core, and brought a lot of chaos. You argued, fought, made up, broke up, came back together, and they broke down your self-esteem. They played mind games with you, manipulated you, and now you’re just like, “I just want peace.” You want a peaceful life. You want to live in a cottage, on a farm, far away from humanity. You want to bask in the sun’s rays, bathe in fresh spring water, cuddle up with a puppy, and bake pies all day. That’s the energy I’m getting for you.

There’s a lot to unpack here. First off, you definitely came from something very toxic. Someone was playing mind games with you. They were on and off, stonewalling you, gaslighting you. For some women, it may have even involved domestic violence. You might have been highly dependent on this person, but they weren’t helping you succeed in life. Instead, they were holding you back. They caused you to fail and even go into debt. You were losing money, and your mental and emotional state were deteriorating. You were going crazy dealing with them. This person could have left you at a time when you really needed them, when you needed a compassionate, loving, and supportive person, but they just weren’t there for you. It crushed your heart and soul.

But now it seems like you’re coming to a better place. You’re leaving that person behind, and now you’re just sitting back, maybe drinking tea in your rocking chair, minding your own business. You don’t want to go back to that situation. A lot of you were with someone who never wanted to work with you. There was bad teamwork. If you have a child with this person, you did most of the caregiving and financial support. This person gave very little to you, your child, or the situation. They were hard to work with and probably thought they knew better than you. But working together could have helped. Unfortunately, they refused to listen, refused to communicate properly, and refused to offer any mutual support.

At this point, you just want to break free. You’re in a place of peace, and you don’t want to be bothered. This person caused so much disharmony in your life, and they didn’t have any real plans to make things work. They were only focused on quick fixes, not on getting to the root of the problem or healing the situation. As I mentioned, this person could have left you financially strained, and you were constantly depending on them, but they were broke and couldn’t help. This was a relationship built on crumbs—an attachment that kept you together, not love. The emotional connection had been drained, and there was coldness, resentment, bitterness, and a complete lack of mutual support, love, or compassion.

So I think you’ve recently walked away from a toxic relationship or situation, and now you’re just living for yourself. You can’t be bothered to do anything but enjoy simple pleasures like baking cinnamon rolls from scratch, watching the rain fall, and drinking coffee. I understand why you’re in this peaceful place because you’ve been through so much. And now, you’re growing and moving in a new direction. You’re focused on your personal growth, on new adventures, and new things to experience. You’re embracing the new and leaving the old behind.

Your confidence is growing, and with that, your happiness is growing too. There’s nothing that can take that away from you now. Not only do you have more energy now, but you also have more clarity. When you were with that person, you felt like a shell of yourself, but now you’re feeling reinvigorated. Your confidence is rising, and you’re starting to look at yourself differently. You have a lot of goals, and you’re making changes to your lifestyle. You’re glowing up and bossing up, becoming the person you always were, but that toxic situation was holding you back.

Being single and detached from that person is allowing you to flourish. You’re spreading your wings and seeing life differently. You’re more optimistic, more energetic, and more confident. You’re tackling tasks that once felt daunting, and you’ve had many proud moments lately, from the things you’ve accomplished since leaving that situation. There’s a song called Do Better that resonates with this reading, and it perfectly describes what you’re going through. It says, “Look at you doing way better without him. Look at you living.” And that’s exactly what you’re doing now—living.

As you enter the new year, you’ll do so with your head held high. I respect you for who you are and all the changes you’ve gone through. It’s admirable to see how far you’ve come. You’re resilient, and your bounce back is incredible. That person has to miss out because they put you through a lot. But now you’re overcoming it and rising above what they did to you. You’re not letting it hold you down. You’re maturing and moving forward, and I see you making progress, getting to the bag, and attracting better things. Keep up the great work.

I feel that for at least a year—maybe more—you’re going to be single, not actively dealing with anyone. During this time, you’ll focus on rebuilding your life and rediscovering who you are. Your head may feel cloudy as you try to figure things out, as you’re still healing from the past situation. Although you’re moving forward, you’re also somewhat stuck because that past relationship left a deep impact. It will take time to fully heal, and you might not feel ready to seriously date again for a while. You’ll likely be wary of diving into a new relationship, fearing it might turn out the same way as the last one. Your main focus will be on other areas of your life, as you’re not in a rush to pursue love right now.

You may feel that your passion for love and romance has burned out, and you’ll avoid situations that could turn toxic, chaotic, or full of arguments. For a while, you may not even know what you want in a relationship or who you want to be with. But I do feel that after a year or more, you’ll meet someone new. This person will want to marry you. They’ll be serious about building a stable, long-lasting relationship with you. As you get to know each other, they’ll demonstrate their commitment not only through words but through actions. They’ll show you that they’re there for you, supporting you emotionally and physically. They’ll give you lots of affection and romantic gestures, and this relationship will lead to marriage.

So for now, take your time, enjoy your single life, and continue healing. Love will find you when the time is right.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟒

Oh my gosh, so the first thing I got is that someone is not wanting commitment in your life. Maybe it’s someone currently in your life that you have your eye on or someone you’re dealing with in a situation, but they don’t want commitment—or maybe you don’t. Either way, there’s a lack of commitment in this situation and a lack of movement. Somebody might be struggling with confidence here.

I see for some of you that either you or the person you’re dealing with is struggling with confidence when it comes to pursuing a person. Maybe you’re very reserved, shy, and hesitant to put yourself out there. You don’t want to be obvious or assertive. When you find someone you like, you’re subtle. You don’t express yourself directly or approach them. Instead, you stay in the background, waiting for them to make a move. You’re on the receptive end, and that’s what I’m picking up.

Yes, it seems to me there’s an unreciprocated situation. That’s the energy I’m getting. Either you’re in a connection with someone right now, and you’re confused, they’re confused, and the whole situation is confused, or you’re single and ready for a relationship, but nothing is happening—it’s stuck.

Because this energy feels confusing, I’m breaking this reading down into two parts: one for people who are single and one for people who are currently talking to someone.

For people who are single:

It seems like you’re ready for a relationship. You’re in a good emotional place. There’s no chaos happening in your life. You’re ready to talk, to spark a conversation, and to be intellectually stimulated. You want someone who is willing to give just as much as you’re willing to give. You want someone who reciprocates your energy, brings peace into your life, and allows you to explore and enjoy life.

You really want someone who is honest, straightforward, and open. You don’t want someone who hides behind smoke and mirrors. You’re looking for someone fun, someone with a bit of sparkle and energy who keeps things fresh. You don’t want someone boring or predictable. You want someone who switches up their routine, who’s spontaneous. You want someone who, on a Monday, might go to work, and on a Friday, decides to go on an adventure in a different town. You want someone who’s down to say, “Let’s go get drinks on a Wednesday,” or “Let’s go on a hike on Sunday.”

You want someone who is fun, exciting, and spiritual. That’s what you’re really wanting right now because you’re in a space where you’re ready to meet someone like that. You’re ready to match that energy, and you want someone who will reciprocate it.

However, for the single people in this pile, I feel like you’re just not getting anyone coming your way. It seems like everyone’s scared to approach you or to talk to you. You’re over here like, “Come on over!” but they’re over there like, “No, I want you to come over here!” There’s a bit of a stalemate. You’re ready to meet someone, but the people around you aren’t meeting you where you’re at.

It’s not that you’re a bad person or doing something wrong. In fact, you’re amazing. You know how to communicate, you’re fun, and you’re ready for adventure. You’re in a peaceful stage of your life, and you’re very nurturing, giving, compassionate, and honest. But despite all of that, you’re just not getting the attention you’re looking for or attracting the right people.

The people who are interested in you might not be the people you want, and the ones you want aren’t showing up. You also don’t want to go on dating sites or meet anyone online. You really want to meet someone face-to-face. But right now, it feels like nobody is grabbing your attention.

For people who are currently talking to someone:

If you’re talking to someone, it seems like you want all these amazing things in a partner—honesty, emotional connection, commitment—but the person you’re dealing with doesn’t seem to want the same things.

You feel like there’s potential with this person. You think the relationship could elevate into something meaningful, with love, compassion, and commitment. But this person doesn’t want to commit. They’re refusing to come your way and give you what you want.

Even though you’re honest and clear with them, they may not be giving you the same clarity in return. They might not know what they want, or they might just know that they don’t want to commit. They could be avoiding the serious conversations you want to have.

This person might be against marriage, or they may not want to get in their feelings. They like what you do for them, but they’re not thinking about moving the relationship to the next level. They could also be taking you for granted, assuming that you’ll always be there no matter what. So, they don’t feel the need to put in any work.

At the end of the day, this person isn’t prioritizing your needs or the relationship. You might feel like you’re holding on to hope that things will change, but this person isn’t showing signs of wanting the same level of commitment or emotional bond that you’re looking for.

For this group, I don’t see love happening for you anytime soon. It seems that many of you may be unsure about what you truly want or are stuck in a state of limbo, uncertain about how to approach a love situation. As a result, I think a lot of you will be stepping away from love for a while.

There are major changes on the horizon for you. These changes could involve losing someone important, whether it’s a friend or a situation you thought would grow but didn’t go anywhere. You’re going to go through a significant transformation in the future, which will bring endings. However, with those endings, there will also be an opportunity for healing.

I see a lot of healing in your future, but I don’t foresee a committed relationship coming your way anytime soon. Instead, there will be big life changes and a period of introspection where you might feel indecisive or unclear about what you want in love. You might not fully understand your feelings toward another person, or you could encounter fleeting connections—short-lived and superficial, almost like “smoke and mirrors.”

As these endings occur, a new chapter will open in your life, centered around healing and moving forward. While there may not be any immediate or long-term commitments in your future right now, this healing period will help you gain clarity. It will give you the space to decide what you truly want from relationships and to set higher standards for love moving forward.

Though this may feel disheartening, know that this phase is part of life’s journey, and it’s preparing you for something greater down the line. I hope this healing stage brings you clarity, strength, and self-awareness.

#astro notes #astro observations #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #free tarot #daily tarot #tarot deck #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarot #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card

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neuvilette-tea-party · 2 days ago

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Hi! Let me start by saying I really like the way you write and your ideas!

I was wondering if you could write a gn Zaunite!reader x Steb

I'm not sure if you already did something like that so I'm asking! Thank you!🫶🫶

Mmmmmmmmh... I immediately thought of that scenario when I received that request! Hihihihihihihi

ʚɞ⋆༺𓆩⚔ Steb x GN!Zaunite reader ⚔𓆪༻⋆ʚɞ

Tags: First meeting, detention, Birthday cake, Reader has a little sister, Steb is nice in the coldest way possible

“Hey... Hey!”

You growl, ignoring the idiot in the cell next to you, elbows on your knees, flabergasted with yourself.

You can’t believe you got caught like a rookie! What a dumbass can you be, seriously?

“Hey!”

You spin on your bench and slam your boots against the bars of your cell right next to his face.

“What?!” You demand with a contained rage.

“Why are you in for?”

You hiss and spin away, fixing the ground with a closed expression.

“What did you do?”

“What’s it to you? Leave me in peace!” You snarl.

“Rhoooooo, come on! We all did something in their eyes, what’s yours? You robbed a bank? Pulled a gun? Why are you here?”

You deeply breathe, feeling the deep urge to throw your fist to his face to make him shut up. You raise your eyes to see an enforcer walking between the holding cells of the police station, a Fishman with a no-nonsense face and a long baton in his grip.

You wince, remembering the bites of the enforcers’ weapons in your back, prompting you to roll your shoulders to relax. The enforcer throws his indifferent gaze inside the different cells as he makes his rounds.

But there aren’t many people today... You may be only two in here.

“So?” You neighboor insist.

“I tried to steal a cake.” You admit between your teeth.

“You...?” He starts repeating before exploding laughing.

You roll your hands into fists, fighting the urge to kick the bars again, but with the Fisman here...

He remains still, right before your two cells, straight like an I, back turned to you, looking around the detention floor.

“A cake?!” The other idiot asks again, “You can’t be serious?!”

“Shut up! It’s my lil sister’s birthday! She wanted a good cake this year, a fancy one like they do in the upper floors.”

“And as the good big sibling that you are, you went and got one for her? Stop, I’ll shade a tear!” He keeps laughing loudly, prompting the Fishman to slam his baton against his bars.

You scrub your skull with a sigh.

“Well, I had one... It’s ruined now... But I promised her...”

“That’s pathetic!” He finishes laughing, “I should fear for my life being near someone of organized crime like you!”

“Shut up!” You bite, “You’re a lonely loser, you don’t know what it’s like to have someone counting on you, you spend your days drinking like a fish! You have no lesson to give me!”

The Fishman’s ear twitch and he spins, walking the rest of the floor in his stern strut, silent like a ghost.

You sigh and lay on your hard bench, ready to spend the night in detention, your head filled with that adorable pink box full of creamy cake, now absolutely destroyed where you’ve been apprehended.

You’re little sister will be sad...

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

“Wake up!” They slam your door open with force.

You jump in a seating position with a gasp, wondering for a second why you did not wake up in your own bedroom.

Ah yes... The cake...

“Someone bailed your ass out, get out.” The enforcer at your door explains.

You stand on your feet, your legs still wobbly with fatigue but head towards the hall for prisoners as they indicates you.

You sniff and reach the counter where you discover the Fishman who guarded you yesterday, typing on a workstation diligently.

“Damn, you do everyone’s paper too? You should reach out to HR.” You chuckle, leaning against the bars of the counter.

He raises his eyes from the screen with an eyebrow, gauging you up and down.

“So...” You gulp, straightening your position under his stern gaze, “How do we proceed? I’ve never been to detention before.”

He probably do not believe you but says not a thing and slides a form for you to read and sign.

“Hey! You know who bailed me out?” You ask while you sign.

He doesn’t respond and disappears in the back, leaving you alone like an idiot.

He reappears with your studded jacket, your belt, and pocket knife. He lays them down on his side of the counter and slides them through the small opening still mute.

You check your blade and hide in your back pocket, pass on your belt, and seize your jacket.

You stop dead in your tracks.

You discover a pink box under your jacket.

Exactly like the one you lost during your arrest.

You carefully open it to discover a perfectly intact and fresh cake inside.

“Hum...” You start, “Where does that come from?”

He sits back down, ignoring you blatantly, resuming his typing.

“Hey! Fuzz! Listen to me, where does that cake come from?!”

He slowly turns his head toward you with his closed expression. Seeing your furious expression, he grabs the box to pull it back.

By reflex, you grab it too to keep it!

Dear... Gods, he has some strength! You have to use your two hands to keep it. Still pulling he tilts his head to you, blinking his third eyelid with a cold expression.

“I-I still want it!” You protest, pulling hard.

He raises an eyebrow before letting go of the box and delicately indicates the door to leave.

You press the precious pick box against your chest like he would jump from his seat to grab it again like an animal.

“I... Thank you.” You just mumble and walk away.

Thank you?

Thank you?!

Since when do you thank Pltover’s pigs?!

But... Could it be him?

You squint as the sun blinds you, avoiding the dirty looks of all those uptight people of the upper floor witnessing you leaving detention. You look again at the creamy cake in the pink box. It looks absolutely delicious, with even a ‘Happy birthday little sister’ written on it.

That cannot possibly be that Fish fuzz, can it?

You stop and look back at the police station in silence.

You shake your head and resume your walk, your little sister awaits you.

And her cake!

@dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @brandy-and-bane @sp-the-fae-queen @aeeliy @sanktastuff @telephoneonawire @daichisito @sofiyathelast-blog

#steb #steb my love #steb imagine #steb x reader #steb arcane #steb fics #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane fics #fanfic #neuvilette tea party

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broken-skulls · 1 day ago

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Simon is the type of guy to watch a young thing from across the bar, he wouldn’t dare make a move in fear of her flying away, the night gets darker and darker as he buys her more and more drinks. he watches as she leaves the busy bar, closing his tab before following her into the cold and dark streets, following in case something happened of course. your his pretty bird now.

He continues to follow you until he finds an alley he can drag you into, a tight grip on your arm while his other hand covers your mouth, keep quiet for him yeah bird? do him a favour and just let him fuck you.

The night ends with you bend over someones bin, Simons cock stretched deep into you while you claw at the plastic beneath you, whats wrong sweetheart? not having fun?

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost #dead dove do not eat #dead dove blog #dead dove fic #r@pe k!nk #rapekink #rapedoll #rapetoy #rape/noncon #tw:rape

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fuqnia · 20 hours ago

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SP Main Four + butters !College AU Relationship Headcanons

[☆] A/N | hii guys! i recently hit 500 likes on tumblr and i'm like so speechless... i never wouldve thought people would be interested in reading my stupid little writing hehe, so tysm! my long fic, most wanted, is coming to a close soon, and I have been working on another longfic that's a fem!reader insert x main 4 boys in college! i'm also probably going to write a more realistic/sadder headcanons, because this one was toothachingly sweet </3

[☆] C/W | NSFW under the cut, this is also for f!reader, but i'm open to writing a gn!reader or m!reader in the future

[☆] check out my !college au headcanons for the boys + butters here!

☆ stan marsh

hopeless romantic

will definitely do the most cheesy things for you

has a mixtape of songs that remind him of you

writes love letters, but never gives them to you

feels everything deeply, he's a big ol' baby

late night talks about his fears and dreams

craves emotional intimacy and trust w/ you

super duper attentive to your needs

will put you over himself

overthinks

enjoys laid-back dates! like movie dates, thrifting, strolls

gets jealous reallyyy easily

wont outright admit it tho

very insecure, if someone flirts with u, he'll just sulk LOL

avoids confrontations at all costs

not afraid to cry in front of you

vomits on you if you do something really provocative to him

always offer his jacket/hoodie to you

loves holding your hand

laces his fingers thru yours and swings your hands

goofy ah grin when you surprise him with kisses

big on cuddling

gets super flustered when his friends teases him about you

obsessed with your laugh

keeps a picture of you in his wallet

NSFW

sooo nervous during your first time with him

very eager to please!

takes his time learning what you like

kisses every inch of your body

starts with your lips and works his way down

definitely a soft dom

"does this feel good?" "tell me if you want me to stop"

loves holding your hand while in you

eats your p out like your his last meal

i think he would be more into receiving than giving, but doesn't mind giving at all!

gets shy when you compliment him and tell him how good he is making you feel

prefers gentle sex, unless you want it rough

his entire body flushes red when you tease his cock

like palming thru his shorts, or pressing quick kisses to his tip

loves to cum in your mouth

goes crazy if he gets to paint your face tho

i'm sorry but this man is into creampies...

gets turned on when you're really emotional/crying from him pleasuring you

favorite position is definitely cowgirl

definitely an ass man, loves squishing/pinching your skin

kisses your forehead, cheeks and lips after going down on you

i think he would also be kinda quiet, wouldn't let out that many moans

☆ kyle broflovski

shows his love thru actions rather than words

remembers every anniversary, even the little ones :)

makes detailed itineraries for dates

even though he's a yapper, he definitely enjoys listening to you

fiercely loyal

takes no disrespect towards you

ready to work anyone's shit as so much as they look at you funny

probably would like someone who would challenge him intellectually

needs you to have the same core values as him

DO NOT DO PDA WITH THIS MAN

he will just look at you with pure disgust if you even attempt to...

but will secretly hold hands under the table or sneak a kiss when no one is looking

puts too much pressure on himself to be perfect for you

always notices this little things about you

oh you changed your nail color? you applied your makeup differently?

will blush like crazy when you compliment him

awkwardly rubs the back of his neck

will get irrationally jealous

tries to hide it by cracking sarcastic jokes

writes you long thoughtful texts when your apart, updates you about his day, asks you how yours went

becomes super attentive when your sad or stressed

wraps you in a blanket, makes you tea

i feel like he'd hate the feeling of having a crush

but once he's in a relationship, lowkey a romantic, buy you books he'd think you'd like, jewelry that compliments your skin tone

NSFW

overthinks everything at first

constantly asks "is this okay? are you sure?"

like i said, super attentive, he needs to make sure you're okay

loves eye contact while fucking you

gets really shy when you take control but secretly loves it

prefers slow deliberate strokes and touches

has a thing for neck kisses– both giving and receiving

talks your through it

"you're perfect" "you feel so good"

gets competitive if you tease him about lasting longer

please kiss his freckles... he'll go absolutely feral

not afraid to leave hickeys, scratches or nail prints on you

wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck and his life is yours LOL

i think missionary would be his favorite position

needs to see your face

it's his life mission to make you squirt...

loves fingering you

sit on his face ?

super embarrassed about his moans, but lets it out anyways lmfao

loves your titties, no matter the size

will beg you to let him cum in you

☆ kenny mccormick

we all know kenny is a natural flirt

will wink, smirk, and use cheesy pick-up lines to make you blush

loves physical affection

always has an arm around your waist

makes you laugh constantly

goes to extreme lengths to see you smile, whether it's his silly pranks or grand gestures

draws little hearts and doodles on your notebooks/texts

if he's super bored, he'll draw on your skin lmfao

super duper protective— he'll walk you home late at night and make sure you're always safe

loves taking you on adventurous dates, especially sneaking into places you're not supposed to be

calls you "babe," "sweetheart," or "princess" with that drawl of his hehe

not above embarrassing himself, will write cringe worthy poems or songs and serenade you

immediately notices when you're a little bit off

pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back

buys you little trinkets and steals snacks from eric, saying, "i saw this and thought of you!"

obsessed with kissing you, he'll lean in for a quick peck and smirks when he notices your smile

immediately goes back in for a longer kiss

i think he's super good at braiding hair, and loves playing with yours!

please wear his band tees <3

NSFW

super duper confident, definitely knows what he's doing

loves teasing you, using soft kisses and touches to drive you crazy before giving in

worships your body, tracing every curve with his lips and hands

like kyle, adores it when you take charge and being at your mercy

whispers dirty things in your ear, his voice low and sultry

"you're so fuckin' beautiful babe, I can't get enough of you."

VOCAL AS FUCK ! he'll groan, sigh, whisper your name, letting you know exactly how good you're making him feel

has a downright pornographic moan....

obviously a boob guy, he'll suck and manhandle your tits like there's no tomorrow

will cop a feel secretly infront of others as well LOL

also a thigh and neck guy—he'll kiss, nip, and mark you like he's marking a claim on you

definitely cums alot.... i'm sorry lmfao

dirty as fuck as well... spits in your mouth, puts his fingers in your mouth, making you suck him

taps his tip against your tongue, smearing his precum all over your lips

a big fan of sloppy toppy, grabbing your hair and face fucking you

he's tew good with his tongue... and so so messy when eating you out

will not hold back with his noises, literally slurping ???

loves loves loves overstimulation

favorite position is mating press, loves looking at where you guys connect

cusses when he cums

will crack some corny joke afterward to make you laugh,

"so... we're pretty good at this, huh?" and giggles like a schoolgirl

loves cuddling afterwards!

☆ eric cartman

definitely does grand gestures

brags to everyone about being in a relationship

"yeah, she's lucky to have me."

nobody believes that...

hates PDA in theory, but secretly loves it when you grab his hand or kiss his cheek

he'll complain, but his blushing face gives him away

sends you the most random memes and videos throughout the day as his way of saying he's thinking abt you <3

gets ridiculously competitive when it comes to impressing you

if someone else buys you flowers, he'll show up with a bouquet and stuffed animal, screaming profanities at the other person

jealousss to the max

glares daggers at everyone he perceives a threat, coming up with some sick and twisted plan is his head to take 'em down

gets super pouty when you tease him, but loves the banter between the two of you "i'm not fat, i'm big-boned and you know it!"

will absolutely demand you come over to "study", but in reality he just wants to spend time with you hehehe

has a soft spot when you baby him a little

like brushing his hair or adjusting his hoodie, he'll pretend to hate it but he's melting inside

if you're upset, he'll try to cheer you up in his own weird way...

usually a mix of crude jokes and awkward affection ??

please don't cry infront of him, he'll just panic

keeps a picture of you on his phone as his lock screen, and gets super defensive if anyone points it out

"shut up kahl! it's not even a big deal!"

gaslights the hell out of you, but eventually gives in when he realizes you'll just gaslight him back

will bring you up in any and every conversation, and doesn't care if it annoys the fuck out of his friends

proudly shows off your achievements and loudly declare that you're the bestest girlfriend in the world !

until you piss him off...

NSFW

talks a big game about being dominant and kinky

but he's secretly all about soft and sensual moments with you <3

loves loves loves being in control, rarely lets you take the lead

he needs to boost his ego somehow!

will grab your jaw to force you to look at him, his nails pressing hard into your cheeks

"awe, my poor baby is being fucked too dumb, can't even speak properly"

i'm sorry, but this man never shuts up in bed

whether it's dirty talk or low/breathy moans, he's always yapping

really mean too ):

depending on his mood, he'll either take you to pound town, or just veryy lazy sex

gets flustered if you tell him how good he's making you feel, and fails majorly covering it up

"well, duh. i'm amazing."

loves leaving hickeys—he'll mark you in places just barely hidden, so you're always reminded your his.

obsessed with the fat of your ass and tits, doesn't matter the size—he's all about kisses and touches

will 100% lose focus if you whisper in his ear

his cocky demeanor crumbles instantly, and he's completely at your mercy

gets embarrassed easily if you get too emotional, crying and pawing at his chest that you feel too good

this man does not own a single condom... he'll just pull out and paint your stomach

edges you when he's in a particularly bad mood, and only gives in when you're begging

definitely prefers receiving over giving, but likes the feeling of your walls clamping down on his fingers

asks you to stick out your tongue so he can see the load he blew LMFAOO WHY DID I WRITE THIS

i can't decide if he'd prefer doggy style or cowgirl, so ig just depends on his mood?

has a secret stash of candles or mood lighting for when things get "serious"

will deny deny deny it if anyone ever finds out.

his aftercare is surprisingly sweet— he'll tuck you in, grab snacks, and make sure you're comfortable before he starts pretending he doesn't care <3

☆ butters stotch

is THE definition of doting boyfriend

he'll write you sweet notes and hide them in your bag for you to find later

always asks for your opinion on everything

from what outfit he should wear to what movie the two of you should watch

he just wants to make you happy 😭

blushes like crazy when you compliment him, his hands fidgeting nervously as he stammers out a thank you

will call you every nickname under the sun

"sweet pie," "honeybunch," "cutie patootie"

he's so genuine it's impossible not to grab his cheeks and smile

loves holding hands—it makes him feel safe and connected to you

like stan, he'll swing your arms as you walk, grinning ear to ear

will apologize profusely for the tiniest things, even if it's not his fault

"oh, gosh, i’m sorry! did I step on your toe?"

keeps a running list of all your favorite things so he can surprise you with thoughtful gifts or dates!

if you're upset, he'll bake you cookies or cupcakes and sit with you until you feel better

"it's okay to cry, you know. i'm here."

absolutely adores cuddling, but gets super shy at first

once he's comfortable, he's wrapping you in the coziest of hugs

brings you flowers he picked from the campus quad, tied with a little ribbon

"i hope you like ‘em! i thought they were real purdy."

gets starry-eyed whenever you talk about your dreams or passions

he's your biggest cheerleader and believes you can do anything!

definitely giggles as you try to kiss all over his face

allows you to paint his nails, so you both can match

kisses your scratches/bruises whenever you get hurt, then patches you up himself

takes candid photos of you, so he'll always remember the feeling of moments with you <3

NSFW

don't let this man fool you...

he'll act all nervous and shy at first

he'll blush bright red when you undress in front of him

he'll nervously kiss every inch of your skin, murmuring soft compliments as he goes

he'll shyly ask, "is it okay if i touch you there?"

like he's not about to have you begging for him to keep going

once he realizes how much you're into it, he flips a switch

suddenly his shy little kisses turn into biting your lip

pinning you down

murmuring in a low voice, "i'll take care of you, baby"

he'll start slow, watching you squirm under his touch

but he's secretly enjoying the power of making you lose control

SLEEPER AGENT OF KINK

you think he's all soft neck kisses and hand-holding

then he's tugging your hair, love bites on your shoulder

and growling in your ear, "you like that, don't you?"

his hands, his mouth, and his cock alternate between gentle and rough to keep you on edge <3

the moans he'll let out would be so loud and unrestrained

completely enamored with your body

big fan of overstimulation

thrives on praise

eager to learn as well!!

positions where he can see everything—your expressions, your body, the way you react to his touch—drive him wild

not afraid to try something new!

and when it's all over, he's right back to his soft and sweet self

kissing your forehead and pulling you into his arms like he wasn't doing unspeakable things to you five minutes ago.

can you still guess who my favorite is... 💀 also i'm so sorry for whatever this was

#south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park main four #south park college au #stan marsh x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #eric cartman x reader #butters stotch x reader #south park #sp college au #south park headcanons

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slytherin-princess-x · 1 day ago

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Slytherinmas day 26

Darkness isn’t something to be afraid of

Mattheo x curious reader

BOLD RED IS MATTHEOS POV

I never understood why everyone feared Mattheo Riddle. Sure, he had a reputation. Dark, brooding, mean. A figure that sent shivers down the spines of most students. But there was something about him that pulled me in. Maybe it was the way he seemed to exist in a world of his own. Or how he could sit in a crowded room and still look utterly alone. I was curious. So, I found myself gravitating toward him, like a moth to a flame, despite the warnings from my friends. From everyone.

One day, I spotted him in the library, hidden behind a stack of books. I took a deep breath and walked over. “You’re not afraid of me. Are you?” he asked, his voice low and intense. He didn’t look at me, but I could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he were peering into my soul. “None can even look me in the eye but you, you’d follow me anywhere. Alone.” The challenge hung between us.

“Darkness isn’t something to be afraid of,” I replied, surprising even myself. I didn’t flinch. Instead, I leaned closer. “It’s just the absence of light. Maybe you just need someone to help you find it.” His eyes finally met mine, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. I could see the walls he built around himself start to crack ever so slightly.

As the weeks passed, she kept seeking me out. We shared moments in the library, quiet at first. I didn’t talk to her much, skeptical of anyone who had the idea to try and get close to me. Our conversations began to deepen throughout the months of, dare I say a friendship. I opened up about my past, the burdens I carried. In turn, she listened. She understood. She cared.

One afternoon, as we sat together in our usual corner, he looked troubled. “You shouldn’t be around me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m dangerous.” My heart ached for him. “You’re not dangerous to me, Mattheo. You’re overlooked because of your past, your parents. But that’s not you.” I reached out and touched his hand. He tensed almost pulling away at first but then relaxed.

She reached out and touched my hand. I tensed at first, not understanding the reason behind the gentle touch of her hand, but let myself relax at the softness in her gaze. That moment changed everything. As we sat there, I noticed a flicker of hope in her eyes. It was small, but it was there. She had hope, for me? For us. I started to smile at her more often, revealing a side of me I had no idea I had for too long. I felt a protective instinct growing. I wanted to shield her from the world. From myself but I couldn’t let her go, she was the only thing grounding me, my motive. And all she wanted? She wanted to be the light that guided me out of my darkness.

In the end, it wasn’t just about breaking down my walls down for her. It was about building something new, together. A bond forged in understanding. She wasn’t afraid of my darkness anymore. She embraced it. And maybe, just maybe, i was beginning to embrace the light she offered me too.

@yootvi @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy

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vityaposting · 1 day ago

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how to heal a rusted heart - machine herald x gn!reader - part 2

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 to be released

For the next several days, memories of the betrayal taunt you. Your bed is colder than it’s ever been, and as tight as you hold your pillow, it just isn’t the same. Loneliness grips you from all sides. It holds you like a vice, keeping its claws around your heart from the second you wake up in the mornings to the second sleep claims you at night—sometimes even beyond that.

For those days you’re unable to truly rest without picturing Viktor. He’s the answer, you tell yourself. If you can make it through the week, he’ll save you, rid you of the emotions that have ruined your life. You think about the piercing quality of his eyes, the way his accent makes his voice sound even softer, the way he’s promised to help—then, and only then, can you sleep. You think of how warm he must be to the touch, considering how much of him is mechanized. You wonder what it would be like to fall asleep to the sound of his fans whirring. Does he have a heartbeat? Does he breathe when he sleeps? Does he even sleep at all?

The fantasies are ludicrous. Delusional. But you’ve thought worse things of yourself.

Four days in, you feel yourself beginning to calm. You’ve almost made it to the finish line. Soon, you won’t have to worry about heart-pounding fury or nausea-inducing loneliness. Feeling a touch like your old self, you decide to venture to the marketplace. Your pantry needs restocking, not that you’ve been eating that well recently. Fresh air would do you good—at least, as fresh as the air gets down here, anyway.

Shouldering your bag, you decide to head for the dairy stand first. For all the trouble you’ve been through, you figure you may as well bake yourself a cake. A celebratory, no-more-emotions cake. An I’ll-never-be-heartbroken-again cake. Congrats on the cure, you’ll write on the top in icing. You won’t have anyone to share it with, but… by then, you won’t care.

You don’t notice how empty this area of the market is until the rack of milk bottles in front of you darkens. Something looms over you, blotting out what little sunlight makes it into this corner of the Undercity.

You turn a bit tentatively. Someone.

Viktor stares down at you, eyes glinting like lasers through his mask. Behind him, this third arm whirs and pinches at the air as if it has a mind of its own. “Excuse me,” he says. His voice seems deeper, more mechanical. A small bit of fear flutters to life in your chest. “Could you pass me one of those?” He nods to the bottles stacked up on the table behind you. “I’ve been itching to make some sweetmilk lately. A glass or two always gets me through long procedures.”

You take a step backward out of pure shock. The sound of clanging glass makes you wince, but you manage to grab a bottle just in time, steadying the stack before they can all come tumbling down. The fingers of his mechanical hand brush yours when he takes it from you. To say you feel electricity at the contact may be cliche, but considering he’s half-machine, you suppose it’s at least fitting.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. You notice a bit postemptively that he’s parted the crowd around him like a sea. The rest of the marketgoers have slunk away, some forming a wide ring around the two of you. Curious gazes flicker between you and the Herald—some seem awed, some seem contemputious, like they think you an idiot for daring to stand so close to Zaun’s most infamous supervillain. Some of them seem to be waiting in terrified awe for you to get death-rayed. A few are leaning forward like they’re ready to watch a fight.

Not that any altercation between the two of you would be much of a fight. Viktor could crush you in one metal fist if he so desired. You have to admit the thought is a bit thrilling.

“Why are they all so scared of you?” you find yourself whispering. “If you were really so awful, would you be standing in the middle of the market buying milk?” It seems far too mundane an activity for a theatrical, cackling evildoer.

“It’s the armor,” he says plainly. “It intimidates people.”

“Why do you wear it out if it scares everyone?”

“You must be prepared to meet you enemies under any circumstances.”

It takes you a while to realize he’s not joking. You can’t search for any flicker of expression in his face, and he’s stock-still and silent next you, save for his third arm’s frantic whirring. “You have enemies… in the Undercity?”

He shrugs, the metal of his shoulder pauldron clinking against the side of his mask. “Not usually,” he says. “But it appears you do.”

“Me? I—”

He tilts his chin forward, and you spin around to stare into the crowd. Most of the faces are unfamiliar, but the intense gaze of one pair of eyes—tucked slightly into the second row of onlookers, makes you recoil.

How Viktor knows this is your enemy, you have no idea.

It’s hard to describe the physical sensations that overcome you when you realize exactly who it is that’s looking at you. You recoil like you’ve been struck, and your racing heart burns like someone’s taken lighter fluid and a match to it. Their stare never wavers. A fury you can only describe as animalistic makes your voice catch. Strength rushes to your extremities. You can run forward, snarl and bite, appease your need to attack, or you can listen to the fragile little prey animal in your chest and crawl away before you can get your heart broken again.

The monster and the prey animal are at war within you, and neither is winning. You’re frozen.

Viktor’s cool metal hand comes to rest on your shoulder. “Breathe,” he growls, an ironic command for someone who technically doesn’t need to. “That’s them, isn’t it? They’re why you sought my help. They’re the one who broke you.”

I was wrong about you. Their words come back to you like water rushing through a dam, one that’s been cracking rapidly for the past several days. We weren’t meant for each other. I can’t keep up with you. You’re too much. I can’t keep promising you every ten minutes that I’m not going to leave—

“Yes,” you manage weakly. Every nerve ending in your body tingles. The fire on your insides begins to spiral outward.

Perhaps you’re imagining it, but you almost swear heat begins to radiate from Viktor’s metal limbs. The cool winter air begins to feel like midsummer. His hand disappears from your shoulder. He stalks forward into the crowd.

He towers over your former lover, you realize. He’s so much bigger than they are, the shadows of his broad metal shoulders dwarfing theirs. The claw at the end of his third arm is spinning frantically.

Before they even have a chance to run, the claw flashes forward and grasps your betrayer by the collar of their shirt, hoisting them into the air like they weigh nothing. You see terror flash bright as day in their eyes, and pretend the sight doesn’t fill you with sickening glee.

The small market crowd is growing, but they’re backing away, their fears affirmed. Viktor is not doing a wonderful job at improving his reputation, but you’re not sure that’s what he even wants.

“You recognize me, yes?” Viktor begins. Your ex-lover thrashes, trying to peel the claws away from their neck. Viktor’s not holding them tightly enough to hurt them—you can still see their chest rising and falling heavily. He must only want to give them a scare. The thought relieves you. Pain is unnecessary, but a scare will be beyond satisfying.

“The Machine Herald,” they gasp. “Viktor.”

Viktor’s name sounds wrong coming from their mouth. These two sides of your life were never meant to collide, and a fierce surge of protectiveness crashes over you—protectiveness? Over Viktor? Viktor could level the whole of Zaun if he so desired. Still, the odd feeling doesn’t go away.

“I care deeply for each of my patients,” Viktor snaps. “And they—” his gloved hand points to you— “have come to me asking to repair wounds you inflicted.”

This is not really his information to give away, but in the moment your adrenaline runs too high for you to force yourself to care.

“Nobody comes to me unless they are dealing with ailments they do not believe they will survive. It is only desperation that drives my fellow Zaunites to seek my help, and in this case my patient’s wounds are not without their inflictor. Perhaps I’m just the right person to teach you a lesson about carelessly breaking hearts, hm?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” they bite out. “I was wrong about them. But this whole city was right about you.”

If it weren’t for his mask, you wonder, would his face go dark with hurt? Can he even feel such a thing? Outwardly, of course, he doesn’t respond, but the grip of his third arm seems to tighten. “Reflect. Your actions have caused them to want to rewire their mind entirely. To do that much damage in one blow is borderline despicable.”

These are heady accusations to throw, but Viktor isn’t wrong. You feel betrayed. Slighted. Part of you wonders if you did something to deserve losing the one person who’d promised to love you. If you’re just as bad a person as they are, or if you’re simply unlucky.

“If you hurt them again,” Viktor goes on, “I have a death laser with your name on it.”

With that, he lowers them to the ground—not drops them, just lowers them, and he doesn’t remove his claw until their feet are safely planted on the pavement.

He turns back to you. The whole time, he has not let go of his milk bottle. Had you not been short of breath, you may have had to stifle a laugh.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, and the world shrinks. Suddenly the marketplace is reduced to this single patch of ground, and only grows smaller as Viktor crosses the distance toward you in a couple swift strides. There’s that hand on your shoulder again. “Look at me. Can you breathe?”

The edges of your vision are starting to darken. You don’t even realize you’ve lost the ability to speak until you open your mouth to greet him and no sound comes out. You’re frozen. Your heartbreaking past and desperate present are colliding, and getting caught in the middle of two different lives is shutting you down.

“Come back to the lab with me,” he says gently. “If you feel the same… I believe it may be beneficial to jumpstart the procedure.”

You don’t find your words again until Viktor has you seated comfortably on a ratty velvet lab chair, the softest thing he owns. Your hands are curled around a glass of sweetmilk, but you haven’t worked up the energy to bring it to your lips, delightful as it smells. He sits on a stool opposite you, sipping on his own. The lab is muggy. He’s discarded his mask and most of his armor, leaving him in plain gray clothes that hardly scream horrifying Machine Herald.

“It’s because I’m too much,” you tell him. “I love too much.”

He nods slowly. Patiently. Clears his throat to tell you to go on.

Nobody’s ever listened to you with such lack of judgement. It was always you’re being dramatic or everyone feels this way, just calm down—or, worst of all, this is an illness, and you are not trying hard enough to treat yourself.

You have always tried as hard as you could, but you weren’t always believed.

“That’s what they said,” you continue. “It was a good thing at first. They liked that I was passionate. Dedicated. Loyal. But they didn’t understand that… loving so much meant that I despair twice as hard. When I get mad I feel like I might burn Zaun to the ground if I think hard enough about it and I… I miss them too much. Depend on them. Even now, knowing I’m nothing to them, I… I don’t want to have to love anymore. Someday I’m scared it’ll kill me.”

“It will not kill you,” Viktor says gently. “It never killed me.”

“Do you even understand what I’m talking about?”

“More than you know. But I never turn away a patient. If you still wish to proceed, we will. Today, if you like. Or…” He tilts his head at you. “You let yourself unwind today. A strenuous medical procedure is only made more risky when the body and mind are fragile with intense emotions.”

“I suppose you’re right. I can wait.”

“Do you wish for comfort? What best soothes you?”

Your next inhale rattles in your chest. He’s only saying this for medical purposes, you tell yourself. He has no reason to care about you. Not when you’re laying your broken pieces bare at his feet. “Well, usually I… am calmed by the physical touch of someone I trust. I don’t think that’s in the cards for me anymore, though. Nobody ever really…”

Viktor blinks those piercing eyes at you. They glow like lasers, searing your skin. “Do you trust me?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Perhaps I can help.”

You must be dreaming, but your dreams are the one place you never feel quite so much. He’s real, he’s extending his hand to you with a second thought, and when you take it, the metal warms you from the tips of your fingers to the top of your head. His other arm loops around your waist and he pulls you down into his lap, settling his sharp chin on your shoulder. Both glasses of sweetmilk sit abandoned at your feet.

“Breathe,” he reminds you. “You’re tenser than steel. Try to relax your muscles. That will help slow your thoughts.”

You did not expect being nestled up to a literal cyborg to be so comfortable, but you’ve been proven wrong. He rubs comforting circles on your back with one hand and places the other on your waist to keep you steady. Your legs are slung over his lap, your face level with his shoulder. The metal plates on his neck are cool against your cheek.

He shifts a bit, a faint touch brushing the spot above your temple. You don’t dare hope it to be a kiss.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“What for?”

“For… wasting your time.”

“I have a death laser attached to my back and a lab full of hazardous materials. If I did not want you here, you would be long gone.”

You find yourself without an argument at that.

He doesn’t tell you to move, not for a long while, not before your waning despair leaves your mind foggy and your eyes heavy. You drift off to sleep in his arms. And you were right, you realize—he is warm, and he does still breathe. It’s the steady, almost mechanical rise and fall of his chest that finally puts you under.

You wonder if, once the procedure is done, you’ll miss feelings like this.

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