#AHS Fanfiction

[taintandviolent]

In the end of the night, I can feel your warmth. (Kyle Spencer x Reader)

summary: zombies eat brains... not pussies. WRONG. they actually eat them really well. 2.9K words!

warnings: 18+ below the cut!! smut (female receiveing), heavy heavy cunnilingus, s*xual guiding/coaching, praise (male receiving), carnal instincts, unga bunga brain Frankenkyle because it’s a serious problem I have, uhhhhhhh.

tags: @darlingjimmy @petersevans @kaiju-superstar @redwoodghost @kaismanwich @elsamars @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @iluwmycats @kai-slut @kaissweetlamb @twinkiemaximoff @evanpetersfansblog @spill-the-t @eventually27 @stucktothetwo @kai-andersons-blog @kai-anderson-whore @evansb1tch @viharmonscorner @yesdevineruler @anonymous0316 @enchanting-evan @fuckedbykai @nova-kayne67

ao3 link here! Full link below the cut!! Thank you to @redwoodghost​ and @kaiju-superstar​ for yet AGAIN beta-reading and sending me to the clouds.

“Mmmph….”

Three days earlier.

After a series of life altering events, you’d finally thrown your hands up and run away from home. The destination? Miss Robichaux’s School for Gifted Young Women, located in the mysterious city of New Orleans. As you rode the bus, one backpack stuffed with clothes and jewellery clutched tightly to your chest like a child, vibrant images of vampires, witches and voodoo danced in your dreams.

You saw yourself as a plain Jane who had been a little too influenced by the occult at a young age. A typical girl who had grown up on Stevie Nicks and tarot cards, you had never considered yourself particularly remarkable, though you’d always had a knack for making things happen a little too easily. Teachers and parents had always described you as an influential young woman — a deceptive umbrella term that hardly scratched the surface. You weren’t writing persuasive essays or excelling in Speech and Debate, you were sticking your fingers into someone’s mind like playdoh and rewiring it to do exactly what you wanted.

It was that deceptive umbrella term that brought you to Louisiana to begin with; you’d felt unheard, unseen, and misunderstood. You were struggling and nobody had the capacity to unravel your problems.

Cordelia, who was easily one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen, welcomed you into her office. The interview was brief but compassionate. She’d asked you to explain what brought you to her home, what you felt your “powers” were, and reached to touch the top of your hand when you struggled with that word. She lingered, staring deeply at your fingers. After a moment, she inhaled and spoke again.

“Nothing is silly here. You’re safe. Everything you’ve thought was make-believe or… or childish isn’t. The world runs on magic.”

Cordelia had called one of the other girls into her office and given you an encouraging nod. The girl, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, had jet black hair, and large glasses. She looked deeply frightened and you almost felt bad when you made her crawl on the floor like a crab before standing up and clapping excitedly. It took very little effort for you, Cordelia noted and wrote something on a piece of paper in your file.

Whatever you’d done, you’d done it correctly. Shortly after that, a girl named Zoe showed you to your new room. She was sweet, kind — the sort of woman that you thought would listen to every side of every story before making any judgements. She used to be a student witch here, she explained as you two walked, but she'd risen in the ranks and become so busy with being the Council — something very important, a hierarchy of witches — that she didn’t have time for the things she used to focus on.  

Zoe opened the tall door, letting you step in first. Well-lit by the large and ornately trimmed windows, the room was white, matching the scheme of the rest of the mansion. Sparsely decorated, there were the necessities in terms of furniture and nothing else. There were two beds at opposite sides of the room… and a blonde boy sat cross-legged on the one closest to the door. His expression was blank, but his brows were laced together, conveying some sort of unknown sadness.

“This is Kyle. He…” she trailed off, her voice sounding unsteady. “He died. Madison and I, we… we put him back together and brought him back.”

You snapped your head to face her, jaw hanging slack in disbelief. “Put him back together? Like Frankenstein?”

Zoe nodded, and reached out to stroke his fluffy blonde curls. While he remained stoic, you noticed the tiniest flinch in his cheek muscles. The way she looked at him… you crossed your arms over your chest uncomfortably. There was history here. “He’s not the same. He tries though.”

She straightened out her frown, visibly trying to move on from the memories.

“This used to be my room. But…” She dropped her hand to her side. He flinched more visibly. “It’s yours now.”

Zoe had told you that all Kyle needed was macaroni, kid’s shows on YouTube, and he wouldn’t bother you. For the first night, you conceded with those recommendations because his outbursts overwhelmed you.

On the second night, you woke up to the sound of rustling. Kyle sat upright in his bed, sheets draped over his lap, staring towards the window. You sat up in bed, pulling the sheets up to your chest. He turned to look at you and shrunk away from your gaze, ashamed. He quickly returned to a lying position, like a child who had gotten yelled at. The apprehension you possessed on the first night had morphed into wonderment. A reanimated boy, who despite being pieced together still had some semblance of sentience and emotion. It may have been cliche to analyze it through a Shelley-esque eye… but with sentience, came love. And with love, agony was sure to follow. You’d always been particularly enraptured with the idea of a monster needing love, trying desperately to understand it.

A line from Frankenstein came to mind as you watched him staring straight up at the ceiling, hoping you wouldn’t notice he wasn’t asleep. “I have a love in me the likes of which can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”

So… what if you satisfied the first? Perhaps all he needed was some tenderness, some attentiveness.  

“Kyle?”

No response. You swung your legs out from underneath the covers, planting your bare feet on the wooden floors. In only your nightgown, the chill of the air bit at your exposed limbs, prompting you to slip your arms into the lacy, green sleeves of your robe.

“Kyle? You wanna look at the moon?”

This time, he turned his head on the pillow to look at you. You began moving carefully towards him.

“You want to? The moon?” You asked again, making a circle shape with your hands and then unrolling them to point towards the window. He nodded, showing understanding. Clumsily, he threw the covers off him and got to his feet.

You took one step. He followed, ambling heavily behind you until you both stood close enough to the window to feel the chill that permeated the glass. He sighed heavily, the sound resonating in his broad chest. It was the first time you’d heard any sort of happy sound from him. His knuckles brushed against yours, but despite the quivering in your abdomen, you didn’t reach out to hold his hand. You wanted to, though. Very, very much.

On the third night, you woke up to the sounds.

“Mmmmmph! Mmm…arrr…. Mmmm…. ow.”

You rubbed your eyes, rousing yourself. Instead of being in his own bed, like he usually was, Kyle sat at the foot of yours, his legs pulled to his chest. “What? What’s wrong?”

He grunted again, scooting closer to you on the bed. Although the room was dark, the small night light in the corner illuminated just enough of his face to show the pained expression, the stress in his dark eyes.

“Kyle? What’s the matter? Try…” You whispered. “Are you hurt?”

He nodded. Then shook his head. “Hmmmph… I’m……”

“You’re what? What is it?”

He struggled to speak, but what did come out sounded distinctly like your own name.

Kyle’s head dropped heavily to his chest, shamefully looking down at his erection as it tented his boxers. He lifted his eyes, staring at you from underneath his heavy brow and fluffy locks. Both hands clenched into fists, he pressed down into his groin, moaning.

Oh…. Oh fuck, you thought. Oh my fucking god, he’s got a boner.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of… it’s normal. O-kay.”

Poor thing. He doesn’t know what to do…. He’s asking for help. He looked into your eyes with the most soulful, desperate pleading you’d ever seen. No man, even more together than him, had ever asked you for help like this. There was something underneath, another stain on his heart. You could feel it when your eyes locked for a second too long — but that wasn’t important. It didn’t change what you were about to do.

You fingered the ruched elastic of his boxers, scooping it towards you. The taut skin of his stomach was warm, and the heat increased as you neared the bush of hair. Kyle groaned and cloddishly bucked his hips to force your hand farther down. The searing hot tip slipped against the back of your hand, leaving a streak of precum on your skin.

“P……l…eaaasse…..” His chest was heaving up and down, forcing excited little breaths out of his open mouth.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and gripped his cock gently. It twitched against your hand and you felt another hot, viscid ribbon coat your knuckles. Oh fuck. He jerked his hips again as you began stroking, smearing his wetness along the shaft. He slackened the muscles in his neck, letting his head fall onto your shoulder.

“Good? Does that feel better?”

His head moved on you, up and down, so you assumed it did. You decided to test it by going a little faster, and squeezing his cock a little harder. Instead of the guttural, almost pained groans  he’d given you before, the most pathetic little whimper left his throat. You lifted your gaze to the ceiling, rolling your eyes back. He was putty in your grip, begging for you with every muscle in his body. And that… drove you insane.

Carefully, quietly… you reached to your legs, gathering the edge of your nightgown into your palm, pulling it up your thigh until you had enough room to reach your own arousal. Wasting no time, you circled your clit slowly, slipping a finger inside between rotations.

“AAAAAGUHHH!”

You clapped your hand over Kyle’s mouth, eyes widening like saucers in the dark. You whispered louder than you ever had in your entire life. “Shhh! Kyle! Shhh!” He breathed hard out his nose. “I can’t help you if you’re loud… they’ll hear you.”

Underneath your fingers, Kyle’s plush lips parted just enough for you to notice. You froze. He looked down as far as his ocular anatomy allowed and his pupils dilated, the blackness consuming the already deep brown. His tongue swept across the underside of your fingers before forcing itself between them. He gripped your hand tightly at the wrist and yanked it down in a startling display of his inhuman strength.

“Wuh…. Want.”

You jerked your head back, confused. “What?”

He brought your hand back up, and like a child claiming that a toy was his, Kyle licked your pointer and index finger from the base to the tip of them. He swallowed.

“Waant….”

Holy shit. You realised. You realised what it was he wanted…. The hand you’d used to cover his mouth was that hand that you’d previously been fingering yourself with, the fingers that were coated in your own wetness. He wanted… that.

Nervously, you pulled your hand from his boxers, the elastic snapping against his tummy. You nodded once and inhaled a deep breath through your nose, a feeble attempt at pacifying the bundle of live wires you called your nerves. Kyle’s eyes never left yours, watching you intently as you planted your hands on either side of your body as leverage to push yourself back towards the head of the bed. You laid back on the pillow, knees touching and obscuring Kyle.

When you opened them, your breath rushed out from your lungs. He was so pretty, the way the moonlight illuminated his curls like an angel’s halo, outlining his broad form. His plaid shirt hung open, teasing at the body beneath. And then, of course, there was the erection. The fabric of his boxers were pulled tight.

You tilted your head down, pressing your chin against your chest. Your eyes were misty, doe-like, and you almost stuck your fingers in his mind to tell him to come to you. But he did it on his own accord and your heart gave an adoring flutter. Coming forward onto his hands, Kyle crawled on the bed to you, and you welcomed him in between your thighs. He lowered himself down onto his stomach.

“Good boy,” you whispered. “You’re so good, Kyle…”

Kyle opened his mouth on your pussy, lapping at it hungrily. The smoothness of his teeth grazed your clit, and the heat of your arousal was unimaginable, burning deep within your core. You’d been eaten out, but not eaten out. Not like this. Zombies ate brains, not pussies.

And yet… you were being devoured within an inch of your life. Every clench brought out more cum, and Kyle was there to drink it up, flicking his tongue from your entrance to your clit repeatedly, until your vision went blurry with twinkling stars. Every time his tongue returned to its starting position, he always lingered and sometimes slipped in, delving into something he wanted more of. He was tasting you over and over again. Your mouth opened, at first giving nothing but the sound of your breath. His lips closed around your clit, his tongue driving up into your entrance, and a high pitched whine clawed its way out of your throat.

And just like that, the pleasure was gone. Kyle pulled away, panicked.

“Bad?!”  

You shook your head quickly, panting. “No, no…. Good. Very good, Kyle.”

His worried expression softened slightly, but he still looked unsure and scared to keep going. The sound you’d made… all he knew told him it was that he’d done something wrong and he’d hurt you.

“B….buh….. bad…… sssssound…..”

“Nonononono. Very… very good. I made that sound because it feels good. You’re doing a good job.”

He huffed out a breath, the warmth of it washing over you. You writhed, the backs of your thighs rubbing against his bare shoulders. Bent at the elbows, Kyle wrapped his forearms around your legs, wide hands twitching ever so slightly as they caressed you. There was something overwhelmingly erotic in the way he fearfully looked up at you from between your legs. You drew your bottom lip in, biting down as hard as you could to stifle the moan that threatened.

“Please,” you whined. “You’re doing so good, Kyle. It feels so good. You like it, right?”

He nodded, dropping his gaze to look at your cunt, a puddle forming on sheets below. His jaw hung slack as he went back in, his lips enveloping you fully. His tongue was hot and you were sensitive, writhing in his grip. You weren’t aware that you were writhing away from him until his fingers came to life, digging deep into the soft flesh of your thighs.

You arched your back as you came on his tongue, taking fistfuls of the sheets and tightening until you felt the fibres squeak against each other. Kyle growled into your cunt, pulling you closer into him. His tongue flattening against you, feeling the pulsating clenches as they happened.

Kyle straightened up to his knees, stiffly pulling his boxers down over the curve of his ass. His stiff cock sprung free, the swollen head, red and leaking. He seemed to know what he wanted to do, but didn’t know where to start. You scooted down, pressing your legs further open. Kyle shuffled forward on the bed, the springs creaking underneath you.

“It’s okay, Kyle… it’s okay.” Keeping your eyes on him, you took hold of his cock again and gently guided it towards your wet slit. “I’ll make you feel better.”

He allowed himself to be guided, following your direction. His squishy tip slipped in, compressed by your tight walls. The sound that Kyle made — something between a choking breath and a groan — was the only warning you got that a switch had flipped. He knew exactly what to do.

Kyle sunk his length into you, taking only a moment to revel in the feeling of your warm, wet insides. He quickly found his rhythm, bucking in and out with steady intention as he watched you with half-lidded eyes, mouth hanging slack. His pelvis slapped against yours, knocking against your clit each time your bodies met. The visual drove you insane, sending streaks of hot arousal right to your core.

“Gggoooooodddd….” He groaned. “G-good.”

He picked up speed, and you desperately tried to maintain coherency, nodding. Your nails dug into his back, holding on as tight as you could. “Guh-HOHm- my god. Good, yes. G-good, baby.”

Kyle’s large hands snaked their way to your shoulders, encasing them in a steely grip. He pulled himself into you, harder and harder until you felt an unfamiliar ache in your insides, where he could go no farther. You came for a second time with a high-pitched whimper and Kyle kept his pace, grunting. Your wetness splashed against your thighs as he thrust into you, and when you lifted your hips up slightly, Kyle’s fingers curled in, clamping down on your shoulders with a crushing strength. You held back your cries of pain, grinding your hips against his as he pumped into you. Just hold on… let him finish….  

Finally, he released his hold on you, collapsing onto your chest with a heavy breath. Once the vigorous movement had subsided, your sweat-soaked bodies were no longer immune to the lithe, chilly fingers of temperature. Still, you were warm underneath him.

So, so warm.

Kyle fell asleep with his cock inside you. And for the first time in three nights, he didn’t wake up once.

[evanpetersmybf]

All he asked for was you

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Tate loves you too much. He would do anything for you, to keep you by his side, to make you love him forever. He would cross any line to make you his, it doesn't matter how evil it is... But was it really worth it?

Genre: ANGST!! and some smut

Word count: 5,104

Warnings: Obsessive, stalkish and violent behavior, implicit toxic relationship; mentions of weapons, murder, mental health issues, family issues, school shooting; use of Y/N, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v. (i hope i'm not missing any...) NOT PROOFREAD !!

A/N: English isn't my first language!! Sorry if I have some mistakes and if Tate's a bit ooc (i tried to keep him in character as much as i could). I wasn't sure (and still not) if this is good but I spent days writing it, so I had to post it.

A small playlist with songs that inspired me for this: monster by meg and dia, pacify her by melanie martinez, all i want is you by rebzyyx, skyfall by adele, psycho by doko, paparazzi by lady gaga, dark red by steve lacy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate never believed in love, nor was he a romantic one. 

In fact, he despised it. How could he even believe in that feeling when he never felt loved by his own mother? At least that’s what he pretended.

The blond always had the facade of a tough guy, although he couldn’t fool anyone. Constance knew well he was a sensitive boy. Probably the most crybaby ever to exist… And the most unstable one.

Now he was here. His chest going up and down, breathing shallow and fast. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for something or perhaps someone. Some silly tears were rolling down his cheeks while he anxiously fidgeted with a ring on his finger. The clock on the wall continued its tick-tack. The time kept running. His heart kept beating. It was getting late.

He refused to look at the wooden floor. He didn’t want to accept reality. If Tate did that, he would feel like the biggest monster on Earth.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay like this.

He had to do something real fast.

Today, 18:40

You were supposed to arrive at 19:00.

But he remained there, next to the corpse of his rival. A bloody ax beside the dead man’s bleeding head.

Whom he thought was his worst enemy, was someone really dear to you.

Well, Tate fervently believed this was something justified. He couldn’t stand that fucking asshole anymore! That scumbag needed to be put back in his place. And Tate only did that. Furthermore, he actually helped him. He took him away from this shitty world. It was a favor.

He had already killed his mother’s boyfriend, so why was he feeling guilty?

Maybe because his victim was special to you. Because his death would hurt you. And Langdon swore to God he would never let anybody or anything hurt you, including himself.

He loved you.

He wanted to be the one to hold your hand forever.

Tate snapped back to the present and frowned. He picked up the weapon, putting it in his backpack. He didn’t even mind cleaning it. Then, he proceeded to knelt right next to the lifeless dude and cleaned the blood surrounding his body; afterwards, he dragged him to the basement and…

19:00

A knock on the door.

You arrived.

“DAMN IT!” 

He left his dead foe lying limp on the cold basement ground and quickly ran upstairs, straight to his room. He also left the backpack there.

Tate spent the last twenty minutes cleaning the mess he made in the living room after he atrociously smashed your friend’s head, forgetting that had poor time to get ready. 

He desperately looked for clean clothes, scrambling the entire closet in search of fresh garments while he cussed at himself, at his mother, at that freaking boy, at the entire world but you.

Finally he found some jeans and a striped shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror after changing and cleaned the tiny drops of blood that stayed on his face and hands. He never realized he left the bloody clothing on the bed.

Another knock.

19:07

Tate opened the door, immediately throwing himself at you and giving you one of the warmest hugs. His demeanor with you was completely different; you were the only creature capable of changing his fucked up mind into something more beautiful, more peaceful. The issue was that it only happened when he was with you, otherwise he would be aggressive and rude as usual.

You got the best of him. 

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, babe…” Voice muffled since his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Tate always did the same thing; clinging onto you like a small koala would.

“Heh, me too, hun!” You spoke with the same soothing voice he adored. Tate giggled and placed a tender kiss on your jawline, then another, and another, and another.

Soon enough, he was peppering kisses all over your neck, making you moan softly. Oh those sounds. He could hear you melting under his touch, his embrace, for the rest of eternity.

He loved making you squirm, making you laugh, making you feel loved.

He was way too sweet.

Only if you knew.

Four weeks before today…

Tate has always had the bad habit of stalking you. Yeah… He wasn’t proud of it. But can you blame him? He’s constantly afraid of you leaving him. He wanted to make sure you never did so… Otherwise he would die. Literally.

Don’t ask how he would die. You already know the answer.

You two were supposed to have a date, albeit you had to cancel your meeting.

And that, of course, made him overthink. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were going to study; he felt betrayed, as if you were rejecting him. And Tate hated and feared rejection to the bone.

“Pretty please? Please, Y/N! I don’t wanna go home early, mom’s gonna be there and-and–”

“Tate, I can’t skip this. I have like, a test every day next week and I must study. I don’t wanna fail. Please, sweetie. I promise I’ll make it up to ya’, mhm?” 

He rolled his eyes and whined, almost throwing a tantrum. He didn’t try to manipulate you on purpose. It came out naturally. “But I need you, Y/N! Why do you always do the same, huh? Am I not that important? Don’t you love me any longer?”

His childish crying continued for a couple of minutes, until it stopped and the blond agreed a deal with you.

You thought he was calm now, but no. How naive.

You went to the library to study as you said… Without noticing he followed you.

Quietly, he got into that maze of books after you and hid behind some shelves.

Tate noticed you sat on an empty table. Thank God. Oh?

Who. Is. He.

A man Tate didn’t know sat next to you. Really close. Too close for Tate’s liking. He tried to think he was a stranger, that he wasn’t going to talk to you… He was wrong.

He clenched his hands into a ball when he saw that idiot talking to you, and the worst part was that you followed suit. It seemed you two were friends or something.

How DARE YOU talk to another man? No, how dare you talk to another HUMAN BEING!?

Tate was insecure 24/7.

If you weren’t there, Tate was falling apart. It was simple.

No Y/N, no happy Tate. Was it too hard to understand?

Three weeks before today…

It was Friday. Tate was impatiently waiting for you outside the campus, hanging a small bouquet of flowers he picked up.

Once he spotted you coming out from the building, he waved his hand and embraced you tightly once you were in front of him. He gave you the adorable present.

“Tate!”

“How did you do? Did you pass your tests? Don’t tell me, I’m sure you did.” Said, grinning from ear to ear. He was away from you for an entire week. How did he survive? He didn’t know, but he was glad to have you with him again. “Tell me about your life in the last days, baby. Please? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!”

There he was, the one and only drama queen Tate Langdon.

You talked about the tests, about how the teachers were being a pain in the ass (which clearly triggered in him the intense desire of hurting them because they stressed you), and… About a guy. The same guy from the library, with whom you spent the entire last week studying. He couldn’t stand it. He saw him as a threat to your relationship, especially since he was an old friend that you met many years ago. 

As the days went by, you gave him more reasons to hate that jerk. Why? Well of course because you spent hours at the library doing homework or studying with him. Or even hanging out with him and other people.

In reality, you went out with him to a museum just once, and then skating with other colleagues. Nothing compared to the time you spent with Tate; in a week, you would hang out with him almost daily, and if you were way too busy, he would go to your place and spend the night there. He was so attached to you to the point he had to see you at least once a day. And that’s why he was so jealous of your friend. Tate couldn’t stand the idea of you sharing your life with someone else who wasn’t him or your family… And he also got jealous of them, but he was handling it.

Two weeks before today.

After Tate’s pleas, you decided to introduce your friend to him.

Probably a big mistake.

The date was really awkward; your friend tried being nice, and Tate acted surprisingly kind. Of course it was odd; usually, he despised all of your friends and treated them badly, yet this time was different. You were stunned, however, you tried to ignore it and instead got happy as he finally accepted a random person as your buddy. 

Still and all, he hated that moron. It didn’t matter how much he tried liking your pal, he was jealous of him. He was getting on his nerves. He denied the fact that you had more love for other people that wasn’t him. Tate desired being your only one. Your number one. Your entire world. Because that’s what you were for him. And he was willing to do whatever to keep you with him.

Tate exchanged numbers with him and meticulously plotted a plan to ascertain he would never talk to you ever again. At first, it came out as a simple “I’m gonna scare the shit outta him”, nonetheless, it turned into a darker idea, very likely involving physical violence.

One week before today…

The last few days, Tate won Peter’s trust. Ah yes. That’s your friend's name. You were glad that he finally opened his warm heart and began to meet more people besides you.

You thought he needed a friend, an empathetic person who could support the blond when you weren’t available, that way he would feel less lonely and depressed.

They went to the cinema, to the arcade, even to a music store. Everything was going according to what he planned.

Eventually, he invited Peter to his place to play chess and other board games on a Sunday afternoon, before you arrived and had a date with Tate due to your anniversary. 

Today, 16:00

Peter and Tate were eating pizza and having a great noon, talking about their lives and random stuff, like school and music. They both enjoyed Nirvana, and since Peter played the guitar, he agreed on teaching your boy how to.

If it weren’t for Tate’s twisted mind, they would’ve been best friends.

The guitarist wasn’t a bad guy. He was a great buddy that really appreciated you and the crybaby, but Langdon had something else in mind.

18:00

The men watched a movie. Tate didn’t even know its name; in fact, he didn’t even pay attention to it. Instead, he was focused on his next actions, plotting them carefully.

“Crap, mom’s gonna arrive soon…” Tate mumbled with annoyance, biting his nails and tapping his foot on the floor. He was lying. You were going to arrive, not Constance.

“Damn, bro. Well, I don’t have a problem. I wanna meet her.”

“Huh? No no no, you shouldn’t. That bitch is crazy.”

Peter scoffed, disagreeing with Tate’s rude manner to call his own momma.

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk like that. I bet she loves you!”

That pissed him off. “You don’t know anything, Peter. Your family is different. Your life’s different. You won’t understand!” He yelled, standing up from the couch and now pacing around the room, trying to keep it calm.

“Dude, calm down!

“NO! I fucking won’t!”

The screaming continued for a while. Tate revealed his unstable and crystal self. Even something so insignificant could drive him to the edge, like what happened today. That definitely surprised the other one, who used to think that Tate was a sweet boy. “I dunno why Y/N is dating you.”

“What did you say?” Tate abruptly stopped pacing.

“Y/N. Y/N doesn’t deserve you.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT!?” He pounced on Peter, gripping his neck with one rough hand, applying enough pressure on the sides to stop the blood circulation in his carotids and make him lose consciousness.

Before passing out, Peter, getting pale, managed to croak out: “Because she deserves better…”

Soon enough, he fainted, giving Tate minutes to think about what else to do. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t planning on murdering Peter today. No, he didn’t have time. He also was supposed to meet you.. But this was the perfect excuse! And not only that; he indirectly admitted he was in love with you! Or that’s what Tate interpreted with his delusional point of view.

Peter didn’t feel anything romantic for you, he was just worried Tate might be too unhinged to be your partner.

Thus, he went to his room and grabbed his backpack. Then, went to the garden shed and picked up the ax that belonged to his father, and a bottle of lye.

He had to get the job done quickly, nevertheless, he lost track of time.

18:30

Tate came back to the living room, just to notice that Peter wasn’t there anymore.

“FUCK IT!” Langdon got nervous. What if he escaped? What if he told you that Tate was crazy? He couldn’t allow this, not at all.

Thankfully, or maybe not, Tate found Peter crawling towards the front door, the poor dude still feeling dizzy after being choked.

Tate didn’t have any mercy.

“Where do you think you’re going, lil’ piece of shit!?”

18:38

Tate finally did it. He brutally murdered Peter, smashing his head several times with the ax.

He got rid of that little issue. He took him to somewhere clean.

Once he assured the other man wasn’t breathing, he dropped the weapon on the floor, making a loud metallic thud.

19:10

Tate was pinning you down on the couch, the same couch where your dead friend was sitting just an hour ago.

His hands were traveling all along your body, tracing sweet patterns on your skin.

Eventually, his fingers were clumsily pulling down your panties, not minding to take off your skirt. “Did you bring this for easy access, baby?” Tate chuckled and buried his face between your legs, holding your thighs in place; his lips plastered messy kisses over the warm flesh, biting it and leaving tiny marks after sucking.

Your reaction was alluring to him; he enjoyed listening to your pleas, to your whimpers. If it was for him, he would spend the entire day making you cum over and over again.

He finally got rid of your underwear, tossing it aside. Without further ado, the boy spread your folds with his large digits, and continued to lick your throbbing wet cunt.

“So fucking pretty… So wet for me, huh?”

His tongue lapped your small clit two or three times, then, traced a zigzag and circles on the sensitive nub. While he devoured you, he inserted his middle and ring finger, pumping them in and out of your cute hole, curling them and hitting the right spot to make you feel butterflies.

Tate could feel his arousal growing; his erection being restrained by the tight fabric of his jeans. He was desperate, yeah. But he always put you in the first place, and that included pleasuring you before him.

After a while, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, fucking your pussy with the agile muscle and now rubbing your clit with his thumb, applying pressure that sent electric waves through your body. He stopped using his tongue on you and instead looked at that stunning face of yours. He was delighted with your flushed cheeks, with every single gesture you did, with the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture of you to remember this moment forever.

His thumb increased the pace, while his free hand lifted up your blouse and tried to undo your bra. He couldn’t. You giggled when he groaned in frustration; he was too horny to think straight and that’s why you helped him to take off the garment.

Tate sighed and after that awkward and funny moment, he kept rubbing your bud, using your own juices and his saliva as a lubricant, intensifying the sensation. His left pinched and pulled your nipple, making you gasp and twitch beneath him, whilst his mouth abused your other one, greedily sucking on it.

“Tate, ‘m gonna cum! I-”

Tate cut you off by kissing you harshly; his tongue invading your warm mouth, exploring it and then nibbling your bottom lip until it bleeded. He licked the tiny drops of blood, savoring the metallic taste of it.

Unable to hold on any longer, you reached your orgasm, coming undone while Tate kept caressing your pussy, decreasing the velocity while you finally calmed down.

He left you panting; your heart beating so fast just like his.

You tried to sit up on the couch, breathing deep for more air, but the blond prevented you from going away.

“Where do you think you’re doing? We’re not done yet, you’re gonna cum again!”

Tate carried you bridal style and went upstairs straight to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed.

Without stopping looking at you, he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans along the boxers; his dick already erect and throbbing, the veins thick and the tip leaking precum.

Using the clear liquid as lube, he stroked his shaft for a while, jerking off to the sight of you. He groaned and whimpered, closing his eyes as his hand pumped himself.

One of your hands went to your breasts, massaging them softly as your right went down between your legs, slowly teasing your womanhood and coating your index finger with your arousal, using it to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

Tate’s dark room was now filled with both of your moans; Tate calling your name several times and you begging him to fuck you.

He couldn’t stand this anymore. He NEEDED to be inside you, to feel your warmth enveloping him. “On all fours. Now.” You immediately obeyed, feeling as eager as him.

“Look at me, mhm?” He positioned behind you and rubbed the tip against your wet folds, teasing you for a bit. Afterwards, he slowly entered his cock inside your slit, moving it slowly at first. His thumb went to your clitoris, toying with it just like minutes before. He picked up the pace and fucked you fast and hard; his cockhead brushing your cervix. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Tate pulled your head towards him, still with the deep thrusting.  “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so pretty… So fucking precious, so fucking mine!” Moaned against your ear, voice raspy and agitated.

Panting, you stopped looking at him and instead looked to the bed. Why? Who knows, but you did it. And you saw Tate’s dirty clothes. Dirty with blood. A lot of blood.

You froze. Maybe it was red paint? 

“U-uh, Tate?” You muttered, feeling already bewildered by the sight. You tried not to jump into conclusions, although you knew Tate and he has always been… Secretive.. And aggressive, of course. 

After your boyfriend heard your shaky whisper, he stopped moving, even if he wanted to keep going. “Hm?”

“What’s this?” Tate sighed and pulled out from you, not understanding what you meant. 

“What’s what?”

Without saying anything else to him, you grabbed the shirt and touched the weird stain. It was still fresh. You took your fingers to your mouth to taste it; and the metallic tang was too obvious. “Tate, what the fuck is this!?”

You threw it at him. Freaked out, you stood up and picked up your clothes, putting them on again, all meanwhile Tate connected the dots and realized he was probably going to get caught.

“Wait, Y/N! It’s not what it looks like, I swear, damn it!” He yelled and grabbed your arm, not wanting you to leave like this. He had to save his reputation, he couldn’t let you think bad of him even if you had all the right. Because, why the fuck the fabric was soaked in blood?

“Then what is it, Tate? WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD!?”

“CALM DOWN, PLEASE!” 

You attempted to get away from his grip, struggling with him until, somehow, you managed to do so. However, you tripped with his dirty shoes and fell, realizing they were also stained with the red liquid. “Tate, what…? Why? What is this?”

“Nothing, I swear!” He didn’t have any excuses. Saying it was paint would’ve been lame. You were too smart and he knew lying wasn’t a good choice.

Feeling overwhelmed with the matter, you went downstairs, walking as fast as you could. Passing through the living room, a very familiar bag caught your eye. It was definitely Peter’s. You decided to grab it and realized it had his phone inside. Something was off.

Tate was standing behind you; fists clenched and heart beating like crazy. He tried to approach you, still thinking about what to do or what to say. 

“Tate… What is this doing here? Peter’s here?” 

“Huh? Yeah… He— He came earlier and had to go soon, he left this accidentally, yup…” You could see him fidgeting with that ring on his finger, again. 

“Bullshit!”

Tate scowled and grabbed your chin, making you look at his dark orbs. “Tell me, Y/N, do you trust me or not, huh? Look me in the eyes and say you don’t!”

The struggle continued for what seemed eternity. You trying to run away from the house and he trying to make you stay. “Please, Y/N, just listen to me!”

“You did something to him, right? I know him, Tate! He would NEVER leave his phone like this! Is this a joke?”

“Why do you care so much about that asshole!? What has he done for you!? Tell me!”

“Oh my, you’re jealous! I knew it! All that crap about being his friend was a lie, right? Tate, you’re being delusional! I can have friends, I can hang out with whoever I want, whether you like it or not!” 

Tate pressed your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, squeezing the flesh with his veiny, big hand, pressing it tightly enough to leave the mark of his long digits on it.

“You can’t! You’re mine. Only mine. Since the day you were born you were meant to be mine. Not his, not anybody, just me.”

“Tate… We should end this…” You thought this was the best for both. Being in a relationship with him was draining; always being careful to not hurt him, make him jealous or mad. He was such a sensitive boy that always took everything too personally. He felt everything a little too much.

Since the beginning you knew he was unstable and that he had many issues, but you tried to see beyond his sick mind, you tried to understand him despite being so different.

Tate felt so safe with you. You were the only person who understood him, or at least made attempts to. 

He felt rejected by the entire society, even by his own mother, until he met you and he had a minimum spark of hope that the world didn’t suck that much.

That’s why he clung to you. That’s why you were his everything. He would lose his mind if you leave him.

He felt like dying when he heard you wanted to finish the relationship.

He couldn’t breathe. 

Some tears were now falling to the floor, his eyes puffy and an ugly frown on his face. His mouth twisted as he sobbed loudly, tugging the hem of your shirt while he begged you to stay. He was crying like a newborn, like a baby who had to be apart from his mother for a second.

“No no no no, you can’t do this to me!” He whimpered, his speech cracking as he tried to hold you close whilst you were stepping back. You were slipping through his fingers, you were leaving him.

“Tate, if something happened to Peter, I will never forgive you! Can’t you see you’re hurting me?”

Tate swore he would never hurt you, nor let anyone. But here he was, finally snapping out of it and seeing the cruel truth. 

“You’ve been hurting me the whole time, Tate! I tried to understand you, I really did, I tried to help you, to save you from yourself! But it’s impossible. I’m losing myself here with you, I don’t even know who I am anymore! You don’t want help, do you? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter what I do, you’re never satisfied! You suffocate me!”

All those words were like daggers penetrating his skin, touching his nerves and making him die of pain. You were tearing him apart, just the way he was destroying you.

He finally let go of you, feeling a tornado of emotions. Tate felt depressed, mad, resentful, like he was going crazy. Though, he knew he had to leave if that’s what you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to break another promise.

Thereby, he confessed his crimes to you. He explained he killed his mom’s partner a few days ago, and that now he had killed your friend. Why? He was jealous, he was scared you’d left him. You did it before you discovered the cruel reality, anyways. That’s why he told you. Because he couldn’t lose anything else.

The situation was utterly disgusting. Tate was sick. He murdered an innocent man and then proceeded to fuck you, as it was the maximum test of love, as if his life meant nothing.

You knew he wasn’t what people often considered “normal”. But this was definitely more than just being a “weirdo”. Tate needed psychiatric help… And being arrested, of course.

“You make me wanna puke, Tate! You’re the evil!”

Without hesitating, you left Tate behind, running as fast as you could from that living hell.

You just wanted to cry, curl up into a ball and wake up from this nightmare. You wished it was merely a bad dream.

Tomorrow morning, you’d go to the police, but for now you needed to sleep.

Monday morning, 11:05

You couldn’t sleep all night. You spent hours thinking about everything, about how this looked like a cruel joke to you. Eventually, you fell asleep at 4AM, and didn’t wake up at what seemed almost midday. 

An intense sound of police sirens woke you from your slumber. Startled by the loud noise, you rubbed your eyes and went to the window, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Police cars and SWAT vans were going in a specific direction… Towards Tate’s street. It couldn’t be, right?

Did his mother find the corpse? Or perhaps something else?

You looked at the clock, realizing it was late and you had to go to class. 

08:00

After the most painful night of his life, Tate decided today everything would be over.

He had to cleanse the world… To take people to somewhere else, to some place full of peace away from the piss and the vomit that runs down the streets.

He was doing this not only because of your breakup, but also because of many other reasons. Your split up was the straw that broke the camel and drove him to the edge.

10:40

 After shooting the school, Tate left the place, looking unfazed about what he just did. He was unhinged. 

He peacefully got into his place, went to his room and stayed there for some minutes. 

The blond sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the gun right next to him and stared at nothing. His gaze was empty, but also there were some tears threatening to spill.

His mind was a whirlwind. Some part of him was satisfied, but the other was confused, wondering what was he thinking, what had he done?

What would you think of him now? Were you even there? Did he kill you too and he didn’t even notice?

In the end, he recognized he indeed was the evil you said. Damn it. You were right, again, as ever.

Tate wanted to hear your voice, to comfort him, to hear you saying everything was okay. That he’d be okay. He desired to hear “I love you” from you once more.

11:15

You went downstairs to find your family apparently mourning you.

They thought you were at school when the shooting happened. They believed you were gone, but here you were. 

Eventually, they explained to you what happened.

The first thing that popped into your mind was Tate’s wellbeing, still unaware that he was the culprit. You were afraid something terrible could’ve happened to him, you were regretting your last words to him, but you also had to get him prisoner.

Your heart dropped when they explained to you he was the shooter.

No, it couldn’t be possible. 

It was possible. After all, he had already killed two men.

Even if you despise what he did, some part of you still longed for him, still was in love with his once kind heart.

A terrifying feeling of dread filled your body, making you feel numb, as if none of this was real… 

11:25

After running to Tate’s house and seeing it surrounded by the cops and the SWAT team, everything stopped. Constance’s distressed cries and pleas were heard from outside, followed suit by the sound of bullets. It was over now.

Tate was certainly a troubled individual who dedicated his entire life to searching for something, to feel something, to feel loved.

All he asked for was love, to be loved, to love. All he wanted was you.

But at the same time, your love led him to an never-ending obsession that ultimately broke both of you.

He became your biggest regret.

All he feared, all his nightmares came true. Everything he was so afraid of was him and only himself. 

[coentinim]

Sweetest Perfection...

...to call my own. James and his curious ghost body.

Contains: ADULT CONTENT. MDNI. Sexual content, body worship/exploring, James is on the subby/more passive side here (+masochistic), comparing him to a dead body a few times, mentions of murder, reader has a thing for his neck gash, reader is absolutely smitten.

Longest fic yet. A bit of character analysis sprinkled in? Oh and first ever porn fic <3 pls lmk what you think!

@feefymo @nahoyasboyfriend @taintandviolent @fear-is-truth @silverzoomies (?)

James was a secretive man - he rarely showed geniuine emotion and never appeared without his three piece suit. And even though he looked dashingly handsome in it, you couldn't help but wonder...

Even while intimate with you, he never disrobed fully. Most times, he just pulled his dress pants down and took you in the heat of the moment, be it after a stressful event or particularly exciting kill. He has seen, touched, kissed, and probably cut every single crevice of your body, traced every scar and all delicate gooseflesh, dug his nails into every possible surface. Yet, you were deprived of such pleasure, as he always covered at least parts of himself. If his torso was visible for a second, he was wearing pants. If his lower half was bare, he had an undershirt on. Truly, it wouldn't hurt him to just show himself!

He rarely rested with you, usually opting for giving you an exaggerated goodnight kiss and leaving, sometimes watching you sleep and entrancing himself with your calm pulse and breathing - he loved your life. But tonight, he felt unusually calm and satisfied with the day, resting on the bed next to you and gently threading through your hair. He stared off into space, allowing your body close to his, relishing your lively warmth against his cold. His breath was audible, but his heartbeat hardly present, making him seem like a cadaver incapable of movement and thought. The impression of a corpse was amplified by the open wound on his lower neck; he usually made sure to cover it with a cravat or a button-up, but now he lied there in just an undershirt and boxers, making the disgusting gash visible. It enticed you. It looked delicious.

You were entranced. Tracing every muscle and vein on his arm, carefully. For such a vulgar, degenerate serial killer, he was strangely uncomfortable with human touch. You figured it was a control thing, that he must hate vulnerability, and you smiled at the thought - how human he was despite it all! You dared not interrupt his reverie with anything but slight touches on his arms and glances at the gore on his neck. And then he looked at you, his empty eyes glinting.

"You seem awfully curious, dear"

You jumped at his sudden words. You were under the impression that he was asleep - or at least in the way he "sleeps", staring off into space and dissociating completely, consciousness impossible to reach.

You gathered your courage. "Well, we are rarely this intimate. I just wondered..." you trailed off, cringing at how lovey-dovey you sounded. He was a murderer, for God's sake, asking him to strip wouldn't make him think less of you! He stared at you, expression unchanging, as always when he was his authentic self.

He raised one brow. You had no idea how you should explain it, so you let your actions speak instead. Never breaking eye contact, you trailed your hand down his body, slipping it under his shirt. The feel of his skin was strange; cold and slightly moist, but not like in living humans, but as if some otherwordly mist sat atop his body. You trailed it up, caressing his chest and making his undershirt fold up to expose some of his body. He smiled that hungry, predatory grin at your actions.

"Ah, darling, your hands stir me back to life", he said, definitely intrigued by your ministrations.

The words rolled off his tongue with such ease, despite their poeticism. How did he do that?

And this way, he had allowed you to slip off his shirt. God, his body was so pretty, you just had to lean over him and press a sensual kiss to his chest, and the side of his body, and the side of his back. He seemed to like the positive attention as he hummed and observed you keenly. He usually would have taken the initiative by now, fucking into you hard and rough or making you gag on him to the point of tears, but this time, he just lied there, allowing you to kiss him, his lips slightly parted.

His eyes looked as if he was reminiscing something, and that's when you truly got how old this man was. You wanted to know his every thought and secret. But his mind had to wait, as you were busy taking apart his body tonight, anxious to try touching the most forbidden part of him... but not yet.

You gestured for him to sit up, and strangely, he complied, allowing you to do your thing. It was unfair, how majestic he looked even while sitting on the bed. Would it kill him to look casual for once?

You continued your kisses on his body, eating up the cold stiffness and the death of his skin. Up to his collarbone. Down his shoulder, to the shoulderblade. And he looked back at you, curious, but tired, and so, so calm. It was awkward, him not saying anything about how entranced you were with his definitely deceased charms. You stayed silent as well, kissing along one particularly deep scar on his back, letting your tongue dip into it for just a second. God, his taste. You'd die for his taste. Rot, sweat and cigarette smoke. Not a perfect combination, but it made your thighs clench nonetheless. How it enveloped you every time he held you close, his thick and veiny fingers in your pussy and sweet words in your ear.

You were worried. He never told you much about his adolescense, yet he did mention the scars were gathering there his entire childhood, and that his father was a particular case of sadism and aggression combined with religious hypocrisy. So you never mentioned it, anxious that he might just ignore you and go on a killing bender, lashing out as always in times of heavy emotion. Some things ran in the family, you thought.

But he didn't react, other than letting out a pleasured huff of air, muscles relaxing into your careful caresses. He had to admit, you had a way of handling his body into a state of ultimate peace and relaxation. You could make thousands as a masseuse, but he'd never allow such a frivolous career for his darling. You leaving the hotel for your dreaded job was already sacrifice enough on his part. If it were up to him, your hands would serve no other purpose than caressing his lifeless form and bringing avocat and marcipan chocolates into his lips. Decadent, sweet, forbidden. Your touch and kisses on his back grew more intense, though, as you had become more hungry for him. He gasped when you scratched his skin deeply. You knew his greatest weakness; sensual pain. Digging your nails into his textured back, you kept kissing and licking sweetly. Your nails drew the faintest hint of blood.

James swallowed thickly, his slit throat exposing all muscles used during the motion. God, you wanted your fingers in his muscle.

"Dearest- I believe you've become ravenous?"

God, his way with words. You were no match for him when it came to sweet talking. So you just nodded, feeling his strong hands grip your hips, maneuvering you onto his lap, only underwear separating your groins from touching. You suppressed a whine.

Again, you expected him to pound your cunt with his usual fervor, but he just held you there, leaning back against the pillow with that mad smile of his, expectant. You almost grinned, knowing that he wished for more agonies. So you wasted no more time waiting for his move, the arousal overtaking your body. You felt inclined to make him a bit less relaxed, though, and since he had allowed you to worship his back before, you continued the exploration with your fingers and lips. Your hand wrapped around his neck, right under his chin, and you tried to kiss his chest, but you've gone hasty with your arousal; you practically slobbered all over his body, sucking deep marks and biting harshly, making him groan in prespiration.

You had a target in your mind, so you inched your kisses closer to his neck. He has never been so submissive to you before - at least on his own volition. He just gripped your hips, so hard they almost bruised, and held you there as if forcing you to please him, so he wasn't entirely subservient to your touches. He bucked his hips into yours teasingly, making you whimper. Oh, you were losing your patience with this man...

Still holding his upper neck firmly, you pressed your lips to the edge of the gash on the lower part of it. Finally. God, you've been wanting to taste it for hours now. You licked the edge of it gently, not wanting to cause him too much suffering; it was an open wound, after all. He gasped and gripped your hips tighter in reponse. You hesitated, looking him in the eyes while giving the gash slow, kitten licks, as delicate as you could. And James Patrick March, the Ten Commandments Killer and the most prolific serial murderer in all of America, whimpered. Loudly. He winced in pain, but still smiled at your sweet hesitation.

"Go ahead, savor me... don't... hold anything back"

Why, your hesitation was completely gone now.

You have decided to devour your lover down to the bone. You sucked on the edge of the wound, and he jumped, gripping the soft material of your panties so hard it almost tore. Oh, that must have hurt.

But the taste... oh, his taste! The laceration tasted like blood, obviously, but also rot and a certain heaviness, like it was filled to the brim with James' absinthe. You couldn't help but dive a little deeper into the interesting combination, ignoring his desperate gasp and groan.

This time, his grip tore your panties to shreds, and he quickly removed the admittedly sticky material from your lips. You whined into the gash, kissing deeper, letting your tongue delve into it. You swiped against his muscle and trachea, all the while grinding your ample wetness against his hard on stuck in his boxers. His self control dwindled and he tried to take down the exasperating garment, sliding his hands from your hips, but younwere having none of this.

"You'll hold me on top of you. You will.", you parted from his gash to whisper it in his ear venomously, holding his hands on your hips, not allowing him to disrobe. He let out a whine so pathetic you had no idea he was capable of such noises. It was delicious.

His cock ached in the confines, grinding against you, and because he was the one in underwear you were getting more pleasure out of it than him! Outrageous! He hadn't felt so aroused in at least three decades.

You grinned and continued your assault on his wound. You gently sucked on the flesh, still holding the upper part of his neck, preventing his squirming. And oh did James squirm under you; his hips bucked up against yours at an unrelating pace and let out deep, guttural moans of pain.

Your forehead felt sticky with sweat and the taste of his wonderful gore, along with the control made your eyes roll back. You knew he was just dying to slip himself deep into you and pound your living, pulsing pussy, you were aware of his animalistic need, and denying him that very pleasure felt exhiliarating. It made you grind against him harder, your cunt fluttering with each thrust he gave back, each moan, each depraved cry of pain and desperation.

And then you sucked, harshly, feeling the gore swish and move under your lips, and hearing the scream of his pain. You felt the wetness between you grow and realized he came in his underwear.

It was all too much. His desperate ministrations overwhelmed you and you followed soon after, finishing with a groan, squeezing his neck so hard any living being would asphyxiate.

You collapsed onto his chest and he held you firmly, cradling you tightly, whimpering like a scared dog.

You sat up and wiped your bloody lips, assessing his expression, judging whether he felt any pain anymore.

He had the biggest grin plastered on his pale face.

"...once I gut you, right here...", he pressed a hand to your stomach, "I'll, ahhh, I'll return the favor"

[wherewritersgotodie-blog]

Superstitious (Kai Anderson x reader)

“swear on your life you don’t want me.”

warnings: smut. penetration w/o protection. dom!kai. oral (reader receiving). light degradation & taunting. bdsm themes. kinky. idk what else prob smth

You were Winter’s best friend since middle school. Two girls who grew up to have the same values, the same beliefs, and a lot of love for each other. She took care of you, you took care of her.

Every Saturday, you went over to her house for dinner. Sometimes you’d go out to parties, some nights you’d stay in and watch a movie.

So, as always, you knock on Winter’s door at 6pm on Saturday evening with a bag of take-out hanging from your left arm. You waited at the door, almost going to knock again, just before the door swung open, her asshole brother Kai, not Winter, standing at the door. “Hm. My favorite little brat. What can I do for you?” He cocked his head to the side, leaning his arm against the door.

“Uh… I’m looking for Winter?” You say, sliding sideways passed him, underneath his arm.

“She didn’t text you?” he asked.

“No, why?”

“She’s gonna be out tonight. She went to campaign. I thought you were going with her!”

“Oh, fuck!” you say, “I totally forgot. I’m such a flake.”

“It’s fine. She’s good on her own.”

“And she called me this morning. Damn. Whatever, I’m going next weekend. It’s fine,” you say, mostly to yourself. Then you turn and reach out to open the door.

“Hey, wait!” he called out, “You’re taking the food?”

“What, you want it?” you asked, raising your eyebrows, holding out the bag.

“Are you kidding?” he said, taking the bag from your hand and placing it on the table.

“Alright, see ya,” you wave dismissively.

“Bye, slut,” he responded, sitting down at the table.

You get in your car and turn the keys. The car stalls. Shit. You turn the keys again. The engine sputters.

You walk back into the house, your keys swinging around your finger. Kai is lifting weights in the living room when you get back in. He stops to turn and look at you. Those muscles. “Hey, big guy, any idea how to fix an old Honda?”

“Yeah. Get a fuckin’ new car,” he laughs to himself.

“Kai, seriously,” you say with a whiny tone, pouting.

He caves, exhaling. “Fine. You owe me.”

He saunters out to the car, popping the hood. He looks at it for a few minutes. “Well, I could fix it, but my box is in my car. Winter has it,” he says, leaning on the front of the car, crossing his arms.

“Shit,” You say.

“You can wait here ‘til she gets back,” he smirks.

“Uhm, I think I’ll walk home,” You say, looking him up and down, “Thanks…”

“Walk home? Across town? Alright,” he says, slamming the hood shut then walking back toward the house.

You looking down the street, the wind hitting your face, freezing cold. “Ugh,” you say, then run up behind Kai. He holds the door open for you.

“Attagirl,” he says, smirking.

“Whatever.”

“Don’t be a bitch or I’ll make you walk home.”

“You wouldn’t,” you say, smirking, leaning against the doorway.

“I would,” he says, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I totally would.”

You walk to the sink. He watches you bend over the counter slightly and reach up on your tippy toes. “Why are your glasses all the way up on that shelf?” You say, frustrated.

He walks up behind you, grabbing a glass. He then raises his hand to hold up the glass out of your reach. You look at him in frustration. “Come get it,” he smirks.

“Kai, stop,” you say.

“Come get it or I’m not giving it to you.”

“Ugh!” you say, then try to reach up to grab the glass. He lowers it, then pulls it away. You reach up again. “Please?” you ask.

“There we go,” he says, handing you the glass. “Was that so hard?”

“You are a huge dick,” you say, filling up the glass.

“You wanna know about my huge dick?” he whispers in your ear from behind you.

You cringe, scrunching your nose, “Ugh! Gross.” You turn around, taking a sip from your glass.

“Right,” he smirks. He looks down at you, cornering you into the counter, slowly, so you almost don’t notice it. “So you don’t ever think about me?”

“What?” you say, turning red, putting the glass down.

“You don’t think about me fucking you? Ever? You’ve never thought about it once?” he says, leaning his arm on the cabinet.

“I- No! No, I haven’t,” you affirm.

“Really? Swear on your life?” he smirks.

“What?”

“Do you swear on your life you’ve never thought about me fucking you?”

“That’s not fair. You know I’m superstitious about that. I don’t know everything I’ve ever thought!” you retort.

“Fine. Swear on your life you don’t want me. Swear on your life in the past week you haven’t thought about me fucking you and liked it?”

“I,” you pause, panicking. “Fuck this! I’m not doing this with you.”

“I knew it!” he smirks, “I knew you had a crush on me,” he says victoriously, backing away from you completely.

“Oh, you are such an asshole!” you shout, embarrassed.

“And you like it, that’s the fucked up part,” he says.

“Stop,” you glare at him, blushing a deep red, “Seriously.”

He walks up to you again, pressing your back against the counter, putting one hand on the back of your neck, one on your waist. Your breath hitches. Your chest heaves. You blush, looking up at him, eyes flickering all across his face.

“Right,” he smirks, nodding like he had just proven what he knew all along. “Swear on your life you aren’t wet as fuck right now.”

He’s a fucking sadist.

“Kai, please,” you say breathlessly.

“Do it. Do it or I’ll find out myself,” he whispers in your ear.

You feel like you’re drowning, your breath is so heavy. He is relentless.

He waits a moment, smirking at your silence. He then puts his hand down your leggings, over your underwear. When he feels a large pool of wetness through the lacy fabric, he closes his eyes for a moment. “Fuck,” he whispers.

He pulls his hand back up, making sure to brush his fingers over your clit long enough that you ache when he puts his hand back around your waist, pulling you against him.

“How long have you had a crush on me?” he says, looking you in your eyes.

“I don’t know,” you breathe.

“Nah, you do. Tell me,” he said quickly, confidently, the words almost stringing together into one word.

“I don’t know, a couple years,” you mumble.

“A couple years?” he laughs. He slides his hand down over your leggings between your legs again, “Shit, you must like this then.” He rubs you, sliding his hand roughly, even possessively, farther down and up, his middle finger in line with your clit.

You moan, leaning your head against his chest. “Yeah… Yeah, you do,” he says in a mocking tone. You can hear his malevolent smirk. “You like it a lot.”

He uses his other hand to wrap around where your jaw meets your neck, forcing your face up to look at him. “So you do want my huge dick?”

You stare at him, biting your lip. Were you really about to fuck your best friend’s brother? Really? Seriously? No. You should say no. You’re gonna say no.

“Yes.” Shit.

He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his hips, holding you by the back of your head, stroking your hair, and around your waist. You lean your head over his shoulder. He carries you to his room.

He throws you onto his bed.

“You’re a fuckin’ slut,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you, positioned between your legs.

“Not usually,” you deny mindlessly.

He grabs your breasts through your shirt, letting out a low growl. “So you’re just my slut, then?”

You look up at him. “I didn’t say that.”

He then pulls your one leg farther towards him so you’re forced on your side, then he smacks your ass hard through your leggings. You gasp, then blush.

He raises his hand again, smirks and brings it down harder than the first time. You whimper. He rears his hand up one more time, then stutters, searching for your anticipation. He sees your expression carved into your profile. Were you… smiling?

He was rock solid now.

“Shit, you like that?” he laughs. “Anybody ever do that to you before?” he pushes you again onto your back.

“Uh-uh,” you respond.

“Yeah… you are my little slut,” he affirms. Then, he kisses you deeply, holding you by the back of the neck, his other hand wandering down your body, squeezing periodically.

You lean up suddenly, so he offers no resistance. You put your hands up his shirt, pulling it up. He leans down to allow you to pull it over his head. You through it onto the floor.

Everything accelerates viciously after this one move.

He pulls off your shirt, throwing it to the floor. You begin to unbuckle his belt, and he attempts to pull off your pants. It’s chaotic; your hands are clashing, you’re getting in each others’ way.

It becomes, to Kai, at least, a race to see who can get the other bare faster.

Obviously, Kai wins. He pushes your hands to the side many times, pulling your leggings over your legs, unclasping your bra with his one hand (concerning, but you ignore it), throwing it to the floor. Then, he leans down to your hip bones and he pulls your underwear off with his teeth.

You haven’t even finished unbuckling his pants.

He throws your body so your head is against his pillows. He crawls up to you, leaning over you, necklace hanging in your face.

He’s a fucking animal.

Just like you imagined.

He kisses you harshly, nearly biting you. Then, he kneels, legs tucked under themselves, widely spread. He pulls your body up, wrapping you around his waist again. He is holding onto your entire body like his life depends on it, kissing down your neck, sucking on your collar bone. You are scratching at his back, head tilted to the bed, eyes closed.

He throws you back down again, then puts his head between your thighs.

“So easy to toss around,” he talks against you.

He begins working on you with his tongue. You wrap your fingertips in his hair, tugging at it, pressing his face farther into you.

He takes only a few moments of this before he comes back so his face is in line with yours. He grabs your wrists and presses them together above your head. He squeezes them hard for emphasis.

“Don’t move them,” he whispers. You know he’s serious.

He leans back down, continuing to you work you with his tongue. He wraps his arms around the highest place of your thigh, pulling you down into his face.

Your back arches and he chuckles against you. The vibration shakes to your core.

It hits you all at once and you unravel beneath his mouth. It’s so intense you convince yourself you’ve died for a moment.

He leans himself back up to hover over you, wiping his mouth with his hand.

You stare up at him in admiration. He does not miss this. You keep your hands above your head.

He pulls his belt off, laying it next to both of you. Then, he pulls his pants down, along with his boxers, all in one smooth movement.

Fuck. He wasn’t kidding.

What were you even supposed to do with it? Surely all of him wouldn’t even fit inside you.

He smirked as he saw your train of thought reflected on your face.

In one swift motion, he flipped you over so you were on top of him, hovering over his thighs.

He leaned up, grabbing your wrists, putting them together behind your back.

He held them together with his one hand, grabbing his belt with the other. Then, with a few moments and his two hands behind your back, looking into your eyes, he tied your wrists together. You struggled against the leather, but the crafty contraption was totally foolproof.

Then, he grabbed your hips, leaning back to rest his back on the two pillows stacked against his headboard.

“You okay?” he asked with a genuine smile, putting his hand on your arm.

“Very,” you nod.

“Good,” he said, and that was all he needed. He put his hand back on your hip, lifting your body up so you were hovering over his length. “Breathe,” he commanded.

You took a deep breath and he sunk himself into slowly, pulling you down onto him. You dropped your head back, letting a moan escape.

He groaned, also leaning his head back, “Holy shit,” he dragged out the words. “Holy shit. Fuck.”

His grip loosened on your hips as he was fully submerged in you. “Woah,” he whispered. You smiled at the commentary.

He kept his hand on you, pushing you back and forth. You worked on him, rolling your hips and pushing yourself up and down on top of him.

You moaned out as he thrusted himself up into you slightly. It had to be at least eight, you thought.

You both move against each other with an intense rhythm, your hands behind your back, his traveling all across your upper half.

He watches you intently, his mind worshipping the sight of all of you on top of him like this, eyes gliding down your hips, over your stomach, your face as you bit your lip and closed your eyes in ecstasy. He groans deeply, almost growling, digging his fingertips into your hips.

He pushes himself forward so he’s sitting, his one hand behind his back, propping himself up.

You rest your forehead on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you back and forth against himself, the entire warmth whole bodies in full contact.

“Fuck, Kai!” you moan.

“Yeah, baby?” he smirks, his forehead coated in sweat.

You feel that you’re going to finish again, and he feels that he will, too. You pull away, looking into his eyes. He looks back into yours.

Then, you rest your forehead on his. The knot in your stomach is wound so tight you can barely breathe.

His chest is heaving, which is saying a lot, considering his fitness.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan against his mouth. He nods.

You both release at the same time, him grasping onto your body, you moaning into his ear, him groaning against your neck.

When he finishes inside of you, you both pull away. He laughs, and you do, too. He undoes the belt behind your back.

You pull away from him, laying beside him.

He lays on his back for a moment, then turns on his side, propping his head on his hand, tracing his fingertips down the center of your stomach.

“My slut,” he whispers. You turn to him, pushing his shoulder playfully.

Then, he kisses you, smiling into your mouth.

When he pulls away, he looks at you, then smirks. You watch him, smiling, slightly confused. He pushes himself up from the bed, then leans down to look underneath it.

“Oh, shoot,” he says.

You cock your head to the side, “What?”

“Toolbox was here all along,” he smirks, putting his hands on his hips.

if you liked this pls tell me i love validation. also i will take requests asf

[undeadcortez]

LOVE IN A TIME OF JEALOUSY

kai anderson x fem! reader | 6.3k words

!! SMUT BELOW THE CUT !! do not read if you are not eighteen or older | oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, unprotected p in v sex, anal fingering, mentions of anal sex, no aftercare, degrading (kai calls reader a whore, a slut and a bitch), pet names (kai also calls reader baby and baby girl), very hot and cold mixed signals, kai is a warning all on his own

not gonna lie, this one took a while to complete, and the ending is definitely not it’s strong point, but i wanted to leave it open ended in case there was anyone who ached for a part two where kai has feelings and loves on the reader. tumblr gave me a heap of issues trying to get this ready to post so if things don't make sense or if there was a warning i missed, let me know!!

Kai was pissed, to say the very least.

Sitting in his leather chair, elbows rested upon his thighs, hunched forward and legs spread open with a subtle bounce to the left, it was like they could almost see the smoke rising from his ears. The frown that pulled at his lips, the furrowed eyebrows, the tightness in his jaw — yeah, Kai was pissed. And they all knew the reason.

You were late. However, it wasn’t just that you were late. This was the third meeting that they’ve all waited in silence for thirty solid minutes, sitting on the floor in the uncomfortable anger that radiated off of their leader. It was almost suffocating, the awkward silence. Meadow swore she could choke on it, and Beverly seconded that theory.

“Maybe she’s just not coming, divine ruler,” all, but Kai’s eyes fell on Ivy as she broke the stillness, “I mean, she’s so hot and cold about this whole thing anyway, do we really want her here? Is it safe to have her here?”

Kai didn’t answer, and Meadow felt the need to speak up, “yeah, what if she’s out there, blabbing about everything, divine ruler? She’s nothing more, but a liability at this point, and I’m sure everyone here agrees.”

Then others murmured, and Harrison nodded his head. Kai’s gaze focused straight ahead, unwavering on a seam between wooden panels, but he took it all in. He knew you were a weakness to the cause, to everything he built. He thought about it nearly everyday — when he ate breakfast, when he was busy with the city council, when he watched you sleep peacefully beside him in his own bed.

Truth was, though, you never would. Kai had you wrapped around his little finger, and months of manipulation was to blame. If Kai said jump, you’d say ‘how high, divine ruler?’, and he knew it, too. Which is why whenever the thought of you spilling the cult’s secrets to someone crossed his mind, it wasn’t there for long. He knew you never would.

You were strong. The hardest it took to break down into submission, into a mere shell of your previous self. Kai enjoyed it, honestly — seeing you digress from complete independence to someone who lives, breathes, and adores him. And because it took so much to make you like that, because of all the time he poured into creating a woman devoted to him as a leader, he knew you wouldn’t crumble at the simplest of questions.

But, it was only that; him as a leader. You loved Kai, and he knew you did. He trusted you, loved you back in ways only he could. There’s no label here, though, and Kai couldn’t trust every man in the world to respect that you were untouchable, entirely his for the taking.

There were several opportunities to close the door, but Kai never would. Not until you were swollen with his kin, and even then, he debated the idea of getting a ring. What would his men think about him marrying? But, then again, who cared what they thought when he was their ruler? He ruled, made the rules, and if he married, so be it.

That’s not what he wanted, though. He simply just wished for your devotion, spiritually, physically, and emotionally. And though he’d broken you past the first, maybe even the last, that second wish would only be granted the moment he made it official. His girlfriend, or better yet, in your eyes, wife and possible mother of his messiah.

“Kai,” Winter broke him out of his thoughts, and touched his arm with her infamous gentleness, “they’re right. We should really consider cutting her off. Whether that’s kicking her out or killing her—.”

“Would you guys just shut the fuck up already?!” he snapped, standing up from his chair, and lost the staring contest between him and the wall. His eyes were nearly black as they peered down at his sister, and they only seemed to darken as he spoke, “you’re all dismissed. I don’t want to hear another fucking word from any of your goddamn mouths until morning.” He turned around to head upstairs, and slammed the door behind him.

Winter was the first to follow. She didn’t attempt an apology, but simply disappeared up to her room. Ivy was next, passing by Kai as she hurried out the door to her home, followed by Meadow, Harrison, and then Beverly who all, but ran to her car a few moments later. They left Kai alone, sitting on his sunken living room sofa, in the same position he started: waiting for you.

It would be another thirty-eight minutes before the headlights of your car peeked through the curtains, illuminating Kai’s face. The anger written on his face was gone now, and his expression laid flat— the only way one could tell were his eyes, and how they held nothing, but rage within them. Pitch black.

The jingle of your keys rang in his ears, and he grew angrier at the sound of each of your steps, nonchalant as they patter on each concrete stair. The lock turned and the door flew open before him, revealing you with a bright smile and smudged mascara. He remained sitting.

“Good evening, divine ruler,” you greeted as you tossed your keys into the bowl and shuffled off your coat. The casualness of the whole thing only made Kai’s anger worse. “What are you doing up here?” you questioned, and it was clear you had forgotten about the meeting entirely as a smirk pulled on your lips, “I was expecting you to be downstairs, tending to your—.” Kai’s speciality tonight was cutting people off.

“Where the fuck were you?” his tone matched his eyes, angry. The teasing smirk you adorned faded immediately.

“Kai, I—,” you rushed, but stammered to quickly correct yourself, “divine ruler, I told you last week I was going out to visit friends tonight.” You had. At dinner as Kai was stuffing his face full of the grilled chicken you had prepared. You should’ve known better then that the man doesn’t listen while he’s eating, just as much as you should’ve known better than to remind him of mentioning it before.

He stood from the sofa, greasy, blue waves framing his stern features. He towered over you, always did, and you hated it, especially like this. It made you feel incredibly small. His strong cologne, one that wreaked of tobacco, assaulted your nostrils, and a heat radiated off of him that you once found comfort in. A comfort that you knew you weren’t getting any of tonight.

“I’m sorry, Kai,” you whispered, doing all you could to avoid eye contact with the rageful, black globes that peered down at you, “please, don’t be mad.”

He was silent, and as he stepped forward, you found yourself stepping away. It was your natural instinct to flee, and you had hoped you may just be able to, until your ass was flush with the end table, and Kai’s hips were pinned against your own. There was no escape.

His hands rested upon the flat top of the table, completely enclosing you in his aura. It was thick with rage, almost suffocatingly so. Your chest was pressed against his own, rising and falling rapidly with every rushed breath. Breath that was intermingling with his, as his lips hovered above your own. This closeness wasn’t foreign in the slightest, but the goosebumps crawling up your arms it created in its wake were. And no matter how hard it was, you maintained eye contact.

“My people think I’m a fucking idiot because of you,” he spat, and his tone was harsh, but the volume was low, which was something you were entirely grateful for. “They look at me, waiting for you,” he paused and his grip on the table tightened, “for hours!”

You flinched. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Kai frustrated, nearly red in the face over the littlest of things, but it was something you could never get used to. Especially when you were on the receiving end. Maybe a few months ago, you would’ve bit back, stood up for yourself in some capacity… you were too far broken now.

“They think I’m some pussy-whipped bitch, YN!” he continued, “they think I’m risking this whole movement for some goddamn, sloppy pussy! Do you know how fucking dumb that makes me look, huh? Do you know how that makes me, their leader, look? When I’m waiting around for some whore to arrive home before I can spread my word?”

The fear you felt was boiling into rage, nearly matching Kai’s beneath your skin, but there was no fighting back. And if you were honest, Kai had said far worse things than this. So, you stood, breathing in his anger and bottling it up before murmuring, repeating for the third time, “I’m sorry, divine ruler.”

“Who were you with?” he asked, completely ignoring your apology once again. Suddenly, you knew it wasn’t just about you missing a gathering. Kai was jealous.

You were devoted to Kai. Even without the label, your fidelity was unwavering, despite whatever Kai believed. There was opportunity, and it was hard, but you’ve rejected each and every advance. And sure, you craved the exclusiveness, but maybe a part of you enjoyed Kai like this. It showed he had weakness. It showed he was human beneath that thick skin. Not to mention, the primal, possessive sex it resulted in was otherworldly. So, you kept Kai believing he didn’t have you entirely in his clutch, though he very much did.

“Just a few old friends,” you answered honestly, and it only pissed Kai off more. His left hand fell from the tabletop and rather held your waist. His thumb pushed up against the bone, pushing in, and you felt a whimper crawl up your throat. You promptly swallowed it down.

“Their names, YN,” he nearly growled, “what are their fuckin’ names?”

The look on his face made your cunt ache, the anger in his voice ran through your veins, and that rage you once felt in return was burning into lust. You didn’t know why it turned you on so much when Kai got so possessive. It was toxic, and you knew it as much as anyone else. It’s just the way he held you, his strong grasp on you and the closeness and the heat and his musk, it’s all overwhelming and it’s all so hot.

Debating on whether to tell the truth, or to speak at all, you finally opened your mouth, “why does it matter?”

A strong, irritated sigh left Kai’s nose, “you know why it matters.” You did, but you remained silent. “Answer the goddamn question!” he commanded after a moment of silence.

The grip on your hip was gone. He had dropped his hand back on the table, and rather pushed his hips against yours, sandwiching you further between him and the wooden surface. You squirmed. Kai was hard — you could feel the outline, the heat, of his angry cock pushed against your stomach. “Answer the fucking question, YN!” he yelled, and a thick wad of spit landed on your cheek.

“Ethan!” you answered, “I was with Ethan and Maggie.”

They were a couple you were friends with since middle school. It was always Ethan, Maggie, and you, even when the pair decided to hook up in high school and date in college. It had been years since you’d seen them, but it didn’t matter to Kai. No explanation could have mattered to Kai at that moment. You felt his cock kick beneath his layers. “You’re such a fucking whore,” he spat before pushing himself away, leaving you cold and trembling against the table.

There was no way Kai was done with you, and it would have been foolish to think so. As he paced along the length of the living room a couple of times, you remained, watching his every move like a hawk with blown pupils and glazed eyes. He brought a hand up, pushing back his hair from his face, and you could tell a million emotions had washed over it. Jealousy, anger, sadness… You opened your mouth to say something, but were cut off by his hands engulfing your cheeks, and his lips were smashed onto yours.

Gripping the table until your knuckles were white, you kissed back as well as you could muster. Kai’s lips were sloppy, moving against yours in a rageful lust, entirely passionate with emotions you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Instead, you simply basked in your own desires, your own lust which had clouded your mind the second his palms met your cheeks.

His tongue soon wiggled its way past your lips, immediately establishing dominance, and you let him. Smashed up against the table, smothered between it and his muscular body, you let his tongue roam around in every inch of your mouth, moaning. The heavy feeling of his erect cock was back on your tummy, the warmth of it all had returned, and though he was angry, it was everything you needed.

When he pulled away, you swallowed down a disapproving whine. A thick trail of spit connected your lips, dangling between the two of you until it ultimately broke when he opened his mouth to speak again, “did he kiss you like that?”

It took all of your strength not to yell, to not roll your eyes to the back of your head and groan. It was so frustrating, confusing. On one hand, you liked the jealousy. You loved the heat of it all, the tight grip on your body, the furrowed brows, the bruising kisses. On the other, you hated your fidelity being questioned. You slept, ate, and thought only of Kai. It wasn’t fair — after all you’d done for him. “I didn’t kiss him, divine ruler,” you murmured, “I promise, it’s not anything like that.”

Somehow, that’s not what he wanted to hear. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid, YN?” he started, “do you think I don’t know when you lie to me? I know you like the back of my hand, better than anyone ever will. You fucked him tonight. Maybe you fucked that dumb bitch, Maggie, too. You’re a whore, it’s what whores do. Now admit it, or suffer the consequences.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Kai,” you stated, and you felt the tremble of his cock beneath his jeans at your words, “and I’m not about to start tonight. I didn’t fuck Ethan, I didn’t fuck Maggie, and I’m not a whore. Give me whatever punishment you see fit, but let it be known that I am devoted, and that devotion to you, divine ruler, is unwavering. You’d be punishing the innocent.”

His lips were back on yours with no further words. Bracing yourself on his shoulders, fingers curling against the muscles there, you kissed back. Bruises were sure to appear in the wake of his hands as they gripped your hips. The kiss was nothing short of passionate, as his tongue slipped past your puffy lips and made itself at home again. You whimpered into it, giving up whatever strength you had left tonight, and completely submitted there.

His taste was overwhelming now. You couldn’t quite place your finger on just what flavors were dancing on your tongue — it was just Kai. And it was intoxicating all in itself. As tongues rubbed along each other, his harsh while yours simply just ached to be against his, he groaned. His nose was smashed against your cheek, lips moving with fever that you just couldn’t keep up with. He pulled away again.

“I’m sorry, divine ruler,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, your own still glazed over, “please, forgive me. I promise, this won’t happen again. I’ll never be late again. I’ll never leave your side.”

His cock twitched, you felt it again against your tummy. He didn’t say anything in return, but he didn’t need to. You knew he wasn’t satisfied with just an apology, he never would be. His hands began to guide your hips, away from the table, and headed towards the stairs. You obliged.

Your steps were wobbly, stumbling as a strong hand left your right hip to open the door to lead the both of you downstairs. Another whimper crawled up your throat as his second hand fell to his side, waiting for you to make the trip to his bedroom first. You loved his hands, his powerful grasp. It made you dizzy, and made your cunt ache. Whenever it disappeared — didn’t matter if you had it for a while or just a few split seconds — it left you feeling like a newborn deer.

You could feel his gaze on your back as you gripped the handrail and made your way to the all too familiar den at the bottom of the stairs. His steps were heavy behind yours, and it was something about just hearing the solid step of his boots growing closer and closer… Once he reached the bottom, his hands were back on your hips, this time from behind. His hips were pressed firmly against your ass, and you could feel the thick outline of his cock again, pushing between your clothed cheeks as he walked with you to the bedroom. You didn’t know if it was for the better or for the worse that he still hadn’t said a word.

Once you were at the foot of the bed, his hand left your hip. Rather, it settled just below your shoulder blades and pushed, causing you to crash face first on the spring-filled mattress. Your lips trembled as a whine went tumbling through them, turning your head in hopes to see Kai. It didn’t work. With his other hand still grasping your hip, and his pelvis pushed snug against your bum, he was out of sight — at least his face was. His other hand had slid from your upper back to your lower, forcing you into an arch, and he moaned. That’s when he finally spoke back up.

“Prove it then.”

Your brows furrowed, “wh— what?”

A heavy sigh passed through his nostrils, and you swear you felt the warmth of it wafting against your back. “I said,” he paused, leaning forward and further pushing his dick between your clothed ass cheeks, “prove it, bitch. Prove that you’re sorry and devoted to me.”

You failed at your attempts to swallow down your moans. Letting another slip past your lips, you asked, “yes, divine ruler. How can I prove it to you?”

“You can’t be that devoted to me if you have to ask how,” he bit back through clenched teeth, and suddenly, his warmth was gone. His strong grasp was still present on your hips, and his cock was still situated between your bum cheeks, but he stood up straight. You whimpered and clenched around the painful emptiness, shivering as your pussy began to weep into your panties.

“Lay down,” he commanded, and then his whole presence was gone. Taking a step back, he was no longer holding you, rather observing as you did as you were told. And when he found a problem with it, he clicked his tongue, “nuh uh, with your head at the foot of the bed.”

You obeyed, and had nothing to say in response. With your neck bent over the curvature of the mattress, you watched with an upside down lense as Kai looped his fingers under his shirt and pulled it off. Your fingers clutched the cotton sheets beneath you, pushing your thighs together in an attempt to stop the ache between them. It was no use.

Kai was beautiful. Even as those hurtful spats left his mouth, even as he made you feel so small he could crush you, he was still beautiful. Ethereal — with abs that could cut diamonds, and blue hair that fell in waves and perfectly framed his face. That’s why he was so dangerous, you’ve figured. Draws in the innocent with his Godly features, just to turn against them the moment they see beyond his looks. You watched his hand graze over his tummy.

Calloused fingers ran over the brown, thick hair that kissed his lower belly until they were met with the hem of his jeans. With a watering mouth, you watched as he popped the button and unzipped, allowing his jeans to fall to the floor. The blue, plaid boxers he adorned left little to the imagination. A little wet spot of precum staining the front, and the perfect outline of his hungry cock. They soon met the floor as well.

He stood before you, naked, which wasn’t a sight you were unfamiliar with. Wrapping a hand around the length of his dick, and tilting his head back as he gave it a few warning pumps, you couldn’t do much, but carry on watching. So, you did just that, watching as he inched closer to your mouth, and finally felt the warm tip of his cock hit your lips. It smeared precum across your mouth like lip gloss as Kai spoke, “open.”

Once you parted your lips, your mouth was invaded by his girth. A harmony of your whimpers and his moans flooded the room as he sunk his cock further and further into the abyss of your mouth, right until his tip was kissing the back of your throat. You gagged around it, which was met with a stinging slap to your cheek. “If you’re gonna act like a whore,” he started, voice raspy and lustful, though still harsh, “then you’re gonna be treated like one. No gagging; this isn’t your first time here.” You whined as he slid in further.

The hand that just slapped your cheek moved to your throat, gripping it as he bottomed out in your mouth. His thick bush of brunette pubes tickled your chin whilst his balls sat heavily on your nose. You didn’t have any choice, but to take a deep breath, and groan at the smell of his musk invading your every sensation. You closed your eyes — there was really no point in keeping them open when your vision was blocked by his length anyway — and braced yourself for the raw experience you were about to endure. Kai was right, though; this wasn’t your wasn’t your first time here.

Blowjobs were more popular than sex in your relationship with Kai, especially when he felt you didn’t deserve to get off. Your throat was trained to adorn Kai, so while you’ve never had him like this before, it was better than a virgin throat. He began to move.

A long, stretched moan left his parted lips as his hips pulled back. You took in another breath just as the thick of his dick slid out of the tight confines of your throat. You pushed your tongue against the tip of it, collecting the precum and swallowing it down. Your throat was already on fire. “Atta girl,” he praised, which may seem surprising, but wasn’t rare once you were in the thick of it with Kai. Add it to the many reasons why you love a good, jealous fuck from Kai.

You groaned as he slammed back in, and it stung, but you loved it. Hearing the filthy, guttural noises Kai was making, mixed with the feeling of his strong grip on your throat… you pushed your legs tighter together. You were sure there was a wet spot where your thighs met, staining your pants in humiliating fashion, but you couldn’t care. Right now, you were just for Kai’s use, and you knew it. You kept your hands to your sides, gripping the cotton sheets, and got Kai off.

His thrusts were sloppy. No pace seemed to stay for more than a few mere seconds before he was speeding up, fucking into your throat. His free hand ran down his neck, over his collarbones and down his chest while his head remained tilted back. He was heavenly, if only you could see it. Instead, when you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of his flushed, shiny dick sliding out of your throat, and you watched as he pushed it back with vigor. You whimpered around his length.

A few more thrusts in and his hand released your throat. You relaxed a bit, relishing in the feeling of his hand traveling to the scooped neckline of your top. Rough fingers slipped beneath the soft material and fished your tits out from the confines. He watched them bounce as his thrusts carried on, and you closed your eyes as calloused fingers had begun to brush over your nipples. They hardened beneath his touch in seconds.

“Good girl,” he praised, and his balls tightened, both indications of his oncoming climax, “taking your leader’s cock down your throat like it’s butter… with the prettiest set of tits I’ve ever fuckin’ seen. They’re all for me, right?” You hummed in agreement. “That’s what I thought,” he responded before pinching your left nipple roughly. You arched your back, moaning at the sensation coursing through your body, so overwhelmed by the simplest touch, you didn’t wrap your head around Kai cumming down your throat until after he was pulling out.

Your throat ached at its newly found emptiness. Cum connected Kai’s tip to the back of it as your mouth hung open for a few moments, attempting to catch your breath, but you merely choked on the thick juices as they threatened to climb up your throat. You hurriedly swallowed it down, whimpering as you opened your mouth to catch some air once more, but were met with Kai’s lips instead.

The position was awkward — Kai craning above you, a hand under your head to aid you in closing the space. Your neck ached, but it wasn’t something you were about to complain about. Kai’s tongue was slipping past your lips, tangling with yours, and that’s simply all you could think about. Well, that and the ever growing desire between your legs.

Your hands have Kai melting between them as they reach up and cup his cheeks. His body language, once stiff and angry, softened beneath your fingertips. The only harshness was his stubble, ticking at your palms, but it was nothing compared to the rage that was, just moments ago, filling the room with its hot and stuffy feel. You could bask in that moment for eternity. To bathe in that gooey scene, where Kai’s only concern was to love you, and yours to love him. It’s moments like these where you remember why you do exactly. Love him, that is. And you do love him, just as much as he loves you. All too soon, though, Kai is pulling back, the moment is ending, and the air feels thick again.

“On your hands and knees,” he commanded, a hand wrapping around his dick once again, “now.”

Once in position, Kai pulled down your pants and frilly panties until they hit your knees. Then, he didn’t wait another second to harshly spit on your asshole. You shuddered, moaning as it soaked your rim and dripped down between your drenched folds until it landed square on the sheets below. A firm hand gripped your bum cheek, pulled it to the side and left you further exposed to the man behind you. His other hand remained stroking his, once again, hardening cock. You clenched around nothing, whimpering at the overwhelming emptiness.

“Hmm,” he hummed, and you swear you could feel his gaze burn against your cunt as he pondered, “which hole do I fuck first?”

Your ass was let go, but only for a moment before a harsh slap landed across it. A groan slipped past your lips, and the blood was surely rushing to the surface in the form of Kai’s large hand, ready to bruise into the shape. “I asked you a question, bitch,” suddenly, you missed the loving Kai you had a moment ago, “which hole do I fuck first?”

It didn’t matter what you said here. Kai would choose whichever hole he desired more despite what you say. You didn’t mind that, though — you were just aching to get fucked wherever. An answer was all he was looking for, whether he thought it was right or wrong. “My pussy!” you cried out, “please, divine ruler, I want you to fuck my pussy first.”

Somehow, that was the right answer. “Good girl,” he repeated and without another moment to waste, his swollen tip was passing through your folds. He groaned, hand returning to the globe of your ass to spread you open. The sound was unholy — you were so wet, enough to continue to drip onto the sheets, and as Kai lined up with your cunt, it squelched. “Holy shit,” he uttered breathily, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, baby girl. You really do love being treated like a whore, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you hummed as the fat head of Kai’s dick pushed into you. A soft gasp pushed through your parted lips, followed by a moan slipping right past them. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, gripping them as Kai bottomed out. You could feel the heat from his balls on your clit and whimpered at the prickly sensation.

He stayed like this for a moment, simply relishing in your warm, plushy walls, and you swore you could feel the tip of his dick in your stomach. His hand was now on your hip, and the grip was sure to leave bruises in the shape of Kai’s fingertips. His other hand remained on your ass, practically kneading the fat of it between his fingers as he admired what was all his for the taking. You whined as he pulled back.

His thumb grazed against your spit-soaked rim just as the swollen, pulsating head of his cock rested at your entrance. If the grip wasn’t so tight on your hip, you would’ve thrown your hips back, pushing him back into the depths of your cunt. Instead, you waited in near agony, relishing in the little friction you were getting on your asshole. It wasn’t enough, though, far from it.

When Kai slammed back into you, you saw stars. Moans filled his room, both yours and his creating a beautiful harmony in the sex-filled air. Immediately, Kai found a rhythm he was satisfied with, nothing short of rough. “You like that, baby?” he asked through his teeth, and you could hear the smile on his lips.

“Yes… divine… ruler!” you answered immediately, each word strained between his thrusts and followed by a smacking sound from his hips slamming against your own. His heavy balls hit your clit, over and over without fail. The sensitivity had you whining, and it didn’t help when Kai began to push against your rim. When his thumb finally breached, you nearly screamed at the stretch.

It sank in and stopped at the first knuckle. You threw your head back, chin resting upon the pillow beneath you. Struggled moans and whimpers left your lips like a never ending fountain. They were loud, but Kai, like in any other aspect of your relationship, overpowered them. Deep growls, grunts, and groans rumbled from his chest as he sped up. He finally pushed his thumb in its entirety into your pretty asshole.

His hand left your hip, and you could already feel the ache that took over in his place. He leaned forward, and rather groaned a handful of your hair. He growled as he pulled on it, yanking you up from pillows, the only comfort you found that evening. He didn’t let go once your back was firm against his chest. He held on tight as the back of your head hit his shoulder, receiving bruising kisses along your own. All the while, his thrusts were growing faster. His trusts were growing sloppy.

With a dropped jaw and wide eyes, you whimpered as Kai had his second orgasm of the evening. Pumping you full in a matter of minutes, leaving you with nothing, but only the subtle building of a coil in your tummy. He let go of your hair, and suddenly, your face crashed into the pillows once again. His cock left your achy cunt, and his thumb slipped out of the warm, plushy walls of your asshole. You could feel his cum dripping down your thighs as he spoke up, “flip around, baby girl.”

Once flat on your back, he tugged your pants and underwear completely off. You worked to take your shirt and bra off until you were both completely bare. His eyes devoured your body, pupils blown so wide you would have thought this is the first time he’s ever seen you naked. His cock was already hardening again, but you could tell his Godly stamina was running a bit thin. The tip was nearly purple, and the head had just a subtle bead of white decorating the top.

“You belong to me,” he stated, and no matter how much you wished for those words to be a lie, no matter how much you craved independence, freedom… you knew they were true, “say it, slut.”

The contrast between his caring ‘baby girl’ to the harshness of his ‘slut’ had your head spinning with whiplash. “I belong to you, divine ruler,” your voice was raw, fucked out, and even though your pussy was begging for release, you would’ve been content stopping there.

You were exhausted. As Kai inched closer, hovered above you, you could tell he was, too. Sweat decorated his forehead, causing the blue strands framing his face to curl just the slightest. His breath was hot as it hit your face, “tell me all of your holes belong to me.”

The wet, heavy tip of his dick rubbed against the rim of your asshole. You shuddered. “All of my holes belong to you, Kai,” you repeated, and every muscle in your body tensed as he prodded at the hole with the head of his cock.

“Don’t you fuckin’ forget it,” he murmured, and suddenly, his cock was disappearing from your bum. Rather, he quickly re-entered your cunt, leaving the hole sticky with precum. You couldn’t complain one bit, though, because his cock was buried deep against your cervix, and his thick bush of pubes was hitting your clit just right. You knew you wouldn’t last more than just a mere few thrusts. And he wouldn’t either.

Your hip fit snug in his hand, and his thumb pulled at the hood of your clit as he began to pound into your puffy cunt. You whimpered, now further exposed to his bushy pelvis as it hit your clit with each and every thrust. His other hand grasped your own, tangling your fingers together and pushing it down against the pillow beside your face. You squeezed, hard.

Your free hand was finding refuge on his shoulder, nails digging into the skin. He growled. There wasn’t a moment devoid of eye contact. His were nearly black while yours sparkled beneath him. Both held immeasurable lust, and maybe even a little love. His tip hit that plushy spot inside of you.

“Oh!” you moaned out, finally closing your eyes in hope to just relish in the pleasure.

Kai sped up his motions, attacking your g-spot over and over. “Look at me,” he commanded immediately, and your eyes fluttered open while your cunt wept around his cock.

It was all so hot. His breath as it wafted in your face, your own intermingling with it and steaming up the room. The coil in your lower tummy was burning, tightening and tightening with each thrust of his hips, each hit to your clit, each clench of your pussy. Sweat dewed on your skin, and the beads pearling on Kai’s forehead began to run down his temples.

He groaned, and you could feel his balls tighten just slightly. “Repeat it, baby girl,” he asked, an almost whine to his voice, though it was still gruff and raw.

The coil was close to snapping. Your clit was tensing up, your cunt was tightening — all you needed was a few more thrusts. “‘m yours, divine ruler!” you cried out as Kai rubbed the hood of your clit a few times. It was over; the coil snapped.

Your orgasm hit like one big wave. Your pussy fluttered around his dick, thighs trembled against the mattress. You moaned, too blinded by the climax to realize Kai was finishing off, too, pumping you full of his cum for the third time that night. You hadn’t even realized you closed your eyes once more. 

When you opened them, you were met by the two hands, still interlocked with white knuckles and sweaty palms. You hummed, trembling still from the intense climax, as you moved to look at Kai, whose head was dipped between the both of you, blue waves dangling in front of your eyes. And suddenly, a droplet fell onto your tummy. 

It was water, a tear to be exact, wept straight from the eye of the man on top of you. Before you could speak, or even move your hand to wipe anymore that threatened to spill over, Kai was pulling out. And it was only a moment where you caught a glimpse of those glazed eyes before he disappeared from the bedroom. He left you in a flash, the cum spilling over your folds still dewey and warm. You shivered. 

Kai’s jealousy was a tricky little thing, but you had never ended an envious fuck like this. He loved you, he wanted you despite all the shit he’s put in motion to keep it from happening. You knew you had to talk to him about what just happened, but perhaps that was a chat to bring up in the morning. Instead, you pulled the covers over your shivering body, breathed in Kai’s scent that riddled the blankets, and thought about the one thing you knew for sure now: 

He loved you. 

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[greenxgloss]

omg okay only if u want to but the mission is have for u is:

playing 7 mins in heaven w charlie, jill, kirby, etc and you spin the bottle on charlie and end up giving him head in the closet.

“do you want to kiss me charlie?”

“you can touch me wherever you want char”

and a mumbling stuttering charlie who’s never had head and he’s asking a hundred times over “do i do it like this?” or “is this okay?”

i just rewatched all of the scream series and even tho i’m in love with r!euro i can’t stop thinking ab charlie walker :,)

AHHHH OMG I LOVE THIS YOU CLEVER MIND there's just something about cinema geeks

7 Minutes (Charlie Walker)

Summary: you and Charlie join a game of 7 minutes in heaven and when you get your 7 minutes you give the shy virgin more than just a kiss Warnings: NSFW, sub!charlie, charlie receiving oral, soft!dom!reader, praise kink, fem!reader, use of Y/N

"do you plan on making a move tonight?" Kirby asked and you shrugged at her question. "he's totally into you he probably barely even notices me. I'd definitely tear that up if I got the chance though." you said causing the both of you to burst out laughing.

"it got really quiet out there." you joked as you sat on the counter of Jill's kitchen talking to Kirby. you both grabbed your drinks and walked out to the main room to see everyone playing 7 Minutes in Heaven. "now we're talking!" Kirby exclaimed as she pulled you to sit in the circle. "Uh I don't know if I should play." you tried to fight her but she glared at you. "you are playing you prude." she joked causing you and the rest of the group to laugh. "okay jills turn." Robbie said, passing her the bottle.

7 minutes later Jill and Trevor walked back into the room, Jill looking upset and Trevor embarrassed causing you to giggle. he definitely got a lecture in that closet. "okay my turn!" you exclaimed snatching the bottle. "please never make me do that again... Who even invited him??" Jill said, sitting back down next to Charlie. you spun the bottle hoping it would land on him. you'd been fantasizing about Charlie for months but just didn't know how to approach him. you were also sure he was interested in Kirby so you never made a move.

sure enough, it landed on him and you reached for his hand and led him to the closet while everyone giggled and teased him. you blushed though you tried to keep it cool and collected. you were screaming inside. you finally got your hands on him.

you walked him into the closet and closed the door. "uh I've never.." he began but you interrupted him. "it's okay Charlie we don't have to do anything you don't want to do." you told him but he stayed quiet, eyeing your lips, glancing at your cleavage. "Do you want to kiss me, Charlie?" you asked. he nodded but it wasn't enough. "use your words." you pulled him closer and pressed up to him. "I do. I want to kiss you." he said, quietly almost mumbling and something about it made your skin tingle. he wrapped his hands around you and you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

when you pulled away you could see the tent pitched in his pants. "that's so cute." you cooed as you palmed him gently, causing him to quietly gasp. "Do you wanna touch me? you can touch me wherever you want char." you told him, kissing him again and feeling his hands press to your tits. you moaned quietly into each other's lips. "is that okay?" he asked, whispering. "yes baby you're doing so good." you told him, reaching into his jeans and lightly stroking him and his body tensed.

"its okay you're safe. you have no idea how long i've wanted to get my hands on you." you told him. he blushed. "you fantasize about me?" he asked in a low whisper as you got on your knees. "mhm" you hummed as you unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his cock. "oh uh-" he stammered, his hands waving around in confusion.

"put your hands on my face." you told him as you guided him. you licked his tip and hooked your tongue under his hood causing him to throw his head back in pleasure. "oh fuck." he moaned out and you immediately put your thumb in his mouth to quiet him. you pull away. "you have to be quiet baby they might hear us. and we have 4 minutes left is that enough for you?" you asked him while you continued to pump him with your free hand.

"yes yes oh fuck yes." he kept his moans quiet. his quiet needy voice soaking you. you couldn't wait to watch him beg for you. "am-am i doing okay?" he asked, pulling away from your thumb. "of course baby you're doing so good for me. you taste so good." you told him and quickly shoved his length into your mouth and bobbed your head. he lightly tugged at your hair, causing you to moan, the vibrations sending him over the edge and he came in your mouth. "fuck Y/N oh god that was so good." he said, hot ropes of cum pouring down your throat.

"you're a virgin but you definitely keep prepared." you laughed. "what? how do you know?" he asked, helping you stand up. "well you were oblivious to what to do but your cum was sweet." you told him as you wiped your mouth and kissed him hard. "times been up for like 2 minutes you dirty dogs." Kirby yelled, banging on the door. charlie and you looked at each other before you giggled and his face flushed.

the both of you walked out and Kirby made a face. "smells like sex in there." she teased, all the boys patting Charlie on the back.

"to many more yeah?"

A/N: this may have been a little rushed but only because my ideas and endings kept leaving my brain and I kept coming up with new ones omg I can't I love yall requesting Charlie, the ideas are endless with him cuz he's basically living a double life

[redroses07]

F**k It I Love You /// Michael Langdon

Michael Langdon x Fem!reader

Summary: Reader is a witch, but her and Michael seem to have a special connection. So what happens when her coven has to oversee Michael taking the test of The Seven Wonders. Will she stay loyal to her coven, or herself?

CW: Swearing, Kissing, Alludes to smut, Sexual themes, some violence.

WC: 3.2k

A/N: Hey guys!!! My first full fic after my year long disappearance!!! I really like this and I'm super excited to post it! I'll definitely make a part two if this does good, or upon request. With perhaps smut? Anyways I hope everyone is doing well!! Love y'all and as always, enjoy! ♡⋆˙

You sit in your lonely, over sized room at Miss Robichaux's academy, awaiting this afternoon's daunting task. You and the rest of the witches on the council, including Zoe, Myrtle, and Cordelia, were to visit Hawthorne school for young warlocks.

It was a place where none of the witches, including you, enjoyed visiting. Mostly due to the crude and pompous attitude of the warlocks towards you and your sisters.

It's not your fault that warlocks were naturally inferior to witches. Come to think of it you had never met a warlock who was so much as tolerable. Well...that is until a few months ago.

This particular visit to Hawthorne was something no witch, or warlock for that matter, had ever thought would come to pass.

For the first time ever, the test of the Seven Wonders will be performed on a warlock. A young man named Michael Langdon.

From the beginning Cordelia, your coven's supreme, had refused to perform this test deeming that it would be suicide. That was until Michael brought two witches, Queenie and Madison, back from the dead.

While this changed her mind, it also raised her concerns about Michael.

Cordelia had called a meeting with you and the rest of the council prior to your departure. She had described a darkness in Michael, one she had never seen in someone before. She described his energy as almost inhuman, something otherworldly.

"I am warning you all, proceed with caution." Cordelia had said.

While you smiled and agreed like you had been made to do, you had other thoughts on your mind.

You had connected with Michael from the moment you first met him, and in a way you had never experienced with another. Your fellow witches had been standoffish and dismissive to him, most likely feeling threatened by his power, you didn't feel the need.

He seemed to feel comfortable around you from the beginning. You didn't know if it was because you were the only witch who cared enough to treat him like a human being, or if there were other reasons. Despite that, conversation with Michael came easy, and the more interactions the two of you had the closer you became.

What was originally a simple act of kindness turned into prolonged eye contact and uncontrollable eye contact. The increasingly frequent visits to Hawthorne began to feel less like a punishment and more like a reward.

No matter, your sisters came first, which meant you had to push your growing emotions away.

Under any other circumstance you would be excited to see your friend, but the Seven Wonders weren't just any other event. Especially after Cordelia's warning, so unfortunately today was going to be stressful no matter what.

"Hurry up everyone, time to go!" you heard Cordelia call, annoyance in her voice.

You jumped up, not wanting to anger her further, fixed your hat, and headed down the stairs.

You, Cordelia, Zoe, and Myrtle all gathered in a circle in order to transmutate to Hawthorne collectively. Queenie and Madison also joined you, Madison wearing her iconic scowl.

You stood next to Zoe, your favorite among the council. Not that you disliked the other witches...but Myrtle was a little batty and Cordelia was well...Cordelia.

"Prepare yourselves sisters." Cordelia said softly, a serious look on her face.

Next thing you knew, your group was standing outside the strange structure that was Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men.

The six of you walked in, all trailing behind Cordelia.

You passed through the dark corridors, trying to hide the fact that you hoped Michael would appear around the corner.

When you and your magical companions made it to the room where the testing would take place you were greeted by warlock Ariel Augustus.

Out of all the warlocks you despised he was by far the worst, there was just something so off-putting about him. Yet you still shook his hand and gave him a half-hearted smile.

You gave the room a quick glance, looking for Michael.

"And when will Michael be joining us?" You asked Ariel.

"I would like to get this over as quickly as possible" You add, in an effort to seem disinterested.

Ariel looks at you with a sour face before looking over your shoulder towards the door.

"Well, it looks like you've got your wish because here comes the young warlock now." Ariel replies with distaste.

You turn around, and are faced with Michael's golden locks and icy blue eyes. He's wearing his usual, a long black cloak over his school uniform, yet he somehow manages to make the basic outfit look better than ever.

"Hello Michael." You say formally, keeping your serious composure. All while the two of you exchange a playful look, agreeing that these formalities are ridiculous.

Michael greeted you and the two of you drifted off to the far side of the room where you pretended to make small talk.

"God, this is so stressful." Michael says to you, breathing out a frustrated sigh.

Around others Michael had the tendency to put on a show, but never for you. With you, he was free of judgement.

"It'll be okay, just trust your instincts. You've got this." If Cordelia knew you were giving Michael advice you would surely be punished, but she doesn't need to know.

Michael shifted on his feet and looked at the ground, failing at hiding the blush creeping up his pale cheeks.

You almost reached out to give him a hug of reassurance but then remembered the others in the room. If you were being honest with yourself you really did have feelings for him, although reality told you that would never work out.

"Can we all just shut up and get on with this shit." Madison announced with an eye roll.

It was never a dull moment with her around.

"Yes, yes." Myrtle said.

Everyone took a seat as Cordelia began to explain the rules of the seven wonders.

You and Michael stood near each other behind a couch.

You figured since your lower bodies were hidden from the others it would be safe to reach out and squeeze his hand for reassurance.

You slowly put Michael's hand in yours and ran your fingers across his knuckles. His palms were sweaty. You truly believed you were the only one who sympathized with him on this, and you were glad you could give him that.

You and Michael made eye contact and exchanged a look of longing.

You broke the eye contact to look at Zoe who was giving you a look as if to say "stop what you're doing." She knew, of course she knew. Zoe was your best friend, of course she could tell when you liked a boy. Even if the circumstances were far more dire than your average high school romance.

You drop Michael's hand but he reaches back over and pulls it back, signaling "stay"

You sigh, what on earth were you getting yourself into.

"Okay, now if the rules are understood, we may begin." Cordelia announced, while scanning the room.

No one objected, and Ariel motioned for you all to follow him.

You felt the warmth of Michael's hand leaving you, and you were released from your own thoughts. You looked over at him to see him slowly walking towards the exit.

"Come on," Michael called back to you giving you a half-hearted smile.

You hurriedly caught up with him and the rest of the group, although the both of you remained at the end of the pack.

Ariel led you down a series of dark corridors. They all looked the same, and you began to lose count of the amount of turns you had taken.

Good luck getting out of here if you needed to make a break for it, you thought to yourself.

When you finally reached your destination, everyone gathered in the center of the large room. It looked just like every other room at Hawthorne, drab and dungeon-like. The only difference here was that it was larger and relatively empty.

Cordelia stood in the center of the room, a stern expression on her face.

"The first of the seven wonders, Telekinesis." She pointed to Michael, calling for him to join her in the center of the room.

You watched him as he walked towards her. He did almost too good of a job at hiding his nerves, walking with such effortless grace. You were almost envious.

Michael pointed to a candle hanging on the wall along the far side of the room. The candle quickly floated into his grasp.

The warlocks applauded, looking thrilled with his performance.

Telekinesis was the easiest of the seven wonders, and one any basic witch or warlock could easily achieve. So, naturally you and your fellow witches remained unimpressed.

"Next is Concilium, or mind control." Cordelia explained, gesturing for Michael to begin.

Michael also demonstrated this with ease, making Zoe and Madison perform a dance before everyone's eyes.

The next four Seven Wonders, Transmutation, Divination, Pyrokinesis, and Vitalum Vitalus, were all demonstrated by Michael perfectly. Even better than yourself you had to admit, which was odd considering how inexperienced he was.

The further the test progressed, the more concerned the members of your coven looked. You were torn, as you usually were when it came to Michael. Part of you shared your coven's concerns, after all, a male supreme would change the course of all of your lives. The rational part of you did not ever want to see a world where the powers of a warlock surpassed yours. Yet another part of you, the part that cared for Michael, wanted him to succeed despite all other factors.

Although the hardest test of the Seven Wonders, Descensum, had yet to be tested. And you knew Cordelia wouldn't let Michael get off without adding a catch.

"Today, I'm not asking you to perform this wonder...I am asking you to conquer it." Just as you had expected, Cordelia was going to twist the rules.

Cordelia proceeded to ask Michael to retrieve the long lost Misty Day from the underworld, where she was banished after being unable to achieve the seventh wonder.

You glanced over at Michael, who stared Cordelia dead in the eye. You weren't surprised that he looked unfazed, he had in fact done this before when he brought Madison back from the dead.

Despite that, the warlocks were outraged, arguing with Cordelia about the task's unfairness.

"It's okay, I'll do it." Michael said calmly and definitively, shutting everyone up.

You gave Michael a concerned look, which he combated with a soft smile.

Michael laid down on the floor, getting in the position needed for the task. He began reciting the spell, which was a jumble of Latin words.

Michael then fell into a deep trance, signaling that the process of Descensum had begun.

Now all that was left to do was to wait.

You walked to the back of the room and sat in a chair next to Zoe and Queenie. You tapped your foot on the floor nervously, your heel making a repetitive clicking noise.

You waited in silence for about ten minutes, your eyes glued to Michael just in case.

"My god how long is this supposed to take, some people have things to do." Madison huffed, and as if on cue Michael shot up into a sitting position.

You, along with everyone else, rushed forward in anticipation.

"Where's Misty?" Cordelia demanded angrily.

Michael said nothing. He stared blankly at the wall, breathing heavily.

Before you could stop yourself you leaned down to check if he was okay, but just as you placed your hand on his shoulder someone's tight grip pulled you back.

"Watch out!" Zoe yelled, as she yanked you towards her.

You stumbled over your feet, nearly losing your balance. You looked below you and your eyes widened at what you saw.

Misty had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and right where you had been only moments before.

You were in shock, and apparently so was Cordelia.

She dropped to the ground and pulled Misty into a tight hug, tears falling from her face.

You looked over at Michael, who staggered back towards a table in the corner of the room. He looked exhausted, and you fought the urge to ask him if he was okay.

Your focus shifted when you heard Misty call your name.

The curly haired woman gave you a long teary eyed hug, and you only now realized how much you had missed her. You made a mental note to thank Michael for this reunion later.

"Cordelia!" Queenie yelled, and once again you were forced to shift your attention.

Cordelia was hunched over, blood running down her nose. She looked weak, like she had after seeing Queenie and Madison return.

"What's happening?" Madison shouted.

"What happens every time a new supreme rises, the old one begins to fade." One of the warlocks said proudly.

"You're a pathetic pompous ass!" Myrtle spat, pulling Cordelia close to her.

You followed her example and stepped closer to your supreme, putting your hand on her shoulder in reassurance.

"There is no denying it...Michael is the new supreme." Cordelia huffed before nearly collapsing to the floor.

You gasped, scrambling to help her back to her feet. Once Cordelia was stable again Myrtle and Misty carried her to a private room to help her recover.

"Well...I guess we will reconvene later." Ariel announced to the rooms remaining occupants.

As everyone began to file out of the room you saw Michael head in your direction. You began walking over to meet him when Zoe grabbed onto your arm once more.

She pulled you in the opposite direction and loudly announced, "Can I talk to you for a moment."

Before you had time to object she had pulled you out of the room and down one of the many dark corridors.

"Zoe is everything o-" She cut you off.

"Do you know how dangerous what you're doing is?" Zoe scolded.

Your stomach dropped.

"What do you mean..." you replied, acting clueless.

Zoe sighed in frustration.

'I'm your best friend, you think I don't see how you two look at each other?"

Dammit. Was it that obvious?

"Zoe, I know it's wrong. I know the coven will disapprove. I'm sorry. I'll make it go away, I promise." You sounded defeated.

Zoe pursed her lips. "Listen, I'm not saying you have to stop. I'm just saying be better at hiding it. Cause you know what will happen if Cordelia finds out."

You sighed, she was right. Cordelia would be furious if she knew, especially since she was already so suspicious of Michael. It would likely even be grounds for being burned at the stake.

"I'm just saying be careful is all, but other than that my lips are sealed." Zoe said.

You nodded in agreement and smiled at your friend.

"Be safe." Zoe hugged you quickly before walking off to go check on Cordelia.

You turned on your heel and walked down the hall, a long sigh escaping your lips.

As you turned the corner you felt someone's strong grip pull you down a darkened hall.

"What the hell-"

You looked up to see Michael looming above you.

"Jesus, Michael you scared me." You gasped, hand on your fast beating heart.

"I heard everything, everything Zoe said to you." Michael said, his piercing blue eyes burning into yours.

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.

"Michael. She's right you know. I mean my coven hates you, what would they think?" You explained.

"Shhhh.." Michael whispered as he brought his index finger to your lips.

"I don't care, what we have is more important."

"Don't you agree?"

Michael took your hands in his and brought them to his chest. He looked at you in a pleading, almost desperate way.

"Michael, I-" You said unsure of your actions. You knew the consequences of betraying your coven, but were you ready to embrace them? you didn't know.

"Please..." Michael stammered.

You felt his hot breath against your already warm skin. The strong scent of his cologne filled your nostrils. everything about him was irresistible, it was all just too much.

"I can't wait any longer. I need this, I need you." Michael said.

That was it for you.

"Oh just fuck it." You said before pressing your lips harshly to his.

You pulled Michael down by the front of his shirt to better adjust to his height.

The kiss was short lived, but that didn't stop you from wanting more.

Thankfully Michael felt the same because he reached for the nearest door and opened it, pulling you inside.

He kissed you sloppily and hungrily as he yanked you through the doorway. He slammed the door behind you while continuing to kiss you.

"Is this a closet?" You asked, looking around at the small space.

"I believe so..." Michael replied, smiling at you.

You laughed and kissed him again.

Michael pushed you into the corner while kissing you slowly. He bit down on your lip, drawing a significant amount of blood. You let out a soft moan as Michael sucked at the small wound.

Michael broke the kiss and gazed at you lovingly.

"God you're so beautiful."

You smiled, trying to hide your flustered reaction. He made your heart do back flips.

Michael kissed you on the cheek, then your lips again.

"Everyone's probably looking for me, I can't be gone too long. After all I am the supreme now." Michael said with a smirk.

"Just a few more minutes please." You whined, pulling him into you.

'Well, I guess I can make time for you." Michael kissed you harshly as if this was the last chance he'd ever get to.

His hand snaked down your back and stopped to tightly wrap around your waist. You couldn't hear anything except heavy breathing from the both of you.

You reached up, lacing your fingers through Michael's hair. You pulled at the long blonde locks.

Michael put his hands under your thighs and hoisted you up around his waist. This gave his easier access to your neck and chest, which he began pressing desperate kisses to.

Michael nipped and sucked at your neck and parts of your slightly exposed chest. Only then did you feel something poking you beneath where your legs were wrapped around Michael's waist.

"Well someone's excited." You stated.

"What can I say?" Michael laughed softly.

You smiled, rolling your eyes at his sarcasm.

"Want me to take care of that for you?"

Michael's face turned red, clearly embarrassed. As much as he tried to hide behind his 'bad boy' persona, he truly was just an awkward guy.

"As much as I'd love that it'll have to be another time. Unfortunately I have more important things to take care of." Michael sighed.

You frowned, disappointed. He was right.

"How about this. Tomorrow night we meet, and we can finish what we started." Michael inquired, tracing his finger across your jawline.

You smiled,

"That works for me."

On that note you and Michael exited the cramped closet. But before stepping out into the hall Michael pulled you in for a hug. He wrapped his arms around you lovingly, and you sank into his touch.

"I love you." Michael whispered so quietly you could barely hear him.

"I love you too." You replied with no hesitation.

Michael kissed you on the forehead before stepping out into the hall.

"Till tomorrow, my love." Were his parting words as Michael disappeared around the corner.

You laughed to yourself, what an adventure this was going to be.

[yandereunsolved]

Macabre Monster - ,, yandere pre & post death Kyle Spencer

tw(s): yandere themes, mentions of suicide (Kyle), Madison's sa mentioned, Kyle's boundaries being crossed (not by reader), Kyle's trauma (non-descriptive)

✧ Both you and Kyle attended the same campus. That is where it all started. You both attended the same party. Kyle was slightly intoxicated when he met you. You were standing in the corner awkwardly with the distinctly red solo cup. You both got to talking, and something just clicked. You made your way to a backroom in the absolutely trashed frat house and just talked. You practically spilled out your guts on each other. Kyle told you everything—how his father died at a young age, how he had to take up the role of'man  of the house', all of the trauma sounding to him and his mother. After that day, there was just a connection with you. Call it a sort of codependent need for intimacy. He never had someone healthy to just hang around. He needed that; he craved it with his very being. So what's so wrong with letting that little bud of codependency flower into an entire garden of obsession?

✧ From that day forward, the two of you were practically inseparable. He got your number and texted you all the time. He invited you out to places. He gave you a bunch of gifts and trinkets. He drank and danced with you. He even did a really bad rendition of “Is This Love” by Whitesnake. You guys may have kissed once, twice, or three times, but you just seemed fine not putting a label on it. You still flirted with people and went out on dates. Kyle still partied with his frat brothers and went with the flow.

✧ As the months passed and your friendship grew, strange things started happening. Certain items of yours went missing. You'd get drunk, forget to take off your make-up, and wake up with it completely off and your entire skincare routine done. Your messy dorm became neat and tidy. Sometimes you'd even feel someone playing with your hair or massaging you in your sleep. You thought that they were all just tricks of your mind. 

✧ One thing that definitely was not a trick of your mind was when you read Kyle's mind for the first time. 'They're so slammin'. You blinked in surprise and kind of gave him a weird look. He continued on with the conversation, but more weird things kept popping into your head. 'I wanna kiss them.' 'I wonder if they got my gift.' 'I should probably sort their clothing again.' 'I'm so lucky to have them in my life. They are a total catch.' It disturbed you. That was the day you learned you had magical abilities. You were shipped off to Miss Robichaux's Academy.

✧ You didn't see him for a long time. It felt like a long time. It was really only three and a half weeks. For those three and a half weeks, Kyle was a mess. He turned your dorm upside down, but most of your belongings were gone. He had a panic attack and sat on the floor of your room and bawled his eyes out. He frantically texted you only to get a 'unable to send text' message over and over and over again, no matter how many times he tried. He tried over a hundred. He passed out in your room and missed his classes that day. He gathered what was left of your things and hoarded them in his room. He asked about you, and they said absolutely nothing. They wouldn't tell him anything. He was on the verge of offing himself. 

✧ That was until he saw you at the party. You had grown a bit in your abilities. You were still barely able to keep everyone's thoughts out of your head, but Nan helped you a bit. You had gone to the party with Madison and Zoe. You hadn't expected to be scooped up by Kyle and dragged into the back of the house. He kind of just pulled you into a hug and sobbed. You weren't sure how long it was. The one time you wanted to read his thoughts, you couldn't. Your ears were too busy hearing all of your blood rushing, as well as his and everybody else's in the house. 

✧ The rest of it was almost a blur. You both discovered Madison being assaulted. She must have had her drink spiked. All of the frat brothers were 'taking their turn with her'. No, not Kyle. Not your Kyle. He stepped in and chased them off. The next thing you knew, you were standing with Zoe, and the frat bus was driving off. Madison flipped it over with her abilities, and suddenly your entire world was crashing down. Neither of them went towards the bus. You did. You ran towards it and collapsed on the ground. You could feel only two people breathing. Neither of them matched Kyle's breath.

✧ The next week, you were so closed off and depressed that Madison graced you with the ability to get your little 'boyfriend', as she had dubbed him, back. You were morally against it, but Zoe argued that it was the right thing to do. All three of you completed the ritual. While you weren't exactly thrilled with practically selling your soul to the devil, you were strangledly excited to see your closest friend again. 

✧ When it seemingly didn't work, Madison left without both you and Zoe. Zoe hid behind you when Kyle came to life and attacked the security guard. No matter what you tried to do, he wouldn't let go of you. He only aimlessly grunted and kept his hands securely around you. He held you desperately, animalistically. It was like it was the only thing he remembered how to do. Which is strange because you only cuddled with Kyle—well,  a lot, actually, now that you think about it. 

✧ You had to stay with Misty when you tried to drop him off to get healed. He had an entire breakdown and nearly destroyed her shack because you tried to leave him. You told Zoe to just brush off your disappearance by saying that you were visiting a relative in town. If anybody had a problem with it, they could kiss your ass for all you cared. You had Kyle back. His health is all that matters to you.

✧ You managed to slip back to the academy while both were asleep. You managed to use a sleeping spell you had learned to cure your insomnia. Only you made it much stronger, so neither would be aware of your absence until you had already left. You weren't aware of Zoe's plans to bring Kyle back to his mother— If you can call her that. You also weren't aware of how distraught he was when he woke up, and you weren't in his arms. Neither Misty, nor Zoe, nor the person who birthed him could calm him down. He was worriedly grunting the entire time. He paced and searched around every corner of whatever he could touch to find you. He looked like a lost puppy, walking in circles in search of his owner.  

✧ Post-death Kyle has an oral fixation. He's like a toddler. Anything that can fit in his mouth will go in it. That includes you. He likes gently nibbling or just licking your skin. It gives him a sense of comfort and security. It also lights up that part of his mind that reminds him of when he gave you hickeys once. The first time Fraken Kyle accidentally gave you one, he was both pleased and freaked out. After you assured him that you were okay, he kept doing it. You have to teach him not to give you hickeys and small bruises. He doesn't listen. As long as it isn't hurting you physically, he'll continue to do it. Not because his mind is muddled, but because he's just that possessive over you. It's a way to mark you as his. The more primitive part of his brain needs that; it needs you to be his. 

✧ He has a multitude of issues with his body and the way it is. He often cowers away from you when he is naked and does his best to cover himself up. His fingers awkwardly trace the scars and the tattoos. He tries to tear his flesh off because he hates it so much. It isn't his body, quite literally. Frat boy Kyle never did anything like that. You even think that sometimes he flaunted his body to you on purpose. No, now you have to be the one to gently coax him out of his shell. With each kiss and loving word, another one of those mental wounds is being stitched up and healed. 

✧ All of those issues became especially clear when you rushed to Kyle's previous home. Zoe had already gotten there before you. You both found what was left of his mother on the carpet. It made you furious to think of what would have caused Kyle to have a reaction like this. He came into his old room whining like a starved animal. He was sobbing and could only utter two words over and over again. 'No leave, no leave, no leave.' Zoe was horrified at the scene of Kyle's dead family member. She went to go cook you all something, and you were just stuck with Kyle. Not that you minded. You almost felt a little possessive of him now—overprotective. He's still himself, and yet he's different now.  

✧ He refused to wash off the blood without you. Post-death Kyle always does that. You think it's because he believes you protect him from the mental scars that his mother gave him. It's partly that, but it's also partly something else. There are still parts of this brain that work and are able to scheme. He just wants to feel your body close to his. He just wants to take care of you. Just like before the accident. He doesn't consciously understand why he is doing this. He just knows that it has to be this way. It's like there are two different Kyle's pulling at his new version of him: the yandere one and the traumatized inner child of his.

✧ He pulls you in a lot of directions. He does it harshly if you don't want to go with him. He'll just haul you around as well. You are standing one moment, and the next you are being bridled by Kyle down the street. You both left Zoe, and you couldn't convince him to go back, much less get out of his vice grip. For an undead man, he sure gained a lot of strength. 

✧ He brought you both to an abandoned arcade, which the both of you would hide in sometimes. The owners couldn't pay rent, so they closed up shop. They left everything there, so people often broke in to steal parts from the machines and fool around. He vaguely remembered the place. His mind cannot remember exactly memories and reasons but feelings. This place felt good, and his old house felt bad. So he took you here, and now he feels perfect.

✧ His speech is basically nothing in the beginning. As time goes on, he develops a greater ability to communicate his words. That's why you often end up reading his mind instead. It's like wading through the swamp that Misty lived in. His mind has three different tracks: feelings, broken thoughts, and future actions. All three clash with each other because they are in various stages of regaining normalcy. He thinks in broken sentences, and sometimes it feels like he knows that you are able to read his mind. With things he seemingly doesn't want you to know, he whispers them within his mind. They get lost in translation. It's like that fog in his mind is purposely keeping you away from certain actions, thoughts, or feelings he has.

✧ His mood is dependent on your mood. You first learned this when you brought him back to the academy. You locked both him and yourself in your room. You couldn't hold back the tears, and you broke down. You were just so fucking sick of everything. Sick of this house. Sick of the other witches. Sick of your powers. You just wanted the Kyle you knew back. They just went and revived him—he wanted to be an engineer. Now he's a Frakenstines monster built back with the parts of his shitty frat brothers. You guys didn't even label what you had.

✧ You were so busy crying that you didn't realize Kyle was sobbing as well. He had curled up next to you and just started crying. When you stopped, he slowly quieted down. He brought you into an awkward cuddle on the dusty floor of your room. You almost wanted to laugh. Kyle was always like that. If you were crying, he'd pick you up in a hug and start humming something from Toto or Nirvana. He'd make really bad jokes and show you silly faces. It almost mirrored now. Kyle was trying to do something to a silly face. It looked more like he was gonna start growling at you. It made you chuckle a bit. Even now, he could make you feel better.

✧ That was only one way in which he mimicked your moods—mimicks you. He's much more prone to outbursts when you are angry or frustrated. If you slam your palms on the table out of irritation, he'll do the same. Only he'll accidentally break the table. That's happened more times than you'd care to admit. The coven is going to need a separate fund to just pay for the stuff Kyle breaks. 

✧ Your habits and routine are what also help him regain some of his independence. He watches you with a keen eye. He imitates most everything you do. Of course, his actions are clumsy, and sometimes he breaks things, but he still tries his best. Frat Kyle would do that as well to tease you. He'd tease you out of bad habits such as biting your nails or forgetting to drink water. He nearly shoved a water bottle down your throat during your study hall when you casually confessed to him that you hadn't drank anything all day.

✧ That's the thing about people, right? They always surprise you. Zoe knocked you out and dragged Kyle down to the greenhouse to chain him up. She did. Madison returned. It's like death means nothing to these people. All of those memories with Kyle are yours. He remembers those feelings he had for you. Which is why it's so hard for you to be around him. He's just someone who needs someone. That someone just happened to be you.

✧ It's a good thing that little miss 'I'm going to save him' didn't kill him down there. He probably would have killed her if she really tried. He escaped and ran up to your room. He refused to move from your body until you woke up. You were the one put in charge of caring for him. Well, nobody else really could. You are the only one who is able to untangle his mind. You could still see Kyle in there. You saw almost every part of him. Everybody around him just took, took, took. You're the only one he'd let take from him anymore.

✧ He developed a habit of touching your temples whenever he wanted to really, really tell you something or communicate. It was kind of cute. He looks up at you with those doe eyes and just concentrates really hard on thinking correctly. When you respond, he lights up and bounces on the balls of his feet. It was cute until it wasn't. Sometimes the thoughts you heard from him kept you up at night.

'Kill everyone... for... you. You mine. Like before. Remember?'

'Steal stuff of yours. Keep it. Home. You.'

'Massage you like before. When sleeping. Adorable— adorable sleeper.'

'Scars. Scars like mine. Hurt you. Scars like mine. All get scars like mine.'

'Party together. Two. Us. Booze. Ex-boy dead. Me. Did it. So party. Us. Two. Only.'

✧ You didn't truly understand why he would think those things or act this way. You did understand it a little the day Zoe and Madison tried to make him a glorified sex doll. At that point, not even glorified. You knew all the things Kyle had been through. You constantly have heard his mind. When Madison started touching him like that the earth trembled beneath you, quite literally. The entire state shook. You may or may not have accidentally absorbed some of Kyle's emotions. So when Madison did that you just about wanted to tear her head off. Kyle gave you a scared, confused look.

'Good feeling? Bad feeling? Help, please.'

She was lucky to have been revived from the dead once. You were itching to put her back under. That scared you, but it also made you feel safe. Kyle always stood up for you when people made you uncomfortable. You never really had the chance to do it for him because he wouldn't let you. When you absorbed his feelings you really felt him. It was intoxicating. It's safe to say Kyle put his fingers on your temple and asked you a lot of questions about that encounter.

✧ Kyle asks a lot of questions. It's part of you teaching him how to remember himself. Some of those things are best left not remembered. Some of the questions are appropriate and some of them are not. You still remember him asking if you two ever did it. He asks a lot of questions about all of the witch and magic stuff. It is what he was most curious about before he died. After all, you just disappeared on him. He almost killed himself because of that. He ended up dead anyway. The irony is lost on him, but not on you.

'Magic? You?'

"I can read minds, remember? That's how we communicate. I've also learned that people's emotions affect me. I can make people feel things— or use their energy to make things happen."

'Like—'

He had a breakdown after that. He remembered you being taken from him. He would never let that happen again. Never.

✧ He's territorial, in case you couldn't tell. He isn't exactly the master of subtly. He grunts and smacks anyone in the house that gets too close to him, except you. He holds everything he loves close to him, including you. He has a bad habit of murdering people you interact with. You'd tried to explain it to him, but he adamantly refused to stop. You aren't naive about what all of this means for you. He isn't exactly in the condition to keep his darkest secrets away from you, mostly. Still, your abilities connect you with his emotions. You can't entirely control it. So you need to be around him just as much as he needs to be around you. You do your best to get him to stop killing people. You truly do. It's just that doe-eyed expression he gives you that makes you give into him every single time. 

✧ The tablet you gifted him is the thing he is second-most territorial about. He always keeps it with him. He watches it when it's on the charger. You gave him a protective covering for it and a bag so he could carry it around. It's like his safety item. You have a bunch of games on there to help him learn. You also downloaded things that he liked before his death. You have an entire album of just you and him on that thing. Every time he sees you, he wants to take a new picture of you to put in the album. It makes him remember a little bit more.

✧ He traces the outline of your figure in every photo. You've caught him kissing his tablet with a picture of you on it more times than you'd like to admit. He always gives you this kind of blank but dopey smile afterwards. His pupils are always dilated around you, so it kind of makes him look like he's high. You don't know if the pupil thing is because of his resurrection, something with your magic, or if he is just that obsessed with you. He is just that obsessed with you.

✧ He also decorated the bag you got him with cloth markers. It was an exercise you did to help him with his fine motor skills. It was relaxing until he drew himself with both of you holding hands while everything was on fire around you. That was what you understood of the drawing anyway. You still let him keep it on there. He doesn't let anyone else touch the bag. Nan tried to touch it once, and he nearly bit her fingers off.

✧ You have to teach him to be gentle with others. He's gentle around you, but with anyone else, he has a very high chance of breaking one of their bones. You start off with animals first. They are less confrontational than humans and are genuinely easier to get alone with. Only he snaps the dog's neck and most every other animal you try to introduce to him. He only stops when he sees you getting upset. His mind immediately filled with shame in those moments. 'No. You plus me. No animals. Sorry. Love you.'

✧ He has a tendency to watch you at night. Just like he secretly did before all of this happened. He crawls into your bed and plays with the strands of your hair. He wraps himself around you tightly. Most of the time, he is the big spoon. He just likes placing his head over yours. He is obsessed with listening to your breathing and the beating of your heart. It reminds him that you are still with him.

✧ He 100% kills any witch hunter within any radius of you. If he hears anything with the word 'witch hunter', he is off searching for that person. Part of him doesn't want to murder, but the other part of him is more than eager to get rid of the person who wanted the coven harmed. He still mostly protects you, but after awhile, he learns to grow a bit more protective of the people you actually like in the coven. He doesn't want to see you in any distress. So protecting those close to you counts. In a dangerous situation he will still save you first. Even though you are more than able to handle yourself, Kyle still does it for you.

✧ Madison still absolutely cannot stand your relationship and close proximity to Kyle. She believes that it should be her who loves him. During the test of concilium, she tried to make Kyle kill you. You sensed something in his brain shut off at that point. That scared inner child was angry, and so was his violently obsessive side. It's like his need for you outweighed any other thought Madison could put in his mind. He didn't kill her then. He waited until she failed. Then he stalked into her room, and well, they never found her body. On some level, everyone knows it was Kyle, but it's left unsaid. That's just one of the many secrets of Kyle's that you will keep with you to the grave.

✧ You may not have completed all of the seven wonders, but you did become one of the new witches on the Witch Council. With Cordelia's blessing and a yandere, semi-functioning Kyle, you both set out across the world to find witches and bring them to safety within the academy's doors. The question remains: will he allow you to do so? Or is his docile behavior just a ruse to hide you away and make you permanently his?

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

[whoreofdilfs]

[crown-ov-horns]

Captured Angel

Michael Langdon x F!Angel!Reader

Contains: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, elements of coercion, implied loss of virginity, blasphemy, hierophilia

“Good, you’re awake.”

A chill ran down your spine. You had awakened in an unfamiliar room. Your head ached, your wings hung limp, and your limbs were heavy. The air was soaked to the last thread in malice. It made you nauseous. Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself up, your mind aflame with a single thought – you had to get out. You looked around, but before you could spot a way of escape, you felt a presence. Dark... Darker than the blackest night. Your heart froze in your chest, a taste of iron suddenly coating your tongue. Though you had not seen his face, you could recognize him anywhere. Seven heads. Ten horns. His honeyed voice left a cold, oily trace on your very soul as he spoke. You drew a deep breath, and spun around, to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips crooked into a smirk. Holding your gaze, he moved towards you. You drew back.   

“Get away from me, filthy Beast...” you snarled.

Deep down, you loathed yourself for the instinctive reaction. You were a soldier. You had a duty to stand your ground, and instead, you cowered. He promptly crossed the gap between you two.

“Ah-ah!” he scolded, clasping your chin “That’s not very nice, now, is it?..”

You grimaced. Michael Langdon. How ironic, for Satan’s son to bear your General’s name. The one who cast him out... You hoped it hurt the Evil One greatly. Michael caressed your cheek. You winced, and pushed his hand away. Sneering, he grabbed you by the throat.  

“Why am I here?” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He glanced down at your heaving chest.

“You’re my captive” he purred “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed. Struggling would only worsen your chances, you knew as much. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched you – like a wolf, salivating at a wounded deer. Your guts had coiled into a tight knot, a sickly sweet taste coating your mouth.

“Why didn’t your bootlickers kill me?” you asked, not quite certain if you wished to know the answer.

A chuckle escaped his lips. The Antichrist’s lecherous expression made your blood boil. How dare the abomination touch an angel of the Lord, you thought. A strange sensation was budding between your legs, but you pointedly ignored it, just as you ignored the feeling of unease clawing at the back of your skull.   

“That would’ve been a waste...” Michael tilted his head “They thought a gift would please me. They weren’t wrong...”

You snarled, attempting to pull away.

“Get your putrid hands off me!”

He tightened his grip on your neck.

“Hush” he coaxed in a mockingly gentle voice “I’m not going to hurt you, angel.”

“Vile creature...” you spat.

He pulled you closer. You bared your teeth, as your face almost crashed into his. Though you did not need air, the pressure on your throat was beginning to make you dizzy. Every nerve in your body screamed to fight - your muscles   had tensed, prepared for combat. You might have broken away. Escaped this unholy place. You should have at least tried... But, perhaps because of the mist gathering over your mind, your legs trembled underneath you. You found yourself staring at his mouth. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and silken. Your pulse leapt into a frenzy.

Michael snuck his other hand under your clothes. The captors had stripped you of your armour, and taken away your sword, leaving only your linen tunic to cover you. His fingertips caressed your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. You held your breath as you felt him part the soft folds of your skin.

You had never been fondled like this before. Carnal pleasure was forbidden for your kind. You should be disgusted, you understood as much. Still, the electric-like impulse roused by his touch paralyzed you, preventing you from breaking his arm.

He stroked your entrance. You stifled a gasp, your intimate muscles tightened in anticipation. Your hole was beginning to well with slick. Taking your lack of resistance for a welcome, he slipped two fingers inside you. The feeling of his skin against your sensitive membrane made your head spin, and you barely held back from bucking your hips into his hand.

He let go of your neck, only to wrap his arm around your waist. Keeping you steady, he spread his fingers wider, straining you until it hurt. You shuddered. He massaged the velvety walls of your flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. Aware of how much satisfaction hearing your cries would give him, you clenched your jaw. His skin grazed against a certain knot of nerves, and you nearly sunk to the ground as your legs buckled from the bolt of stimulation. Still, somehow, you did not make a sound.

It only made Michael more determined. He fixated on your sweet spot, leaving you to desperately clutch the lapels of his jacket. His mouth lingered but a thread away from yours - you felt his heartbeat echo against your rib cage. He narrowed his eyes, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Overwhelmed, you drew a sharp breath.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?..” he teased “What is it, my dear? What do you want, hm?”

He pushed a third finger into your dripping slit. You whined in pleasure muddled with despair.

“Speak up, angel” he demanded.

Virtue be damned. Something tameless had infected you. Caught in the furor of sin, you eagerly cast your innocence aflame.

“I...” you stammered “I want... I need you to ravish me...”

Michael threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you. Laying flat on your back, your wings sprawled open, you looked up at him, your eyes sweetly half-lidded. His knee shoved between your thighs, he ripped the front of your tunic open. You sighed as cold air brushed against your nipples. He placed his hands on your breasts, savouring the softness of your bare skin. His eyes aflame with lust, he took a moment to admire your flushed, helpless body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed your chest into his touch. He grabbed you by the throat again.

“You’re mine” he snarled “Mine alone...”

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Your gaze wandered down to his crotch, causing your mouth to immediately water. Michael’s lips crooked into a sleazy smirk. He unbuckled his pants, and slipped his underwear down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock sprung free. Large, but not obscenely so. You pulled the skirt of your tunic up, leaving your aching cunt at his mercy.

He pinned you down under his full weight. You wrapped your arms around him, savouring the feel of luxurious fabric under your fingers. Like an animal in heat, you craved to feel him inside. His eyes locked with yours, Michael clasped your leg, and positioned himself more comfortably. You blindly caught hold of his member, helping guide it into your hole.

Your heart skipped a beat – you let out a moan as your membranes clamped around him. Hardly giving you a moment to adjust, he began to move. The sudden strain roused a twinge, but it soon was obscured by shattering pleasure. No longer holding back your mewls and whimpers, you sank your nails into his back. Should the expensive suit get ruined, it will be his fault.

Michael groaned, his teeth bared in primal satisfaction. Your response only encouraged him, and he quickly picked up the pace. Each thrust sent a shattering wave of pleasure through your fevered nerves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming them. He traced the tip of his tongue over your neck. You hissed as his long hair tickled you, overwhelming your senses even more. He purred, and nipped at your jaw.

“Kiss me” you demanded.

He obeyed, leaning down to press his mouth against yours. You parted your lips for him, and allowed your tongues to battle for dominance.

“Say my name” he ordered, upon pulling away.

“I can’t...” you gasped in horror.

“Your general isn’t here...” he growled “It’s just you and me...” he pressed his face to your temple “Say my name, sweetheart. Show the Beast how much you’re enjoying your downfall.”

He pulled his cock almost all the was out, then slammed it back in, roughly grazing your sweet spot. Your cried out, and sank your fingers into his hair. You didn’t want to think about her. You loathed to imagine her disappointment in you. But his presence eclipsed her face. Drowned it in the storm of ecstasy ravaging you.

“Michael!”

“Good girl” he praised with a grin.

Shock after shock of ecstasy tore through your body, setting every cell of it aflame. Your forehead was laced in sweat. Your muscles quivered from the tension. You were close. Very close. Turned feral by the pleasure, he grabbed you by the wrists, thrusting into you with merciless force.

“Michael...” you moaned.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You arched your back, trembling and convulsing as a scream escaped your throat. Michael threw his head back with a snarl. You had grown painfully tight around him, prompting him to reach his own release. You felt him spill inside you – it was the strangest, most pleasant sensation  you had ever experienced.

You collapsed into the pillows, limp and gasping for breath. He slumped down on top of you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to soak in the glowing haze of bliss. But, just when he had crept off of you, and was about to pull you into his arms, you leapt up. Using his surprise for your advantage, you climbed onto him – this time, you were the one to pin him down. You caught his gaze, and drew a dagger from underneath your ruined tunic. Afraid to molest their master’s gift, the devil worshippers had missed it.

“You will find the men who captured me, crucify them, and bleed them like pigs” you growled, pressing the blade against his throat “Do you understand me, Antichrist?”

A drop of blood sept from under the metal, glowing against his milky skin in a warning.

“Yes” he murmured, as his eyes blazed with adoration.

[evansloverblog]

I'm blinded by the lights. No, I can't sleep until I feel your touch, i said, ooh, I'm drowning in the night. Oh, when I'm like this, you're the one I trust.

[taintandviolent]

Ouija Board (Tate Langdon x Reader)

Summary: You have a sleepover at your new house, and your friend decides to bring out your Ouija board. But, you’re all teenage girls, so the questions are completely unhinged and un-serious. But, the ghost you’re talking to takes full advantage of the situation. It’s a perfect opportunity, he’s been watching for you weeks. You’re living in his room, afterall.

warnings: 2.9k words -- self insert! female receiving. shameless smut. post-death Tate, ghost sex, cunnilingus, handjob, rough sex, unprotected sex, mention of ghosts/death.

Ao3 link here! Full fic below the cut! 18+.

tagged: @zabelcolin @kaismanwich @elsamars @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @r-3tro​ @twinkiemaximoff​ @milkovich-misfit {dm/ask to be added!}

It was the third week in the new house.

It was the first time that you actually felt at home. Somehow, you’d managed to make two friends from school, which was equally as shocking to you as it was to your parents. In previous schools, you’d always been on the outskirts, bored stiff at the idea of socialising. When you’d announced to your dad at dinner that you’d actually braved the choppy shores of friendship, he’d nearly choked on his coffee.

“That’s wonderful! Why don’t you invite them over for dinner tonight?” Your mom asked, setting her mug down on the table. You rocked your foot back and forth, mulling over the idea. Previously, your days off from school had been spent unpacking and checking around corners, listening to the creaking and whining of an old house.

Your mother was delighted with its age, commenting on the Tiffany glass and wood — but you felt things that had rotted underneath the wood. Things that whispered when your back was turned, or lingered in the kitchen when you went for a glass of water in the middle of the night.

“Okay, sure.”  

So that night, instead of flicking the light switch off in your bathroom and making a beeline for your bedroom, you sat on the floor with Jessica, Angie, a dish of pizza rolls and three glasses of grape soda.

You swallowed the mouthful, and nodded. “No, I’m serious. This house is weird. The first week I was here, in the kitchen… I saw a blonde lady with a hole in the back of her head.”

Jessica snapped the book she was leafing through, and turned. “I bet she was murdered. Don’t you have an Ouija board?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, pointing towards the bookcase. “Never used it, though.”

“You’re going to. This is much more fun than going to Town Hall and asking for records on previous owners. Sometimes, they don’t include death certificates — which is obviously what everyone is interested in. That’s the good stuff.” It took all of three minutes for Jessica to set it up. In unison, the three of you delicately placed two fingers on the planchette.

“Okay… so, what do we ask?”

You chewed on the inside of your lip, thinking.

“Is there anyone here with us?” You blurted out.

The planchette skidded to life, circling in the middle of the board. You’d seen it happen in movies, but the actual sensation was an unsettling one. YES. You all exchanged looks, searching for any guilty expressions — but it seemed that none of you had opted to play any tricks. The planchette had moved by itself.

“Did you die here?” Angie asked.

YES.

Jessica gasped. “Ooooh, what if it’s a cute ghost boy like in Casper? Can I keep you?”  

Completely enrapt with the idea, she turned her attention to the board, and asked, “Is the spirit in this room male?”

YES.

“Well, that rules out Miss Hole in her Head.” You cleared your throat, focusing on the printed letters. “Have you been the one in my room every night?”

“The one in your room every night?!” Jessica hissed, shooting a pointed look at you. You shrugged apologetically. Angie, who was visibly uneasy with the entire idea, almost fell backwards when the spirit answered.

YES.

“Oh my god!?” Jessica hung her head between her arms, laughing. “It’s probably some old grandpa with a shrimp dick, let’s be real here.”

“Bet. I’ll find out. Do you have a big dick, Mr. Ghost?” You asked.

Again, the planchette zipped to YES. Whoever he was, he didn’t hesitate. Cute. The three of you howled, laughing at the ridiculousness of the question. Angie desperately tried to redirect the conversation by asking the ghost what it wanted. The planchette spelled out HER.

Jessica lifted her fingers, and Angie screeched at her to return them. “If you don’t say goodbye, the spirit will have an open invitation to come into you!”

“To come!?” Jessica mocked. “To come into me?! Oh, the horror — don’t come into me! Pull out first, Ghost.”

Angie scowled. “You’re so gross.”

As they bickered, you stared at the planchette. It was still active, despite Angie and Jessica’s attention being pulled away. It quivered back and forth, as though it was shaking nervously.  

Once Jessica’s wandering mind had been reigned back in, the three of you managed a few more more questions; some about murder, some about occult, and some about other ghosts in the house. Eventually, the sun disappeared from your window, plunging your room into darkness, and your mother called the three of you down to eat. Your friends stayed for about an hour after dinner, and they’d seemingly forgotten about the Ouija board. You hadn’t, though. You leaned your back against the door, the coldness of the glass piercing through your cotton shirt. Your eyes trailed up the staircase, following the bend of the bannister as it curved to the left. Before you made your way upstairs to ready yourself for bed, you craned your neck down the hall, trying to listen for the whispers.

~

You sat upright in your bed, gasping for air. The book clutched in your hand fell to the floor with a thud. You hadn’t even really remembered falling asleep, but the creak of your floorboards had woken you up. You were met with nothing but the silence and glittering darkness of the room while your eyes adjusted. Eventually, the speckles turned into furniture pieces; your dresser, your mirror, your bookcase… everything seemed in order. The clock on your bedside table incessantly blinked 2:34 AM.

Something skidded across the floor, a spinning blur of tan and black. You yelped, throwing yourself up against your headboard. Your room was silent save for that sound of something hard scooting against a flat surface. You took a deep breath, and crept forward gingerly, wincing each time your mattress creaked.

You gripped the edge of your bed frame tightly, knuckles paling. You peered over. In the middle of the floor where you’d been sitting earlier, the Ouija board was laid out. The planchette swept across the board as it had earlier, but this time with no hands to guide it. It zipped across the board aggressively, as though it was trying to get your attention.

“Hello?”

The triangle paused, then slowly drifted to hello.

Dumbfounded, your mouth opened and closed. You were at a loss — because no horror movie had ever given you any idea how to politely hold a conversation with a spirit outside of the traditional setting.

“Um…. can I… help you? Are you here to possess me?”

Stupid. That was stupid.

Watching as the planchette swept across the board, you read the letters allowed.

“L…A…Y…. Lay? Lay. Okay. B…A…C…K? Lay back?” You waited for further confirmation, but the planchette stayed still for a moment.

It started spinning again, quickly spelling out a final instruction. “Close my eyes. Lay back and close my…. eyes.”

You heaved a sigh, and against your better judgement, you did. You shimmied back underneath the covers, pulling them up to your chest, and waited. The seconds were excruciating, and you were sure some horror movie had to have started like this.  

The duvet rustled at the bottom of the bed, and all at once, a gust of cold air hit your feet. The mattress gave to the weight of someone, and you yelped at the feeling of clothed shoulders nestling in between your thighs.

A broad hand ghosted across your stomach, fiddling the scalloped edge of your pyjama shorts. It swooped into your inner thigh, then circled down along your knee. Though the actions were soft, you couldn’t help but feel the knot forming in your stomach. Letting out a soft whimper, you bit your lip, clamping down hard. One hand slid up, caressing the curve of your ribs. You writhed. “You’re driving me insane…” you whispered harshly. Had you really been that touch starved? 

Lips hovered over your inner thigh, the hot breath washing over the warm skin. A single finger ran along the inside, trailing further and further up. He slowed as he neared you, wordlessly asking for permission. 

“Please,” you begged, doing everything you could not to scoot your hips down into him and embarrass yourself any further. “Please…” 

He continued. The pad of his finger floated over you, stroking, teasing until the wetness soaked through the threads. The hands disappeared, but only to return to the sides, where they gripped the waistband, tugging them softly off your hips.

You took a deep breath and immediately clamped your hand over your mouth, muffling the shrill whine that tried to escape. Whoever he was, lapped at your cunt like it was a melting ice cream cone, and it didn’t take long for it to start weeping, soaking the green sheets beneath you.

Your chest rose and fell quickly, and your eyelids fluttered, overwhelmed with the sensation. Everything was white and on fire. Your thighs trembled deep within the muscle with every flick of his tongue. Were you really getting eaten out by a ghost? Was that actually happening? You felt silly acknowledging that. His tongue flattened out against your clit and you let out a whine, erasing every other thought. He pressed his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue flicking at the underside of your clit.

“Fffffuck, oh my god.”

You had to know. You swallowed, and tightened your lips into a thin line. You were ready for whatever horrifying visual would meet you. With one final surge of courage, you flipped the covers up, opened your eyes and gazed into the tented darkness. A head of soft, blonde curls bobbed softly between your legs.

“HELLO?!” It wasn’t a greeting, but the boy lifted his head from your cunt. Two dark eyes glimmered at you from beneath the duvet.

“Hey,” he said, chin glistening. “I’m Tate. I used to live here.”

“You’re so…. cute?”

He smiled crookedly, the dimples in his cheek deepening. “Were you expecting Freddy Krueger or something?”

Your head fell back on the pillow like an anvil and a breathy laugh broke your pants. “Yeah, maybe. Jesus Christ…. I don’t know. I’ve never had a ghost between my legs.”

“You liked it. You’re so wet.” He was pleased with himself, you could tell. Reaching one finger up to stroke your opening, he angled his head to watch the way you clenched and squirmed at his touch.

“Was I… were you the one I was talking to with my friends?” He nodded. He shifted his weight, manoeuvring himself up until he was above you, supporting himself with hands on either side of your neck.

“I’ve been watching you since you moved in, Y/N… I didn’t want to scare you away.” He confessed, searching your face. “I’ve wanted you for weeks.”  

You were scrambling to keep your thoughts in one manageable bundle. On one hand, this scenario was insane and you were sick to be enjoying it. On the other… sure, he was dead, but he was easily one of the cutest boys you’d ever seen and the way he wanted you was intoxicating. His dark eyes darted from your lips to your eyes, wordlessly asking for permission. You craned your neck up to meet him, pressing into his plush, pink lips.

You’d never been one of those boy crazy teenagers, but you understood the cathartic release that sex brought. It was carnal and natural. You’d only ever slept with one other person, so the hunger was never sated, and you were left quietly fingering yourself after your parents fell asleep. Every time you’d had the chance to have made out with someone though, you tasted them. Deeply. Kissing someone released their scent, the one that only intimate partners got. And none of them had ever been as heady and addictive as Tate was. You tilted your head to get further into his waiting mouth, swirling your tongue with his. You whimpered, sending a moan down his throat.

You reached under, sliding your hands down his stomach. The tiniest trail of hair guided you to the waistband of his jeans, where you made quick work of the buttons. Breaking the kiss only to help with scooting his jeans over the curve of his ass, Tate quickly returned his lips against yours, his tongue moving past your lips eagerly.

Although you were going in blind, it wasn’t difficult to find his cock. Not only did it take up most of the space between you two, but it was hot to the touch, the heat radiating from beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. You pressed your hand against him, getting an idea for the length.

“Huh. So, you weren’t lying about that.” Tate’s hips ground against your palm in response. You reached up, flipping the elastic down so you could slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along the soft tip. Your palm was immediately slick with his precum; the thick fluid coated the soft skin. You used your thumb to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges. He groaned, burying his face into your neck.

“I didn’t lie about anything you asked me.”

You began stroking him underneath the sheets in slow, full movements and Tate’s breathing hitched, hips bucking forward involuntarily. You sped up, feeling warm droplets dribble onto your exposed tummy. Your thumb pressed into the squishy flesh of his head, not expecting the reaction that followed.

“Mm-uh—please. Please, I want you. Please.” He was begging, whining, and his big brown eyes were filled with a pathetic yearning that made your walls soak even further.

“So do it.”

He wasted no time in completing your demand. He sat up, the covers falling off his back.Tate gripped himself, giving his cock a few pumps before he lined himself up, pressing his hot, leaking tip into your entrance. Snatching the opportunity from him, you bucked your hips up to his, forcing his cock inside. You clenched around him hungrily and Tate let out a throaty whine as he pushed the remaining length into you.

He started out slow, taking his time as he slid in and out of you, but the slick pull of your walls each time he slid out unravelled his concentration. Each thrust seemed a little more desperate than the last, his balls slapping against you, splashing the mixture of his spit and your cum against your inner thighs. Bottoming out inside of you, he arched his neck backwards, letting it hang heavy. “Are you a virgin?”

“Wha — no.” You breathed, adjusting your head on the pillow to look at him. Odd question to ask in the middle of the deed. “Why?”

Tate swallowed, and between pants, said, “Because…. you’re so wet.” He dropped forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His cock was still inside, the girth hitting you at a new angle, and the fullness made your stomach clench.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, okay? Tell me if I’m hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nodded fervidly, and slithered your hands underneath his sweat-soaked shirt until it gathered. Tate lifted his arms, and allowed you to slip the shirt over them. You tossed it towards the edge of the bed, and raked your nails along his naked chest.

“Please.” It was your turn to beg. Tate backed his hips out, pulling himself from your warmth. “I want it.”

He dropped back down to his hands, getting a tight grip on the mattress behind you. His lips met yours again, hungrily. It provided only a momentary distraction, because the second that Tate started pounding into you, you could focus on nothing else — except suppressing your aroused screams. He scooted closer to you on the bed, angling himself to get deeper.

He was hitting every spot he could, and your breaths quickened as he fucked you closer to the edge. You bit down on your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. He had just started, and you were already about to lose it.

“Are you gonna’ cum? Huh?” Tate asked, now struggling to keep his rhythm. If you were close, he seemed to be closer — and you didn’t feel so bad. Tate reached down, pulling himself out to slide the tip of his cock over your clit a few times before stuffing it back in. Your lips parted in a soundless scream as you felt the unmistakable warmth filling you, the quivering in your legs, and the desperate, spasming arch of your back.

“Fuck, fuck,” Tate chanted, feeling your orgasm as it gripped him in a wet, pulsing chokehold. “Fuck!”

As he spilled into you, Tate fell atop of your body, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours. His hips were on autopilot, erratically bucking with each gush. You winced, on the verge of overstimulation. Gradually, his thrusts slowed.  

He flopped over on the side of you, one hand stroking the outside of your thigh delicately. He was gazing at you dreamily when you turned to face him.

“So, do I have to bring out the Ouija board each time I want to see you?”

Tate propped his head up on his hand. “You want to see me again?”

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling, a taunting smile curling around your swollen lips. “Uhhh… yeah.”

“I can be here every night if you want.” He purred.

“Haven’t you been anyway? Or did you lie about that?”

Tate’s brows pulled upwards, looking hurt. “I told you — I didn’t lie about anything! I’d never lie to you!”

“Okay, shh —“ You silenced him with your lips. “I’ll be right back. I have to pee.”

For the first time since you’d moved in, you weren’t afraid of ghosts as you walked to the bathroom. You were just afraid that the one in your bedroom would be gone when you got back.

He wasn’t, though.

[evanpetersmybf]

Scary Love

Kit Walker x female!reader

Summary: A future nun with trust issues and a falsely accused gentleman.

Genre: Fluff and some angst.

Word count: 1,381

Warnings: Catholic reader and mention of some religious items (not really sure if this counts as a warning, but okay)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

...And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

Amen.

You crossed yourself, still kneeling down in front of the crucifix, hands holding a Holy Mary medal.

The chapel was quiet and peaceful, a big difference in comparison to the rest of the asylum, which was always filled with screams and many other disturbing stuff. How did you end up in this hellhole? That’s the question you ask yourself every night before going to sleep. Ah yes, you were the one who took this decision. No one forced you.

You returned to the main room; a jukebox eternally playing Dominique non-stop while all the patients coexisted in the common hall.

And there he was. The one and only Kit Walker. Probably the most sane person in the habitation right now, besides you of course.

The handsome man saw you and a sweet smile appeared on his face, cute dimples along the lovely grin. Seeing him made you feel multiple things at the same time. Things you didn’t allow yourself to feel. With a heavy sigh of remorse, you avoided his gaze and kept walking around, finding an excuse to get away from him.

Kit’s brows furrowed, not getting what was happening. Why were you avoiding him? He thought you two were good friends now. In reality, you were one of the few people in the psychiatric who actually treated him as a human being and not as a crazy murderer -which he clearly wasn’t, tho- and that melted his heart.

He followed you from behind, but you kept escaping.

“Sista’!” He pleaded, until was finally able to catch up and grabbed your hand, making you turn around to face him. “Sista’ Y/N, what's goin’ on?” His dark doe eyes tried to meet yours, as an attempt to find an answer.

Nothing.

Kit scoffed, making early assumptions due to your lack of reaction. “So do ya’ really believe in that bullshit, huh? Ya’ really think I killed my wife?” Annoyed, the man let go of your hand, but deep down he hoped you didn’t think of him that way.

“No, wait!” You replied, looking down at the floor while fidgeting with a cross necklace hanging around your neck. “Is not like that, Kit…”

“Then what is it, sista’? Are ya’ scared of me?”

“I actually am.” You took a deep breath and stared at his eyes after hesitating for a while. “I’m afraid you are the temptation, Kit.”

The brunet raised an eyebrow, having more questions than answers. “Whatcha’ mean, sista’? Da’ temptation?”

“The temptation I always pray to God to keep far from me.” Your gaze drifted to his forearms; thick veins and big hands. Oh Lord.

Kit realized you were staring down. He tried to discover what were you looking at, until he noticed your eyes and a subtle blush on your cheeks.

He smirked and crossed his arms in front of him. That cheeky smile. The one who made you head over heels.

“Oh, so now I’m da’ devil, hm?”

You didn’t say anything else. You ran away from him and locked yourself in your room.

Kit was always on your mind. No matter what you did, he was always there. Even when you attempted to pray, you heard his voice. Maybe you need to be the patient and not a novice.

After a long sleepless night, you found yourself in the kitchen early in the morning, just to find Kit kneading dough and mumbling some things to himself.

“Mornin’, sista’” Voice soft like honey, yet it showed some concern because of what happened yesterday between you two. “Ya’ ‘kay?”

“Mhm…” Of course not. You weren’t okay. You felt conflicted.

“If I may ask… Why did ya’ become a nun?”

“I’m not a nun yet. I haven’t made my vows. I’m here tryin’ to find out if this truly is my vocation or not.”

“And? Have you made up your mind?”

You shook your head no, hugging yourself and looking at his arms, again. “You’re the reason why I don’t know if I belong here.”

Kit let out a chuckle, feeling amused by your shyness and obvious fixation on his limbs.

“Why do ya’ always stare at my hands, sista’? Do ya’ like ‘em?”

Your face went red, eyes slightly widened. Damn. He noticed it.

“I’m not supposed to like those sinful things.”

“Ya’ a human too, Y/N”

“But I wasn’t made for this. For affection or lust.”

Kit was curious about what you meant by that. You explained everything to him, saying you felt out of place because when you were growing up not a single boy flirted with you. Besides, you said you had many awful love experiences and, after a serious heartbreak, you began to wonder if possibly your destiny was staying single and dedicating the rest of your life to God. Furthermore, you mentioned your fear of physical touch, and how you still desired it. It was complicated.

The man listened to you, looking at how you fidgeted with a chain while you nervously told your story, taking note of how your soothing voice cracked from time to time.

Everything about you was so alluring to him. He couldn’t believe no one treated you right. And, as the gentleman he was, he wanted to change that.

“Well, sista’... To me, you’re one of da’ most beautiful women alive. I mean it.” Kit took a few steps closer to you, but kept a fair distance in order to not make you uncomfortable.

He cracked a smile, in love with those charming eyes of yours.

“If I’m that beautiful, why haven't I been loved, Kit? Tell me why–”

Kit was now some inches away from your face contemplating your lips. He placed a hand over your mouth, not letting you finish your sentence.

You tried to speak, but it was nonsense; his palm muffling your words.

“Y/N, ‘m not like those assholes. Not at all. Trust me, please.”

He let you speak again, now intertwining his fingers with yours. His body was warm, his touch was gentle and comforting, the type of connection you’ve been craving for too long. Walker was so good-looking; you could look at him forever… And he could look at you for the rest of eternity, too.

“Can I, gorgeous?” His thumb brushed your lips and part of your cheek, sending electric waves to your spine.

Was this even for real? You doubt it. You thought he was messing around, but he wasn’t.

Fearfully, you agreed.

Finally, Kit leaned in and pressed his chapped lips against your velvety ones. The kiss was tender, full of endearment. His heart was beating fast, so was yours. Pupils dilated and breathing deep.

He cupped the side of your face, rubbing the flesh with his digit while you melted under his touch.

This was the very first time that someone held you the way he did. Embracing you as if you were the most precious gem, or as if you were made of delicate porcelain.

Eventually, he pulled away and grinned, both of you feeling like dorky teens after having their first kiss, even if that wasn’t the case. “Ya’ so divine…” Kit mumbled and then, his lips were dancing with yours.

He stepped back from time to time exclusively to flatter you, saying corny compliments between the kisses.

His hands were roaming all over your body, caressing every right spot to make you feel in heaven.

He was so good at this.

But… Did this have a future?

Kit was here in Briarcliff, falsely accused of committing a murder. Not only that, you were a novice. This love couldn’t be.

Your mind overwhelmed you with those thoughts, making you abruptly get away from him.

“No, Kit, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Or perhaps you could. You felt like losing your mind. Love was making you crazy. However, you couldn’t allow yourself to feel, nor risk his safety for this. Maybe you were scared of his love. Of how much he was caring for you. You didn’t understand.

Without further ado, you left the cold kitchen, once filled with sweetness and adoration.

Kit remained there, a single tear drop falling from his eye, wondering if he could ever be happy again.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

A/N: English isn't my first language. Sorry if this has grammatical mistakes. Also, I tried to be respectful with the religion, I'm catholic myself and I'm so sorry if this offends someone. Hope you enjoy it! ^^

[coentinim]

Crime scene

ADULT + DARK CONTENT - MDNI !

JPM is beautiful in the act of killing, how can his wife not appreciate that?

Contains: descriptions of murder (not of reader), gore, blood, sexual content (at a fresh crime scene), you are (almost) as deranged as him, you are married to him, dead dove - please feast <3

I am not responsible for what you see on the internet!

Edit: forgot to tag people T_T

@fear-is-truth @taintandviolent @feefymo @slutforgarlogan @silverzoomies @yandereunsolved @maeriavizsendingjpmdose @evanpetersbf @carniv0reev

You heard it again. Those screams, those ear piercing, mind shattering screams of some poor soul being gutted alive. Supposedly, the walls were soundproof, but you could hear well and clear the wails of another one of James' victims in the next room. Perhaps the wall connecting your rooms was the only one he didn't line with asbestos... and on purpose for sure. He wants you to hear.

A young woman - no older than 25, judging by the noise - was currently being sliced open slowly and deliberately by your husband's hand. After only being married to him for a few weeks, you could already tell apart the screams of terror before a quick death and pained, tortured wails of a slow one. And during this time, you've grown accustomed to this peculiar hobby of his, even fond of it at times. His bloodlust and cruelty were undeniably fascinating, and having the honour of being the only person he never wished to harm was something to cherish. His debauchery was just contagious, really!

Curiosity had overcome you, and you decided to check what exactly was your beloved doing as he worked. And oh, were you amazed at the sight when you entered his room.

The screaming was so much louder and clearer here, begs for mercy - even for a quicker, painless death - made for a terrifying noise, but you paid them no mind. Oh no, you focus was on your husband only. He was a true artist, the way he worked the woman's body like it was an instrument, a work of art for art's sake, a horrible perversion of what a piece should look like. A bloody image it was - James was cutting all over her skin, ignoring the wails, and carving flesh with quick, steady strokes of the knife. You couldn't help but come closer, almost beside him, and you made your presence known by walking into his line of sight. He raised his eyes from the half-dead girl to you and you noticed his expression. He did not look human, not even one bit. His eyes were widened, pupils engorged and cheeks flushed bright red. He wore the mask, the strange mask you didn't know the purpose of that made him look like a horrible monster mothers warn their children about. He did not wear the apron he usually did, though. His white shirt (one of the informal, "not as good ones", you recalled) was half unbuttoned and stained crimson with the explosions of the woman's blood. In the act, he looked like a beast. He was panting when he stopped skinning the woman to gaze at you.

"My darling, I didn't- hah, disturb you, did I?"

His voice from behind the metal and leather sounded different, too. Savage. Inhuman.

"No, Jimmy, I was just curious..."

You gazed at the wailing woman on the table. Dear god, she was a mess... her arms and thighs were a mosaic of cuts, some more refined and artistic, some deep and rough, careless. She was almost bare, her under dress riding up enough to only cover her breasts, and only a small pair of knickers on her bottom. You hummed in approval; James listened to your rules against seeing his victims naked unless necessary. But you quickly turned your attention to her stomach, because that was certainly a sight to behold! Around the navel, there were a few deep lacerations, one of them definitely deep enough to penetrate muscle and cut into the intestine. The blood flowing out in rhythm with the erratic pulses of her heart covered her pristine underwear, making her look downright pornographic. It wasn't hard to understand his savage interests in such moments - the bloody, shining gash on her stomach was a curious sight, to say the least. It truly looked nasty; that must be why she was writhing in pain so much. She seemed to beg for your help, but it was unintelligible - besides, there was no saving her now, she had lost too much blood. Not that you would have saved her otherwise - she would just run to the nearest police officer and get you and your husband arrested. Accepting James might be hard at times, but seeing him executed while people leered at his undeniably painful demise would have been much harder. He was hard to love, and hard to let go of.

You trailed your hand over her split stomach, ignoring the thrashing and protests.

"May I?", you asked.

James' eyes lightened up even more, humanity mixing with the animal in him.

"Would I ever deny my darling wife to share my pleasures?", he replied in his syrupy voice distorted by the metal mask, the terrifying sound making your head spin. He was the only one who could scare you yet make you feel so safe.

You kept looking him in the eyes, barely visible under the eye protection, while slowly putting two fingers into the woman's wound. You were terrified, but you just wanted to tease your James just a bit, just a tad... It was wonderful. The quiet, pained screech, the blood exploding under your fingertips and the pulse of her insides. It felt like touching something slimy, is that what James felt upon fingering your cunt? He absolutely adores doing it, and now you see why; the texture is nothing short of divine. Your ministrations had a great effect on your husband, as he started panting and gripped the edge of the table the woman was sprawled on. Oh, he was hungry like a wolf at that moment. You let go of the victim's body after just two seconds, slightly disgusted with yourself, observing your bloodied hand and James' face. It was hard to see anything but his nose and eyebrows through the mask, but you knew he was more aroused than ever. In fact, you feared him. He was terrifying in his murderous attire, even more so now that his body language radiated pure hunger. You held his killer gaze for a few long seconds until something made him glance away. Right. The woman.

To your surprise, she was still making noises despite the blood loss. James walked right past you, close to her face, and held her cheek almost tenderly. Her gaze was unfocused, but she tried to squirm away from his touches. In response he just gripped her chin tight and tutted at her hazy thrashes. He raised his blade and sliced her neck open, so deep the blood exploded in his face. She went quiet rather quickly after that.

You saw him kill a dozen times, yet it always stunned you just how predatory it looked. His muscles taut, the vulgar display of vitality, as if he absorbed the life force of his newest victim.

Slowly, James turned to face you. He was dead silent, and at that angle you couldn't see his eyes. Your instinct told you to back away, so, naturally, you stepped forward, your thighs slick with arousal from the fear and guilt.

The growl that came from his throat was definitely unexpected. But more surprising was his direct action - he gripped your shoulders tightly and led you into the chaise-lounge next to the table. He pushed you hard onto it, making you gasp, and he pressed your shoulders to the soft pillows as if you were to be another victim. That particular thought went straight to your pussy.

"James... maybe after you clean up after yourself?", you suggested in the most sultry voice you could. Ah, did you have to tease him so much? He was impatient, after all! The tension from the kill had to be resolved somehow.

"Nonsense, dove-" he was already pulling up your gown, "I need to take my fellow murderess... now "

You bit your lip, nervous. Were you really a murderess?... that girl was already half dead when you touched her wound! You were merely an accomplice, and...

Oh, you forgot you didn't wear any panties until you felt the cold air hit your pussy. He gripped your thighs and left blood handprints all over, making you forget your guilt. Your dress was all red now, too, as he used it as some sort of napkin to clean himself after his meal. He was savage today, but even now he remembered to at least taste you before taking you. He attempted to take off his mask and you whined.

"James... no, keep it"

He chuckled darkly. Then, he spoke with his metallic, leathery voice:

"Oh? If that is to your tastes, dearest wife..."

He wasted no more time after that. He almost ripped the silky dress off in his hurry, and slipped out of his pants with an impatient growl. Oh, you looked like a prey ready to be ravaged. He groped you all over before sinking his painfully hard cock inside you, leaving bloody handprints on your waist and breasts and neck. You looked like a masterpiece of pain. You whined, the stretch was pretty painful despite your wetness. He looked like a feral beast above you; his terrifying mask making him look like a strange monster taking you all for himself. The thought felt so erotic you could barely stand it, and you whined. Oh, his girth felt so invigorating...

He fucked the same way he killed. Impatiently, roughly, and yet meticulously, both in control and completely out of it. His moans were distorted by the mask, and it felt as if he was all around you, he was in your brain as much as in your cunt. It felt divine, to be violated by that beastly killer, by your beloved husband. Sweet, honeymoon lovemaking with him was terrific, but the desecrating pace he treated you with right now was a feeling no other man could recreate. You gripped his shoulders, staining the back of his shirt with your bloodied fingers, bringing his body closer. Each thrust was punctuated by your obscene moans; he slid himself in at a slightly upward angle, hitting your sweet spot hard each time.

You whined and whined, and he slid his bloody fingers past your parted lips, making you taste his victim’s blood. Your guilt was all-encompassing, yet it felt so good to give in, even just once. Morality was for the stupid, uneducated folk, James used to say. Regulations, rules, faith; all of it is supposed to limit freedom of thought and action. You believed every word of his, no matter how ridiculous it all sounded in the context of his serial murders.

He always knew when you were close, always knew just how and when to toy with your pussy with his red hands and when to edge himself so you two finish at the same time. He had a thing for it, it felt like unity, like your bodies were truly one.

You thought he would never kill you, but he did it quite frequently. You died a little death many times with him, unravelling beautifully under his strong body, core exploding with spasms and locking his seed deep in you. You two came as one, him filling you up, making your mixed releases drip down and combine with all the blood. In this moment, you were his victim and he was your killer, taking you from life and lifting your soul up, or maybe dragging it down to hell, for a few seconds of blissful pleasure.

You always envied his victims. Oh to see his face as the last thing before you fade away, oh to feel him inside you as you pass! The blood all over your body, his mask and the body nearby made you feel such eroticism and guilt...

He pulled out with a whine and tucked himself into his pants, pulling your dress over your dirty body soon after. The casual nature of the situation made your head spin in confusion. That was it?... he can just get up like that, like nothing happened? You were panting, staring at his body, beautiful and shiny with sweat. He took his mask off, revealing a devilish grin.

“Miss Evers! Bring me fresh linens and draw a bath for my wife, would you?”

[wherewritersgotodie-blog]

You’re too sweet for me — Kai Anderson x Reader (pt. 1)

kai is obsessed with you, but determined not to get to close to you. that is, until you are attacked in the woods and he’s forced to enter into the proximity of your feminine pheromones. how can he resist your angelic presence now?

warnings: sexual themes. vulgar. stalking. millennial texting?

this sort of reads like a second person p.o.v. of You :/ womp womp. italicized kai thoughts btw

Kai watched you.

He learned your favorite songs, holed up in his dark room, finding every photo of you online that ever existed. He started following you home, mapping out your days in his free time.

His obsession began when you had bumped into him on your way to a local cafe. You had looked at him with startled eyes, put your hand on his bicep.

“Oh, excuse me, I’m sorry!” Your words spilled out, hyperfeminine and littered with apologetic concern. It was like you were trying to drive him crazy. Like you were trying to torture him with your softness. The image of your sweet face, your neck craned up to look at him got so caught in his mind that he had to take his coffee to the car and rub one out in the parking lot.

He planned to only ever watch you from afar. If he ever got near you, he’d taint you. He didn’t want that. You were too clean for his sinner filth.

Could it hurt to follow you home once or twice, though? You’d finish up with class, you’d walk home through the trees and the Michigan twilight— he’d be there.

You were good; good like he’d never seen before. You visited your parents on the weekends, you went to class, you went to some feminist organization meeting on Tuesdays and Thursdays (your only flaw, as far as he knew— exceptionally forgivable), you wore soft sweaters and heart necklaces, you smiled at everyone, everything. You listened to older music, you read at your window nightly. You were so clean. So pure.

He could never touch you.

He hates when his plans get muddled. Most of the time.

On a night mid-November, he had followed you from class back to your place, wearing a zip-up hoodie pulled over his blue hair.

You took some shortcut through the woods, which, if he was your boyfriend, if he was your protector, he would never allow you to do, but he wasn’t, so he followed closely behind, ducking behind trees periodically.

He was staring at your hair in the moonlight, thinking about blindfolding you, stuffing that lacy white headband you always wore in your mouth, wrapping that white cloth belt you wore loose on your hips around your neck and using it as a leash, when he saw a shadow from the left side of the pathway lurking up towards you. It wasn’t long until it had approached you. It was a man, he could see now through the dark, and he was taller than you, and larger, as well.

“Pretty little thing,” he heard a deep voice through the darkness. Kai’s instinct lit aflame. He ran up behind you, where the man had now grabbed your shoulders.

While the man was larger than you, Kai was taller and broader than him. He kicked him to the ground in one swift movement, then kicked his stomach many times. He then leaned down over the man’s face and said, “Run. Away. Now.”

He’d have that dealt with that later.

As quickly as seemed possible, the man was trails blazing down the pathway, swallowed by the dark.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kai touched your shoulder, wiping sweat—or blood— from his forehead.

“Yes, I’m alright, are you okay?” you looked up with those big fucking doe eyes, touching his chest, tip-toeing to get a better look at his face. You hadn’t seen if he was hit or not. It didn’t look like it.

“I’m fine,” he said, backing away slightly.

You stared at him for a moment. The purple light was fading into the ground, so you couldn’t see well, but you recognized his face. “Wait… hey… do I know you?” That pretty, meek little voice.

I could kill myself right now, he thought. It’d be better than this. “Oh, really? From where?” he shifted his feet, putting his hands in his pockets.

“I can’t… put my finger on it,” you whispered, biting your lip, deep in thought, twisting your necklace in one hand. “Oh! I know. I bumped into you at Brookfield Café.”

He tilted his head, furrowing his brows. “I don’t remember, but I’m sure you’re right. Memory isn’t my strong suit.” Lie.

“That’s okay, I have a pretty bland face,” you respond, smiling. Not at all.

“No, no, I must’ve been in a hurry,” he paused. “Why don’t I walk you home?”

“Oh… I… Uhm… Sure,” you nod, beginning to walk.

Jesus, you were as trusting as a hungry puppy, he thought.

“You know, you really shouldn’t walk alone in the dark. It’s not like it used to be around here. People are dangerous,” Kai said.

“Yeah, I guess,” you shrug. “You’re right.” You decided to add so as to not seem dismissive.

No one would take care of you like I would. No one knows how to take care of innocent, sweet girls like you. I do. I do, (Y/N). “What’s your name, by the way?” he asked.

“Oh, sorry!” Kai’s dick pressed against his pants harder every time you said ‘sorry’. You had to know. You must. What the fuck were you apologizing for? “I’m (Y/N). What’s yours?”

“That’s a beautiful name, (Y/N),” he paused, which left only silence, and he couldn’t quite see your face well enough to gauge your comfort. “I’m Kai.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Kai.”

Fuuuuckkkkk.

“Thank you for saving me,” you spoke into the dark.

“I’m just glad I was there.”

“That’s my place,” you pointed as your two faces emerged from the dark of the woods into the warm streetlamp light.

As you reached the entrance, you turned to him and reached up to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Must be shock, he thought.

“Thanks so much,” you said as you pulled away from him. You turned to walk away, then turned around again, speaking to his back for a moment, “Hey, wait!” He turned around. “Could I… get your number?” you asked. “Sorry, I just… sorry,” you smiled lightly, no teeth.

How could he say no? “Sure,” he said. You handed him your phone. White phone. Pink phone case. Of course. He typed his phone number. ‘Your Savior ;)’ he made his contact name.

“My savior,” you giggled, waving a goodbye, then stepping inside.

I’m afraid I’m going to tear you apart.

[marchsfreakshow]

Sad Goodbyes [Tate Langdon]

Hurt/Comfort //drabble

Dedicated to my friend Sam, and his late ferret Nala <3

You are a RSPCA worker and mainly look after after animals a day or two before they get adopted, and Tate helps you say goodbye to a snow white ferret you've become attached to.

Another Tate fic, finally. This has been a w.i.p for ages, and I'm so glad I'm able to publish it. 🫶

Your Perspective

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I open the door, immediately placing the carrier down by my side. "Who's in there?" A voice asked. My eyes shot up to look at Tate. I smiled and closed the door before opening the carrier. A long, white ferret ran out, up the stairs, then sat on top of the first flight of the creaky wood floors. Tate's head wooshed around and grinned at the animal that was running around on the staircase. "You have a ferret?"

"Only for a bit. Nala is going to get adopted soon, so I'm spending a lot more time with her." I smiled back sadly and picked the carrier up again. Walking past the ghost boy, I jogged up the stairs. "Nala, up." I clicked my tongue and pointed to the other flight of stairs. The small ferret almost jumped all the stairs and went into an open door.

Tate followed me into the room and sat on the bed. "Do you do this for a lot of pets?"

"I guess so." I smile and place the carrier down by Nala's cage.

"You guess so?"

"Not every future pet owner lets me play with their new pets before they go to their new home. Too many sad goodbyes." I chuckled softly. I sat on my knees by the big ferret cage, opening the little doors and letting Nala run into it and jump around.

"She reminds me of you." Tate smiled, moving to sit by me crossed-legged. He kept his eyes on the ferret who was rushing around in her cage and playing with the small toys. "Full of energy, and always happy to be around others." The man's fingers weaved through two cage parts and wiggled, making Nala jump around.

"Sweet talk unfortunately won't make Nala stay any longer, Tate." I chuckle, kissing his cheek quickly. Letting out a little sigh, I got up from my knees, moving to the empty duffel bag. It took me a few seconds to open it, my eyes wandering over it slowly.

A few minutes of sullen silence went by before I heard the cage doors shut and footsteps behind me. Warmth spread over my back and arms wrapped around my stomach. "You can do this. You've done it before." He whispered, before resting his chin on my shoulder, staring at my shaky hands. "what makes this time any different?"

"...I really love Nala, I can't bear to let her go." I sniffled, turned on my heel and muffled my small cries into his jumper. He shushed me quietly and rubbed circles on my back. "I've never been this attached to an animal before."

"I know. I know..." We stood there in silence for a few moments as I softly cried. Eventually, I pulled myself away and wiped my eyes as I coughed. "I'll help you, okay? Tell me where to put things." Tate smiled softly. His hand rested on my cheek, meeting my glazed-over eyes.

I nodded and turned around, zipping open the duffel bag, and puffing it so it was bigger. Tate started to open the ferret cage, picking up the bigger toys and placing them on the bed. We started a line of picking items up and placing them strategically in the bag. It soon got filled up with toys, empty food bowls, bedding, everything.

"See, easy. All done." He reassured me, petting my hair. I laid down on the bed and sighed.

"It was the easy part. Getting everything put away is easy once you start."

I felt a kiss on my cheek, then kisses getting closer to my lips until I reciprocated his gentle touches. "I'm so proud of you, Nala is too." Tate smiled as I kissed him back, holding his face in my hands. "you'll be okay, I know you will."

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Tag: @babygorewhore @slvt4jamesmarch @taintandviolent @tatelangdonsweater