#SCREAMING SHAKING CRYING THROWING UP BLOOD CLIMBING THE WALLS

[stormyoceans]

LITERALLY THE SINGLE MOST INSANE PICTURE I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE LIKE THE LIGHTING THE EXPRESSIONS THE FISH TANK IM GONNA PASS OUT

[blueicequeen19]

Smuggler

Warnings: cheating, unprotected sex, friends with benefits, frenemies, talk of smuggling, JJ being a fuckboy

I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was only in town long enough for my dad to refuel his plane then we were heading back to the Bahamas. The last thing I needed was any involvement with a damn Pogue. So why was I riding this one like I’d die if I didn’t?

“Goddamn.” JJ’s hand gripped my throat as he let out a throaty groan, his cock touching so deep it almost hurt. His big dick was definitely a perk.

“I’m close.” I rasped, using both hands to grope my breasts as I bounced harder, my head thrown back. The hand on my throat tightened until darkness clouded my vision, his free hand finding my clit until finally I erupted with a cry.

“Fuck yes, baby.” His grip tightened then I was on my back as he drove into me with enough force to send my head against the headboard as it slapped the wall.

“I’m not your baby.” I bit out. My nails dug into his back until he hissed through gritted teeth as I tried to keep from screaming from the intense pleasure. His teeth found my nipple and I yelped, wrapping my legs around his waist as his pace increased.

“Cum again or I’m cumming inside you.” JJ growled around my flesh in his mouth. Did we forget a fucking condom?

“Don’t you dare.” I gasped, his hand sliding down to grip my ass as he pounded me harder.

“You don’t want a part of me inside you when you fly back home?” His taunt pisses me off but I’m too close to care. Sweat dripped from his brow and onto my chest before he dropped down on top of me, his mouth finding my neck.

“Your dad might never bring you back if he found out.” JJ chuckles in my ear as his fingers meet my clit. I cum harder than before as I practically convulse beneath him. I barely suck in a breath when he’s yanking out to fist his cock as he cums all over my stomach and chest. I stare up at the ceiling as I lick my lips, tasting him there too as his heavy breathing echos around us.

“Was that really necessary?” I grumble, meeting his playful gaze with a glare as he grabs a towel to clean me off.

“Definitely.” When he reaches between my legs, I swat him away and climb off the bed to redress. I’m dressed quicker than he is and almost to the door when he grabs my hand, pulling me back.

“You’re leaving just like that?” He leans in for a needy kiss but I turn my head, pushing him back.

“My dad will want to leave soon.”

“It’ll take them awhile to load everything. Trust me.” Fire burns in my blood and I shove him away. He always does this. It’s like he wants to piss me off.

“My dad is not smuggling drugs.” I bite out just as my phone goes off in my pocket. I know it’s my dad. I don’t have to look to know.

“Why do you think your dad hates me? Because my dad is loading his plane up right now with contraband. Ask him what’s in the crates.”

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know. If your dad is loading drugs into his plane then my dad doesn’t know about it.” I shove him away as he throws his head back with a laugh. My blood boils as I swing without thinking but he catches my wrist and shoves my back against the door. I can barely catch my breath as he presses his hot, warm body against my own with a cocky grin.

“You’re not dumb babe so don’t act like it.”

“Fuck you. I hate you.”

“You wish you hated you me.” He leans in to kiss me just when there’s a knock at the door. JJ groans before releasing me and stepping back. I sidestep him and yank the door open to reveal a cute and innocent looking brunette.

“Oh hi! You must be JJ’s cousin!” She exclaims, holding out her hand for me to shake as JJ coughs on a laugh. I’m too stunned to speak but I take her available hand.

“And she was just leaving.” JJ insists, opening the door wider as he tries to usher me out and her in. I try to wrap my head around what’s happening when she wraps her arms around his waist with a beaming smile.

“He told me you were visiting. I’m his girlfriend, Riley.” My eyes widen further as I look between them. JJ looks uncomfortable and she looks clueless. We literally smelled like sex but she was oblivious.

“I uh—.”

“I’ll see you later, cuz.” JJ wraps his arm around her shoulders before slamming the door in my face.

If anything, my hatred for OBX grew instantly.

[slutforavatar]

Part 3: Our Little secret

Neteyam sully x reader SMUT

I lower my hand to my pussy and I rub the sensitive bud looking for my high “you dont understand how badly I want the whole forest to know whos fucking you like you need to be” I rub myself faster not realising i’d stopped stroking neteyam until he sat up and pushed me onto my back so I was laying in between his legs, he pulls my hand away from my pussy and I groan “i need a release so bad” I whimper “dont worry love you’ll get it” he rubs my thighs softly and I close my eyes he leans his head between my thighs and I feel his hot breath fanning on my pussy “i need to taste you so badly”  My hands grip onto his hair and I push him towards my pussy, I let out a breathely sigh as I feel his hot mouth latch onto my clit “o-oh shit” i groan as his tongue does quick circles on my clit. I let go of his hair and I grab his hand, I interwin my fingers with his as I push my core closer to his face “so good” he mumbles against me sending vibrations through my core. With his free hand he slowly slips one of his long thick fingers into my slick folds “holy shit teyam” i squeeze my eyes shut as I feel his rough finger graze my walls. He slowly curls his finger then repeats the same motion and I let out a loud moan, shit hes making me see stars and I love it, I feel a heavy pit in my stomach and my breath hitches “neteyam im close” he smirks against my pussy and he speeds up his actions. My throat is starting to hurt from all the moaning im doing but I dont care the ecstasy I am feeling right now is amazing and I’m sure the whole omaticaya clan can hear me screaming the Sully boys name “fuck im about t-to cum” I clench my walls around neteyams fingers as I feel like im about to let go, neteyam stops everything hes doing and pulls his mouth away from my pussy “noo” i cry as I feel my high slip away from me, i sit up and look at neteyam “no no I was so close please” i whimper while he sits infront of me just smirking “dont try and make me jealous” he smirks. I push his chest hard making his back hit the ground, I climb ontop of him so Im straddling him “fuck you” is all I say as I grab his rock hard cock and I lay it down so his tip is touching his belly button, I softly sit ontop of his cock and I look up to him to make sure I’m not hurting him. I slowly start grinding on him causing some friction between us and he groans “your so beautiful y/n” i smile as I grind on him faster and he places his hand on both my boobs and squeezes them tightly, I moan loudly and I speed up my movements looking for the high that was ripped from me moments before “you feel so good and warm on me” he throws his head back as he purrs softly and I smirk “purring for me again” “oh teyam” i moan as I feel my high approaching “im so close” i say as i throw my head back “me too” he moves his hands to my hips, he guides me making me move faster against him “3…” “2…” “1..” as we reach one we both let go, I feel my body shake and he digs his fingers into my soft skin, im definitely gonna have alot of marks tomorrow. We continue riding out our high as both our bodies shudder from the pleasure. I slowly stop grinding against him and I lower my head onto his chest “t-that was awesome” he says out of breath as he pushes the hair out of my face, i smile as i try to steady my breathing “I’d like to see lo’ak do better then me” he smirks “oh shush I dont want lo’ak” I look up at him, his gaze meets mine “i only want you ma neteyam, i see you” my eyes widen as I realise what I just said “shit” the blood drains from my face, I look up at the surpised look on neteyams face and I quickly stand up, I grab my clothes and I hurry off in hopes neteyam doesnt follow me.

Another part ??

[pigeonwhumps]

The box

A Death in the Family masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump @whumpsday

@oddsconvert @starfields08000 @whump-tr0pes @anonfromcanada @augusnippets

Augusnippets day 28: mind control | body control | betrayal

Barnabas prepares Sunday for use as a midnight snack.

553 words

CWs: claustrophobia, mind control, persuasion, mental restraints, threatened broken bones, vampire whumper, emeto

"Follow me, human."

Sunday fights to hold on, but his foot lifts on its own, puppeted by the vampire striding ahead of him. He can feel his mind slipping from him in these moments, and it scares him – he already drifts, how long until he has no mind left at all?

He wants to protest, but he can't, not since Lord Sharpe ordered him not to speak, because food doesn't need to. He's still allowed to scream though.

When was that, again?

"Stop."

He freezes, and realises he's lost time again. He's in Lord Sharpe's bedroom now, medieval decor being dusted by Eldrida. She presses back against the wall as they enter, trying to make herself invisible even as she curtseys low. Lord Sharpe scowls.

"I didn't ask to see you, girl. Get downstairs. I'll deal with you later."

Eldrida curtseys again, shoots a terrified look at Sunday, and flees. He feels a pang of sympathy. He's seen her injuries, sometimes, when she's in charge of feeding him.

Why's she even working for Lord Sharpe? Can't she leave?

"In there, human."

Sunday isn't entirely sure where he's meant to be going but apparently his body is, as it walks him stiffly across the room and climbs into what appears to be a wooden box with a side door and an old, bare mattress.

No. No no no. He lets out a strangled yell, a plea twisted by his mind and his body until there's no words any longer, just anguished, unintelligible sound.

Please. Please, he can't stay in here, please no, don't make him. There's barely room for him to curl up.

Lord Sharpe grins.

"What's that? You're going to be a good midnight snack for me? Exactly as I thought. You should feel lucky I'm just ordering you to stay put, because breaking your ankle would also provide incentive. But I don't want that level of adrenaline in your blood tonight. You'll stay completely still and silent until I call for you. Because that's what good food does."

He shuts the door.

Sunday is left in the tiny, pitch-dark space. He tries to stretch his toes but finds, to his despair, that he can't. His body is more willing to obey his captor's commands than his own.

He's stuck, in the dark, in a vampire's house, where every creak and the space in between could be his captor coming to drink him, torture him, humiliate him. This space is so small. Is he ever going to leave it? It feels like a coffin.

Can he throw up?

Oh.

He can.

That doesn't count as noise then. Good. At least he's not in a position where he'll choke on it.

He's not sleeping tonight. He counts his breaths. There's nothing in here with him, right?

Oh god.

He can feel the pinch in his vocal chords when he tries to scream. All he can do is cry, body resisting the instinctual shaking of his body to the point that it hurts, tears streaming down his face to join the pool of foul-smelling vomit beneath him.

Hopefully that will please his captor, at least. Maybe there'll be less pain that way.

He can always hope. But he thinks it might be hope to the point of delusion, at this point. There's never less pain.

[goldeneyedgirl]

AILess Whumptober Day 2: Insomnia

sweet dreams (day 2: insomnia).

twilight, alice/jasper, pg, human/vampire au, post-new moon. no warnings.

I don't think this is my finest work, but you know what, we're here for the vibes.

After the Cullens leave, I feel like… like some part of me is missing. Like I’ve been hollowed out but I’m still forced to walk around. I physically ache. All I want to do is sleep, except when I am finally, finally allowed to crawl into my bed.

That’s when it’s utterly impossible.

Aunt Lorraine says it’s my ribs, my shoulder. It’s been three months, they shouldn’t still be keeping me awake. I know that, but Lorraine insists it’s nothing else.

She gives me a bottle of essential oil and another crystal. More of her hippie nonsense; my dresser is cluttered with the other rocks she’s given me to solve my problems. I had to hide my aspirin in the pocket of my winter coat and my inhaler in my school bag because I know she’d throw them away if she knew about I still had them. Colloidal silver, oils, and stones are the only things she’ll allow, and I cannot stand it. After two months of having every oil and potion and leaf pushed on me instead of the painkillers the doctor prescribed, my tolerance is stretched to the limit.

“Some lavender to help you sleep, and some blood-stone for under your pillow,” she says, as she walks around the basement, straightening my things. “That one is a classic jasper…”

I nearly throw the stone against the wall when she says that, as if she’s intentionally hurt me, but she keeps prattling about the healing power of the newest oil and rock she’s given me and I know she hasn’t realized what she’s said.

The rock feels cold in my hand.

She doesn’t stay long, she never does; the cushions on the couch are fluffed, my schoolwork has been pointedly stuffed into the bookcase, and my laundry hamper is full. That is the extent of the mothering I get in this house; Uncle Rod’s always working - when he is on furlough, he’s good to me. He cares; he reminds me that he wanted me here every single time.

But Lorraine is distant and it’s clear that she’s drawing the boundaries between my cousin and me. And it’s fine, Willa’s so little, Lorraine wants to focus on her. She’s her daughter, I’m just her niece by marriage. She probably hadn’t wanted some troubled teenage girl she’d never met moving into her basement.

It’s fine.

But I wish…

“Sleep well,” Lorraine finally says as she leaves, pointedly not closing the door behind her, and I listen to her climb the basement stairs. I wish… I wish I had someone to kiss the top of my head, tuck me in, and maybe hug me when I cry.

I haven’t had a mom hug in so long. I could really use one.

I wait until I hear Lorraine close the door at the top of the stairs before I get up, and go into the laundry room to brush my teeth, and firmly shut my bedroom door behind me. I check my phone on the charger, ignoring the spam messages that pop up. Every freakin’ night, the stupid texts promising me credit cards and car loans, the phone calls that are silent just long enough for me to hope, only for the automated message to click in. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone had signed me up to all of it as a punishment.

The oil and stone are still on my nightstand when I get back, practically mocking me. I ignore it as I climb back into my bed; the book we’re assigned for English rests under my pillow. It’s optimistic to think I’ll open it tonight. I’m already weeks behind.

I lie still and wait for something. Sleep, preferably. But it doesn’t come.

Mostly I think about what I had. What I lost. I want to travel back in time and shake myself. Those broken ribs don’t hurt as much as what comes next, you stupid girl. Beg him, scream and cry and throw a real tantrum to make sure that he doesn’t dare leave you behind.

Breathe deep so you remember his scent, of rain and leather and ashes scattered to the wind. The way you could curl against him, your cheek against his chest, and that perfect stillness that was so wrong and yet so calming; the way he would slide his hand under your shirt and over the skin and bone of your hip in a way that wasn’t sensual or lascivious, just comforting and so perfectly intimate.

And remember all of it properly. That proper, perfect feeling of a maybe family. The way Esme asks you to bring over the photo album so she can see you as a baby, a child, and makes you tell her about every single photograph, side by side on the couch, her fingers tracing over each snapshot of your face. The way Carlisle listens to you so intensely, like what you’re saying is so important, and then really thinks about what he says in response. The way Emmett made you leave an inhaler in his truck, just in case - and always offered to go through the drive-thru when you were in the car. Rosalie never smiling at you, never ever being slightly welcoming, but being the one that always checked if you needed a ride home after school.

And Bella’s wry little smiles, a beat-up book in her lap, and her hair around her face as you tried to explain something to her - a fashion trend, pop culture, some grand plan in the nebulous future. The way Edward would always move over just a little so you could sit down at the piano with him, the music propped up on the stand arranged for you if you wanted to sing the tune along with him; never needing to tell him that it was a comforting reminder of doing the same thing with your mom before she got sick.

Then remind yourself it was far too perfect to have lasted any longer.

Feeble moonlight spills in from the narrow windows where the wall meets the ceiling - the joys of living in a basement. I sink deeper into my bed, and I look over at my nightstand where the blood-stone sits. If I could smash it, I would.

My phone buzzes absently. Looking to refinance? Call (206) 342-8631.

“I nearly had a mom and dad who could love me,” I whispered at it. “I nearly had a family forever. And someone who loved me no matter what.”

The tears are hot as they roll down my face. “Why couldn’t you stay? I… It was an accident, we could have fixed it.”

Nothing. It was just a rock, after all. The sleepless nights had caught up with me if I was talking to bedroom decor.

Rolling over to face the wall where my photo-wall had been, I squeeze my eyes shut and just plead with my brain to give me rest. More than the scant, soupy hour or two I got before dawn.

It refuses.

My chest hurts.

My phone buzzes again. Nickel off expired baby food today only!

I’d turn the stupid thing off, but I’d promised my sister that it didn’t matter what time of the day or night it was, if she called I would answer. There wasn’t much I else could do for her nearly three thousand miles away, but I could do that.

I didn’t feel this lonely in Mississippi. Not when mom died, not when dad remarried, not when I was at the hospital. I never thought of myself as being hopeful, but now… now I feel like there’s nothing. Just a void of days I have to fill. I can’t imagine feeling human enough to exist in the world as a functioning adult. I’m hanging on by my fingertips now, and it feels like it gets worse every single day.

It was so stupid. It was an accident. I think Dad or the hospital have hurt me worse.

My phone buzzes. Cheap Designer Gear!!! 1 Day Only!!

I glared over at my clock, as if it was the reason I was still awake, and not the hopelessness that had taken residence up in my bones. That my mind was traitorously replaying every chuckle, every quiet conversation, every gentle kiss. I wanted Jasper here with me now, tucked up beside me with a heavy book that would bore me to tears, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back to help me sleep. And when I’d wake up, he’d be gone but there would be a little note folded on my pillow. I love you, I’ll see you at school. I had dozens of them in the shoe box I’d banished my photographs to. Thirty two nights, thirty two little notes in his beautiful handwriting, all with the same first line.

I love you.

My eyes slide shut and maybe just for a moment I can float; that in-between sleep that solves nothing but at least makes the time pass. I am warm, the pain is tolerable, and right now I can almost remember how it feels to have Jasper’s hand on my back soothing me to sleep as he reads…

Buzz.

And the illusion was gone. Rolling over to an empty bed and grabbing my phone, knocking half the items piled on my nightstand everywhere, I felt like I was probably going to smash it if it was another ad.

A call from a number I didn’t recognize; Cynthia was always losing her phone, but I was more horrified that she was calling me after three a.m; she was twelve, she needed to be in bed asleep or watching Youtube or something. Not calling me for help.

“Hello?” I croak, weeks of no sleep and hopelessness coming through in that one word. I sounded about eighty. “Cece?”

Silence. I waited for the automated message to click in for a few seconds, but nothing.

“Cece?” I asked again, suddenly close to tears. “Please, just say something.”

“Alice?”

I was suddenly more awake than I had been in months, sitting up straight. Jasper, my Jasper.

He sounded terrible, desperate and broken and lost. A small part of me was relieved he was suffering as much as I was. A larger part was terrified because he was the one that took care of me, protected me; I didn’t know how to fix his problems.

But the largest part of me was just desperate for him not to hang up the phone.

“Jasper?” I sounded like a child when I said his name, and I heard his breath hitch.

“I’m here.”

I had a million questions for him. Where are you? Why are you calling? What’s wrong? Where’s your family? Why did you go?

None of them came out. Instead, I just started sobbing and was faintly aware of myself begging, pleading, with him to come home. Promising him that I’d do anything, anything if he’d just come back to Forks.

I don’t know how long I cried and begged but when I eventually ran out of tears, Jasper was still there, trying to calm me down.

“It hurts too much,” I sniffled down the phone. “I need you to come home, please.”

Silence. I could hear the sound of traffic; a payphone somewhere. This connection to him was tenuous, momentary, and the rising panic was making me feel sick.

“Alice,” his voice just made everything feel better, softer, and I would have given anything to have him beside me. “Alice, take a breath, you’re going to have an asthma attack or make yourself sick.” His voice had lost that desolate quality, had taken on that warmth that I remembered so well.

“Please come home,” I whispered. “I promise I’ll do whatever you want, I just need you here.” I could hear the wheeze in my voice, and Jasper probably could too. But I couldn’t bring myself to get up for my inhaler; it felt like if I moved, he’d be gone forever.

Silence. I could feel the tears building again.

“I’m coming,” he finally says, his voice cracking. I let out a sob. “I’ll be there soon, I promise. You need to rest, Alice. Why are you awake?”

“Can’t sleep,” I said, blotting my face with a tissue. “I just… can’t. I’m so tired Jasper, I need you to come home.”

“I’m coming home now, I promise.” My body is relaxing. “You need to sleep, Alice. Just close your eyes and I’ll wait for you to fall asleep, okay?”

“Do the others know you called me?” I said, curling into my pillow. I still had the letter they’d left me with, written by Rosalie, cold and impersonal. They had to go, they had to leave because they were a danger to me. That they would leave me to live out my life in peace and wished me the best. It was the kind of very polite missive that cut right through me and made me feel very small and insignificant.

“Don’t worry about the others,” Jasper said soothingly. “They’re fine. Everyone misses you. I miss you.”

“You do?” I sounded pitiful.

“So very much.” His voice cracks and I can hear the pain, the longing. “I’m so sorry Alice.”

“I’ll forgive you as soon as you get here,” I yawn. “In person, I promise. How far away are you?”

“It’s going to take me a couple of days, but I’ll leave as soon as you go to sleep.”

“Tell me,” I began, sleep prickling at me. “What you’ve been doing.”

His voice was warm and melodic and I couldn’t distinguish a single word of it as my mind grew fuzzier, aware of nothing but Jasper’s voice and the warmth of my phone screen.

Home, home, he was coming home. And we’d never, ever be parted again. I refused, I couldn’t. He was home…

Love you, love you. The words drip in my mind, the last conscious thought I had.

If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.

I blinked sleepily as my phone alarm went off for school, balanced on the edge of my nightstand. I had fallen asleep in an odd little cocoon of pillows and blankets but it was the deepest sleep I’d had in weeks.

I had only the vaguest memory of my dreams, of Jasper’s voice and comfort, tears of desperation and then of relief. I had felt safe, hopeful again. Whatever it had been, I felt clearer than I had in a long time.

And as I climbed out of bed, I saw the blood-stone, where it had fallen next to my pillow. Instead of tossing it amongst the others, I left it where it fell.

Maybe it would give me another nice dream tonight.

[aurore-parle-de-ses-idees]

Isena & Isedd, 10?

framed

in which isena meets a problem she can't stab! and also wanders into annak-khurfu about a day and a half before the war of three peaks starts. this is the one that made the whole thing spiral out of control lmao

1 | 2 | 3

The stranger is swifter than anyone Isedd has ever faced.

Léothred and Fróthi cry out, but they are even less warriors than Isedd and soon they are all coughing on the ground, bleeding and bruised and breathless. Fróthi glares at the stranger, leaning heavily on his axe to stand.

“What are you doing here, Karazgar?” the old dwarf spits. The stranger rolls his wrists, long blades weaving circles in the air. He looks back at them only briefly, studying the great fall of rocks that now block the tall passage out of the cavern. “What business do you have in this forgotten cave?”

“Forgotten? Hardly.” Karazgar’s glance strays to the carved fang, dropped near Léothred’s feet in the chaos. “Though despite Fram’s best efforts, unfound.”

“You’re trapped in here the same as us,” Léothred breaks in. His voice is amiable, but his shoulders are tight with tension. “If we-”

“I,” Karazgar says sharply, “have little in common with you. None of you are worth my time. Not even you, Tamer,” he adds with a glance at Isedd. He raises his blades, and though Isedd sets loose a burst of fire, Karazgar twists around it- or maybe goes through it uncaring- and one blade catches Isedd in the chest, throwing him hard against the rimed cavern walls.

----------

Karazgar looks down on the three intruders and shakes his head. “At least you tried to put up a fight,” he mutters, nudging Isedd’s limp body with one foot. He turns back to the rockfall, and the last rays of light that make it through the gaps near the top as the dust settles. He seems to decide something, then looks between Isedd and something in the back of the cave. “The hatchlings will appreciate something fresh,” he says and lets them be, climbing up the fallen boulders unhurriedly.

Only when he is gone does Matwyn let herself come down from the high ledge where she had hidden.

---------

Isena wakes with the smell of iron in her nose. She has to try three times to get her eyes to open, crusted shut with... she isn’t sure she wants to know what. She pushes herself to her knees and groans as everything screams at once. Her chest, her back, her shoulders, her head- it feels as if she was stuffed in a ball and thrown to the wargs as a toy. Dried blood cracks and flakes off her hands and she examines them with mounting confusion. She looks herself over. Not hers. A few feet form her is a bird- or what’s left of one, anyway. It almost looks like Matwyn, but the pale feathers of its chest aren’t quite right. Isena gathers herself and stands with only a mild oof.

The sun is up; it’s early in the day. Something itches at her mind as she turns about to take in the scenery. The mountains rise to the north and the pale outwalls of the dwarves’ fortress to the west. What of the cavern? she thinks. Did it all collapse? Only then does the rest of her mind catch up and she whirls about, cursing. There is the small lake outside the walls of Gundabad, and there is the river that runs out of Wyrmsgráf. If she squints into the distance, she can just make out the gap in the mountains beyond which the hidden cavern waits. She looks at the sun again. She starts swearing some more. Last night? Or has it been even longer- it was almost evening when we found the cave, but how long have I been out? It was no short journey into the mountains... Isedd... what of her brother and their scholar friends? How did she come to be so far south again?

“Halt and declare yourself!” She spins, reaching for weapons that are not waiting for her. Shit! “Who are you?”

A dwarf stands before her, a heavy axe at the ready. On the slope behind him, another has a heavy crossbow trained on her. Isena slowly raises her hands. “Isena, daughter of Téohere. What-” Something at her waist comes loose and falls to the ground with the clinking of metal. That’s not mine-

“What is your business in Elderslade?” the dwarf demands, serious but not impolite.

“I was here with my brother escorting a couple scholars,” she replies. “Do you know Fróthi?”

“Can’t say I do,” the near dwarf says. “Laugi?”

“He’s from Erebor, I think,” the crossbow-dwarf calls. “Came through with a few humans the other day going on about Scatha the Worm.”

“As if we don’t have enough to worry about with the live dragon,” the first dwarf mutters. “Alright then, where is Fróthi?” Isena hesitates.

“I don’t know,” she says. “We found a cave to the north, upriver,” she gestures in the general direction of the Drekvath. “I don’t know what it held, besides more drakes.”

“No?” The dwarf looks pointedly at the dropped pouch. Something glints just inside the mouth of it.

“What-” Isena begins.

“I think you should come with us,” the dwarf says. Laugi shoots him a look, and does not lower his crossbow.

“Do you think it’s as dire as all that, Gunvald?”

“There’s something strange here,” the near dwarf says. “We aren’t all that far from Annâk-khurfu yet, and we can hardly let her wander about unarmed. We can- Durin’s beard, what did you do to this poor bird?”

“I didn’t do this,” Isena protests. Gunvald eyes her bloody hands.

“No?”

“No,” she says, an edge coming into her voice. “I woke out here only a few minutes ago.”

Gunvald snorts. “Out in the open, here? The beasts in this area wouldn’t let you alone even when they aren’t stirred up for war- especially with the smell of blood on the wind. Who is out here with you if you did somehow sleep unmolested?”

“No one,” Isena says. “There was no one else around.” And I don’t think it was sleep. Gunvald makes a disbelieving sound.

“Well, we had best get going before Ausma sends someone else after us,” Laugi says, shouldering his crossbow. “Come on.”

Isena follows. Alone and aching and unarmed, they aren’t wrong to say she wouldn’t last on the Slade. She and Isedd were not along to guard Léothred and Fróthi for nothing. Gunvald scoops up the abandoned pouch when Isena leaves without it and frowns at its contents.

It isn’t a long walk back to the ruins where the dwarf army is encamped. Isena scrubs idly at the crusted blood on her hands, but they still aren’t clean by the time they make it to the old keep. They had stopped here briefly on their way north, but the war-camp had been no place for their studies and no one had asked them to stay. It’s swarmed with activity still, scouts and suppliers and soldiers all running about on their own errands.

“Lóssi!” Gunvald calls when they enter the keep. “Do we have anywhere to hold this woman?”

“Hold me?” Isena demands, stopping short.

“She hasn’t caused any trouble for us,” Laugi adds quickly. “But someone will want to talk with her.”

The guard-captain looks Isena over carefully. “Something can be arranged.”

“No one is putting me anywhere,” Isena spits. She turns on her heel, fully intending to walk back out the keep’s doors. “I’ll gladly spare you the trouble.” She had thought perhaps she might find some help here, but if they would rather put her in a cell-

A firm hand grabs her by the elbow. “You haven’t been any trouble, and if that keeps up you won’t have any from us,” Gunvald says warningly. Yet, Isena adds. “But we are cautious, and you could use some cleaning up for your own part.” She looks down. There is blood beneath her fingernails. “Go with Lóssi, and someone will come down to speak with you soon.” And she walked herself into a war-camp defenseless and covered in blood, and so she follows the wary guard-captain to a small room in the depths of the keep of Annâk-khurfu and waits.

The room has no windows, but she is brought water and clean clothes and light enough to work by, and while she is left alone she cleans herself up as best she can and takes stock of herself. Her pack is gone; she thinks it came loose in the fight with the drake. She slowly sheds all her many layers against the cold, torn and bloody and covered in dirt. Her mail has survived the whole ordeal quite well, at least. She is bruised all over beneath that. The worst is the great, round spot in the center of her chest, purpling fantastically and promising to only grow uglier. She presses on it, and recalls in a flash Isedd’s shout and the rush of wind.

“Damnit,” she says under her breath. “Isedd...” What had become of him? She remembers the drake, and the falling stones, and then... waking. No! There was one other thing, somewhere in the hazy space between the cave and here. An irritated voice, and rough hands moving her. A just reward for Helegros... And then nothing before Gunvald and Laugi came upon her. She shakes her head and sits.

A knock on the door shakes her from her contemplation of the patterns in the stone. “Yeah?” she calls. The door swings open to admit a dwarf with a short beard and a cap fitted close to her head. She winces at the sight of the great bruise on Isena’s chest.

“Tell Búkk to send something down for bruising,” she calls back into the hall before letting the door fall shut. “That looks painful,” she says sympathetically to Isena. “But better bruises than broken bones, eh?” Isena shrugs in concession. “I am Ausma,” the dwarf says. Her accent is much different from that of most of the dwarves here. “Tell me what’s happened.” Isena takes a deep breath.

“I have been traveling north along the Anduin with my brother and a scholar we met in Rohan...”

Ausma listens to it all quietly, hardly even interrupting with questions. Food is sent down along with some fresh-smelling salve for Isena’s bruises, and Ausma leaves with a polite nod. “Get some rest if you need it,” she says. “I’m sure Hórin and some of the others will have more questions for you later.” This she says with some kind of fond exasperation before leaving Isena to her own devices.

The salve does help, though it sticks to her shirt when she pulls it back on. She grumbles, but it’s not warm enough in this corner of the ruins to sit about bare-chested for hours. She eats fast enough to surprise herself, and with a full stomach soon after wants nothing more than to lie down. She was left with a few blankets, and with nothing better to do she rolls herself up on a low stone ledge and sleeps.

The questions after her nap are more insistent, and less polite.

They ask about her companions, and their fates, and what they found in the cave, and then quite a lot about someone called Karazgar.

“I don’t know who that is,” she says irritably after the third attempt to get something about the man out of her. “There was someone besides the four of us deeper in the cave, but I never saw them. Who is this Weeping Warrior you’re so scared of?” Most of them don’t care for that comment, and soon the questioners are replaced with people far more like Fróthi in bearing, with the pouch that had fallen from her belt in hand.

“These are coins from the days of Grárik,” one of them says. “Most of these are still frozen ten feet deep in Immêsh-khalt. How did you come by them?”

“What’s Grárik?” she says.

She is told quite a lot about Grárik.

“One or two of these seem even older than that,” one of the lore-masters adds. “Perhaps as old as the days we still held Gundabad.” He looks at Isena. “You know Gundabad?”

“I’m familiar.”

She is told quite a lot about Gundabad anyway.

“That’s enough,” Lóssi says at last, standing from where he has been leaning against the door. “This isn’t helping.” He nudges one of the scholarly types until they produce a familiar fang, yellowed with age and pitted with rough-carved lines.

“Where did you get that?” Isena demands, reaching for it. Her questioners all tense at her sudden movement, but she only turns the map-fang about. There’s no doubt- it’s the same one. “Fróthi was carrying this...”

“We were going to ask you the same thing,” Lóssi says. He stares her down coolly. “It was in the pouch with the coins.”

Isena’s heart skips. “It was?”

“Along with the letters.”

“What letters?”

Silence.

“What. Letters.”

“What was it you hoped to find in the mountains?” Lóssi asks instead. Isena glares at him.

“Like I said,” she says, as measured as she can be. “We found something that looked like a map- this map, on the fang- and decided to follow it. We thought Fram may have left something behind to be found.”

“Fram?”

At least she can tell him quite a lot about Fram, by now.

“We were beginning to wonder if it led to the rest of Scatha’s hoard,” she says. “If there was anything of the sort in the cave, I never saw it; the drake arrived first.”

Lóssi stares at her for a long time. “You are either a very good actor, or you are not in league with the Weeping Warrior,” he says at last. He motions the lore-masters out. “The Prince will want more than my word on it though, especially after finding those letters.”

“What letters?”

“Instructions from your master, and a grudging account of payment owed.”

“The only master I serve is the king in the Golden Hall,” Isena says. “And I surely haven’t met this Weeping Warrior of yours, much less taken payment from him.”

“Not for the betrayal of your companions? The theft of the map?”

“No.”

“And your brother’s bird?”

Isena stares at him blankly. “What?” Lóssi sits across from her.

“Gunvald said he found a mangled eagle beside you, and no sign that anyone else had gone that way.”

“What’s that got to do with my brother?” she asks, genuinely bewildered.

“Did he not travel with an eagle companion?”

“That bird wasn’t Matwyn,” Isena says. “It looked like some poor local bird who ran afoul of the little drakes everywhere. Matwyn hardly dared follow us north for fear of them.” Lóssi only stares at her until she throws her hands up and stands in a shrieking of stone on stone. “I don’t know what more you want from me. I’ve told you what I know, and what I remember, and if it’s all the same to you I’m going to go back to that forsaken cave and see if my brother was crushed beneath three tons of stone or not.”

Lóssi stands before the door. “You will not.”

“Watch me,” she says coldly.

“You wouldn’t make it to the doors,” he says, unimpressed. “This is a war-camp. In the end,” he adds, crossing his arms, “it doesn’t matter whether or not I believe you, or even if Hórin and Ausma believe you. The Prince and the Commander think you too much of a risk, and I’m inclined to agree whether you’re working for Karazgar or not.”

“I’m not,” Isena says through gritted teeth. “I did not betray my brother, or the scholars.”

“I can’t have you running about with stories about a lost dragon-hoard full of looted dwarf-treasure,” Lóssi says as if she had not spoken. “We already have problems with rumors of Thafar-gathol. We can’t have anyone disappearing into the mountains on the eve of war.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Isena says yet again, trying not to grind her teeth.

“Ask the lore-masters,” Lóssi says with a shrug. “Lost city, treasure that’s never been found, the whole package. The details of it aren’t my concern.”

“Did this city get up and walk away?”

“That depends on who you ask.” Lóssi eyes her, setting a hand on the door. “I’ll speak with them, but I fear you’ll be our guest for a bit longer.”

“Guest,” Isena scoffs. Lóssi opens the door.

“I’ll send someone down with supplies.”

And she is left alone to fume and to wonder just how she ended up here.

[kaz-identified]

Odysseus throws the raider away, snarling out a feral growl as he plants six shots into it's chest. Nothing would come between these refugees and safety. Not while he and Atticus where here. He stamps down on the skull for good measure, this thing is not getting back up. He pauses for a second, panting, scanning the battle field.

Nine Fallen remain, five vandals, three shanks, and their Captain. Five refugees were still in the area, gathered terrified against a wall where Atticus stood, brandishing an auto rifle. She fired wildly at the shanks, screaming at the refugees to run, get to safety further from the fight. Her spray and pray method payed off, she managed to shoot two of the damned drones down from the sky. Odysseus lets out a soft sigh of relief. She's fighting well.

He turns his attention to the remaining Vandals, throwing himself into the air and tossing a grenade down at the feet of two of them. It detonates in a burst of fire, atomizing them in mere milliseconds. He lands softly in the snow behind the corpses, firing shots into the remaining. They fall easy. He grins, teeth bared like a snarling animal. He's getting stronger. Athena would be proud.

His self congratulatory celebration is cut short by a scream.

Pained, panicked, intense, full of hatred and intent to doll back the pain sevenfold. No fear, not in her voice. Not in his son, she would never let herself sound scared in a fight. But he would. He felt a cold chill run down his spine. Terror gripping him like two skeletal hands grabbing at his throat, clawing at his chest, tearing his breath from his lungs, pulling his heart to a stop. Atticus was hurt.

"ATTICUS!" He howls, lurching forward. Fire pools in his palm and he throws it through the Captain's chest, burning away flesh and metal, leaving nothing but smoldering remains. He stares down at them. And then stares ahead, at his sister, his beloved son, clutching her stomach with one hand and desperately comforting a child with the other. "No no no no, don't cry kid! It's ok! See?" she points to him, directing the small boy's gaze. "He got them all! You're all safe." She offers a smile, blood pooling between her fingers.

She wipes the boy's tears away weakly, careful not to streak any blood on his face. "You're alright, little lion. You're tough. Odyssues will get you guys to safety," she promises, her voice fading. She struggles to her feet, stumbling over to him. "Keep 'em safe, yea? Please?" She asks, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"No, no, no NO NO NO," he says, grabbing her arms. "No. You aren't dying. Come on, Minerva, can't you do something?" he asks his Ghost, staring at her with pleading eyes.

She shakes herself. "Not to her. I can’t heal her without the light. Atticus… I'm so sorry,” she looks at the girl, her shell tilting down in grief.

Atticus gives her a bright smile to reassure her that it’s ok. But it’s not OK. It will never be OK again.

Odysseus feels the world shutter to a freezing halt. Ice in his veins, frost climbing down his throat to freeze his heart. The fire burning within him dying, embers growing cold. He feels something within him die.

"…Atticus, please," he begs, quietly.

She blinks slowly, leaning into the arm he has on her shoulder. "The wall. Get them past it, please. To the settlement Athena told us about. Keep them safe."

He blinks back tears, feeling even the sorrow die in his chest. "Of course, my lady."

She grins at him. "Good man."

He pulls her into a hug, sinking to the ground with her. He cradles her body, quietly. Finally, he feels her breathing shallow, and stop. He looks down at her body. This girl, so kind and brave, devoted entirely to protecting those around her, using her dying breathes to beg him to protect. His son, stolen from him. His sister, dead in his arms. At the hands of Fallen. He presses his forehead against hers. "I'll see you starside, Telemachus," he whispers like a promise.

He lays her gently in the snow, bracing her body against one of the rusted cars. He can't give her a proper burial, not with refugees to protect. He leans her head forward, gently, and carefully unties the leather ribbon she tied her hair back with. He'll keep her with him, in some way. He ties it around his upper arm, a promise he will keep. He raises to his feet, ready to lead the refugees on, to bring them to safety. When he stops, a glinting of light catching his eye. The Captain's charred remains, the gun that had tore through his sister's body glistened in the light. But more importantly, a symbol remained on it's body. The crest of the House of Falcons. Odysseus narrowed his eyes, a promise forming in his throat. He stalks over to the remains, kneels at it's side.

"You stole the reason for my life, you murdered my sister, my son, so callously, without second thought. You have stalked those I protect too long. I will hunt every last one of you down. Try to fly away, little bird, I will break your wings," he hisses out a growl.

He would contact Athena as soon as he got these refugees to safety. And then he would cast these cruel birds from the sky.

He stands, brushing snow from his legs. He forces a smile on his face as he looks at the refugees. "Well, you heard the girl. I've got to keep you all safe."

[charnelhouse]

are…. are we going to get michael myers content…. i am shaking and crying and throwing up pls,,,, i will sell u my soul.

A/N: Michael Myers x F!Reader. This is dark. Probably dub-con/non con. stockholm syndrome. violence. torture. rough sex.

It starts like this -

In the doom and gloom of her latest Halloween, she watches shadows burst open across Haddonfield and its kitschy streets and square-box houses. Sirens squeal flame-hot through the air. There’s a far away scream. The ripple of agony and grief sweeping through the rotting pumpkins and trimmed hedges.

She walks over clutters of leaves, listening to them crunch like shards of bone beneath her heels. She already knows what’s waiting for her at the end of this. She knows that he’s fulfilled his blood-lust and now has his other desires. His other needs.

She gingerly climbs the stairs to her house. Her new purchase. Her mistake as most neighbors would call it.

Why on earth would you buy that one?

Are you crazy?

Do you know? Don’t you understand what kind of house that is?

She does know. She knows all of it. Its gory history. The lore trapped in the floorboards. She strolls through the front door - tossing her keys into a bowl. They jingle in the dead-silence of the entryway. She moves to the kitchen. The house smells like sharp paint and turpentine and -

“Michael,” she murmurs so quietly that it’d be near-impossible to catch. A slip of wind - a velvet exhale from her parted mouth. But he hears it. He always hears her. He always knows exactly where she is and what she's doing. He looms in the shadows - the Shape - in his white mask and dark coveralls that are sticky with god knows what.

This is his house just as she is simply his. A possession. A piece. His victim if she were to ever dig deep enough to give herself that title

She recalls the very night that he finally broke her. She understands - vaguely - that this is Stockholm Syndrome and that this is wrong and terrible and her life is over in all the ways it had once mattered. But that particular night sits inside her ribs - swells with memory and a strange longing. He had come to her a year previous with the sky blooming violet and milky. The crisp wind and gnarled trees and how she had thought she had spotted him so many times in the distance.

It had been a cold autumn.

She had felt him pricking at the nape of her neck. She had heard him.

Waiting. Watching.

A week before Halloween, he had appeared - a ghost - unfolding like a specter in her bedroom doorway. That blank face and giant frame and she had thought - he's too big to be so quiet before realizing who he was -

But he hadn’t wanted to kill her - at least not immediately. He had just wanted her to believe it. He had chained her up for days, looming over her with his height devouring the wan light from her mirror. He had dragged the edge of a kitchen knife across her chest and pressed the flat of it over her heart. He had stared at her as she sobbed and pleaded frantically for her life. The black holes of his mask gave nothing away. Just endless and sightless and barren.

He would leave and then return. Shocking her. Scaring her. His boots caked in mud and what had suspiciously looked like flesh and grey brain matter.

This was the endless cycle of it. Again and again.

And then one night he had lifted his mask to reveal his naked face. She’d been stunned.

Beautiful. Marble. Chiseled. His one bad eye was pale as a fish-belly, but the good one was fog-grey blue. It had reminded her of the brunt of a storm. Her gaze traveled to the fruit-pink lips and then to his furrowed brow and the faint blush burning across his cheekbones. He crouched - his stare pinning her in place - nailing her to the wall. He touched her and she jerked.

He continued.

He traced her jaw with his fingers and then he dug his thumb into her lower lip and he leaned forward inch by inch - a predator stalking toward its prey despite the fact that her vision was clear and she saw what was coming.

He kissed her - insistent and blunt and more like a crash of mouths and teeth. It was wet and hot and clumsy. It blinded her.

She didn’t know what he wanted. She didn’t know what to do, but respond in kind. It had been weeks and she wondered if this was a life raft.

She kissed him back and just as her tongue met his, he stilled. Something deep and ugly rumbled from his chest before she felt pain sear across her belly. She dropped her chin to see a stain darkening the thin fabric of her tank top. He’d cut her. Not too badly, but it ached. Tears sprang to her eyes as she pressed her hand to her stomach. He left her like that. Bleeding and alone on freezing bathroom tile.

It took her several more mind games to realize that everything was always on Michael’s terms. He kept her tied up - only allowing her to use the phone in order to not raise alarm. He fed her and frightened her and occasionally brought her dead things like he was her enormous cat.

Slowly - deliberately - he won.

***

His hands are on her - the smell of him like iron and sweat. He smears red across her forearms before he tugs her hard against his chest. Michael is made up of flat planes and curves - the ripple of muscles and broad shoulders. He is perfect physically aside from the blinded eye. Part of her believes that even that imperfection gives him something - a mistake that seems almost correct to his makeup.

“Michael,” she says again as he rubs against her - the hefty bulge of his cock pushing into her ass. He’s breathing hard, the pattern of it muffled behind the mask.

She doesn’t want the mask tonight - she wants him. But that’s not her decision to make.

He shoves her toward the kitchen - his hand firm at her back before he’s forcing her down over the table. He reaches around her hips to cup her pussy - thumb slipping through her cotton-covered folds. She’s soaked. She’s been wet since she heard the sirens - felt it in the air - heard the panic from the neighbors.

Go home. The streets aren’t safe.

Someone’s been killed. Strung up. Blood everywhere.

There must be a copycat. There must be someone else because Michael is dead.

Michael is dead. Myers is dead. I know. I know. I saw it myself.

But Michael is hot and sweaty against her - his heart thrumming with his adrenaline in the quiet stillness of the room. It’s such a strange scene. The expensive plates and delicate teacups. The floral-printed hand towels. The bowl of fruit that goes flying when she accidentally knocks it away. The pristine beauty of this kitchen that she has worked so hard to maintain is marred by the smear of the Shape. He stands in layers of dirt and grime as he restrains her against the table. She is unsettled by the fact that she wants it - she is desperate for it. She craves him like nothing else. Her body sings for him.

Michael’s hold is unrestrained - brutal, really. His gore-damp fingers all over her - painting her - clutching her pussy possessively because it’s his. Her skin and mind and guts - everything circulating inside her is Michael’s.

She doubts he cares for her. She certainly doubts that he loves her. He’s incapable. But - still - she can pretend. When had broken her so completely the year before - when he’d ruined her - scrambled her head - it was her own tongue crying out: i love you michael i love you i love you please don’t leave don’t leave me here -

He’d pulled her into his arms and let her rest her cheek against his chest. He’d stroked her waist - the hot bare skin coated in him. He’d massaged the marks he’d left by his fingerprints and the chafing of the rope. He’d made soothing, mouth sounds and she’d sunk into him - gone soft and pliant and easy as she breathed his name with wild reverence -

He’d been kind. He’d been gentle. He had seemed like he had cared. She clung to that.

He flips her skirt up as he pins her to the table. The edge is cutting into her thighs and she’s being nearly lifted off her feet. She hears him unzip himself - open up those coveralls that are coated in a thin film of whatever he’d done today. There is the blunt snag of his cock at her entrance. He rips her panties to the side - the brief sting of them digging into her flesh until they give way. Michael cock catches on the rim of her hole before he rears back and then slams forward, sheathing himself to the hilt. She’s feverish and sopping. She’s ready for him, but it still feels as if he’s splitting her in half. Michael is huge. He is and the stretch is something that continues to shock her. She feels as if every rut of his dick will hit the back of her throat - will stab into her heart and she’ll die from Michael fucking her so roughly. He grunts as he draws his hips before sliding in again - boring down upon her with his calloused, blood-slick fingers gripping her hips.

She clings to the surface - nails scraping across the wood. Each thrust jars her upward - forces a whimper out of her mouth. The table creaks and bends. She’s not entirely sure if she can scream - if Michael would allow it since the neighbors could hear. There are cops and ambulances only blocks away. She’s overwhelmed - trying frantically to accept all of him - take all of him. He’s fucking her apart and she bites her tongue to swallow the noise that steadily builds in her throat.

No one can know. No one can suspect who she keeps in this house.

It’s a copycat. It has to be.

It can’t possibly be him. He’s dead.

Michael’s cock continues to spear molten through her - pushing up against her core - her cervix. There’s the echoing squelch of her pussy swallowing him. The rough fabric of his pants grazing her bare skin.

She feels his fingers slide through her folds - caressing the place where he is connected to her. He will tease and probe until she begs him and she knows that he will only make her cum for the benefit of himself - to feel her walls clench and grip him so deliciously tight. His breathing is labored now. His pace grows sloppy.

Her knees are weak and it’s only Michael who is holding her up. If he stepped away, she'd collapse to the floor. His sharp hips barrel into her thighs as he screws her into the unforgiving kitchen table. He continues to trace the seam of her sex - he nudges his thumb over her clit, making her gasp. His other hand palms her ass cheek before digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise.

“Please, Michael,” she pants. “Please. Please. I-I need to - want to -”

He flicks her clit harshly and then slaps it. It does the job. She shrieks - her lower muscles spasming and her cunt fluttering around Michael’s punishing length. He’s quick to follow - a rasping grunt shudders from his hulking frame. There’s the warm bloom inside her that begins to drip as he slips from her raw pussy.

She hears the mask drop to the floor and she knows it’s not over. This is just the beginning. He’s sated that initial hunger - the one that always burns fast and harsh through him after a kill. He’s exhausted himself to a point, but it won’t last long. His hands are on her - his thick forearms banding around her waist as he lifts her against his muscular chest. She peers up at him and loses her breath. His caramel hair, damp with sweat, curls boyishly around his temples. His blue eye scans her face lazily - soft from the haze of post-orgasm. Her lips quirk and she decides to take a chance. She reaches for the knife-sharp line of his jaw, hoping that he will accept her touch.

Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn’t.

She knows she’s made a mistake almost immediately. His brow creases and he snatches her hand. He holds it tight enough that it hurts - jostles her bones. It’s a threat. He can snap her wrist and fingers if he wanted. He could crush her head like a melon.

“Don’t,” he warns as he releases her. His voice is low and raspy with disuse. It is always a shock to hear him. A drop of water in this devastating desert of a house.

She longs for him to speak again.

The wind howls outside - knocks against the shutters - scrapes the paint and the screen door. The high-pitched flicker of a wind chime. The sirens are still wailing far away.

He carries her upstairs.

[make-me-imagine]

Nightmare

Prompts: “Are you okay?” “No.” + "You don’t have to hide your tears from me.” + ‘“You weren’t there…why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you! And you weren’t there!” (changed slightly) + 'The residual fear and anxiety after waking from a nightmare.' + 'Sudden dizziness that makes you lose your balance'. and 'Someone knocking on your door in the middle of the night' Requested by: @spuffyfan394 (two requests combined)

Plot: After having another horrible nightmare, Y/n can't sleep, so they take solace in the arms of the only person who makes them truly feel safe.

Pairing: Darrel "Darry" Curtis x GN!Reader

Warnings: Blood, violence, death of multiple main characters (all in the form of a nightmare)

Words: 1.5k

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo The Outsiders Taglist: @spuffyfan394

-

You were running as fast as you could, but it still wasn't fast enough. The street seemed to never end as you ran under lamppost after lamppost. The screams were still echoing around you, horrible cries of anger and pain. Some sounded like Ponyboy, others like Soda or Two-Bit. And then you heard a wail of agony.

"Darrel!" You called out, your voice only coming out in a whisper, no matter how hard you screamed out.

Through the foggy mist in front of you, you could see figures appearing. As you broke through the fog, you stumbled to a stop as your eyes looked over the scene in front of you.

Blood ran over the dark pavement, a switchblade lying next to a lifeless body. Sodapop. Just beside him was a bloodied Steve. Nearby you could see Two-Bit, his eyes staring up at the sky, but no life left in them.

Hearing a muffled sob, your attention was drawn to the crouched figure in the darkness. As you stepped closer, you saw Darrel, covered in blood, and in his lap, Ponybody, dead, just like the rest.

"Darrel?" You asked, your voice soft.

He stopped crying, and looked up at you, his eyes changing from agony to anger. "Where were you?!"

His voice cut through you like a knife and you stepped back. “You weren’t here…why weren’t you here? I needed you! They needed you! And you weren’t here!”

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm sorry." You stepped back, before you stumbled over something, landing on your back. As you turned your head, your breath caught in your throat. Another body, dead eyes staring straight into yours. You looked back to where Darrel was, but only saw Ponyboy's body lying on the pavement.

No, Darrel was there, lying next to you, his lifeless eyes boring into yours. He was gone. He was dead. They all were. You failed them all.

As your eyes shot open, you looked around the room, panic coursing through you. Sitting up and throwing yourself back, your back and head slammed against the wall, seeming to shake you from your confused mind.

You were sweating, your heart racing, and tears were streaming down your face. Taking short labored breaths you looked around, as your eyes began to adjust. Anxiety and sadness still pulsed threw you as you slowly realized you were in your room, in your bed, it was just another nightmare.

Leaning your head back against the wall you took deep breaths, trying to calm down. You felt anger pulse through you as you lightly slammed your head against the wall.

This was the fourth time this week you were awoken by a nightmare. But this one was by far the worse. And you knew why.

There had been a sudden increase in Soc's jumping Greasers, causing your anxiety to heighten, and your nightmares to begin. But today, when you were supposed to walk Ponyboy home, you got caught up at work. And while he was waiting or you, alone, he got ganged up on and hurt pretty badly.

He didn't blame you, none of them did, but you blamed yourself, and that was enough. Enough to cause another nightmare, one that was worse than all the others. The vision of them all dead in front of you replayed in your head.

Climbing out of bed, you stood up, but felt a wave of dizziness wash over you causing you to stumble back into the bed. You let out a frustrated sigh as you sat for a moment, knowing it was due to the rude awakening, and the lack of sleep.

You looked up and around our room. Your house was silent, the only thing you could hear was the sound of crickets outside. The moon was full, the streets bright. You still felt as though you were shaking, unable to calm down, unable to sleep again. You needed Darry, he always made you feel safe, and you could always sleep when you were in his arms.

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

Slowly, Darrel's ears picked up on an unusual noise. As his eyes fluttered open and he focused in on the sound, he recognized it as someone knocking lightly on the front door.

Hurrying out of bed, he rushed to the door, wondering who it was. Pony and Soda could sleep through anything, so he wasn't surprised he heard no movement from their room.

As he got to the door, he peaked out of the window before quickly opening the door. He felt his heart plummet when he saw you standing there, in your pajamas, your eyes were sunken and you had clearly been crying.

Stepping out he took a hold of either side of your arms "Y/n, what happened?"

You felt almost stupid now, standing here, having rushed down the road in the middle of the night. But you already felt ten times better being in front of him.

"Are you okay?" He asked after you stayed quiet.

"No." Your voice finally came out softy, almost a whimper. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come, but I-" You shook your head, feeling all the more ridiculous.

"A nightmare?" He asked softly, having known you'd been suffering from them recently.

You met his eyes shyly and nodded your head. He smiled softly at you before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Never apologize for coming to me." Pulling you into a hug, you wrapped you arms around him. "If you came here in the middle of the night, it must have been a bad one." He said softly.

"The worst." You whispered.

"Come on." He said as he pulled away, leading you inside.

"Are you sure it's okay that I'm here?"

He looked back at you with an unsure smile. "Always." Stopping, as he noted how you quickly wiped your eyes, he brought his hands to your face, seeing another tear sliding down.

As you went to wipe it, you stopped, as he wiped it with his thumb. "You don’t have to hide your tears from me.”

You smiled softly and sniffled. "I feel like a child."

He just smiled before he turned, taking your hand as he led you into his room. Settling onto his bed, you lied with your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

After a few moments, when he could tell that you had relaxed, he spoke cautiously. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to. Slowly, you spoke, not wanting to go into detail, for fear of reliving it.

"I was running to you and the others, and I could hear you screaming. When I got there-" You paused, taking a deep breath as the image from your nightmare replayed in your mind. "Everyone was dead. Pony, Soda, Two-Bit. Steve. But you were there, holding Pony. And you screamed at me. Blamed me. And then-"

"And then?" He asked, his voice soft.

"And then you were dead. Just lying there....And I was alone. Then I woke up."

There was a moment of silence before Darrel spoke. "What happened in the other nightmares, the one's before this?"

"Some were of me being chased, alone, or with the others. Some were me being held down and beaten. This was the first one were someone died. And it wasn't just someone, it was everyone."

"Do you think it's because of what happened with Ponyboy?" He asked quietly, making sure there was nothing but softness to his tone.

You nodded your head slowly. "I think so."

Adjusting yourself as Darrel moved to lay beside you, his face was right in front of yours, as he stared into your eyes.

"No one blames you, not Pony, not Soda, not me. I know you blame yourself, but whether or not they attacked Pony, they would have attacked someone anyways. I know there ain't much solace in that, but please believe me when I say it is not your fault."

Slowly, he began to stoke your face with his thumb. You felt yourself relaxing completely, as exhaustion started to wash over you. As you looked at him, the memory of seeing his dead eyes staring into yours flashed before you.

He continued. "This crap with the Soc's can't go on forever, and neither will your nightmares. But until then, and after, for as long as you want, I will be right here. Ears and arms open."

You smiled softly at him, as the image faded away. He wasn't dead, none of them were. He was right here, he was alive. You were safe.

Inching closer to him, you pressed your head into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. "I never have nightmares when I'm here."

You felt him press a kiss to your head. "Then I suppose you just need to stay here forever."

You let out a soft giggle as you closed you eyes, feeling sleep beginning to take over. "That doesn't sound too bad at all."

xx End xx

If you liked it, I'd appreciate it if you reblogged, and/or liked!

If you want to be added to my Outsiders taglist, let me know :)

[ijhyo]

CHAPTER 2

what was supposed to be a fun weekend away with friends turns into a sinister game of hide and seek where their lives are on the line. trapped in a lake house cabin with only six hours on the clock, can y/n figure out who is behind the mask and manage not to get caught all before sunrise?

PAIRING. soobin x gn reader ; beomgyu x gn reader ; yeonjun x gn reader

GENRE. college au ; mystery ; thriller ; escape room ; angst ; horror ; humour

WARNINGS. swearing ; injuries ; character death ; blood ; brief description of a panic attack ; vomiting

WORD COUNT. 2.8k

A/N. part two yasss. dun dun dun do we have our first suspect 😯? this one is shorter than the first part (i think all the next ones will be now that we're done setting up the story but we'll see) but i hope you guys like it anyway and if yes, let me know what you think and all your theories if u have! also, not edited im afraid, so if there r any mistakes no there aren’t

TAGLIST. @hyukaas @xysthe @tsupuffs @ren-chib @yjwfav @mykalon @junityy @iyeonjuni @fallingforhoon @fairybinie @enhacolor @cheorei @jjhmk @acciomylove @yeonjunsgf777 @soobin-chois @chosoluvr @odxrilove @soobisms @strawbrinkofdeath @etherealcherrie @maemarahuya @1-800-ryujin @wisecheesecakecloud @fairyofshampgyu @i-haewon @cottontvil @minthicons @bettyschwallocksyee (send an ask to be added)

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Running down the hallway in the direction Lia went in, your only thought is to put as much distance between you and the seeker as possible. You don’t look back. Afraid you’ll lose your momentum.

You don’t account for stairs.

You trip on the first step, flinging you forward on the staircase.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you curse, biting your lip down to keep from screaming. You spare a glance back in the direction you came from, both relieved and scared that you see no sign of the seeker.

They are not chasing you. They could be anywhere.

Pushing yourself up, you wince at the pain that shoots up from your knees. You stretch your leg out once. It is definitely going to bruise.

Climbing the steps gingerly, you find yourself back on the main floor of the house, the staircase hidden behind a wall. Lia was here, you think breathlessly.

You turn the corner fast and walk straight into a body.

Before you can even think too long, you push the person away, hard. Stumbling back into a wall, you scramble to get away. Your heart jumps to your throat, your flight or fight kicking in.

You didn’t run away the first time, but you’ll be damned if you don’t now.

The person crowds you against the wall, placing their hands on your shoulders. They are saying something, your name you think.

You don’t know how they know that.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

You do.

It’s Soobin.

You think you are crying.

“Woah, breathe, Y/N. Breathe with me.” You follow his instructions, try to slow your breathing down in time with him. In through the nose. Focus on his. Out through the mouth. Stare at his perfect, pink lips.

A moment passes. “Are you okay?”

You haven’t stopped shaking. You think you are going to throw up. But your breath has evened out. “Yeah.”

He looks wary but doesn’t push it. Just squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “Let’s go to the others. Some of us are hiding together.”

Soobin leads you past the stairs, in the direction Sumin ran off to when the game started. You try to protest. Try to tell him that you need to be upstairs but can’t find it in you to say anything.

You need to warn him. Tell him that there is a killer running around his house, but your tongue is made of lead. You can’t do anything except follow.

Soobin knocks on a door twice, pauses, then knocks again. He looks at you conspiratorially. “Sumin’s idea.”

The door opens from the inside and you follow the taller boy inside.

“Look who the cat dragged in,” Sumin teases when she sees you shuffle in behind Soobin. “You here to mooch off my hiding spot too?”

You can barely crack a grin.

Sumin’s hiding spot is an indoor cinema, which, what the fuck? Who just has that? In a lake house? The rest of the party goers are lounging on the chairs, seats reclined for the utmost comfort.

Wooyoung groans from where he was laying down on the floor. “Can we stop playing now?”

“It’s literally barely been an hour,” Yunho points out, kicking him slightly with his shoe.

That surprises you. It feels like hours have passed since you started playing this game and you want nothing more than for it to be over.

Looking around the room, no one has a care in the world. They are laying around, waiting for the sun to rise and the game to be over. They don’t know what you do. They don’t know what you saw.

You move to the front of the room on shaky feet.

“Y/N?” Soobin asks, reaching for your hand but you shake him off.

Clearing your throat, everyone else turns to look at you. You take a breath. “Sunghoon is dead.”

Silence.

“What?” Wooyoung asks, moving to sit upright.

“What are you talking about?” Jongho questions, voice carrying from the back of the room.

“We were hiding together and the seeker, they found us. The seeker killed him.”

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Isa exclaims, accusatory, although her voice breaks off at the end.

You just shake your head, determined to explain everything. “This game, it’s not what we thought it was. ‘Getting caught’ doesn’t just mean you’re out. You’re dead.”

You catch Soobin’s gaze. Watch as he makes the connection between what you’ve just said and how you reacted earlier. You look away.

“Hey, Soobin, what the fuck?” Sumin says, finally speaking up since you dropped the bomb on them.

His head snaps to the girl. “Excuse me?”

“This is your party!”

Wooyoung nods, agreeing. “If this is your idea of a joke it isn’t fucking funny.”

Soobin looks appalled. “Why would I do this? I told you that I didn’t plan this game before we agreed to play. I have no idea what the fuck is going on and I’m not the one behind it.”

“Well then who the fuck is?” Yunho asks and even you can tell that it’s kind of an unfair question.

“I don’t know! But whoever it is knows the house. And where the media room is…Shit.”

Jongho runs his hands down his face. “Fucking hell, man.”

Exclamations go up around the room. Everyone is yelling and pointing fingers at each other. Isa is the only one who doesn’t say anything.

She looks almost sick and your chest tightens looking at her. She was the only one here who was really friends with Sunghoon.

You feel like you should say something. Offer comfort to her. But she brushes off Sumin’s attempt and walks away on her own. It is probably for the best. You don’t know what you would have said. Sorry doesn’t feel strong enough.

You scan the room. Some of these people, you had never held conversations with before tonight, and here you were hiding from somebody who wants you all dead. But you notice there are people missing. Beomgyu, who you haven’t seen since the start of the game and, with a sinking feeling in your gut at the realisation—

Lia.

“I have to go.”

Soobin stops you by grabbing your wrist. “Wait, Y/N, what the hell? You can’t go out there—You just said that someone is trying to kill us.”

“I need to find Lia, I can’t leave her.”

His eyes widen, as if also just realising that she’s missing from the room. He curses under his breath. “I—Fuck—Look, I get that, I do, but you can’t just go back out there. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“You don’t know that.” If this where any other situation, you would probably sound childish, complaining about not being able to see your friend.

Soobin just sighs heavily, enclosing your hand in both of his and you savour the warmth. “I just…I invited you here. If something happened to you…”

“Soobin,” you say, voice impossibly soft, “this isn’t your fault. And I don’t blame you. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to Lia and I didn’t do anything.”

Lia wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you. She came for you. It should have been just you here, running for your life, but you dragged her into it. If anything had to happen to her because of that?

If something has already happened to her.

You shake your hand out of Soobin’s grip.

“I have to go.”

5 HOURS LEFT

The silence of the house scares you.

At first, you thought you were at an advantage playing in such a big house like this, but now you realise that the seeker could come from anywhere and you wouldn’t know.

You try to come up with a list of people who would want to do this, but draw a blank. You are pretty sure you don’t anybody with psychopathic tenancies.

You think about Lia and where she is and immediately try to think of something else before that turns sour.

She was fine. She had to be.

You see Soobin’s face from when you walked out of the room instead. The solemn look he gave you, like he didn’t expect you to make it back. Like he was already beating himself up over it.

You blink the image away. Sunghoon’s face just before he died, full of fear and shock, replaces it.

You resolutely decide to not think at all.

Keeping close to the walls, you slowly inspect the area and once you make sure that there is no one there, you make to run in the direction of the stairs. However, at the sound of somebody speaking, you hold yourself back and wish to melt into the wall.

“Where are you, you fucker?”

Isa.

When did she leave the screening room?

You have half a mind to run out there and drag her back here with you to shut her up. Instead, you place a hand over your mouth to stop you from making a sound.

A second voice speaks up and your breath quickens. “The point of the game is to hide. It’s not fun when I don’t get to do any seeking.” They try to sound disappointed but the voice distorter they are using makes it impossible to feel anything for them.

“You killed my friend.”

“Would you believe me if I said he walked right into my knife?” they taunt, smirk evident in their voice and you want to reveal yourself, step out there if only to punch this guy in the face.

But you are scared. God, you are so scared.

Isa curses. She grunts. Grunts again. A thud. Something heavy hits the ground. You almost scream, muffle it behind your hand.

The seeker sighs, as though bored. “Two down. You guys are making this easy for me.”

You keep a tight grip on your mouth, clamping down on your tongue hard enough that you taste the metallic tinge of blood in your mouth.

You don’t hear any footsteps so you wait. You count to one hundred in your head and then again to ten. You come out from your hiding place slowly, practically crawling on the ground.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and what you find has you stopping dead in your tracks.

There lays Isa.

Blood spills from her side and chest creating a pool around her body.

Her eyes are still open.

You can’t stop the bile that rises up your throat and retch a thin stream of vomit right next to her.

The combined smell of your sick and the blood makes your stomach churn and burns your nostrils.

Who would do this?

Tears sting your eyes as you contemplate the question but you can’t stay here. You can’t be next.

It feels wrong to just step over her, but you need to get to upstairs. There is a chance that the seeker went that way but there is a also a chance that they stayed downstairs. You don’t like those odds and a part of you just wants to run back to Soobin and hide, but you think of Lia. And force yourself on the staircase.

Crouching low, you take the steps one at a time. What once had left you in awe has frustrated, because who needs so many fucking stairs?

You reach the top eventually. The moment of truth. You look to your right, and see an empty hallway. Exhaling slightly, you turn to the left to find a masked figure standing in the hall.

And they were staring right at you.

Fuck.

You take off running.

The seeker follows.

You hear the mechanic laughter of the seeker behind you, taunting you. Your feet hit the wooden panels beneath you with so much force, the noise rattles in your head.

“You can run, but you can’t hide!” the seeker yells after you maniacally.

The right side of the upstairs area has more twists and turns than its left counterpart, allowing you to faint and confuse your chaser with which direction you are going in.

You had never been an exceptional runner, your chest burns and you feel a painful pull in your stomach, but you keep pushing.

A turn. Then another. This house is a fucking maze.

You hit a dead end. The hallway stops and even though you managed to lose the seeker, there is no doubt that they would catch up with you. And you’d be cornered.

Before you can panic, a hand shoots out from the walls and pulls you in.

You yelp, back hitting somebody’s chest and your screams muffled by the person covering your mouth with their hand.

“Shh, shh, shh, quiet,” they whisper in your ear. Reluctantly, you comply. You try to catch your bearings, slow your breathing like Soobin taught you.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, hand over your mouth, back pressed against somebody’s chest. Sweat breaks out on your upper lip. All you can hear is the sound of breathing and your heart beating in your head.

“I think they’re gone now,” the person whispers, and slowly they release their hold on you, allowing you to finally turn and see your saviour.

Beomgyu.

You release a breath. “Where are we?” The place you find yourself in is a narrow hallway, with wooden planks lining the floor beneath you.

“Secret passage in the walls. They run all through the house.”

“How do you know?”

“Found it running away from some crazy guy with a knife. I think you might know them, actually. Black cloak, looks like they’re on their way to ComicCon?” You know he’s kidding, probably doesn’t know the gravity of the situation. You can’t laugh.

“Sunghoon is dead.”

His face falls. “Oh. Shit. That’s—shit.”

You give him time to come to terms with what you’ve just told him before saying, “I need to find Lia.”

“Lia? Is she the girl you were with? She’s pretty.” You regard him with a scowl and he blanches. “What?”

“Now is not the time to call my friend pretty.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it! It was just an observation. Like, you’re pretty, too, now, I guess.”

“What do you mean now?”

“Well, you don’t have those buck teeth anymore. And you grew into your forehead, too, aww.”

“You’re so…” You never expected to be laughing in a situation like this, where your life is actively in danger and you don’t know if your best friend is safe, but this Beomgyu. He could make you laugh in the worst of situations when you were younger. Like the day you found out you were moving and he had you cracking up until your stomach hurt to distraction you.

You suppose some things never change.

“Hey, where was the last place you saw Lia?” The question snaps you back to reality.

“In the cellar. She was on her way to our room but I don’t know if she made it or went back or—”

“—Then we’ll start there.” He cuts your rambling off so swiftly you almost don’t remember what you were saying. “She’ll be fine.”

You release a breath, nodding. “Okay.”

“These passages have got to lead to the rooms, so all we have to do is follow them, and we should get there easy peasy.” Beomgyu’s simple way of making you feel better after all these years apart makes something warm bloom in your chest. You smile at him gratefully and he returns it.

“And if we don’t find her there we can always just check the cameras in the security room.” He says easily, already walking in the direction you were running from.

You, however, are frozen in place.

“What?”

“Yeah, there are cameras all over the house. Could’ve gone to check there first actually, but we’re closer to the rooms, so.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken and try to calm down. You can’t jump to conclusions. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve been here before,” he admits shrugging, like it isn’t a big deal. Like he’s commenting on the weather.

Like he didn’t disappear as soon as the game started and conveniently found secret passages and knows where the security room is.

No jumping to conclusions.

“And the media room? Do you know where that is?” You have a feeling you know the answer, but you hope you are wrong. You want to be wrong.

“Uh, yeah, I do, actually. Same floor as the security room.”

Whoever it is knows the house. And where the media room is.

Suddenly the passageway is all too small and the walls feel like they are closing in on you.

You can’t move.

“You good?” Beomgyu notices that you aren’t following, looking back at you.

You nod your head stiffly, trying to appear casual and hope you are convincing. He accepts it and turns back to the front, leading the way.

You make up your mind then: the moment you got the opportunity to, you would make a run for it. Get as far away from Beomgyu as possible.

You follow him.

[wordofthewicked]

An Ode to the Colors of Loving George Weasley

Just a little blurb idea I had 😊. Yellow isn’t a color option on mobile, so use your imagination for that one I guess.

Word count: 887

TW: character death, mentions of blood, slight NSFW mentioning if you squint

Master List

~~~

Red was the color of my lips the first time we met. Our eyes locked across the small room, and I felt myself drawn to you. You smiled, your eyebrow quirking up in a silent question. I nodded, meeting you halfway, in a rush of euphoria and alcohol. My cheeks were warm, your eyes were hazy. I couldn’t remember quite how we started talking, or what either of us said. But your lips were on mine in the back of the tavern before I couldn’t even contemplate how we got there. We were suddenly in your room, hands across each other’s bodies, when your brother walked in to complain about the ruckus you were causing. Your face flushed as he did, my hips straddling yours in your bed. I laughed as you threw a pillow at him to kick him out, and I climbed next to you instead. We laughed at each other, and I fell asleep in your arms.

Orange was the color of the sweater I wore to meet your family for the first time. You hated it, said it clashed with your hair. You like to wear purple, so I dyed my hair to match your suit, and your family couldn’t stop laughing when we walked in, sweaty palms sticking together. We laughed with them, their smiles wide and inviting. Your mum kissed my cheeks, holding them in her hands.

Yellow is the color of your childhood bedroom, where you showed me your favorite view of the apple orchard that lay outside your window. The fading sunlight casted shadows over the walls, and I inspected them carefully. They were covered in pictures of inventions you made up, ones that you and your brother spent hours trying to perfect. When you weren’t looking, I slipped my favorite one into your coat pocket, a reminder for when you find it of how far you’d come, and how much farther you still had to go.

Green was the color of the spell that knocked you out, hitting your head. I couldn’t scream as I watched you cling to your broomstick, Lupin whisking you away from my sight before I could comprehend what happened. I stayed and fought, doing my best to focus on the task at hand. When I arrived at the Burrow, I wordlessly abandoned my broomstick, rushing into the living room to find you laying on the couch. I was the last one to arrive, and you cursed as you watched me walk through the door, thanking every star that I had made it back okay. I let you hold me close, not mentioning the blood on your clothing, or the very evidently missing ear from your head. I grabbed your face gently and kissed you, mumbling against your lips that you could never do that to me again. You laughed, and promised me you wouldn’t be hurt again as long as I agreed to marry you as soon as the war was over. I pushed myself off of you incredulously, but found you to be entirely serious for once. I hit you with the mauve throw pillow next to me, but made the promise anyway.

Blue was the color of the dress I wore at your brother’s wedding, and you couldn’t stop complimenting my eyes. You pulled me out of the tent to dance under the stars, where we watched the party dissolve into chaos as the Death Eaters swarmed the yard. You kissed me before running into the mess, but I kicked off my heels, followed your trail and fought along side you. We held each other when the last enemy had disappeared, and I scolded you for leaving me to fight like that again. You just laughed, shaking your head and promised me you’d never die until I was officially a Weasley.

Indigo was the color of the skirt I wore the day you officially proposed. The ring was small, plain, the most perfect thing I had ever seen. You could barely get the words out of your mouth before I said yes, both of us crying. We were outside of your parent’s home, and you picked me up to run inside, yelling to everyone home that I was going to be your wife. While everyone cheered, I could tell they weren’t surprised. It was the closest thing to good news we had, and we both pretended not to see your mum cry over the unopened and returned letter from Percy. That night you cursed the ground he walked on, swearing he would get what was coming to him one day, if you had any say in it. I laughed and kissed you gently, silencing your venomous thoughts, and pulling you into the azure covers and into the sleep we both desperately needed. It never came, as we were rushed to Hogwarts to defend the castle before morning had arrived. You held my hand in the courtyard as we watched the approaching army. You kissed me one last time, and ran to take your post with your brother. Things were never quite the same after that moment.

Violet was the color of the flower I placed down on the grave, one year after you were last whole. Loosing Fred took so many pieces of you and buried them alongside him. Your family was there, and we stood back as you spoke softly to your brother. Your mum reached out for me, holding my cheeks in her hands. “Thank you for loving him. I think you’re the only reason he’s kept going. I swear his eyes only shine when he’s with you, dearie.” I watched you take out the picture from your suit pocket I had slipped in there years ago, and you laid it across the dirt gently, letting it rest where it belonged.

[scarofthewind]

Could I request for Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt (and anyone else you may want) on how they’d react to cumming very quickly, like they’re having a stressful day and haven’t dont *it* in a long time and it just happens. :) thanks

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I really liked this one....very spicy! Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, R18+, heated make-out sessions, mentions of oral, face-sitting, pet names

Characters: Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Jason Voorhees and Bo Sinclair

word count: 2.05k Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Thomas Hewitt: 

“I need you to go upstairs for me, pretty girl,” Thomas’ voice sounded darker than you remembered as you walked through the front door, letting your workbag rest against the coat rack. Your lover didn’t give you a moment to speak before he was trudging back down the steps of the basement where you heard a male beg for his life. 

With a sigh you obliged, running your hand down your stiff neck and wondering if you needed to take some time off work. You felt like you hadn’t seen Thomas, kissed him or even touched him in forever and it was starting to get to you. You both hated the fact that work had you going overtime and that he was doing busy work with stuff around the acres of land he had to maintain. All you wanted was to spend at least a full day with him where there was no work, just love making and talking. 

Making your way to the bedroom, you shut the door as the man started screaming, the familiar sound of Thomas’ chainsaw going off as you took your clothes off piece by piece and set them in the laundry hamper, reminding yourself to do laundry when you could. You moved sluggishly towards the shower, pulling the curtain back and turning the water on, getting it ready for both you and Thomas who you could hear bounding up the stairs as the water warmed. 

Strong arms covered in blood wrapped around your middle and chapped lips pressed kisses along your neck and shoulder. “No more overtime and I’m taking next week off,” you told Thomas who hummed in response, pulling back to loose his clothing before following you into the warm shower. “I missed you so much,” you said softly, your heart aching at your words as the male stared down at you with a knowing feeling.

“I didn’t go anywhere, sweetheart.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead to which you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your lips, letting the water run over his red-stained skin. “But shit did I miss you too,” he growled against your mouth, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip while his hands felt up your body. One of your hands traveled down towards his cock, palming it gently and feeling it twitch to life before you began pumping the shaft gently. 

Thomas’ lips worked hungrily against yours as he pressed you against the shower wall, cupping your cunt with one hand before slipping past your lower lips and delving into your aching pussy. A soft cry left your mouth and Thomas felt himself snap at the feeling of your walls sucking on his fingers so tightly. Just the thought of what your pussy would do to his cock made him cum and he pulled away from you, apologizing profusely. “I’m sorry it just been so long and-”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s okay.” You say softly, bringing his lips back to yours. “It’s not like you can’t get it back up, right?” You smirk against his mouth and let out a shriek when he pulls you out of the shower and takes you to the bed, moving to lay between your legs and bringing his mouth to your sopping cunt.

Bo Sinclair: 

The man was practically tweaking when you walked into the house, Bo immediatley springing up from his spot on the couch and making his way towards you. “I’m sorry I’ve been too stubborn to apologize for our fight last week but please, please, please forgive me.” Bo was frantic, his pupils blown wide and an obvious tent in his shorts that made you bite back a smirk. 

“I can’t get off without you, I can’t sleep, I can barely eat because you know I can’t cook-”

“Bo, please stop talking.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose before pulling him upstairs to your bedroom, him still babbling about useless things the whole way. As soon as you get into the comfort of the room, you shut the door behind you and turn to face him. 

“I mean I can’t even get close to finishing, it’s like my dick’s broke-” you cut him off by grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. Taking his hat off and throwing it to the floor so you could run your fingers through his messy hair, you felt him relax against your touch, his hands pulling your body against his. “Please,” he groaned and you obliged, moving him over to the chair by the window and letting him sit down before climbing on his lap and unzipping his pants, spitting in your hand before pumping his shaft slowly. 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, hips bucking at your touch while his head was buried between your breasts. “That feels so good, baby, just like that,” he let out a string of curse words while you continued your actions, running your thumb across the tip a few times while feeling a familiar wetness grow between your legs. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum!” Bo panted, his hips moving along with your hand as he came in thick white spurts to which you wiped on his shirt. 

“That was quick,” you teased, watching him glare at you before he moved, having you seated on the chair with your legs hooked on his bare shoulders when he removed his stained shirt. “You don’t have to, Bo.” You said, watching him shake his head and pull your pants down along with your underwear. 

“I told you didn’t I? I’m a starving man and I know good eatin’ when I see it,” he winks up at you before slowly making his way to your glistening cunt. With the way he works your body like a finely tuned instrument, it doesn’t take you long to finish either and by then, he’s hard and ready to go again.

Michael Myers: 

The air was knocked from your lungs the moment you walked through the front door as Michael shoved you against the wall, lips pressed against yours feverishly as his teeth practically clicked against your own. “What the hell, Michael?” You struggled to push the larger man off, moving slightly to the side and wiping your mouth from the wetness of the kiss. 

“I haven’t touched you in over two weeks, do you know what that’s doing to me?” He growled, pressing himself against you, your back one again meeting the wall. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of finally getting off after two straight weeks of overworking yourself and barely getting to see your ‘very busy’ serial killer lover. 

You let out a gasp when his teeth pulled at the skin on your neck, leaving various bite marks and bruises on your already sore body. “Calm down, you’re gonna kill me,” you whimper, feeling one of his hands dip between your bodies to rub your clothed pussy, the feeling still making you weak in the knees. “Bedroom, now.” You ordered, moving out from under him and not bothering to look back, knowing he was following you up the stairs. 

It didn’t take but a few seconds before you were topless, your bra still uncomfortably holding your breasts into place while you were shoved on the bed, Michael crawling on top of you faster than you could blink. Once again, his lips found yours and one of his hands found purchase on your neck, lightly thumbing over the dark marks he left there earlier while his tongue delved into your awaiting mouth. You could feel his cock straining against his pants as he slowly ground it along your pant-clad cunt, your panties becoming remarkably uncomfortable with how wet they were. 

A soft moan of his name left your lips when he slipped his hand from your neck into your pants, unbuttoning them and pushing them down enough for him to feel how wet you were. “Oh fuck,” he grunted, his chest heaving as his hands stilled and his lips moved off yours. You stared up at him in confusion as he quickly stood up, stripping himself of his pants and boxers, cursing at the copious amounts of cum that coated his now softening cock. 

“That’s new,” you tease, watching his ears turn red before he curses again. “Don’t be embarrassed, we haven't’ done anything in a while so it’s natural.” You assure him, watching him roll his eyes before moving to lay on the bed. 

“I don’t need this from you, just come here.” He grunts, getting comfortable and curling a finger at you. 

“I don’t get it, I’m not gonna ride you when you’re soft, it’ll-”

“Not my dick, Princess,” he said with a smirk, moving his hair from his face and running a hand along his mouth, his tongue licking his lips. “Come take a seat, I wanna taste you.” You didn’t have to be told twice.

Jason Voorhees: 

It felt like their were a million things on your mind, but that he wasn’t one of them. Lately with work and your family, you’ve not been able to go out and see Jason all too much and it was starting to worry him. Did you grow tired of him? Did you find someone better?

He missed your laugh, your smile, your eyes, your body, your lips, your cunt; you name it and he was yearning for it. He hadn’t gotten off without you there since before he met you and he wasn’t about to do it again; it didn’t feel right to. So imagine your shock when you come through the cabin door, announcing your arrival and nearly getting tackled to the floor by your giant lover. 

“Jason, I missed you too but I can’t breathe,” you laughed, feeling him loosen his grip on you before cupping your face and pulling you into a deep kiss, his tongue swiping across your lip. A soft sigh leaves your lips and you drop what you have, shutting the door with your foot and ridding yourself of your coat, not caring where it falls. 

Jason can feel the bulge in his pants start to grow and he’s sure you can to by the way you run your hand over it. A shiver runs through his body before he yanks you over to the couch, wanting to be inside you as quickly as possible. “I missed you so much,” you whimpered against his lips when he lays you down gently, his frame moving between your legs and settling against your lower half. With a soft kiss to your palm before placing it on his heart, Jason told you that he loved you without having to speak before bending down again and reconnecting your soft lips with his. 

The cabin was quiet except for the soft pants and moans that came from the two of you as Jason practically humped your leg, his hands groping at the mounds of flesh on your chest while his lips worked wonders on your neck. You could feel yourself growing wetter by the minute and just as you were about to start peeling clothes off, Jason shot up and practically fell off the couch. “What? What happened? Is someone here, do I need to hide?” You asked with swollen lips, watching him hold one of the couch pillows against his front. 

“Jason what’s going on? Are you okay? Were we going too fast?” Your eyes never left his face but he stared at the floor as the gross, wet, warmth of his cum pooled inside his boxers, his pants showing a wet patch on the front to which he hesitantly showed you. he was ready to be teased but when you told him to come back to the couch, he did. 

“Look at me,” you said, gently cupping his face which was blushing a pretty shade of pink. “It’s alright. We haven’t been together in a while and you didn’t touch yourself while I was gone did you?” When he shook his head you smiled at him softly. “It’s natural to get worked up like that, it doesn’t mean we still can’t have any fun.” You whispered to him, watching his eyes narrow at you slightly before he grabbed your wrist and practically dragged you to the bedroom; challenge accepted. 

[countrymusiclover]

18 - Family of Dinosaurs

Part 19

Hybrid Trainer

@bigbendyhorns @abaker74 @foundationsretail

"Owen..." I whispered feeling the baby kicking where his hand had fallen on my stomach. "Ssssh baby...it's gonna be okay." The dinosaur and I locked eyes before it roared through the trees focusing on us.

Carrying Jewel in my arms the dinosaur charges forward Maisie followed after the pilot women when suddenly the dinosaur showed its mouth over the ladder making her cry. "Maisie no!" I cried about to run forward but Owen grabbed my arm. She has her eyes closed tightly in fear that breaks my heart knowing I can't do anything. He still holds me back gripping my forearms telling her she has to go. "Climb kid. We'll be behind you. Climb!" She opened her eyes rushing up the ladder after the dinosaur ripped the metal it had in its mouth to pieces. Once she's up Owen pushed me up followed behind me with the others. The dinosaur raised its head as we all froze pressed against the wall with its teeth about to bite any one of us.

Ian stayed on the ground making the dinosaur get distracted for a moment allowing the rest of us to move. He throws a stick lit on fire inside her mouth making her roar out. He climbed up the ladder slipping but Alan grabbed his hand helping him up. Maisie runs ahead of me right before my leg buckles that was injured. Jewel quickly transformed off my back crying in her human form on her knees. "Mommy!" I try standing on my feet again but blood started leaking from the wound. "Maisie take her now!" I demanded through grunted teeth holding my bleeding ankle. Stiffening my back I felt hot breathing behind me where they started moving backwards slowly. The dinosaur blows my hair around with its heavy breathing and I stayed still for a second then spun around transforming into my raptor form. Bending my back legs I launched myself into the air bitting into her neck causing her to cry and trying to throw me off.

Hanging on as best as I could I knew this was to by them time to escape. It's what Blue did the night her sisters died. They died protecting their family. The meat eater throws me off finally where my back slammed into the metal creating a few more deep cuts on my back. Plus my ankle that was already injured is now completely dislocated. Shaking my head I winced turning back into my human form locking gazes with the dinosaurs deep eyes. There's blood on her teeth and she snarled in my face. "Oh god!" I screamed suddenly getting pulled towards the direction the others went by my husband. Ellie jumped in front of us seeing the dinosaur had the metal steps in her mouth yanking them away. Owen wrapped an arm around my waist launching himself up into the air where we landed inside the building with the others. "See...not so bad." Owen reassured our terrified girls holding himself up on his hands and knees.

Reading Maisie's face I knew it wasn't good because when I turned my head around slowly the dinosaur broke through the glass. Everyone screamed with her head trying to grab any one of us and eat us right here. Owen scrambled backwards on his knees and I tried doing the same. Jewel suddenly cried when the dinosaur grabbed a rope that her foot wrapped around getting yanked towards her mouth. "Daddy mommy!" Claire and Owen rushed forward trying to untie her leg since I couldn't stand up on my own anymore. Maisie tosses an electronic baton towards her father so he zapped the dinosaur in the eye. Claire helped Jewel to her feet flinging her arms around her neck crying thank you into her shoulder. Releasing a gasp I was holding the dinosaur turned its head finally leaving us alone.

Owen scrambled backwards to me pulling my head into his chest kissing the crown of my head. Wrapping my arms around his neck I started sobbing heavily. Claire pushed hair from Jewels eyes trying to calm her down from her almost death moment. "You're okay. You're gonna be okay." Owen rests a hand to my cheek moving his other hand to my bleeding ankle. He tears the end of his shirt wrapping it around it so it would clot then locked gazes with me. "I'm gonna get you home I promise...do you want me to put this back in place?" I knew he was referring to my ankle giving him a small head no. This isn’t the first time during this trip. He kept his eyes on me suddenly poping it back into place making me cry out clutching my hands into his shirt grunting. Following everyone else inside the building I gasped seeing the little raptor running through the security cameras. "Owen, it's her. It's Blue's baby!"

Alan whipped his head around our direction confusion written all over his face. "So uh you trained velociraptors...and she's your....you two are together." Owen nodded seeing his gaze fell on little Jewel who was over with her sister who was watching the footage of the young raptor. "Jewel she's uh - a hybrid raptor. How is that possible exactly?" Leaning down I still feel pain in my ankle noticing a dart gun that we could use on the little raptor. "Well you know we..." My husband trailed off creating a fist punching it into the air making me blush. Since that it was he did to Claire one day. "The thing that was suprising was that my daughter is part raptor. The odds are probably going to be the same for our next one." Handing my husband the gun Maisie and Alan followed after us. "It's time we bring little raptor home to my sister."

Walking through the destroyed lab of the building I had Jewel stay with Claire just in case something happened. "Do you hear that?" Alan asked looking around until I transformed into my other form locking gazes with my sister's baby. "Y/n, pen corner now...grant get on the other side." The little raptor started to run moving her head everywhere until Maisie rushed forward holding her hand out like she had seen Owen do with me multiple times. "Hey, Eyes on Me!" Bending my head down to the ground Owen moves around me raising the dart gun. Grant raises his hand like our daughter does causing the raptor to only focus on Maisie directly in front of her. The tiny raptor cried out starting to run until I raced forward blocking her in so Owen shot a sleeping dart into her neck. She collapsed into my arms once I was a human again lifting her up in my arms. "Sorry girl. I made a promise to your mom I'd bring you home." He whispered resting a hand on her head with a weak expression.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[laos-soft-bunny]

Let’s get down to business

Liu Kang (Ludi Lin)

(You and Liu have been drifting apart for months now and now comes the time to see if it’s worth fighting for. Also Liu cuts off all his hair.. toxic mentions Liu is in love and knows you love him but he can’t take the fighting gender neutral reader)

————————

Liu’s hand fell from your cheek as he looked away, his heart was sinking. You’ve not been yourself recently and it’s been hurting liu. Killing him actually alls you do anymore is argue. Liu Kang looked you into the eyes as you were crying and he turned on his heel away from you. His back was tense and his fists were clenched. “Look.. I can’t do this anymore if you cant. Recently you’ve been throwing everything at me.. literally…” Liu speaks as his voice breaks and he lifts his hand to the scar on his shoulder where the gash that’s now healed was. The knife that was in your hand when you were cooking went into Liu’s shoulder as he was walking out the door after the last argument and you felt extreme guilt. You looked away. Liu’s eyes dropped to the floor and he turned slightly to look at you. You headed off toward the bedroom crying. Liu reached a hand out after you but soon dropped it again with a heavy sigh. He loved you more than anything.

Liu watched the rain roll down the window and he shook his head slightly. Liu stripped of his shirt and headed toward the bathroom. While he walked he untied his red bandana around his head and tossed it toward the bedroom door. Once he was in the bathroom he flicked open a switch blade knife and looked himself in the mirror, his eyes caught the long black locks that rested on hi shoulder. He threw the knife on the sink, and kicked the door. He groaned and he wanted to scream. His heart was in his throat. You came to sit on the other side of the door. “Liu..” You said in a hushed tone, pressing your hand to the door. Liu pressed his forearms against the door and rested his forehead. He was crying now. “I can’t do this anymore.. you want me to change.. I am..” Liu screamed. “No Liu I love you how you are..” you replied crying again, your heart was sinking. “Just fuck off!” Liu screamed his anger engulfing him in tears causing him to hit the door hard enough to scare you to back up. You tried to fight him back to let you in afraid he would hurt himself.

You kept screaming his name and Liu kept telling you to fuck off. You went back to the bedroom and climbed in bed, curling up and screaming yourself. Liu’s hands slammed into the sink counter and he stared at himself. His brown eyes held pain and dread. He took a few moments staring at himself before his hand found the blade and he squeezed the knife. Blood dripped down his fingers and he pressed it to the mirror over his face, smudging the blood down the mirror. Liu stared himself in the face through blood and he tilted his head slightly, he felt like he was losing his mind. Closing his eyes Liu sat on the counter pressing his back to the glass his hand blood staining the knife handle before a hand snaked up to his hair and he tangled his hair between his fingers, bringing the knife blade up, with a swing Liu had cut his hair. Liu let go of the hair and it fell to the floor with blood on it, he looked down at floor, before he switched the blade in his hand and grabbed the right side of his head and cut it off, this time he was crying.

Liu Kang was now shaking and he was crying out “please just stop destroying me. I’m going crazy..” over and over Liu Kang cried. He pony tailed the back of his hair in his right hand and tilted his head forward, breathing deep from his chest before he cut right above his thumb and the hair fell onto the sink. Liu threw the knife into the wall and pushed himself off the sink. Never in his life did he imagine he could be so broken enough to cut his own hair off. That was what made Liu Kang, well.. Liu Kang.

Liu opened the door to find you sitting beside the door your head in your hands. When you looked up, Liu was kneeled down in front of you, his hair completely chopped off and his eyes filled with hurt. He reached out and took your chin in his hand, the blood smearing on your jaw. “Let’s get down to business.. I’m leaving if you can’t learn some healthy behavior with yourself and me..I can’t take much more.. my mental state is cracking in half..literally I’m unable to control myself..” Liu whispered to you, tears running down his face. You nodded and apologized over and over. “I’m leaving for the night..” Liu leaned down and kissed your head before he stood, turned away from you and walked into the bedroom to grab a bag, packing some clothes, wrapping his hand up and throwing on an old hoodie

Throwing the bag over his shoulder, he took the car keys and walked out the door. He told you he loved you and shut the door. Once he got to the car he called Kung Lao and told him he was coming over. Liu got in the car, threw his bag in the backseat and he reached up to grab the picture of you two that hung on the rear view mirror. He sighed deeply and turned the radio up before pulling out. You watched him leave and went to lay on the couch, curled up in his shirt, holding a bear he bought you. You couldn’t lose him and you were determined to get better.

[one-boring-person]

Requesting Dyson Ido (Alita Battle Angel) ^^

I hope you like this! It didn't really turn out how I imagined 😅

The prompt image ^

One Piece

Dyson Ido (Alita Battle Angel) x gn!reader

Warnings: violence, near death, blood, severe injury

Masterlist

Like my work? Buy me a coffee!

Tagging: @alan-is-my-ginger-princess @daddywaltz @creme-bruhlee

"(Y/n)?" Dr Ido's voice is laced with curious concern as he sees me, facial expression conflicted, evidently unsure of how to react to the current situation. 

Lifting my head, I send a sheepish grin his way, rubbing the back of my neck. 

"Hey, Doc." I greet, glancing at the door slightly worriedly.

He notices, his eyes flicking in the same direction as mine, a frown appearing on his brow.

"Can I ask what you're doing here?" He inquires, looking a little uneasy now.

"Well, I'm taking shelter." I laugh wearily, "I should've asked, but there wasn't much time when I made the decision."

"Wasn't much time? What do you mean?" 

As I go to reply, the window is suddenly smashed inwards, a twisted figure falling in after the glittering shards of glass. Fragments scatter across the floor, making it somewhat hard for the intruder to climb to their feet, debris falling from the mechanical mane it has. 

Immediately, I draw my knife and take up a defensive position, staring at the crouching figure before me. It's one of my bounties, a great, hulking mess of a cyborg, humanoid in appearance except for the huge claws and wolfish head and ears that are swiftly turned on me, a metallic snarl echoing around the silent room. Behind it, I can see Dyson looking horrified, edging towards the place I know his own weapon is concealed. 

I have to tear my eyes from him as the cyborg suddenly launches itself at me, razor-sharp claws slicing at me, whistling through the air above me. Ducking just in time, I roll under the blow and drive my fist upward, hoping to slide my knife into the weaker joints of its bulky carapace-covered arm. As expected, the glad does go in, but it doesn't come out again. 

Instantly, I'm lifted into the air, grasping my knife until a particularly vicious shake of the mechanical limb throws me off, sending me careening painfully into the surgical equipment nearby. Winded, I groan but get back to my feet, drawing a second knife as the cyborg charges me again, this time somewhat more ready. 

Timing myself, I leap up onto the table behind me, throwing myself forwards as the cyborg approaches me, the thing roaring harshly in challenge. It passes right underneath me, running full-tilt into the wall behind me, smashing it's canine face into the strong brick. A yelp of pain leaves it as it staggers back, right into my waiting knife, which I use to slash the wires in it's legs, preventing it from moving. It collapses onto its knees, howling angrily as it does so, twisting to find me. 

Triumphant, I step back, grinning until the great hand catches me, hooking cruel claws into my waist and pulling me down. It growls furiously, yanking me closer to snapping jaws, using its other paw to reduce my arm holding the knife into shreds, leaving me crying out in agony and terror. I can see right into its maw, horrified by the horrifically realistic look of those cybernetic jaws. 

Blinding pain sears through me as those chrome teeth suddenly sink into the flesh of my thigh, my body writhing away from the attack until the jaws move further up, closing around my torso. Screaming, I slap and punch at the cyborg's head, trying not to succumb to the crushing power of the mouth clamped down on my body. Blood gushes from my new wounds, making the floor horribly wet and sticky now as I'm thrown down onto it, unable to move now. The cyborg looks triumphant now, lifting a claw to my throat.

Before it can kill me, however, its arm is crushed under a devastating blow from a familiar weapon. 

Looking up as the monster yowls in furious agony, I almost smile at the sight of Dyson standing over me, weapon raised for the final blow, face grim. He moves swiftly and with deadly accuracy, killing the cyborg in seconds.

The room is swiftly thrown into silence, save for my soft grunts of pain as my blood continues to sleep out onto the floor. Ido is at my side in seconds, helping me move away from the cruel silhouette of the dead cyborg. 

"I will never understand why you pick such impossible bounties, (Y/n)." The doctor sighs as he lifts my shirt to inspect my wounds, looking worried by what he sees. 

"Neither will I." I groan, trying to grin a little, "How bad is it, Doc?"

"Very. You'll die if we don't get you stitched up." He reports, hastily standing to lift me into his arms.

Despite the agony, I'm impressed by his strength, lying limply in his firm grip as he moves me over to the operating table that's bolted to the floor. Placing me down, he lifts my shirt properly, only to cut it off seconds later, when he realises he has to see more of my body than he first thought. 

"If you wanted to see me naked, you could just have asked." I try to joke, only to break off with a whine very quickly.

Dyson gives me a stern look, running his hand over my abdomen to wipe away some of the thick blood coating my stomach. 

"When will you learn that your humour is not always useful?" He shakes his head, though I can see there's some tense relief at my ability to remain humourous.

"I don't know, give me a few more run-ins, and I'll probably have it memorised." I wheeze, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain as he starts to work on me.

"If it's alright with you, (Y/n), I'd rather you didn't get into so many scrapes." Dyson looks at me, "I prefer you in one piece."

I make eye contact with him.

"For you, I'm sure I can try to stay out of trouble a bit more."

[mystic-wolf]

first time with the boys // aoba johsai

Here's aoba johsais version for you thirsty thots. (Fun fact oikawas first time is based on my first time lmao)

Tooru Oikawa

You're his first.

This man is the king of flirting but boy kept his virginity for someone special. Aka you!!

You'd of been flirting for so long and dancing on the edge of being in a relationship, both of you two scared yo fully commit.

Got drunk at a Halloween party and he eventually just mumbled out how much he likes you and wants to be your pretty boyfriend.

Ofc you said yes.

He'd dressed as a devil with spikey red horns and you as an angel. He looked adorable tbh.

Carried you home on his back and nearly dropped you trying to climb the fence.

Stumbled upstairs smothering each other in kisses and fell onto the bed in a mound of giggles.

You were both still a little tipsy but he'd ask if he could fuck you in your costume cause you look so hot. Of course you said yes and fumbled around in your purse for a condom.

He'd gotten all cocky saying how you'd planned this and couldn't resist him so you just smacked his cheek with the packet before tugging his pants and boxers down.

This man is packing, he knows and he's proud.

Makes a joke about how lucky you are to have him before you shove his shoulders down onto the bed and he loses the attitude.

Becomes a whining mess when you slide onto his cock.

His nails scratch at your thighs, the bedsheets, tug through his hair. Anything to try and cope with the immense pleasure.

Cums super early. He's never felt anything like this in his entire life.

Calls you princess when he cums.

He'd eat you out with his cum still inside you, just wanting you to experience the same amount of pleasure he did.

Looks up at you between your legs with those stupid devil horns on and tells you to cum for him.

You two just lie there for nearly an hour kissing and cuddling before finally moving to take a shower and get rid of your dumb costumes.

Hajime Iwaizumi

You've both got experience when you finally sleep together.

Iwa's a little shit and flirts to no end for months until you end up grinding up against him at a nightclub and he loses it.

Has a hard on immediately and you'd just press your ass even harder against him, pretend you're too drunk to realise.

He'd wrap his hand around your throat to pull you flush against his body and mumble how he's gonna destroy you when you get home.

Literally all you think about the entire night until hes pulling you into his apartment and lifting you off your feet to press against the wall.

His hands grab at your ass and he digs his fingers in stupidly hard until you cry out in pain and he fucking laughs against your lips.

Tells you how hard he's gonna fuck you and how you won't be walking straight for a week when he's done with you.

Practically throws you on the bed as he starts to strip and tells you to do the same.

You rip your dress a little trying to unzip it and throw it somewhere across the room.

Iwa slides his knee between your thighs when he kisses you and you can't help but grind down against his muscled thighs. He makes a joke about you getting off just from that.

Replaces his knee with 2 of his fingers and eats up all the noises you make. You moan at how good it is, how talented he is with his fingers.

Iwa loves the praise.

He guides one of your hands to his cock and it looks so dainty because of how big it is.

You get him to full hardness and ask next time this happens if he'll face fuck you.

He's too lost in you wanting a second round to answer and just roughly presses his entire length into you.

You cry out and scratch at his shoulders a little until the hot pain starts to fade and then demand he fuck you into next week.

And this boy delivers.

He puts your ankles on his shoulders, one hand wrapped around your pretty neck as he rails you into the bed sheets.

You feel like he's fucked your brains out because all you can do is lay there cross eyed and mouth open in a constant string of moans.

You're already close but when his thumb starts to rub at your clit you lose it.

You shake against the bed and his body, tongue poking out and eyes fluttering shut as he fucks you through your orgasm.

So full of himself he'd just carry on and say how good he is and how lucky you are to have his cock. And even in your dumbed out state you'd weakly fight back and say he should be thankful he gets to fuck someone so pretty.

You just smirk and tell him to cum for you and by God does that get to him.

Squeezes your throat so tight when he cums and leaves tiny bruises against your skin.

He'd be super apologetic after and ask if you was okay and he'd be floored when you said you wanted him to do it again.

Afterwards you'd just lie in his bed in your underwear sharing a beer with him.

Issei Matsukawa

You both have experience, him moreso than you as he's older.

He'd seen you around college campus and got absolutely infatuated with seeing you everyday and what skirt you'd be wearing.

Got the courage to speak to you one day when you was sat on a bench doing work.

You'd become fast friends and spent a lot of time together and being horny 21 year olds it eventually lead to hooking up.

Brought you back to his dorm and dragged you too his bedroom before you could comment on the horrendous mess.

He hates his dorm mates right now.

He'd push you onto your hands and knees on the bed and nearly rip your thong when he pulls it to the side to stick his tongue against your ass.

You drop your head into the pillows to muffle the surprise.

He'd slip two fingers into your cunt and eat your ass until you're practically screaming for him to stop and just fuck you.

He's a tease and a huge dom though so he'd make you beg for him until he's satisfied.

You'd turn around so you're on your back and spread your legs, pushing your own fingers inside and grabbing one of you boobs through your shirt.

He'd let you have your fun for a moment and then rip your hands away and pin them to the bed.

Calls you a little whore.

He'd pull his shorts and boxers down just enough to pull his cock out and thrust in so hard he pushes you up the bed.

He's so fucking big and he wouldn't give you time to adjust and just fuck you relentless into his mattress.

You'd scratch at his shoulders and back, feeling blood catch under your nails.

He kinda gets off on that.

He makes sure you're super close before he cums so he can time it right. He really wants you to cum when he's spilling into you.

Best orgasm ever.

You'd just be a dead weight on the bed and he'd laugh and joke about you needing to leave before his roommate comes home.

Hes kidding of course and texts him to swerve for the night.

Helps you clean up and lets you pick out a movie on his laptop whilst he orders McDonald's.

You cuddle into his naked chest and share chicken nuggets.

Yutaro Kindaichi

You're his first.

Baby would be so nervous and shy whenever you touch him. He'd always ask if the lights could stay off even when you just gave him a handjob.

Definitely happened when he graduated.

He wanted it to be a special occasion when he said he was still a virgin and that he wanted you to take it.

You have to constantly reassure him and give him complements, sometimes he still feels he isn't good enough for you.

Asks if you can take control and show him what to do.

Please be gentle with him he's super nervous even though he wants it to happen.

You'd slip his jacket off and start kissing his neck and exposed collar bones so softly before stripping him of his shirt.

You spend so long just sat in his lap on the edge of the bed pressed against his chest and kissing him softly before he bites your lip and asks if you'll strip for him.

You try to put on a little show put end up tripping taking your socks off and he's just all giggles and smiles. Makes him feel less nervous too.

Asks you what position you prefer and you just push him onto his back and straddle his hips. He gets the idea.

He's ridiculously sensitive and asks if you can go slow he doesn't bust a nut in 3 seconds.

Touches you all over when you start to slowly move. He squeezes your thighs, your hips your boobs, just anything he can fit in his hands.

Even going slow he'd cum pretty quick, you just feel so good wrapped tight around him.

Tries to cover his face when he cums but you grab his hands before he can so you can see his face. His eyes are scrunched shut, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to his forehead.

He looks like an angel tbh.

You'd finish yourself off because he'd be too spent to even pull out of you let alone move.

He goes all soft and shy again when you clean up and pulls you between his legs so you can cuddle your back against his chest.

Says how much he loves you and kisses the side of your neck.

Kentarou Kyotani

You're each others first.

This boy is so blunt and clumsy he'd just be making out with you on his bed and just ask if you want to have sex.

You say you do and get a little nervous saying it'll be your first time and he's just all chill like yeah me too babes.

Kisses your fears away and slowly strips you of your clothes.

He'd just stop and stare and get lost in how gorgeous your naked body looks spread across his bed.

Kisses down your body and settles between your thighs until you start whining for him to strip too.

He wastes no time in doing that.

Kisses the inside of your thighs and traces his finger across your skin.

He loves when you start whining quietly and ask him to do something.

Saves you the embarrassment of making you say what and slowly runs his tongue across your cunt and runs circles into your hip bones.

Definitely growls against you because the noises you make are going straight to his cock.

He's already half hard and dripping.

He'd tease you a little and whisper dirty things against your ear as he gets himself fully hard to your breath against his cheek.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a kiss as he pushes in.

You bite his lip at the sudden pain and he doesn't start to move until you say so. He's a good boy.

Fucks you so slowly in fear of hurting you because he's pretty big and its your first time.

He sucks bruises into your neck and circles his thumb on your clit until you're writhing underneath him.

Your nails drag down his back and draw blood when you cum with a cry on his name.

That just spurs him on even more as he fucks you through your orgasm saying how amazing you are and how much he loves you before he pulls out and cums onto your chest.

Licks his own cum off your breasts and nips both of your nipples slightly which gets you laughing.

You both fall asleep naked and sticky under the sheets.