#but i was watching let go earlier and my brain started screaming

[lover-of-mine]

“I need you to trust me.”

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Task 141 + König and Alejandro

I did request this earlier (and I apologize for spamming - but had to add some things!)

How the boys react to coming from a meeting or mission to reader being in lingerie waiting on their bed or room. 😏 If you’re comfortable - could you add smut? Would love to know how they’d react heheheh… Pure filth is also very much welcomed! 🫣

Ah yes! Thanks for this request. Feel free to spam away ;) As requested, this is pure trash with like zero plot🤣

141 + König & Alejandro With Reader Suprising Them With Lingiere

Warnings: pure filth, smut, oral (f and m receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, swearing, spanking

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon was exhausted, the day was unbearably long, and he wanted nothing more than to come home to you.

Shuffling his feet through the door, he saw that all of the lights were off in the room, indicating you must've gone to bed early. He let out a small sigh, laying his stuff down on the floor, before making his way up to your bedroom.

When he caught sight of you, his cock instantly hardened in his pants. There you were, sprawled out on the bed in the nicest lingerie set he's ever seen. It was a red lacy set (his favorite color) and had a stunning matching garter. He walked toward you, his exhaustion now long forgotten. "Fucking look at you, sweetheart."

You bit your lip as you watched him approach, running your hand along your fabric covered heat. "You like? Thought I'd surprise you."

"Oh I fucking love, sweetheart." He quickly discarded his shirt, and crawled toward you on the bed. He sat and admired the set awhile longer, burning the image into his head, before he leaned down and placed an open mouth kiss to your clothed heat.

You let out a small whimper, your hands going to his head as he smirked. "You want my mouth, baby?"

You nodded feverishly and cried out when he pushed the fabric aside just enough to give his mouth access to your now soaked cunt.

He slipped his tongue between your folds and inhaled deeply. It never took long for him to get pussy drunk off you, as he buried his face into your core, lapping at your arousal like a starved man. His tongue stroked up and down your folds, making obscene noises as he went.

He looked up to you, and saw a euphoric sight. Your eyes were closed, face scrunched up slightly as you pawed at him. That, mixed with the sight of the lingerie on you had his brain working overtime, as he continued his assault on your cunt.

He added one of his slender fingers to your hole, and began to pump it in and out in rhythm with his tongue, which was now flicking wildly at your clit. You started to feel the coil in your belly tighten and dug your nails into his shoulder blades. He gave your clit a light nip, causing you to scream out as your orgasm tore through you.

He stayed between your thighs for some time, cleaning up your mess with a heavy sigh, his tongue stroking at your folds lazily.

When he got his fill, he pulled his head away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Removing his pants, he then moved up to you, grabbed the undersides of your thighs, and pushed your legs next to your head.

He gave you a small kiss before ramming himself into you, burying his cock completely within your walls. His hands gripped the head board above him, giving him a better angle to begin pounding into you at full force.

The way his cock stretched you out had you seeing stars. He was the biggest you'd ever been with, and my God did he know what he was doing with it. Each thrust of his hips had him burying himself to the hilt, hitting that sweet spot inside your walls every time.

He moved one of his hands to your thigh, hooking one of his fingers underneath the garter there and began to tug, his pace not relenting. Feeling himself growing close to his own release, his thrusts started to grow erratic as he chased his high. He gave another tug to the straps, as he felt his orgasm wash through him, stopping his movements when the straps tore in half in his hands.

You looked up at your boyfriend, a fucked out smile on your face. "You ruined my lingere."

Simon chuckled as he pulled out, breathing heavily. "I'll buy a new set for you, eh? Can't promise I won't ruin that one, too."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Lass, have you seen my...oh my god." Johnny had come barging into your shared room, trying to find his phone when he caught sight of you. You were wearing a new set of pink lingerie that hugged you in all the right places. You turned from the mirror you were looking at, and gave Johnny a sultry smile.

"Phones right here, I was just filling up your camera roll." You handed him his phone, to which he threw to the bed beside him.

He grabbed your waist and lifted you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. "You look fucking divine, bonnie."

He threw you on the bed and nearly came in his pants as he got a better look of the set. "I need to fuck you in this, right now."

He tore off his shirt and leaned down to place soft kisses along your curves. You moaned at the contact, throwing your head back to the pillow behind you. Johnny could've stayed like this for hours, pressing kisses into your exposed flesh. You started to grow restless, so you wrapped your legs around his waist, flipping the two of you over, so now you were on top. You gave a sly smirk before placing your own kisses down his chiseled torso, stopping at his pants to rip them off in one stroke.

Putting your legs on either side of his waist, you slowly made your way up to his cock, grinding yourself on his member. He let out a small whimper as his hands dug into the flesh of your thighs. "Please, please fuck me, wanna watch you get off in that outfit."

You whined at his words but did as he asked. You pulled the soaked fabric aside, and slid yourself down onto his cock. The two of you cried out at the contact, and Soap's hands were now bruising your thighs from how hard he was gripping. "So fucking tight."

You started to circle your hips slowly, watching as Johnny struggled to keep his eyes open. His hands moved from your thighs to grasp at your covered tits, palming at the material roughly.

You moaned at the contact as you started to bounce up and down on his cock. Johnny began babbling, you felt so good around him that his eyes were begging to be closed, but he wanted to watch you fuck him in that set so badly.

You raked your nails down his chest and watched as red streaks began to litter his skin in its wake. You picked up your pace, now bouncing wildly on him, and started to feel your orgasm approaching. It never took you long to cum with Johnny, something you were beyond thankful for.

Leaning backward slightly, you laid your hands on his thighs behind you and continued your movements, as sweat started to form on your brow. Johnny nearly drooled at the sight before him, you looked so fucking good on top of him, taking him as well as you were.

"Fuck, lass I'm so close. Please don't stop." Johnny begged as he squeezed at your hips.

You gave a low moan as your movements started to grow sloppy and desperate. With one final motion of your hips, your orgasm coarsed through you, as your walls clenched down on Johnny, triggering his own release.

You collapsed down onto him, in a sweaty mess, as his hands came up to stroke your back softly. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, before he looked up at you with a smile.

"May I request a photo of my own?" He asked, before grabbing the phone next to your bed. "Just a little one, for whenever I'm on the road."

John Price-

"Love? You almost ready to go?" You heard your husband's voice call from outside your shared room.

"Yeah, in a minute. Can you come help me with my buttons?" You asked, a mischievous smile working its way to your face. You and Price were to go and see a movie together with some friends, but you had other plans.

He made his way into your room, stopping abruptly in the doorway when his eyes fell on your figure on the bed. "Bloody hell, what's that you got on there?"

"It's a present." You bit your lip and started to massage at the fabric covering your tits. You were wearing a new green lingere set you'd just recently bought at the mall, and it fit your figure perfectly. Price felt his cock hardening in his pants at the sight of you.

John moved to remove his belt, his eyes never leaving your form. "That so?"

"Does daddy like?" You asked, licking your lips in anticipation. John came over once he'd undressed himself, and dragged you to the end of the bed.

"You're about to find out." He promised, turning you over so your ass was facing him. He bent down for just a moment, to bite into the flesh of your ass cheek, before smoothing it over with his hand.

You cried out and lurched forward, causing your ass to stick higher up in the air. Price chuckled to himself and let his hands palm at the flesh of your ass.

He rubbed the tip of his cock at your sopping folds, before pushing himself into you. The grip he had on your hip was brusing, as he begun to slam his cock into you at a brutal base, not giving you a moment to adjust.

Your fingers gripped the sheets in front of you, desperately trying to ground yourself. You cried out a soft whine as Price landed a slap to your ass. "S-So good, daddy. So good."

"That's fucking right princess. You look so good in this, couldn't help myself." He cooed, moving his hands to your hair for a makeshift ponytail, tugging it back toward him with a firm grip.

You felt his thrusts start to grow languid, as he neared his high. You knew what would help him get off faster, so you started to push your hips back in time with his thrusts. Price groaned loudly as his grip on your hair tightened. "Fuck baby girl that's it, I'm so close."

After a few final lazy thrusts, you felt your lover's cock twitch inside of you, covering your walls with his hot cum. He pulled out slowly once he'd caught his breath and pressed a gentle kiss on your back.

"Since you were such a good girl for me, why don't you roll on your back and spread your legs. Let Daddy take care of you."

"But we have plans for the movies, babe." You teased, running your hand along your abdomen.

"Fuck the movies."

König-

"Hey, Ko, can you come here? I wanted to show you something." You called out, admiring your form in the mirror before you. You'd just bought a new lingiere set at the store and were excited to show your boyfriend. It was a blue sheer set, leaving little to the imagination.

König made his way to your room before nearly fainting at the sight of you. He stood dumbfounded for a moment as drool started to pool in his mouth. He was left speechless and hardly knew what to say.

He shook his head and started walking toward you, effectively backing you up against the wall behind you. "You look so fucking divine, Maus."

He put his hands on either side of your head and let his eyes rake down your figure. He felt his cock harden almost painfully in his trousers and moved forward to grind himself against you.

He lifted you up in one motion, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He pressed a bruising kiss to your mouth, swiping his tongue against yours. You moved your hands to the waist band of his pants, undoing his belt and pushing down his garments, leaving him bare to you.

You were quick to line his hard member up with your entrance, and sank down onto him, your walls hugging his length in a vice like grip.

He grunted out loudly into your mouth, as your kiss became more heated, a clash of tongue and teeth. He bucked his hips up into you, fucking you senseless.

You gasped out, grapping onto his shoulders for support as he fucked up into you. "Fuck, Kö. You feel so good."

König grunted in response, as let his eyes rake down your body once more, landing in between your bodies watching your pussy swallowing him whole.

You raked your nails along his back as he picked up his pace, your other hand flying in his sweaty hair to steady yourself. The sounds emitting from your lover are what drew you closer to your release. He was whimpering softly, soft german curse words escaping his lips. It never took much to make this man putty in your hands.

He continued to buck his hips up into you, as one of his hands made in way in between you two, and his calloused fingers started to circle your clit, rubbing at the soft bundle of nerves with vigor.

You cried out, throwing your head back onto the wall behind you, your legs tightening their hold around your lover's midsection. His pace didn't relent, and your orgasm rapidly took over you, as you clenched your soaked walls around his cock.

König groaned, still desperately chasing his high with his rapid thrusts, before his own orgasm tore through him. His cock pulsed inside you, painting your walls white with his seed.

The two of you pulled away breathless, and König looked at you, admiration in his eyes. "You look so damn good, Schatz. Can I have another?"

And who were you to say no? Not when he asked so nicely.

Alejandro-

"Fuck me, te ves jodidamente increíble." (you look fucking incredible) Alejandro breathed out, as his eyes landed on you, sitting at the edge of your bed in the new set of lingierie you had.

"You think, baby? Didn't know if you'd like it." You teased, flopping on your back and spreading your legs to reveal more of the set to your lover.

"Surely, you're joking. It makes you look delicious, hermosa." A smirk formed on his lips as he let his eyes rake over your body. "Let me show you, yeah?"

You nodded your head slowly as he climbed over you, capturing your lips in a firey kiss. He ran his tongue along your lower lip, then moved to bite at the flesh softly.

He laid down on top of you, gently putting his hand under your back to slide you up to the pillow. He pressed loving kisses along your jaw, trailing to your collarbone as he hovered over you. "Eres magnifica, hermosa."

You gave a content sigh at the affection and moved your hands to the hem of his shirt. "May I?"

He gave a soft chuckle and lifted himself off you, just long enough to remove all his garments. He returned his lips to your neck, sucking at the flesh there, leaving small bruises along your skin.

He moved his hand to your core, inserting his finger into you at a slow pace. You moaned, throwing your head back onto the pillow behind you. "Ready for me, my sweet girl?"

You nodded your head with a small smile, and he came to press a soft kiss on your lips. Nuzzling his face in your neck, he slowly pushed himself into you, groaning as your walls squeezed around him.

He started moving at a languid pace, savoring the feeling of your walls gripping his length. You moaned as he returned his mouth to your skin, now creating small love bites in the flesh of your shoulder blades.

Alejandro was a passionate lover, never too rough, but never too soft either. He always knew the perfect ways to make you come undone beneath him.

He captured your lips in his once more and sped up his thrusts, pounding into you feverishly. You felt the coil in your belly tighten as your orgasm rapidly approached, your fingers digging crescent marks into your lover's back.

Alejandro let out a small grunt, and his thrusts started to become sloppy as he neared his own release. The coil in your belly snapped, causing you to arch your back up into Alejandro, your tight walls convulsing against his cock. He let out a strangled moan as he was pushed to the edge. He slowly continued to push in and out of your core, allowing you to milk his cock for everything he had, before collapsing on the bed beside you.

"You are so good to me, mi amor. I love you." He declared softly, as he placed a delicate kiss to your sweaty brow.

Now, knowing how your boyfriend reacted to lingerie, you made it a point to wear it around him more often.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I'm so sorry for this🥹😭

Update: I just realized I'm a turd and completely forgot to add Gaz, I will update this shortly🫣😅

[ddejavvu]

hey mei baby i was wondering if you could do something about shy!reader with spencer and she's just so smitten with everything he does and gets flustered really easily and spencer is like ??? like he doesn't get it cause he doesn't see how fucking gorgeous he is

love love love you!

love love love you too!

--

Spencer sits down at the table you'd scouted with a warm smile and a gift bag, and you eye it warily, noting the particular absence of one in return for him.

"I brought you something," He confesses bashfully, and you watch as he pushes it over the table towards you, "But- um, I'm sorry there's no tissue paper in there. I thought I had some, but then I didn't, so I went to the store earlier to find some, but they only had neon pink, and that didn't really go with the orange on the bag, so- just- it's in there." He concludes drearily, "Sorry."

The mere thought of him apologizing for a gift that he's giving you not being perfect makes you want to scream in agony and kiss the apologetic smile right off of his pretty pink lips. But you think that a gentle reassurance would work better, so that's what you give him.

"It's alright, Spencer," You promise, reaching into the bag and wrapping your fingers around what feels like soft paper, "The tissue paper is the least important part of the gift."

It turns out to be a book, and you suppose you shouldn't have expected anything different from Spencer. It's worn, well-loved, with sticky notes in disarray all down the sides and pencil scribbled in the margins. It's a collection of vignettes, from the title, old English tales that you'd find covered in dust at an ancient library.

"My mom used to read these to me when I was younger," Spencer admits, hands toying with each other nervously in his lap, "And I bought myself a copy when I moved out, for- to, like, start my collection," He explains, "And I always found myself going back and annotating it, because I just had so much to say, but- uh, no one to listen."

His cheeks burn pink at the admission, and you physically feel your heart swell to dangerous proportions within the confines of your chest, "So, I thought that- well, if you want to, at least... you could read them too. And- my notes, if you're interested."

He's staring at you with so much raw hope shimmering in his pretty brown eyes that it nearly brings tears to yours. Your brain is filled with static, useless and jittery, and all you can do is drop the book into your lap and slam your face into your arms on the table.

You let out a muffled groan, maybe more of a scream, and when you peek back up at Spencer, he looks mortified.

"I'm sorry! If you don't want it, I can- I can take it back, or get you a different copy, or-"

"Stop! Spencer, stop," You plead, clutching at his hands from across the tiny table, "You're perfect. How are you perfect?"

He looks bewildered, but doesn't pull his hands from yours, "What?"

"You gave me your special book," You whimper, "Actually, you apologized that you only gave me your special book, and you trusted me to care for it and read all of your thoughts and notes about it, and you're-sitting-with-me-in-a-coffee-shop-being-the-man-of-my-dreams! You're perfect!"

He looks heavily flustered now, cheeks burning only brighter red as he grins, "I- I'm glad you like it. Um- I didn't think you'd like it this much."

"I love it," You whine, dragging one of his hands to your mouth to smear a kiss over the back of it, "Spencer, you're perfect."

"Stop saying that," He pleads, but he has to avoid your eyes as he grins into his lap, "You're making me tongue-tied."

"I know," You confess, squeezing his hands, but you show him no mercy as you grin: "But it's only fair, Spence. You just gave me the most heartfelt gift of my life, I'm allowed to make you stutter."

[froggibus]

Mask Off - Stu Macher! Ghostface

Pairing: Stu Macher! Ghostface x f! reader

Genre: smut/NSFW (w a sprinkle of hurt/comfort cause, cmon guys, it’s me)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: at a party at Stu’s, the last thing you’re expecting is for the masked killer to save you from the man who tried to assault you, or for him to take his turn right after

CW: SA, murder, blood, knives, violence, standard Ghostface stuff, breath play, knife play, unprotected sex (make good choices), creampie, blood kink?, hints of a mask kink, degradation, lots of dirty talk, reader is referred to as a slut/whore, they fuck next to a dead body, established relationship, soft! Stu, Ghostface reveal

guys I just watched Scream 6 and I am so soft for Stu rn idek why. i usually don’t write stuff like this but the Scream movies are some of my favorites (def not cause me and the final girl have the same name…definitely not) and I’ve had HARD ghostface brain rot lately so…here’s this lol

————

Sitting on the living room floor of your boyfriend’s house, half drunk and watching movies, everything feels right. Sure, there’s a psycho killer on the loose, and everyone in the house is technically breaking curfew, but you couldn’t care less. Even with Randy geeking out over the Jamie Lee horror movie playing on the tv, you can’t complain. 

The guy next to you on the floor, a couple more beers in than you are, shuffles closer. You side eye him, but don’t say anything. You find yourself looking for Stu—you know how jealous he can get. But your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. 

You take a deep breath and another chug of your beer, hoping to calm the nerves that have found their way into your stomach. You don’t like the idea of your boyfriend being MIA when there’s a killer around. 

Your nerves are shoved away when you feel a warm hand on your thigh. You turn to the guy next to you, who gives you a nod and a smirk. 

He must be an idiot, or not well versed in the politics of Woodsboro Seniors, or else he would know that he’s in your boyfriend's house, trying to feel you up. You roll your eyes, finish chugging your drink, and head upstairs to try to find your boyfriend. 

You don’t even hear the guy get up behind you. 

You duck into Stu’s room, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Not wanting to go back downstairs, you fall backwards onto his bed and relax into the sheets. They smell like him, and the scent is so comforting, it’s almost enough to put you to sleep. 

Almost. 

The door opens and you sit up instantly, expecting to find your boyfriend but disappointed to see the guy from earlier. 

“What do you want?” You squint at him. 

“You disappeared on me, baby.”

“Look, I don’t even know who you are, and clearly you don’t know me, or else you would know that this is my boyfriend’s house. And believe me when I say he’s the jealous type.”

He sits down on the bed, and you shuffle to the other side, drawing your knees to your chest. He seems to take that as a challenge, smirking even wider. 

“Your boyfriend never needs to know.”

“Get lost, dude.”

He’s on you in an instant, lips pressing against yours, body on top of yours. You shove him hard, but that only makes him lean in more. He’s so much bigger than you, so much stronger. The reality of your situation starts to set in, and you drive a knee into his groin. 

He groans, pulling back and slapping you hard. He squeezes your face, eyes angry. “Listen, slut, hit me again and the killer on the loose is the last thing you have to worry about. Do you understand?”

You go to bite his finger but he clamped his hand over your mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

He presses his hand down hard enough to keep you quiet, trailing his hand up your stomach. You squirm as his hand gets to your chest, still trying to deter him. 

Just as he slips his hand up your shirt, you see the cloaked figure behind him. You let out a gasp that he takes as you enjoying what he’s doing. 

You think it’s a prank, that someone is just trying to scare the people hooking up at the party. But the mask…the cloak…it’s all too real. And then you see the glint of silver and your blood runs cold. 

You want to scream and run away, but at the same time, you want the man on top of you to suffer. You want to hear the knife sink into him and you want to see his blood come pouring out. And with the way he’s touching you, you would rather die than have to tell Stu what happened. 

Not that he wouldn’t understand, but because you’re sure things would never be the same. 

The guy doesn’t even notice the figure approaching, doesn’t even notice the way you’re almost crying into his palm. The figure, that the news has dubbed Ghostface, tilts his head at you. 

You should be scared, you should be running, but you aren’t. Something about him, something about the way he’s looking at you, makes you feel almost safe. At least, safer than the guy currently forcing himself on you. 

He pulls his arm back, revealing the sharpened knife once more, before driving it into the back of the man on top of you. He spasms, blood dripping out of his mouth and down your neck. 

Ghostface doesn’t let up, though. He drives the knife in and out of him, penetrating his skin over and over and over. The sound of sharp metal against soft skin fills your ears, and warm blood covers you. 

Finally, the man goes limp, and Ghostface practically throws him off of the bed. He crawls on top of you, replacing the dead man. His body is warm on yours, and he smells like blood and an almost familiar cologne. 

He slides the flat end of the blade across your cheek, down your jaw and onto your throat. You suck in a breath, trying not to let your fear show. You can hear his breathing through the mask, and the feeling of the cold metal on your skin sends waves of arousal through you. 

You should probably consult a therapist on that, given you survive. 

He pulls the knife away from you, tucking it into his waistband. You squint. Isn’t he going to kill you? 

He lifts up his hands, and for a second you think he’s going to strangle you. But no, he does something that surprises you even more. He removes the mask. 

You gasp, covering your mouth in shock. You’re not sure who you were expecting, but it wasn’t your boyfriend. 

He tilts his head at you, giving you a lopsided grin. “Sorry, baby. I lost my temper.”

You nod slowly, the idea that Stu is the Ghostface killer not quite registering in your mind. He wipes blood off of your face, licking it off of his fingers. Something about the action is so erotic that it has you clenching your thighs. 

“I-I’m sorry,” your voice comes out strained. You’re not even sure what you’re apologizing for—for the guy who assaulted you or for your shock or for seeing him without his mask. 

He pushes the hair out of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding and your clit throbbing. 

His hand moves from your hair to your neck, squeezing gently. Stu was always fascinated with stuff like that—pain and breath play and knives. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t fascinate you, too. 

He kisses you, lips hungrily devouring yours. You can taste blood, but you’re not sure if it’s from his face or yours. His hand slides down your waist, bunching up the fabric of your t-shirt and sliding his hand under it. 

“Are you scared?” There’s a smirk on his lips, something dark in his eyes. 

“A little,” you admit. 

“Of me?”

“Not of you. Never of you.”

He just killed a man in front of you—on top of you—but you’ve never felt more safe. And that’s what scares you. Your own desires, your own fucked up thoughts and feelings. 

“You know I’d never let anything hurt you,” he taps his fingers on your throat. “I would never hurt you. You’re mine, and mine alone.”

You tug him to you by the collar of his cloak, shoving your lips against his. He smiles against you, tightening his grip on your throat. Not enough to hurt, just enough so that you can feel the pressure. 

He slides his hand into your pants, laughing at how wet your panties are. He rubs your clit through the fabric, moving his lips to suck and bite at your neck. 

“D’you want me, baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Please.”

He’s ripping your panties off and tugging his boxers down in an instant, pulling up his cloak just enough so that he has easy access. He rubs the head of his cock through your folds, gathering up your slick. He kisses you deeply just as he sinks his cock inside of you. 

You never get used to the stretch, the delicious feeling of him moulding your walls to the shape of his cock. 

He pulls out and thrusts back in, his cock going even deeper. You whine, throwing your head back. He laughs at your moans and keeps going, shoving into you at a brutal pace. You cry out in response, the moans falling out before you can stop them. 

His hand clamps over your mouth. “Shh, be quiet. Do you really want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me? Do you want someone to walk in on you fucking the killer like a whore?”

His words only make you wetter, pussy clenching tighter around him. It only eggs him on more, his thrusts becoming harder and more forceful as he nears his high. 

“Mm, I forgot you like being my slut,” he laughs in your ear, gasping whenever you clench around him. “Fucking me in the bed of the guy I just killed for you?”

You hate how much his words turn you on, hate how they only push you further towards your climax. You dig your nails into his shoulders, bunching up the black fabric. 

He slams harder into you and you know he’s close. You wrap your arms around him, tugging him in closer. He thrust a few more times, movements sloppier, before his cock twitches and you’re filled with hot cum. 

The feeling of his cum pooling inside of you is enough to send you over the edge, leaving you a whimpering, shaking mess beneath him. 

He kisses your forehead, holding you closer to him. “As sexy as you look covered in blood, you should probably change.”

“What are you gonna do?”

He plants a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, ‘kay?”

You nod, rolling out of his arms and standing up on shaky legs. You’re covered in bed, your clothes absolutely soaked through. You head straight for the bathroom, soaking a cloth to wipe the blood from your skin. 

“Y/n,” he knocks gently, “I left some of my clothes out here for you to change into. Go through the window and head through the basement door—I don’t want you getting caught up in this.”

You change into his clothes, trying to ignore the light bruises on your throat and thighs. You love how his clothes fit on you, though. You love being claimed by him. 

You do as he says, sneaking through the basement door and pretending like you were just bringing up another case of beer. 

Randy turns his head to look at you, and for a minute you think that you’re caught. He’s going to say something about your disappearance and change of clothes. 

Instead, he just shakes his head at you. “Where’ve you been? You missed Basic Instinct!”

An arm wraps around your shoulder, the familiar cream coloured sweater draping over you. “She was just helping me get more beer,” Stu shrugs. 

Randy makes a face, but says nothing. He turns back to the tv, and Stu takes that as an opportunity to kiss your neck. “Just so you know,” his voice is barely a whisper in your ear, “I’m keeping the mask on next time.”

[minhosimthings]

Saturday Adventures

Synopsis: Saturday meant your daily lattes with a foam bear drawn on top. What you didn't expect was your cafe boy crush to fuck the mind out of you on that Saturday.

Pairings: Sunghoon × fem!reader, includes Jay from Enhypen (not in the smut part)

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, fingering, brief sex against the wall, overstimulation, swearing, fluff at the beginning, mention of food, Sunghoon calls reader 'princess', 'pretty girl' and 'darling', p inside v, size kink, protected sex

A/N: let me give you the briefing in brief, Mona brain go brr, Mona decided to write

When Sunghoon signed up on his brother's offer to volunteer at the family cafe, he had never expected to meet the person he'd be calling his, for the rest of his life.

"Park Sunghoon are you paying attention?" Jay waved his hands in front of Sunghoon, gripping a coffee cup very tightly is his hands as younger brother stared off into the distance, milk in his hand. "Yes I am for god's sake." Sunghoon sighed, "Your voice is like drilling machines in my head Jongsoeng."

Jay rolled his eyes and stared out to where Sunghoon's eyes were set. "You're waiting for her aren't you?" A mere question escaped from Jay's lips, which seemed to sadden Sunghoon even more.

"She usually comes by this time." Sunghoon checked the watch on his wrist. His father's watch, he reminded himself, an article he was very much proud of. "Y/N isn't it?" Jay questioned again, wiping the coffee cup with a rag, "Maybe if you pay attention to me and learn how to make a foam animal, you can impress her. She does like bears on her coffee a lot."

Sunghoon groaned and averted his eyes from the door to watch Jay carefully pour the milk foam into the light brown latte, the foam spreading around the liquid like clouds swirling around a bright blue sky. It was mesmerizing to him, how his family so easily poured the foam to form beautiful figurines that the girl that usually comes by at six pm enjoys. He loved watching your beautiful face, become giddy with excitement as you took your bear-decorated coffee from him at the front counter.

"Your lover is here."

Jay's words exploded like an atom bomb inside of Sunghoon's mind, his head whipping around to the chiming of the bells. He always liked those bells. Christmas, was it, that he bought them? Or halloween?

"Hey." You smiled up at Jay at the front counter, "The usual please Jongsoeng." "You're late today." Jay smiled back at you, waving a hand to his brother at the back to start brewing up the tiny brown beans, "Sunghoon was sweating his ass off." You let out a tiny laugh at that, taking a tiny peek at the apron clad man working silently behind Jay. Broad shoulders, beautiful curls of hair, perhaps the most amazing arms you've ever had the pleasure to witness, and a solemn face working with his hands frantically checking the machine in front of him, if he was hell's incarnate, it mattered not for you.

"Tell him I'm staying over a bit late tonight. Got some work to finish." You said, as Jay handed you your bill, "Gotta work late." "That's great." Jay winked at you, "He's the one who works the night shifts before shutting the cafe." He shoots you a small grin with all of his teeth on display, "Have fun."

Sunghoon's eyes and mind couldn't process anything as he watched you type away on your laptop, brows furrowed, coffee cup empty. The soft lighting from the cafe's lights illuminated your face well, frustration evidently wrapping your face into its cocoon.

Jay had left earlier that he usually does and now, at ten pm, Sunghoon had nothing to do except stare at you, and attempt to make a bear on a latte. Practice made a man perfect, but for Sunghoon, it just made him tired.

One drop, then two, then another and the bear formed at last! Sunghoon stared at it in disbelief, it was perfect. Now, the task was just to carry it over to you, and give it to you with a solemn expression that did not scream 'i am infatuated with you, even when you are a complete stranger'.

"Miss?" Sunghoon tapped your table with uncertainty, "Your refill." He set his tray down on the table, where the coffee cup stood with perfect stillness, the tiny foam bear springing with delight. Your eyes flickered to Sunghoon's for a moment, before settling on the bear.

"You made a bear." You stated simply, talking the warm cup into your hands, "And please, call me Y/N."

"Y/N." Sunghoon repeated, the name falling off of his lips like an ill forgotten melody, "I'll leave you to your bears." The smile that escaped your lips at his joke, looked like heaven to him.

"Are you single"

Unfortunately the human mind sometimes randomly blurts out whatever it wants, when it is in closed proximity. And your mind did exactly that.

Sunghoon's eyes widened at you, his brows reaching the top of his silver hair. His fingers fumbled with the tray in his hands, as he stared into your soul. "Y-yeah." He spoke, stepping closer to your table, slipping into the seat opposite you.

"Damn im single too." You awkwardly laughed, "We have so much in common." Flirting was never much of your forte, and it evidently showed as Sunghoon's ears (and yours) turned bright red.

"Oh what a coincidence!" Sunghoon said, in an awfully cheery tone. A minute passed as you both of you looked at each other with solemn faces before bursting out laughing.

"I am literally so sorry." You said in between fits of laughter, looking over at Sunghoon's eyes, which were crinkled to form crescent moons, which, in your humblest opinion shone brighter.

"It's alright." Sunghoon said, before glancing out the glass door, "It's getting late, you should get home." You checked your watch. Eleven pm. It indeed was getting late.

"Oh yeah." You quickly shoved your laptop into your bag, before looking down at the undrunk bear latte. "What about this little guy?" You picked up the cup, carefully handling it. Sunghoon smiled at you gently and led you over to the counter, ignoring your protests of paying for it to be packed up. "I'm not letting a pretty girl like you pay for that." He smiled, handing you the cup, "Plus its Saturday we have a nonexistent policy of not letting women pay on Saturday after ten pm."

God his lips.

"I'll take your word for it then." You laughed, "Don't blame me if Jay scold you tomorrow though." Sunghoon scoffed and stepped closer. "He's not at tough as he looks, darling. Trust me, I'm the more rough one."

Darling leapt out of his mouth like a beautiful chord struck on a Grandstien piano. His hair fell perfectly on his face, illuminating all the correct spots, like a painting.

"Can I kiss you?"

You had been taught in your psychology class that the human mind often knows when to shut up, bar a few exceptions. You had never known such exceptions before, until now, when you realised that you were the exception.

Sunghoon's hand travelled to his neck, scratching it awkwardly before looking at you with snake eyes. "Why not?" He chuckled lowly, "Who am I to refuse a pretty girl's kiss?"

His lips were surprisingly soft, an ice cream touch to your lips. It was a sort of cold comfort, one you enjoyed thoroughly, as Sunghoon's hands ghosted over your waist. Although you tried to ignore the sticky feeling between your thighs, you couldn't help but let out an unholy noise into his lips, as his fingers gripped your waist so hard.

"Fuck Sunghoon." You gasped, as the bulge in his pants pressed tightly against your pussy.

“Sunghoon,” you brokenly whisper, your voice would be bordering on whiny with all the neediness that comes with it, “please, I need you.” The pleading look you give him is vulnerable, if not desperate.

Sunghoon had you pressed against the wall the minute your voice left your throat, peppering kisses down your neck, you waist being held hostage by his hands. You didn’t try to stop him.

“Such a good slut for me, aren't you princess?” He moved his hand to run between your soaking folds. You bit your lip at the feeling, feeling his fingers graze your clit before dipping to rest against your entrance. He tapped it twice before pulling away completely, moaning at the loss you turned to face him. Unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon had moved his head so that when you turned, his lips would brush against yours. You whimpered at the feeling and pushed your lips against his. Allowing him to take the control, he deepened the kiss- stroking your mouth with his tongue. You could feel him trying to pull away and whimpered before trying to keep the kiss going, he laughed again at your neediness. “Now, now princess, you don’t want me to fuck you against this door, do you?”

"This is a cafe, Hoon." You let out a breathless sentence, "Where are you gonna find a bed?" Sunghoon chuckled into your face, his hot breath hitting your neck, before easily lifting you up. "There's a room at the back darling, let me fuck you properly like you deserve."

Sunghoon's kisses were devastatingly sweet, as he laid you gently on the bed, quickly slipping on a condom from his bedside table, not before asking you for permission if he could fuck you or not.

This tenderness didn’t last long though, the gentleness quickly transforming feverish and greedy, moans vibrating from both your chests and your bodies suddenly burning. When you both pull away, you feel his fingers slip under the straps of your tanktop and slide them off your shoulders. “Get this off,” he demands breathlessly, and you comply , stripping for him hastily.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes, and you whimper at his words, clit throbbing at the thought of being fucked by a man you've only admired from afar.

He presses his hand against the plush of your inner thigh and spreads your legs, using his other hand to pump his cock with languid strokes.

You mewl feeling him drag the tip of his fat cock in between your folds, mushing it and teasing it against your clit sending pleasure coursing througch your body and making you throw your head back with a whimper.

feverishly, he runs his length over your slick folds, grunting as you rocked your hips to meet his touch. After a few intense minutes, with desperate teasing and soft moans slipping from your glossy lips, you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your orgasm building rapidly. suddenly, he pulls away, making you to whimper at the sudden loss of friction. But before you can protest, he silences you with a brief kiss.

“‘M gonna put it in, okay?” he murmurs hotly, lining up the tip of his cock against your hole before gently pressing the aching tip inside.

Your mouth hangs into an ‘o’ shape, eyes pinched shut as he slowly sinks his cock into your core. You squirm and whimper as you tread the line between pain and pleasure, walls fluttering as his hips press against the back of your thighs. the feeling of being filled fully by Sunghoon sends you into a daze everytime, and he’s so deep inside you can almost feel him in your throat.

“g-god, you’re so big,” you whimper, face flushed as your body adjusts to his huge size. The initial stretch burned, but he slid into you smoothly, his cock slipping through your folds with ease. He felt you clamp down on him, his head thrown back as far as it could go, thick neck exposed to you. you bit down on his shoulder, where it met the base of his throat, trying to mask the gasp of pleasure that sent your eyes rolling back in your head. he grunted at the sensation, enjoying the sting. Sunghoon sucks in air between his gritted teeth sharply as your tight walls clamp down on him, engulfing him in your warmth and sucking him in. While he gives you a second to adjust, he slides his hands under the backs of your thighs, feeling your cold skin hit his warm one.

“oh, baby. you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” his hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.

“You’re so fucking good.” Sunghoon groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice.

Sunghoon was a delicious weight on top of you, the drag of his hips slow, meeting yours hard. the pressure made you lightheaded, his body moving against yours like the thick drip of honey, smooth and sweet. you couldn’t make sense of it, of how fucking good he felt, grinding deeper and deeper into you like he’d found buried treasure. the overstimulation had your third orgasm building nice and quick, waves of pleasure making you dizzy.

“you like it like this?” Yes you did. “don’t think i can go without this now, you know that? Such a good fucking girl.” You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just let his words wash over you. “so beautiful, taking me so well.”

“Are you gonna come for me? one more time, baby. need to feel that perfect fucking pussy.” well, His wish was your command, because then you were gushing. The one thing you could feel was him, none of your other senses worked, you couldn’t see past the tears that fell, couldn’t get any words past your lips. Maybe you screamed, you weren’t exactly sure.

"Fucking hell." Sunghoon groaned, falling next to you on the bed. The room came to light properly to you now, and you noticed all the Sunghoons staring at you from the shelves.

"Hoonie?"

"Yes princess?"

"Did you just fuck me in your childhood bedroom?"

Sunghoon chuckled and turned to look at you, his hair slightly parted, and his lips wet. "Nah." He pulled himself closer to you, "This is just a room Jay and I like to call our den. You know, for keeping old childhood stuff and I figured, since this was the only place here where there's a bed, it would be a... much better place to fuck you than the floor. But I do admit-" he shuddered, "looking at my brother's old pictures staring at us is very creepy."

You giggled into his chest, as you felt sleep hit your mind. You yawned, and settled yourself comfortably into his arms, warmth enclosing you, like a fur coat or like a boy carefully drawing a bear on your coffee every Saturday.

[sassy-cass-16]

Oh god I promised myself no bell’s hells meta until c3 ends but my brain is turning the “can she be trusted?” line over and over like chicken at the shawarma shop. because there are layers to that.

more under the cut because i let this run away from me:

so first off, there's the obvious: dorian initially seems to start to address the whole group, everyone who's left in the inn room, but turns and just locks eyes with orym when he asks. orym, who of everyone has the most reason to be biased against laudna right now. orym, who just got into a fight with laudna over the sword that killed both of them and orym's husband and father-in-law. that's who dorian thinks to ask, because he trusts orym not to let his judgment be clouded.

dorian first saw orym again after months of being separated, like, three days ago, and despite how much orym has visibly changed in those months, dorian doesn't hesitate to believe that orym will still be objective. he trusts that orym will be the one to look at this situation and tell him the truth.

because dorian has experience with orym telling him the truth. dorian knows firsthand how willing orym is to shuck his personal feelings in favour of what's true. dorian just saw what he could have become, had orym not stepped in to stop him taking the circlet of barbed vision. he owes the fact that he's alive and beholden to no gods to orym's willingness to be rational and objective in a situation involving a powerful magical item. by his own admission, "i wouldn't be here without you."

so of course dorian trusts him right now.

and there's something to the exclusion of the others, with that. dorian doesn't look to fearne and orym, although that would make sense because he's known the two of them the longest. he doesn't look to chetney, who's proven to be able to get a handle on this with the scream needle compromise. he doesn't look to ashton, who's been extremely levelheaded through this whole mess. he looks at orym, exclusively. he is asking orym, exclusively. not the group, although everyone decides to jump in to answer and then imogen comes through the window to complicate the matter. just orym.

dorian is the kind of person with a lot of potential for darkness in him. he hides it well because he's also deeply kind and friendly, but it's always been there. he's just been through something massively traumatic, and that was after the original circlet conflict back in exu prime. he had his alignment forcibly changed from good to neutral. but even after all he's gone though, orym's alignment is still good.

as much as orym doesn't want to be a leader and prefers to be a protector and follower, he does very well in situations where he takes on an amount of responsibility. when he's in some level of control over a situation, he takes to it naturally. he's a very good babysitter to his gaggle of weirdos. the "can she be trusted?" might have been an attempt on dorian's part to give orym a bit more control here. to reassure him that regardless of anyone else's feelings—regardless of how laudna's reaction might have affected him—orym deserves to be trusted, and he can make a decision that dorian will trust.

back in exu and all the way into early c3, dorian and orym slotted into a sort of parental position in their groups. watching over the crownkeepers' clothes when they went skinny dipping in exu. orym repeatedly steering everybody away from bad ideas. matt even described dorian leaving dariax in zephrah in 4sd as "dad just going out to get cigarettes." there's always been that underlying sense of "we are two of a pair" with dorian and orym. not to say that either of them don't see the others as adults, but they do have that rapport of being the babysitters in the gaggle of weirdos.

that kind of bond is just part of their dynamic. but especially in light of what's been happening while they were separated, and then what happened between them earlier that evening, "can she be trusted?" is a reminder of that bond. orym's been lonely, by his own admission, and one of the secrets he divulged at nana morri's was "i really miss dorian." he broke down crying during his last message through the sending stone, and then again on the bench not a few hours before this whole incident went down.

dorian came to comfort him. he flat-out said to orym's face "i'm here now." he reminded orym that he needs to rely on other people, that he can't always be the one saving everybody else. he gave orym the room to not be the strong one, and told him he has that room because dorian's there to support him. they can be two of a pair again.

he knows orym's been feeling like he can't do anything, like he had to resort to what he stopped dorian from doing with the circlet. and so dorian both gives him a choice to make, something to do, and shows him that he still trusts him unconditionally. "can she be trusted?" also means "i trust you" and "i'm here with you" and "this is how we've always been."

we know from liam in 4sd that orym has feelings for dorian that he's not sure are reciprocated. but even regardless of the romantic element here, dorian and orym have always had a partnership. they have always been two of a pair. the sequence of events leading to "can she be trusted?" is a perfect microcosm of he relationship between the two of them. it's just incredible.

[forkloverr]

MORE OLDER LEON HEADCANNONS!!!

I thought I would take advantage of me and @thebiscuithater 's older Leon brain rot AND also answer this ask that had been sitting in my inbox (SORRY!!) anyways.... infinite darkness Leon supremacy <3 🤍 - No silliness (if you know what I mean) but Leon gets a little mischievous at the end 🤍 - calls reader 'princess' 🤍 - An older Leon was in mind while writing this, but to each their own :)

stubble.

The moon is piercing through the windows, various lamps and small lights illuminate the space around you. Soft jazz is quietly playing in the background. It’s approximately 2 AM, and instead of being honked out and snoozing in your warm comfortable bed, you’re hunched over the stove, cooking a warm meal for your husband, Leon, to come back to. He had been called to an impromptu mission earlier that day, and you just knew he wouldn’t be coming home at a reasonable time. So, you sacrifice your precious sleep and prepare a home-cooked meal for him to enjoy as he rests his aching body. You softly rub your droopy sleepy eyes, picturing a sad Leon standing in front of the microwave heating up some instant ramen. That is NOT how your husband is going to look tonight, and you were sure of it. Who knows how much time had passed, it seemed like these noodles would never be done, and maybe, just maybe, you could rest your eyes a little…. It couldn't hurt, right?

As sleep seductively enchants you, a hot prickly sensation overtakes you as haunting lips plant on your neck. Large sturdy arms slither around your waist, and just before you could scream bloody murder, a familiar husky voice appears. “Well well, what is this? Isn’t it a bit late for a princess like you to be awake?” Leon whispers, kissing your cheek as those last words exit his mouth. Your body immediately relaxes, the threat of a (very hot) murderer killing you as you're making homemade ramen no longer exists. Through an obviously fatigued voice, you reply, removing your hand from the pot to rest upon his scarred hand. “I didn’t want you to come home lonely and hungry..” You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, realizing how corny that sounded out loud. (Or maybe it was the steam from the noodles) Leon’s arms squeeze you gently, his head moving back to your neck. “Mmm… How sweet of you, now I feel guilty for not bringing you anything as a repayment.” Then and there you could tell what mischievous plan he was formulating in his beautiful brain. He knew your weakness, HE KNEW very well what it would do to you. And perhaps just wanting to see you squirm, he did just that. Once again pleasant goosebumps arise from your neck as Leon kisses your neck, purposely letting his stubble graze your sensitive skin. You start to giggle, his touch heating up your whole body. Just like he imagined, you squirm beneath his touch, softly grasping at his arms that were keeping you captive. Oh but he doesn't stop, in fact it almost encourages him to keep going. It feels like lava is pooling in your stomach, and butterflies are traveling up your throat, transforming into those sugary sweet giggles he craves to hear. His steamy breath ricochets off your neck, teasing you for more. “Have I messed with you enough dear? I don't think so… maybe just one mor-” The sound of bubbles boiling over the stove interrupts his snarky torture, and immediately reminds you that you were supposed to be watching the noodles. “Oh..” You squeak. Leon finally releases you, spinning you around to look at him while also turning the heat down on the stove. Placing one calloused hand along your jaw, he kisses your lips softly. “Thank you for this love, but after we eat, don't think I’m done with you..” He winks.

[theemporium]

NO DRINKS FOR SVECH??? oh absolutely not! lets give him a lil dirty flirtini! "Let's flip coins. Head, I'm yours. Tails, you're mine."

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

19. “Let’s flip a coin. Heads, I’m yours. Tails, you’re mine.” 

.

“You look pretty lonely over here.”

You paused, the rim of your glass hovering just at your lips as you turned your head to find a familiar face grinning at you. In all honesty, you were surprised it had taken him as long as it did to come over, considering the fact his eyes had been glued to the second you walked into the bar.

“You been watching me?” You asked, despite knowing the answer. 

“Maybe,” Andrei murmured, his cheeks rosy and pink from whatever drinks he had been nursing since the win earlier that night. It was a big one, one that deserved the boys heading out to a local bar and pretending like they didn’t have practice the next day. “Thought you’d come and say hi.”

Against your better judgement, your eyes flickered over to where the boy had been stationed for most of the night. Most of the players were sitting around or near the booth, along with a flurry of girls in a mix of jerseys that had followed them from the rink. You tried to not roll your eyes at the sight. 

“You looked busy,” you answered eventually with a halfhearted shrug.

Andrei was grinning when you looked back at him. “Not fun when my favourite girl doesn’t talk to me, though.”

You tried to ignore the way your face heated up at his words. “You trying to sweet me up so I buy you a drink, Svech?” It was meant to be teasing, funny even. Something to cover up the fact the boy had more of an affect on you than you cared to admit.

“Maybe I was hoping you’d let me buy you a drink,” he retorted, stepping a little closer until his arm was leaning against the counter and his body was mere inches away from you.

You cleared your throat, taking a long sip of your drink.

Andrei tilted his head to the side. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No,” you lied before turning to face him again, his eyes watching you with focused intent. “I just…”

“You just?” He prompted, fingers lightly tapping against the wood of the bartop. 

“I just thought you would have more fun over there,” you answered eventually, nodding in the direction of the booth where the majority of the team was still sitting. “I was probably going to leave after this drink.” 

“It wouldn’t be fun over there,” Andrei said with a shake of his head. “Not without you.” 

“Andrei,” you sighed, his name heavy on your tongue. Because he did this. He always did this when the two of you were drunk. He would come over, make you feel all warm and fuzzy with his flirty words and cute accent and then you would feel like an absolute idiot in the morning when he acted like nothing had happened. “I can’t keep doing this.” 

It was adorable the way he frowned in confusion. You hated yourself a little for thinking it was adorable.

“Doing what?” He questioned, his lips turned downwards.

“This. Us. This friends with benefits situation,” you confessed, your chest feeling oddly tight as you managed to spit the words out. Every cell in your body was screaming for you to stop, to not rip away the chance to feel his body pressed against yours again. But your brain knew better, your brain was being logical. “It isn’t healthy.”

Andrei blinked. “You think we are just friends?” 

Your gut twisted a little. “You think we aren’t?” 

“I–” Andrei looked a little bashful, and it was oddly endearing to see. He seemed to contemplate something, his eyes watching your expression closely before he spoke again. “Let’s make a bet.”

You paused, thinking you misheard him. “What?”

“A bet. You know, with a coin,” he continued, and hints of that self-assured smirk started to appear as he stepped forward. His hand cupped your elbow, keeping you close as the small distance between you closed and that familiar warmth of him overwhelmed your senses. 

“A coin,” you repealed, still a little lost in his touch to fully compute what he was saying.

“Yes,” he nodded, smiling down at you with that grin that made your heart lurch a little in your chest. “Let’s flip a coin. Heads, I’m yours. Tails, you’re mine.” 

You could feel your cheeks burning. “I—”

“You weren’t just a friend to me,” he spoke up, a little more serious as he lifted his other hand to gently cup the back of your head. “I just thought…I don’t know. I thought you knew. There was no one but you for me. From the start.”

You blinked, your chest feeling heavy for a whole other reason now. “Oh.” 

“Can I buy you the drink now?” He asked, that playful smile of his spreading across his face as his thumb lightly brushed against your cheek. “Or do I have to find a coin to flip?” 

“You did say it was a bet,” you teased.

“If that’s what it takes, malysh,” he murmured, his gaze dipping down to your lips and, for a second, you thought he would lean down to kiss you. But then, he was stepping back and you found yourself instantly disappointed as he continued to walk backwards.

“Where are you going?”

His grin widened. “To find a coin and make you mine!”

You snorted. “I might win.”

“I’m not complaining.”

.

[baaby-honeyy]

YES RELEASE PT 2! and tag me pls 🙏🙏🫣🫣

Run (Ruin, pt 2)

A/N: hey… it’s genuinely been like a whole year. i know how much of you wanted Ruin part 2, but it’s better late than never!! i feel horrible, but i really did need the break. now that it’s summer, i should have a lot more free time on my hands. please enjoy, and beware of the dark themes. if you don’t like it, please click away, don’t report. thank you<3

TW: VERYdark/dom/POSSESSIVE/toxic!harry x sub/crybaby/innocent reader, dacryphilia, daddy kink, primal kink, SMUT WITH PLOT!, unprotected sex, spanking, forced orgasms, cunnilingis, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, breeding kink, spit kink, gaslighting. please let me know if there’s something missing.

SUMMARY: When a predator hunts its prey, they search, pursue, attack and consume. Even going so far as to mock, play, and taunt their prey before utterly destroying it. While the predator enjoys the delicious reward after the exhilarating chase, the hunt is what they live for.

Ruin, Pt 1

<><><><><><><>

It started out as a normal car ride. Harry was driving you back home from the park, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the wheel. He can’t help his anger, and he refuses to feel like this is his fault. It’s his mess, but he’s not the one who made it go this far. You were the one who disobeyed his every rule, to the point where his two friends thought they could take his place.

It started out as a normal car ride. Until one missed exit because two, and two became three. Harry doesn’t even know where he’s going, or what he’s thinking. He only knows that you’re sitting next to him, your favorite stuffed animal in hand, and smile on your face like you’re excited to go back to your life at home. Only, you don’t deserve it. Not after you forced him to punish you for being so terrible. Harry’s jaw clenches just at the thought of you sitting next to Drue or Jack. Before he misses the fourth exit, he quickly turns and exits the freeway.

He was hoping you would stay quiet. But, of course, there you go with your dense questions.

“Where we goin, Harry?” You peep, with that squeaky curious voice of yours. Harry nearly rolled his eyes.

“Be silent unless I call for you.” He responds, dull and quick, making a left turn. It obviously flew past your head— because your eyes grow big as you stare out the window, palms pressed against the cool glass. You watch as you seem to get farther and farther from the city, and into an endless roadway of tall trees. You're in a trance for a while, your fuzzy little brain- too focused on how tall the trees are- doesn't even realize how every car that passes becomes less and less as you drive. Until there were none left. No cars, no buildings, and barely any houses.

Staring mindlessly into oblivion, you wiggle your feet in boredom to pass time. Your favorite pair of shoes ever, your pink and white Mary Janes, have been exchanged for your earlier pink shoes. They were truly the cutest shoes you’ve ever seen, your favorite part being the little hearts scattered all over them. They just screamed you, and Harry thought the same. For this reason, you always carry them with you in case you decide to switch.

Turning around to look at Harry, whose eyes are squinted as he focuses on the road, you try to figure out for yourself where you're going. Harry has barely spoken to you the entire ride, despite all the curious questions you've asked throughout the trip. The only thing close to a response you've gotten out of him so far was a plain "Mhm," which made you wonder.

“Y/n.”

“Hm?” You respond perkily, excited to hear Harry calling your name. His eyes have a glimmer of despair and disappointment, rather than their typical blank appearance. You patiently wait for Harry to speak again.

“What were you thinking? That I was gone and they could take my place? That I wouldn’t come back for you? Tell me exactly what you thought.”Harry speaks, taking care to keep his tone steady and low so you can hear how serious he is.

But you can’t, and your little brain can’t understand what you’ve done wrong, no matter how hard you try. You’ve replayed the moments over and over in your head, and still, you can’t see what’s made Harry so upset with you. From the minute you woke up, to the new park Harry took you to, to your favorite park, the ice cream shop and the park again, you thought you’ve done everything right.

“I- I don’t understand, Harry. I did what you told me to, like a good girl..” You trail off. Only shaking his head, Harry reacts to your pitiful excuse for an explanation. He grips the steering wheel harder, making a few more turns.

You have no idea what Harry’s been through to keep you. The countless amount of times where you interrupt his meetings because you’re needy and want to held, the countless amount of times where you’d starve yourself because Harry wasn’t there to eat with you. The countless amount of times where people wonder. They wonder why you act the way you do, why you need Harry so much, just to breathe it seems like. They wonder where he found you and why you’ve remained attached to him ever since.

Harry’s answer is always the same.

“She’s my angel. What matters is that I found her, not how.” And it’s true. It seemed when you two first met, you needed each other to live and function. When Harry considers where it's all gone wrong, his heart can't help but ache.

Something has to happen with you. Something has to make you listen. Harry’s convinced that the guilt he’s feeling is his mind playing tricks on him, trying to let you get away with what you’ve done. So he pushes the thoughts away, and keeps on driving, and driving, and driving.

After a few more minutes of what felt like an endless road of trees, you feel the car come to a stop.

“Where are-”

“Get out.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt, going as fast as you can. Harry’s already out the car, and sees you struggling to move as quick as he’d like. He walks to your side and unbuckles the seatbelt quickly, yanking you out of the car and slamming the door behind you.

“Wha-“

“Don’t speak unless I call for you.”

Harry telling you to be silent- it wasn’t for his own benefit, it was for yours.

He guides you to a forest entrance, and before you know it, the enormous trees are swallowing you. You can only make out the grass and trees.

You’re lost in wonder when Harry suddenly stops, making you jerk to a stop as well. He gives you a long, hard look before removing his jacket and checking his pockets. He pulls out his wallet, sunglasses, and keys before setting them all on the floor. His attention shifts back to you once he covers everything with his jacket.

With a confused look in your eye, you look at Harry, who’s looking at you expectantly. He opens his mouth to speak, but quickly changed his mind and rushes to you. He takes off your sweater, and pauses. You squeak when he begins touching over you, feeling every inch of your body for anything you may be carrying. He removes your phone, and your bag, and throws it next to his things. He took everything he could off your body, skipping your bracelet.

“Harry, what are yo-“

“Are you holding anything? Give it to me.” Harry interrupts, holding out his palm. He impatiently eyes your teddy bear that’s hanging from your clenched hands, and brings his gaze back to you.

“Right now.”

You reluctantly give him your bear, and as soon as you watch Harry cruelly toss him on the forest floor, regret fills inside of you. He didn't even look at where he was being thrown; instead, he was fixated on you the entire time. Your poor bear lays on the ground face down into a dense, dirty pile of leaves. The sight makes you cringe horribly, because you love that bear, and you’ve taken such great care of him like you were told to, when Harry first gave him to you.

You stare in disbelief, and open your mouth to speak, but Harry cuts you off before you can start. He stalks toward you- and you unknowingly step back, his eyes narrowed, and his gaze piercing into your startled one. The crunch sound beneath his feet echo as he steps. He gets closer, having to lean down to get to you.

“Run.”

There’s a lengthy silence before you break it. You can’t stop the smile from spreading across you face, and the giggle from escaping your mouth. Harry looks dead serious, keeping silent with his eyes narrowed down at you. He has no amuse from watching you giggle.

“Harry, we can’t run in the woods! You’re so funny! We can get lo-”

“My God- Y/n, shut the fuck up! I swear to God if I hear even a little squeak come from your mouth..”Harry interrupts you, pinching his nose bridge as he always does when he’s frustrated.

“Don’t make a sound unless I call for you. Unless I call for you. Do you fucking hear me!?” He shouts, his voice strained and his veins popping out of his neck as he speaks.

Still, you can’t help the giggles coming from you. You didn’t even bring your running shoes. There’s no way you’d run in your MaryJanes and risk ruining your most favorite shoes! Harry’s jokes have gotten funnier than ever!

But he doesn’t laugh with you. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t even blink. You become more and more aware of how drastically the atmosphere has changed with each passing second. Harry’s joke became less and less funny, and more dire.

“I said,” Harry starts, grabbing a fistful of your hair harshly and yanking your head back. You almost yelp at the feeling of your scalped being so harshly pulled. His eyes are full of a darkness you’ve never seen before, and his mouth formed into a snarl. It was enough to make you cry.

“Run.”

You waste no time, only looking back once to see Harry before sprinting down the forest path. You let out helpless, frightened whimpers out of fear that Harry’s right behind you. But he stays back, still in his place as he watches you scramble away like a helpless little mouse. Poor baby, so scared at the much bigger, scary man that was just your loving, protective partner. How quickly things can things can change.

Harry counted to 120. He waited until he couldn’t hear your rushed footsteps against the crunchy leaves of the forest floor. He waited until the sound of your frantic whimpers and pants faded away as you ran. He waited until there was silence. Nothing but him and the towering trees. For a moment, he ponders on why he’s even here- telling his girlfriend to run away from him, in the middle of the forest, like he’s a wild wolf. Then he remembers how horrible he felt when he saw you with Drue and Jack. How he wanted to take you right then and there, not caring about who he’d piss off.

That’s when he starts to run. Green Adidas leave tracks in the mud as he darts through the damp forest. He runs, and he runs, the daunting thought of you cuddled up with his friends in the back of his mind. He’s set on catching you- letting out a growl of determination as he goes. The image of you cowering away- hiding from him in a bush sends blood rushing to his cock, and he picks up his speed.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

It feels like it’s been hours that you’ve been hiding from Harry.

Your hands rush to your mouth, concealing a startled squeal. If you heard correctly, a twig snapped not that far from you. You cower deeper in your bush and grab the massive leafy branch you laid in front of you. You position it to where you’re concealed completely, and once everything goes quiet, that’s when the realization sets in. You don’t even know why you’re running from your kind, loving Harry.

But the way he threw your bear makes you feel like you don’t want to find out. Tears threaten to spill from your waterline as you suddenly become very, very, homesick. You miss the rest of your stuffies at home. You long to be on the luxurious, soft mattress right now, holding your bear close to your chest. You miss Harry’s scent, and the cuddles he’s give you every single night before sleep time. How long are you going to be here? Harry made you leave your phone, your purse, everything.

Snap..

You make an effort to keep your composure as you consider all the potential causes of that sound. Any wild animal could be passing by. A common squirrel can be searching for acorns to bring home to its family. In the midst of all this terror, you smile at the idea of a squirrel packing its face with acorns. The thought of it just takes your mind, until you giggle unconsciously to yourself. Once more covering your lips with your palm, you briefly hold your breath.

Like the last few times, it seems like there is nothing there. But you suddenly hear whistling, followed by Harry's loud yet unsettlingly deep voice.

“Come out.. I know you’re there.. somewhere..” He wanders while cooing in a taunting manner.

“C’mon.. Won’t be mad at you, Baby. I’m the one who told you to run, aren’t I? Are you.. here?” Harry looks in a bush, nearing closer to yours. You watch him closely through the spaces in the bush.

Knowing that Harry won't be angry with you for running away makes you feel relieved. You want nothing more than to be in his arms again, in your warm bed under the covers. Your chest starts to ache at how badly you want it. Mindlessly, and completely lost in thought, you crawl from the bush— but stop and think about what Harry said.

“Don’t speak unless I call for you.” Your mind hears Harry's voice so clearly that you stop. He’s been shouting out things to ease you into thinking it’s okay to come out, but he never once called for you. You praise yourself silently for remembering before you could make a huge mistake.

“How long do you think you can hide before I find you? And trust me, when I do, M’ gonna fuck you dumb. Like the dumb little kitten you are..” Harry’s voice booms across the forest because of the silence.

“You’d like that though.. huh? You’d like me fucking you over, and over, and over… till you’re screaming, begging me to stop. Remember last week on the couch? ‘Oh, Daddy! Daddy! Stop it! T-too much, oh, Daddy! M’ gonna cum!’ “You couldn’t get away from me if you tried your hardest, baby.” He makes fun of you, jogging vivid memories of that day. You make an effort not to dwell on it too much, but you can already feel wetness in your panties, and you start to ache for Harry. How can you be so scared yet so turned on at the same time?

He continues with his little taunts, and searches for any sign of you. A tiny groan escapes him as a reflection of light strikes his eye. Following the reflection, he sees it bouncing off a nearby tree. As he searches for the source of the light, he follows it and fixes his gaze on a another bush. Your bush.

Your eyes fix on Harry's as you continue to observe through the bushes. He doesn’t notice you yet, and you try to see what exactly he noticed. The sun was just starting to set, and the bright sun made it hard for you to see. You shift carefully, and then realize just what he’s looking at— your bracelet. The one you swore to never take off when Harry gave it to you. Why didn’t that come across your mind? The sun was reflecting right on your arm, and when you try to take it off, you only made things worse. He continues searching for you, getting closer, and closer. You don’t make a sound, you don’t even breath.

“Do you think you can hide forever? Huh? Think you can run and escape from me? Well, there’s one thing you’re forgetting.” Harry taunts and teases, sounding more frustrated and desperate. A sudden silent falls upon you, and you wonder if he left another direction to search for you. When it’s clear he’s gone, you let go of your breath.

“I’ll always find you.”

Screaming at Harry’s voice in your ear, you try to escape, but his massive, strong hands grab you by your ankles and yank you back.

“N-no!” You screech. You kick your foot back at Harry, it was surprisingly easy, as if Harry let you go himself. You rose to your feet as quickly as you could and broke into a sprint; you knew that he was holding off on going after you on purpose because if he had wanted to, Harry could have immediately captured you in his arms and destroyed you.

The worst part of it was that, although knowing he'll catch you eventually, he still allowed you to exhaust yourself out of amusement. Instead of being grateful for the opportunity to escape, you were afraid of how much worse he would make things for you as punishment for not just giving up at the very start.

Dodging all the twigs and tree branches that have fallen off, you sprint faster than you ever have before. Although the mud was damp and heavy, you kept your pace. You run and run, and soon think you’ve lost him and you can stop. Before you can even slow down, though, you hear heavy, fast footsteps behind you. Turning around as you run, you see Harry gaining on you, an unnerving, malicious smile wide across his face. You give it all you’ve got, and pick up your speed.

“That’s right, Y/n.. Run, run!” Harry shouts behind you, an exasperated rasp in his voice. A helpless, scared whimper comes out of you as you try, you try so hard to run faster and faster. You can't help but bump into a few low-hanging branches, leaving small scrapes on your arms and a terrible tear in your pink sundress, which is now filthy. Your MaryJanes have unbuckled because of fast you’ve been going, and your feet start to slip. Your body aches so much. You want to stop and ask Harry why he’s doing this to you, but that eerie smile you saw just a few minutes ago keeps you moving.

Your eyes well up with tears. You can’t even see where you’re going, it seems almost pointless to run now. You almost stop. Your ears start to fill with the obnoxious noise of passing cars, and you cringe at the sensation. The last thing your little head needed was a headache, and you’re already prone to one from all of this exertion. But when you realize that is your ticket out of here, your eyes widen from adrenaline. Moving your legs faster, you head for the sound of the cars, which was luckily straight ahead. Harry notices where you’re headed, and attempts to catch you before you get there. He’s right on you. You know he is - because you can hear his condescending laughter coming closer and closer.

Another reminder that while for him it was fun game, for you it was almost life or death.

The more you run the more you can see your exit. It’s so, so perfect. You’d run out towards the street, towards civilization where people can see you in broad daylight. You take a look behind you, and notice Harry isn’t behind you anymore. It doesn’t bother you too much, the thought of being out of the forest takes all of your concentration.

You’re getting closer.. and closer.. you can almost feel the sunlight hit your face. Almost reaching the concrete, a smile of victory appears on your face, before completely disappearing. You rush into Harry's chest head-on, your eyes widening so much that you lose your balance and land on your ass. Before you can flee, he kneels down at your shaking body and grabs you by the hair.

“Gotcha.”

You gasp in terror as you stare up at him towering over you and it makes you realize just how manic Harry looks. His clothes are surprisingly in one piece, and as clean as they were before. His shaggy brown hair is all over the place, some clinging to his forehead from sweat. His eyes, beady and wide as they maliciously stare down into yours.

Although you're certain that you both appear the same, Harry has an unsettling stature about him that you’ve never seen so close before. He chuckles darkly, enjoying every second you have that horrified look on your face.

“You stupid, stupid baby. Stand up and take that pretty lil dress off— Daddy wants to see all of you.”

You cry. You can’t imagine how uncomfortable you’ll be once you take off your dress. The forest air was so humid, and you knew it wouldn’t be kind to your skin- especially your princess parts. Harry frowns at watching you hesitate at his orders, and smacks you lightly across the face. You let out a piercing yelp, and Harry only rolls his eyes in pity of you.

“Go on, then. I want the dress off. Shoes too.”

Completely sobbing again, you stand yourself up, and slowly pull your dress over your head. You cringe at the harsh humid air attacking your skin, making your nipples immediately harden. Harry remains looking down at you with a slight smirk. His eyes wander on every part of your body.

“What should I use first, hm?” Harry brings his hand to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your chapped lips.

“Your pretty mouth? Or..” His eyes travel downwards, and you can feel his sharp gaze pierce through the skin of your thighs.

“That tight lil pussy of yours.. or..” He continues, making you cringe at what else he could possibly want from you. His hands trail downwards, down your chest and in between your thighs, stopping at the center of your panties. Using his index finger, he toys with you a little bit— sliding his finger over your clit and in your folds as best he could through the cloth. You can’t help your whimpering as you feel the moisture in between your legs worsen. When you feel Harry’s hands go downwards past your panties, you start to squirm away again. You and Harry have done it almost every way possible, but never down there; it has always been far too difficult for you, and the concept of it has terrified you to your core.

“No! Harry, stop!” The words come out in a jumble as you struggle to run around his tall, towering body. You manage to escape from his grasp, but of course Harry’s insanely strong arms keep you back. Instead of grabbing you this time, he throws you to the ground, where you helplessly crawled until he caught you by the ankles. He revels in the way you think you could ever escape him. He keeps you in that position for a bit- you being face flat on the ground, back already arched for him.

“Why’re you trying to hide from me so much, hm? Daddy’s not that scary, is he? Bet you loved it.. and your pussy—” Harry yanks your panties to the side in a split second, giving you no time to prepare for the forest humidity on the most sensitive part of you. A wide, cheshire like smile spreads across his face once he sees your soaked pussy, and whether you like it or not— it was begging to be touched.

“S’wet, isn’t it? Yeah, just like I knew you’d be. You’re crazy, just like Daddy.”

He flips you back over, taking you by the hair once again to make sure he has enough to be able to yank you if he wanted. You whine in protest. The harsh forest ground was already hurting your fraile little body.

“God, Y/n- you squeal so fuckin’ much.. Think I’ve decided, baby. M’ gonna use that lil mouth of yours.. shut you up for a bit.” Harry almost whines in annoyance, getting to his feet and unbuckling his belt. He does it in a rush, like he’s growing impatient of watching you beg, and lets his pants sag to his mid-thigh.

“On your knees, c’mon.” Sternly, Harry commands you, only giving you a split second to do it yourself before he does it for you.

“N-no.. Harry! Harry, no! Stop.. Daddy, Daddy, please!” You screech, using his name, his proper name— to get him to see how desperate you are.

Harry took his erection out of his boxers as you winced and tried to turn away, but he put a palm on your head to show you. Choking on your sobs, you swallow before giving him another look— begging once more. Harry couldn’t care less, and brings his tip to your chin. You did nothing; and Harry roughly shoves two fingers between your lips to get you to open.

“Don’t fret, kitty. It won’t be too rough,” Harry grumbles, contradicting himself though— not even warning you as he shoves his massive length down your throat. You gagged immediately, letting out a pathetic mewl which sent vibrations straight to his cock.

You only let his cock sit in your mouth, your eye already watering at how painful it is to keep your mouth wide enough for Harry’s length. He lets out an annoyed sound, thrusting his hips to gain some movement.

“Y/n, come on. You’re fucking dumb, but you’re not that dumb. Suck on it.”

Out of reluctance, but lacking other options, you pursed your lips and hollowed out your cheeks. He immediately lets out a groan, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the tree behind him.

“Shit- knew that’s what I was missin’- your cute lil mouth. S’ all it’s good for, huh? Suckin me off and talking back- fuck- keep going, baby.”

You close your eyes in concentration, trying your hardest to ignore how your jaw feels like it’s going to fall off. It’s not like you’re not used to this though, or haven’t done this before. You love to please Harry, and you love to suck on him when you can— sometimes even begging him to let you have a taste. But this was different though, it felt as if he genuinely didn’t care if you felt bad, just as long as you were making him feel good.

You slide your head back, just enough to bring your lips right on his tip. You give his cock little kitten licks, your favorite thing to do— before swirling your tongue all around.

Harry moans, bending his knees a bit before steadying himself again. His eyes rolled back before he shuts them again completely.

“F-fuck, good girl! Don’t call you Kitten for no reason- that’s right, be a good girl and keep sucking for Daddy.” He says in a pant, using a hand to brush his hair back before bringing it back down to yours. He pulls your hair back slightly to guide you in the pace he wants. Swallowing harshly, he opens his mouth to speak again.

“Been thinking about this since the ice cream shop, babydoll. You act so innocent but you just love this, don’t you? My lil fuckin’ slut.”

Tears are filled to the brim of your eyes, but you keep on going. Taking your hand, you reach for Harry’s balls and squeeze them as you go.

“Mhm- yeah, should’ve done this in front of Drue and Jack, maybe they would’ve gotten a fuckin’ hint,” Harry says through grunts and moans. Looking down at you, you already look so worn and tired. Your knees are bruised already, your mascara’s running down your face, and your teary, red eyes droop down from exertion.

Harry almost cums from the sight of you crying over his cock.

He thinks about how horrible this all must look; you being completely naked, on your knees, shivering while sucking his cock. He’s still almost fully clothed, and completely comfortable. He loves it— you need to suffer. This is all your fault.

He thrusts his cock even deeper down your throat, but you move your head farther away. As soon as you do, Harry shoves your head down again, indulging in the sight of you so desperate for a break. You struggle and fight for air, pushing on Harry’s thighs desperately, but it only made him thrust his cock faster.

“Mm!” You try to tell him it’s too much, you can’t breath, but it’s no use. His thighs clench harshly, and let’s out a strained groan, which leaves his mouth open slightly. He uses you to edge himself just a bit more, before he decides he’s already become bored.

It felt like ages, but Harry did eventually let you go. You pulled back with a choking gasp and cough. He looks down at you pitifully, a hand slowly rubbing his aching cock. You wipe your dripping tears, feeling your heartbeat quicken when you feel Harry grab you up by the hair.

Whining, you find it difficult to move when he pulls your hair up, but you move rapidly when you notice Harry's angry expression. In one swift movement, he flips you around, your bare backside on his front. He groans when he feels your ass pressing against his still hard cock.

“Baby-baby, baby, baby…” He says in a whisper, so close to your ear, you almost whimper at how sensitive it feels on your skin. Harry holds you in a chokehold with one arm across your neck, and the other trails down your body. He moves so excruciatingly slow, almost tickling you. His hands stroked your stomach, glided down your thighs until he reached between your shaking legs.

All Harry had to do was flick your miserable clit once, and you almost died of pleasure. He knew you were cumming as soon as he felt your poor pussy throb against his fingers. Letting out a shriek of surprise, you almost fall to your knees before Harry’s strong arms catch you. You hadn’t even realized how riled up you were until you squirting all over Harry’s hand, your poor little body shaking tremendously against his.

Even Harry looked surprised for a second, watching how hard you’re cumming from one single flick. You ride out your unexpected orgasm, wailing and whimpering Daddy— over, and over as you came down from your high.

Once you’re done, Harry shoves you away from him, and turns you so you’re forced to face him once more.

“You’re having too much fun.” His tone is so velvety smooth, yet so heartless and demeaning— you can never understand how he does it.

“AH!” You wail, crying out as Harry shoves you harshly towards the ground for like the fourth time. It hurt a thousand times more because you had nothing on. The sticks and forest dirt scrape you vigorously, you have to bite your lip to keep from screaming again. The same sadistic look in Harry’s eyes teases you, watching as you wince in pain below him.

“Ow! Daddy, that hurt!” You whine, your voice wavering from holding in your tears. Harry gives you another “pout.”

“Aw, my baby. Did Daddy push you too hard? Hm? S’hurting you?” You mentally let out a sigh at Harry sympathizing with you for the first time today. It makes you want to forget about everything he’s said and just leap into his arms.

“I don’t fucking care. I don’t care that it hurts,” Harry goes on, the soft tone he used at the start of his sentence completely diminished, making you feel so, so, hopeless.

“You didn’t care how much it hurt to see you with those two bastards, did you? Should’ve known you were too fucking incompetent and dull to understand simple orders.” He begins to take his shoes and clothes off, eyes brutally locked onto yours. He brings his pants all the way down, and with a swift movement, he brings his shirt over his head. Coming to the ground, he climbs on top of you and brings your wrists all the way above your body.

Like the big bad wolf closing in on his victim, he beams at the thought that nothing—not even you—could stop him from torturing you in whatever way he chooses.

You whimper in fear immediately, squirming helplessly under him. You’re eyes go wide when you feel his strong fingers press on your sensitive, raw clit again. You cried out, “Too-too much, AH! Daddy, no.. mm!”

“Too much? I haven’t even begun with you, Kitten.”

He brings his hand to his throbbing cock, stroking it a few times before rubbing it slowly on your pussy. You don’t know why, but this time, looking at his massive length scares you more than any other. You’d be lying if you said his cock didn’t intimidate you every time you saw it. So huge, so thick and veiny— it was imposing, and it always, always hurt when Harry entered you. You knew your sensitive pussy couldn’t take him right now.

“Why, why?” You cry roughly, squirming away again, of course being stopped by Harry’s strong body. His muscles flex while trying to hold you still, and his front strands of hair fall onto his face again.

“Because.. I love to watch you squirm. You know your poor, tiny baby cunt can’t take me.” He pauses.

“But, I feel bad for you. So I’ll give you a count. Five seconds, okay? Go.”

You open your mouth to count, the words falling from your mouth so quietly. As you go, you feel Harry enter you slowly, and you wince at how tight you are, and how big he is. You’re on the fourth count, but you stop, squirming around so much that Harry’s cock falls out of you. It wasn’t in yet, you gratefully sigh— and continue your attempt to leave.

Harry’s bored now. In fact, he’s been bored for the last 10 minutes. He’s sick of hearing your pointless, pathetic begging. He’s sick of your moving around while he’s trying to fuck you. Maybe he could stuff some leaves in your mouth so he can finally make you silent while he has his way with you. Or, maybe he can leave you here all by yourself, with nothing but dirt on your body, while he leaves and enjoys the silent car ride he’ll have to himself. He decides both of those ideas aren’t good at all, because he won’t be able to hear your pretty chokes and gasps when he finally enters you.

Decisions, decisions.

“Look, Kitten— I’m going to fuck you now. Unless your moaning and begging for my dick, you better shut your fucking mouth.”

You cringe. How could Harry be so mean? You’ve tried to get away. You’ve tried to do what he wants, but it always came back to bite you.

“Fucking useless,” Harry mutters. “Count.”

You have no choice. There’s no way out, you’ve realized that now. You always have, but this time you’re finally admitting it to yourself. So, you count.

“One.. T-two..” Harry slowly enters you as you go. At least you’ll be able to prepare for him to be fully in your tight entrance.

“Thr- AH!!” You lunge forward in surprise, eyes rolling back in pain.

“AH! DADDY, MY- You scramble your words, screeching at Harry entering you in one hard, unforgiving thrust. He ignores your tight pussy trying to squeeze him out.

He doesn’t care at all if he’s being cruel, not when your sorry pussy was right there, just waiting to be taken advantage of.

“Oh, fuck.. yeah!” Harry groans out, laughing in the process. He laughs at how miserable and betrayed you look below him.

“Y-you said.. you said..” You choke on your sobs, looking at him through half shut, red teary eyes. Your tiny hands grip his shoulders for support.

“You said count till five!!”

He laughs at your hurt, broken voice.

“Mm, did I?” Harry says, a pondering look on his face, before a sarcastic, devilish one takes its place.

“Sorry, Kitten. Guess I lied.” He barely pays attention to you, pulling out and then thrusting deeper into your walls. He savors your tightness, squeezing him so hard he can barely move.

“How do you stay this fucking tight? Hm? S’like the first time I had you.” He says in groans, his eyes rolling back before staying on you.

“Why- why did you lie?” You can’t help but ask. This whole day has been lies, lies, lies.

Harry doesn’t bother to answer your dull question. He harshly grabs your thigh and pins it above his shoulder so he has a better angle at fucking you. In his head, he curses himself for not bringing a condom, but immediately smiles at the thought of what could happen next.

He’s not completely opposed to the idea of knocking you up, plus, your sweet, sweet pussy is too heavenly to have it be masked by a stupid condom.

You can only look up at Harry, who’s smiling— and you wonder what could be making him smile while you’re enduring such pain. Your chest heaves and your limbs flail around with each thrust. Harry’s so, so, unbelievably big. How does he manage to fit inside you every time? You can never describe how full you feel every time he enters you.

“God- my baby’s got the best pussy out there, yeah-” Harry grunts at how harsh your pussy’s gripping him. He glares down at you, seeing your droopy, shut eyes and the tears streaming down your cheeks. He leans down a little and kisses your tears, gathering the salty taste on his tongue.

“Open those pretty eyes, Babydoll.” He says softly against your skin.

“Open those eyes and cry harder f’me, Darlin’. Like a little baby.. Y’know Daddy loves that, right?”

The raw, filthy sound of you and Harry’s skin coming together fills your ears. His intruding length just rips through you again and again, making your eyes roll back from pain. A strained whine rises from within you.

“Harry.. Daddy.. Stop… hurts so much..”

Harry doesn’t hear you. He chooses not to. He continues to pound into you relentlessly, growling as he picks up his pace. Even with the dirt and scrapes covering them, he can't get over how soft and velvety your thighs always are. He’s in love with your small whimpers and your big eyes pleading for help. He’s in love with how in denial you are, and how perfect his cock fits inside you.

It makes him wonder; have you thought about being this intimate with them? When he punished you in the car, was that what made you confide in them? Did they say something to make you turn away from him? He’s not sure he wants to know. If he did, it would only lead to bad things.

You can’t help but follow Harry’s orders, and you cry harder and harder from the pain. Your mouth falls open, you look up to see Harry move his mouth in a way that’s all too familiar.

“Uh uh.. Daddy, no.. mmh!” Whining in protest, you attempt to turn your head away from Harry, who grabs your jaw roughly.

“Open, Baby. Open, Open..” He forces his fingers in between your lips, and gathers up some saliva from his mouth. He leans down closer, so close to your face that you can feel his breathing hit your face. You hold out your tongue in obedience, tears still constantly streaming down your face. Spit trails from Harry’s pursed lips, falling on your tongue before sliding down your throat. Harry slips his fingers in your mouth again, moaning at your now over-salivated tongue coating his fingers.

The way Harry’s fucking you has him on the verge of tears. He’s in control again. He’s the one who has you wailing from how good he fucks you. Nobody can do that but him. He watches your precious tears fall down your face, and he feels nothing but joy. You can almost feel your little brain struggle at trying to figure this out.

You, crying in a mixture of harsh, stinging pain and pleasure, and him, crying because of how good it feels to be back inside you. How good it feels to have you cry, kick and scream for him to stop because you can’t take anymore.

“Sh-shit! Look what you’ve done.. have me acting out like this..” Harry says in a strained groan while blinking his tears away. He’s appreciative that you shut your eyes, preventing you from witnessing his moment of weakness.

You yelp as you feel Harry continue deeper in you, hitting your spot. The familiar knot in your stomach begins to form, and you cry because, no matter how hard you try, you can’t help it. Your helpless, needy little pussy aches and aches, and it only aches for one thing. Subconsciously, you whimper out Harry’s name, over and over, biting your lip and clawing at his back. Your eyes roll back until you see nothing.

Harry sees how you’re holding back, you’re trying not to cum, and that makes him more than angry. Growling, he brings a hand to your neck, his big, veiny hand choking you slightly. You’re forced to stare at him right in the eyes, seeing the different glints of black, brown, and light green reflect in them.

“Do you seriously think that’s going to work? Hm?Answer me!” Harry shouts the last part, his hand gripping you tighter around the neck as he keeps his pace inside you.

“Do you really think your sad, pathetic pussy could ever not cum when I’m inside you? Look.” Harry exclaims, pulling out slightly, not all the way- just enough to be able to go deeper inside you. He thrusts deep until he reaches your spot again, watching at how distraught you look. Your body shakes and you whimper under him, and if that wasn’t proving his point, your poor pussy closes around Harry’s cock like a vice.

“Think you can deny me.. yeah? Think you can turn away, disobey me and there won’t be any consequences?” He speaks in your ear, making you whine at you sensitive it feels.

“Daddy’s gonna fill you up, Kitty. Gonna cum inside this pretty pussy.. I’m gonna breed you till that test says positive -ah, f-fuck!” He lets out a strained sound- like mixture of a groan and a whine. He feels his cock twitch repeatedly inside you. He’s close, and he knows you are too.

“You won’t be able to deny me then, huh, baby? Won’t be able to deny me when you’re carrying my offspring in this pretty lil body..” He says tauntingly, bringing his hand from your neck to pet your head slowly.

“Ah- oh my God!! Harry, don’t wanna-”

“Not God, you silly, dumb baby. Just me.” Harry interrupts, placing a soft kiss on your nose before moaning out. His thrust are becoming less stable and more erratic, you can feel it. You clench your pussy more in hopes you can hold on longer, but your body gives up, and your pussy starts to throb around Harry’s cock.

“Yeah.. C’mon! Give it to Daddy. Let Daddy have it, baby. That’s right!” Harry’s face contorts into that malicious smile you saw when he was chasing you earlier. Bringing a hand down to your clit, he rubs vigorously to make it extra hard for you to hold on. He watches your eyes widen as your body finally gives in.

“DADDY!” You screech before breaking into a complete sob, your legs giving out from being up so long.

You’re cumming. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. Your limbs flail around, and your eyes remain rolled to the back of your head. Your pussy throbs harsh and fast around Harry’s cock. You whimper, whine, groan- almost every kind of sound leaves your opened mouth as you shake harshly under Harry. He stares at every involuntary reaction your body has towards him, focusing hard on all the small twitches and movements. How your back is arched so high, how you always, always bite your lip.

Harry will never get tired of knowing that he’s caused that. You’re full of his veiny, fat dick - the only dick you've seen this close, the only dick that's ever been inside of you.

The edging, the messing around, it’s all caught up to him.

“Y-yeah, baby. Daddy’s gonna cum- fuck! Daddy’s gonna cum inside your pretty pussy, alright? Want Daddy to cum inside you? Hm?”

He grunts out, watching you frantically shake your head no. You know what he wants, he admitted it himself. He wants to breed you, make you his forever.

“No.. don’t do it, Daddy..” You begged beneath him.

“Aw,” Harry starts with another one of his condescending pouts. “How am I supposed to pull out of a pussy like this?” He grins, before mocking the desperate expression on your face.

“You keep squeezing me tighter and tighter, Sweetheart- just know this pussy wants to milk Daddy’s cock. Gonna fill you-” He interrupts himself, moaning out as cum pours out of his pulsating cock, and coats your walls. He continues to thrust in you, gripping your hair as he goes. Filling you with his searing, hot cum, it makes you feel so so full. You feel it so deep inside you, claiming you, making his mark inside your body. Just like he wants.

You wanted so badly to not want this, but God, you love how it feels when Harry fills you up. You’ve always been obsessed with feeling his cock twitch and pulsate inside you.

Harry stays inside you for a little while longer, watching you still shake and cry helplessly under him. Though you’re quiet, tears still fall from your cheeks and splatter onto the forest ground. After a few moments more, and Harry pulls out of you slowly, immediately moaning at how all your juices pour out when he does.

He brings his fingers to your sopping pussy, fingering all the juices and cum back into you.

“Mine, mine, mine..” Again, he speaks more to himself, until he looks back at you.

“C’mon. Say it. Be a good girl for Daddy and say it,” He says in your ear.

“Who do you belong to?”

Harry’s hoping inside that you’ll say what’s right. If you do, then all this can be over and the both of you can go back to the way things were. He wouldn’t have to punish you anymore, because he’d know he did his job.

You open your mouth to speak, and a hopeful yet menacing smile appears on Harry’s face. But, your mouth closes, and you turn your face away from him. If you kept eye contact, you would’ve seen the most dark, and wrathful glare Harry could ever give you.

You wanted to say you belong to him, because you do, you know that you do. But you still don’t know what this was for. You thought being close with Drue and Jack was what Harry wanted! When Harry left you in that park, you went to seek comfort from his two best friends. How could that have been so wrong? Would he rather you do that with some random stranger? You still don’t understand.

“Fine.” Scoffing, Harry gets up and quickly puts back in his clothes, leaving his belt off. You gulp, a sinking feeling in your stomach telling you that you know what’s coming next.

Harry grabs his belt, beginning to fold it in half, until he pauses completely.

“Y’know what? Not gonna need it.” He says, callously discarding it somewhere beside you.

“Daddy-” You begin, trying to find a way to compromise with Harry. If you were correct about what was coming next, you were going to do everything you could to stop it. Feeling the scrapes and small gashes on your legs reminded you that your fraile body can’t take that much pain.

Sitting back down on the forest floor, Harry effortlessly brings you back onto his lap. He makes sure you’re on your stomach, propping his left leg slightly so you’re ass remains up in the air. Slowly, he rubs his fingers over your sore ass. His gaze shifts to you, withering at his touch. Your soft sobs continue on.

“You have one more chance, Babydoll. One more.” Harry begins, continuing his slow rubs on your ass.

“It’s really not that hard, I’m sure even you can understand this. All you have to do is say the right answer.” Tauntingly, Harry rubs your hair to calm your nerves.

“Who do you belong-”

“NO!” You screech, completely overpowering Harry. He cocks his head slowly to the side, getting more pissed off by the second. You look up at him, uncomfortably twisting your head to make eye contact. He sees your little pathetic look of determination and laughs.

“No..? What do you mean no?”

You clear your throat before attempting to speak again, trying making sure you sound as big and bad as you can be. You don’t deserve a spanking, you know it. You’ve been nothing but good to Harry. He brought you all the way out here, chased and fucked you until your body gave out, and now wants you to answer a question you know you shouldn’t answer. You just want to be back home in bed, watching your favorite cartoons and stuffing your face with all your favorite food. Instead you’re here, being punished and still not knowing why. You’re angry- No, you’re infuriated.

“You’re just jealous because Drue and Jack can treat me better!”

Horrible idea.

Immediately after saying that, your hands fly to your mouth as if they can take back what you just said. But they can’t, and that scares you to the core. Harry’s face is wrathful, and he narrows his eyes as his pupils grow beady.

“You dumb, pathetic girl.” You think you hear, not being able to comprehend it because of how low Harry spoke. It’s silent for a moment, before your piercing screech breaks right through.

“AH!!”

Harry brings his hand right on your ass, the sharp sound of the slap filling your ears. Your body jerks in response to the pain, and your tears flood your face.

“DON’T!”

SMACK!

“YOU EVER!”

SMACK!

“DISOBEY ME!”

SMACK!

“AGAIN!”

SMACK!

Harry grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head all the way back. Your body is arched as far as it can go, making you whine in pain. He harshly tugs again before bringing his mouth to your ear.

“DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?” He shouts, making your sensitive ears feel like they’re going to fall off. He harshly spanks you again, and again, and again, your body jerking helplessly at every blow.

“Y’think those dimwits could ever take care of you? The way I do? No- better? You stupid girl! Go ahead and see for yourself! They don’t know shit!

You try to get away before he can spank you again, but it’s no use. His grip on your hair won’t budge, and there’s no way you’d be able to leave if you want your hair still attached to your scalp. You see his hand lift up again, and you brace yourself for the blow. This time was even harder, making your ass move harshly at the hit. Harry spanks you again, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed with frustration.

“You need me! You know it! You and your stupid pus- look at it! Look at this stupid-“ He cuts himself off, letting your hair go and using both hands to spread your ass cheeks.

“Look at this stupid fucking cunt- you’re still wet!” He callously spanks your still sensitive pussy, and you wail as you grip his thigh.

“HARRY! AH-” Your wails are interrupted by Harry spanking you again. You don’t know how much longer you can take this. It hurt so much, you almost feel numb. Your poor ass was now an angry red, bruised and so beat up. Harry doesn’t care, he continues lashing out on your poor body.

“Go ahead and scream, you pathetic baby. Nobody can fucking hear you!” Harry taunts, never stopping his blows to your ass.

As he goes, you remember a certain sentence from Drue, when you were on the bench with him and Jack.

“Someone as innocent as you shouldn’t be with someone as fucked up as Harry.”

The moment plays through your head clearly, making you realize something; Drue and Jack were trying to get to you all along. They danced with you, touched you, and even tried to take care of you, all while Harry was gone. It made you realize that Harry was right the whole time.

And that only made everything worse.

Your sobs grow louder as Harry continues spanking you, taking turns on each cheek. You don’t even fight anymore, knowing full well that you deserve it. You were bad. You should’ve just listened to Harry, instead you were stubborn, like you always were.

“Daddy..! I’m sorry! I’m so- I’m so sorry..” You begin, still wailing like a little baby over Harry’s lap.

“I’m yours, Daddy! I’m yours, only yours!”

The spankings stop as soon as Harry hears those words. For a while, Harry doesn’t do anything. He leans back against the tree, watching you completely fall apart on his lap. You sob and sob, your body helplessly twitching from being so stimulated. A few more long, excruciating moments pass before you feel Harry grab your torso and flip you on your back. You still remain on his lap, and your eyes begin to flutter shut as you see Harry’s eyes stare right down into yours.

“That’s my girl..” He whispers ever so gently above you. That was mainly for him to hear. His hands wander slowly and carefully up and down your body, feeling every part of you that he could with just his hands. He makes his way to your chest, grabbing and squeezing your precious boobs before he kisses them softly. Next, his hands wander down your waist, tracing your curves until he got to your thighs. Your beautiful, luscious thighs. He could never do without them. He loves them for multiple reasons. He loves to lay on them, kiss them, bite them.. He loves when he’s face deep in between your thighs.. and how you wrap them around his head to push him deeper. To feel his tongue deeper in you.

Slowly, you shift so you can sit perfectly in Harry’s lap. He doesn’t help you. He watches as you helplessly crawl back to him. Once you get fully comfortable without hurting yourself, you bury your head into Harry’s chest.

“Da-Daddy.. H-hurts.. everything hurts..” Your voice is strained, like almost everything else on your body, and you shiver as the cold wind begins to pick up.

“I know, baby.. I know.” Harry grabs his jacket and wraps it around you tightly before trapping you in his warmth.

“Shhh. It’s okay Darlin’. See? that’s all you needed to do. Just needed to tell Daddy you’re his- I know, baby.” Harry sympathizes with you, trying to ensure that you know he’s no longer cross with you.

“S’okay now, I promise.“

Nobody knows how to tear you apart and put you back together like he does.

“Let’s get this pretty dress back on you, yeah? Y’know this is one of Daddy’s favorites.” He starts to reclothe you while maintaining a low, soothing voice for you. Wiping the dirt and dander from the forest floor, he attempts to unwrinkle it as best he can. He locates your MaryJanes and applies the same treatment to them, taking care to remove the obvious stains from your most precious shoe. Once you are both off the ground, he gives you a long, passionate kiss on top of your head.

“You did a good job, baby.”

You’re silent. You acknowledge him with a barely noticeable nod, too tired to give him a full response. With one arm, Harry carries you against his hip all the way back to the car. Somewhere along the path he noticed your body fall limp in his arms, your head laying helplessly on his shoulder as fall asleep. He places you in the passenger seat of the car, buckling you up before going back for your belongings.

Harry did get the peaceful drive back that he wanted. Your soft, faint snores with the low sound of the car engine are all that can be heard. Still, memories of that day at the park continue to nag at him.

There are a lot of things about that day that Harry will never admit. How when he left you at the park with Drue and Jack to make phone calls, he was in his car, spending the majority of his time jerking off to the fading taste of your juices that were left on his tongue. If he's being truly honest with himself, the fact that his friends genuinely thought they could replace him, turned him on even more. They don't know the closest thing about taking care of you, and how to take care of you when you're acting up. How to take care of you when you're crying and crying about something so stupid.

The days that follow show just how much the little run around in the forest impacted you. Your body has been so sorely used and strained that you're dependent on Harry for help with nearly everything. You can’t even use the bathroom or sit in a chair because of sensitive and worn out you are. Harry’s lap is the only thing your body can withstand. And your pussy, your poor pussy still hasn’t been recovered from being so fucked out. The slightest bit of contact between your pussy and literally anything makes you clench your legs. Harry of course helps you with everything, giving you massages and relieving the aching pain in your pussy whenever he can. He’s always conveniently there.

He tells you that you’re a big girl and you can handle this, but you don’t how much more you can take before you rip your hair out. It’s like being stimulated 24/7, which nothing and no one but Harry to help the pain. You’re indeed suffering, but Harry couldn’t feel any more accomplished. Now more than ever, you need him, you rely on him, just like you always should. You’re ruined. It shows in almost every aspect.

Yes, Harry couldn’t be anymore satisfied.

<3 @love-letters-to-uranus

[papayatori]

Fall away (p2)

Inumaki Toge x fem!reader

The night was full of loud, uninterrupted visions of humanoid creatures. Screams that weren’t my own filled my ears endlessly. I could feel the fear radiating from my bones, from my core. My entire body shook relentlessly, as if seizing without content. I knew it wasn’t real, I had felt this and seen these things before, but it all felt new and different, stronger and more powerful.

In a cold sweat, I awoke with a start, a soft knock echoing on the door. Terror had subsided for the most part, remaining purely for its own enjoyment and thrill. Shaking, I stood to open the door.

I was met with crazy brown eyes staring back at me. Itadori’s piercing gaze threw off my mental balance just enough to bring the fear I had tucked away boiling back over.

“I felt some serious energy coming from down here, I was worried something had come after you.” He invited himself in, giving me no other warning. He studied the room thoroughly, the gaze that had just held mine scanned the room intently to make sure it was safe for me to reside.

“Are you alright, y/l/n?” He sent me a confused but worried look. I nodded.

“I’m alright, sorry to startle you, Itadori.” He ran his hands through his pink hair.

“I could’ve sworn I felt something in here.” He mumbled to himself. “Didn’t you feel anything?” I only shrugged.

“I think I was having another nightmare.” I answered, hoping to give him some sort of relief.

“Do you mind me asking of what?” He had sat on my bed now, watching me as I slowly shut the door.

“I’m assuming of those cursed spirits Satoru had explained to me earlier. I’m not too sure what was happening if I’m being honest.” I shoved my hand behind my neck, rubbing it anxiously as if it would fix the awkward situation I had been forced into. He snapped his fingers in one swift motion, smiling slightly as his eyes lit up. He patted a spat next to him, beckoning me to sit. Reluctantly I did so, hoping this didn’t look as terrible to an outsider as it felt.

“That’s probably what I felt. You did seem terrified when I opened the door. I’m sorry if I made it worse.” He sheepishly grinned.

“You didn’t, I can promise that.” He smiled at me further before continuing.

“It feels different being taken from your home and forced into an environment you aren’t used to. It probably triggered your cursed energy without you realizing it.” I was suddenly aware of the cold air around me, the sweat clinging to my body as the boy next to me continued to speak. He eyed me curiously.

“You speak as if you know from experience.” He laughed lightly, playing with his hands.

“You’d be correct. I’m still new to a lot of this stuff, but I don’t think I’d trade it for the world.” His eyes had become glossy, his body stiff.

“How’d you get here, Itadori?” I asked, hearing the silence ring in my ears afterwards. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I ate a finger.” I gasped, forgetting to let out my breath after. “It’s not as terrible as it sounds, believe me.”

“It sounds pretty terrible.” I said, giving him a deadpanned look.

“After my grandpa died, I had an incident with a school club. It was alright once I got here, but I remember the helpless feeling I got when I shut my eyes every night. Sometimes even the strongest people can’t hold back their own haunting memories.” The first genuine smile Itadori had ever given me radiated from his features. I felt my heart crack at his words.

“I’m sorry, Itadori.” I said, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. He looked surprised I had done so, his iris’s growing slightly as he smiled down at me.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You’re going through a similar situation. If anything, I should be comforting you.” He squeezed my hand back, causing me to smile as he did so. “Your parents really never mentioned anything about jujutsu sorcery? How’d they know to send you here and not to the Tokyo institution?”

My brain rattled at his question. My eyes scanning a nonexistent folder of my recollections on the subject.

“Now that you mention it, I think my parents used to talk about it when I was younger.”

I remembered my parents leaving me a lot when I was young, equipped with weapons of all sorts. I don’t remember any conversations well enough to tell Itadori about them specifically, but I told him of these faint memories. I tore through my past, attempting to find anything that could be of significance. I remembered talk of danger towards others in Tokyo and other cities alike, small towns that I hardly recognized the name of.

“I think your parents were sorcerers like us, y/n.” I believed him, but it was hard to come to terms with.

“I’m just not sure I’m ready to put two and two together, Yuji.” He nodded in understanding, pulling his hand from mine after squeezing it one last reassuring time.

“I think you should sleep on it, or at least try your best to. I know how difficult things like this can be to process.”

Yuji waved before exiting my room, leaving me in my same seated position on a bed that felt foreign to me. I felt a tear fall from my eye, wiping it just as fast as I let it slip free. Crying about it would get me nowhere, and Yuji had a point, even the strongest of people couldn’t face their own past within their dreams.

Before I knew it, the alarm on my nightstand was ringing and the day was beginning. I wasn’t sure what to make of last nights encounter, and I hardly slept because of it. The thought of my parents being like Yuji and the others threw my mind into a frantic tizzy.

Had my life always been destined to start here? Had my parents set me up for torment all of these years or had they simply been trying to shield me from the truth? I shook my head to rid the thought. I hadn’t received word from my parents since my departure at the school gates. They had refused entry and allowed me to walk in free of their presence. I thought they had been trying to allow me a sense of freedom and maturity, but maybe there was more to that than I had foreseen before?

I walked into the classroom full of commotion. Gojo had yet to make an appearance and the others were caught up in conversation. Yuji sent me a greeting that I happily returned. I felt eyes on me as I walked over to reclaim my seat from yesterday, looking over to see who’s they belonged to.

My eyes were met with the raging violet of Inumki’s stare. They smiled at my own, softening with kindness as he waved at me. I smiled back happily, hoping he hadn’t sensed my fear last night as Yuji had. I watched him stand from his seat, Yuta nowhere in sight. He walked over to me and crouched beside my desk.

“Kelp.” He said to me, his hand extending for me to shake as the others had done yesterday. I was confused but shook his hand anyway. His warmth surrounded my smaller hand as he did so, shocking me still in my seat.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, confused still. I heard a snort from somewhere behind me before the conversation continued. Inumaki shook his head.

“Bonito flakes.” He stated confidently. I deadpanned, not sure how to respond. Seemingly frustrated, Inumkai pulled his phone from his pocket, anxiously typing away as I sat and stared at him. His eyes were fixed on the screen, giving me a chance to study his seemingly flawless features without interruption from the violet orbs that radiated thoroughly. His bangs fell perfectly to shield the top of his eyes, his collar hiding the rest of his face without effort that made me almost disappointed.

“I’m a cursed speech user. I have certain things I can say that don’t affect me much, it’s mostly why I speak in ingredients rather than words themselves. I greeted you before, then denied your question afterwards. I apologize for the confusion, but im sure Satoru will explain further later today.” It read. I smiled at the boy in front of me. He unzipped his collar, sticking his tongue out to reveal the markings that bound him to the curse.

“I’m not sure I would’ve ever caught on had you not explained it. Thank you.” He smiled brightly at me before zipping his collar and taking his phone back, tapping around on the screen once more. He handed it back to me with a questioning gleam in his violet eyes. He wanted my phone number.

I felt my face flush as well as hearing some snickers behind me. Inumaki glared at the source of the laughter while waiting patiently for me to fill out the information. I did so quickly, my heart beating slightly faster than before as he quickly went back to his seat when Yuta entered the room.

I almost immediately got a text from Inumaki, just letting me know it was him. At that time, however, Gojo stalked into the room with a cocky smirk.

“Hello everybody.” He said, dragging out the ‘o’ slightly. Maki facepalmed. “How do we feel about only training today?” He said, looking around at the others. My mind went blank. I’d never done that before. He seemed to notice my panic and lifted his finger. “With exceptions, of course.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I was scrawny, not built for the physical just yet. I wasn’t even sure what they did out there that qualified as training. As the others mumbled their agreements and started to file out of the room, Nobara stopped in front of Gojo, not moving.

“I’m staying too, I feel like you might need a demonstration at some point.” She grinned at me with two thumbs up. Gojo didn’t object, only pushing her lightly back towards her seat. Inumaki spared me one last glance before stalking out the door with the others and shutting it behind him.

I giggled at Gojo and Nobara, they were bickering back and forth about who was really the teacher here.

“Anyways, Even if Nobara is right, im still your teacher, meaning I know best.” Nobara rolled her eyes, huffing out a breath.

“So, what exactly is happening?” I asked, their attention returning to me. Nobara smiled at me slightly.

“I’m teaching you the art of cursed energy!” She exclaimed, happy to get the point across. Gojo sent her another small glare with his lip puffed out slightly.

“She means WE are going to teach you the art of cursed energy.”

The two continued to bicker for about thirty minutes before I finally stepped in and decided to ask some questions of my own. I figured I’d never get a word in edgewise, but I suppose asking the burning questions I knew they’d love to answer would allow them to put their differences behind them, even though they continued to one up each other like siblings.

“So, how can somebody manipulate cursed energy? I thought it was just to scare children growing up.” I asked. Both stopped arguing almost immediately before Nobara grinned wildly.

“Cursed energy comes in many forms, y/l/n.” Gojo spoke, gaining a somewhat serious attitude. “You can’t just ‘manipulate’ it. My students have trained to harness the power of their cursed energy, something I can only hope you’d work for as well.” He finished.

“My cursed energy is focused through my hammer.” Nobara spoke, pulling the hammer from her back. That was odd, I’d never noticed it before. She smiled smugly.

“We believe you have potential to do these sort of things, y/l/n, we just aren’t exactly sure to what extent.”

Nobara continued to explain her technique, Gojo watching from the sidelines. The two thought it would be a good idea to show me how it worked, though I found it quite frightening as they took me out to the training yard to watch the others train for a while.

The beauty of the courtyard was breathtaking. The breeze felt nice compared to the stuffy classroom I’d been in all morning, and getting to watch Nobara in action against Maki was something I’d probably never forget. The two danced with elegance in their battle, neither holding back on the other. As we continued, Gojo would explain to me what was happening.

“Maki uses cursed weapons to her advantage. She can’t exactly see cursed spirits the way we can, y/n; that’s what her glasses are for. She possesses no real cursed energy of her own, meaning she doesn’t manipulate it the way Nobara can.” He rambled for a while, I listening intently in the background. I would occasionally nod and try to understand what he was explaining to keep him entertained.

My eyes were fixed on Maki and her diligent grace in battle. Nobara seemed to gain an upper hand, launching her cursed nails at Maki and damaging her to the point I thought she would resign, though she never did. Maki seemed to heal quickly and learn Nobara’s moves almost instantly after being wounded. She summoned a weapon from almost thin air, which Gojo explained was her technique. The two fought wordlessly and breathlessly without as much as a blink towards the other. I was astonished by the ending.

The two walked towards us, not worried about the others training behind them.

“Interested, y/n?” Maki chided with a cool smirk. It’s almost as if she hadn’t been touched by Nobara at all.

“Quite.” I said with a smile. She handed me the spear she had been using against Nobara. I inspected it, feeling the writhing energy within it seeping into my skin. Was it supposed to react this way? Gojo chuckled from beside me.

“You’ve never come into close proximity with a real cursed object, have you?” He asked coolly. I deadpanned, letting the look sink in before dropping my gaze back to the spear.

“I use it to channel energy I cannot manipulate myself as Nobara can. I’m sure Gojo explained that to you?” She questioned. I nodded.

I looked up, handing back the spear and feeling the release of the energy. Its presence, however, left a weird tingling residue on my hands where I’d touched it.

I saw the others in the background, throwing punches and jabs and kicks to their opponents. I heard a yell from somewhere behind them.

“Don’t move!” It sounded calm, smooth. I saw Panda standing still in the courtyard as a punch was thrown his way by the person who hid behind the voice I had heard. I watched intently as he fell to the ground, still stuck in position as Inumaki hovered over his body. His collar was unzipped. He had spoken something other than ingredients?

He caught my gaze, giving a sheepish smile as the markings on his face rose with his dimples. Panda had slowly regained his movement, angrily shouting something at Inumaki that went unheard by my ears. He moved to see the direction Inumaki was facing and caught my gaze as well. He smirked before waving in my direction.

“Cursed speech works like that of Nobara, though entirely different. The user can manipulate words in ways like no other, causing their opponent to stun temporarily depending on the power of the manipulator.” Gojo spoke beside me once more. It seems as though he had followed my eyes to reach Inumaki’s brawl with Panda.

They walked over to our position in the grass beside the courtyard, sitting next to us without a word.

“That was impressive, Toge. Panda couldn’t move for several seconds even after falling to the ground. Your strength has improved. “ Inumaki nodded in thanks to Gojo, who seemed to be in a good mood if he was offering praise. “Have you been meditating?”

“Salmon.” He replied enthusiastically. Panda was rubbing the side of his face where Inumaki had punched him earlier.

“This is going to bruise later.” Panda said, leaving us all staring in his direction.

“Panda’s don’t bruise.” Nobara retorted, voicing what the rest of us were thinking.

“Salmon.”

“Just because I’m not human, doesn’t mean I don’t bruise.” He yelled playfully. Maki rolled her eyes, not keen on being the referee in another argument. Inumaki’s stomach growled next to me, I giggled as his cheeks reddened slightly when we made eye contact.

“Hungry this time?” I asked playfully, slightly elbowing his arm. He smiled a toothy grin.

“Salmon.” He replied. This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

“On that note, who wants lunch?”

We returned to the classroom, Inumaki staying beside me until we entered. He pulled out a small bag that held what I was assuming some sort of food inside. His smile made my face redden. He hadn’t zipped his collar back since the fight and I was able to see his facial expressions clearer than I could before. He walked to his spot in the back, motioning for me to follow him. I obliged, intrigued by the silent blonde male.

I sat beside him, allowing for Yuta to take my seat up front. Inumaki pulled a box out of the bag he had been holding. Looking around, I saw everyone had had some sort of food with them. I had felt singled out, being the only one unprepared.

“Tuna.” I heard from beside me. My attention returned to Inumaki who was holding out a small onigiri in his hand. He pushed it towards me, offering it to me. My cheeks flushed at his kindness. I shook my head slowly.

“Im really not hungry, Inumaki, but thank you.” I smiled, not wanting to take food from the person who suggested we eat lunch in the first place. Like the traitor it was, my stomach growled loudly. He chuckled, shoving the onigiri into my hands. His fingertips grazed my palm, sending a shock of what I wanted to call cursed energy through my skin. I flushed red, taking a bite as I did so. I moaned as I tasted the onigiri. I must’ve been hungrier than I had anticipated.

“Did you make these?” He nodded, offering me another. I eagerly took it as I finished the other.

He pulled out his phone, typing away as he had done this morning. I felt my phone vibrate from my pocket.

“I enjoy cooking, I like to think I’m rather good at it 😊.” I smiled at the text he had sent me.

“I think you are too, Toge.” His face reddened slightly. He averted his attention to the onigiri, eating one himself and smiling at his own culinary abilities.

“Salmon?” He asked, i assumed he was asking for my approval. I nodded eagerly in his direction.

“They’re amazing.” We smiled at each other once more.

As the day had come to an end and we all retired to our rooms, I had a small frown lingering on my face. I turned the lights on in my room, hoping to keep the darkness at bay for a while longer before my attempt to sleep. I decided to shower and hopefully clear my mind a little.

My thoughts lingered on the darkness for the majority of my shower. As I scrubbed myself clean of the dirt from the courtyard and the invisible germs I had started to wonder more about my own cursed energy. Was I really able to do the things these students had been doing earlier? Or was there some sort of mix up and I was just a normal human being. The incomparable strength they had in order to fight in hand to hand combat was one thing, but the stamina to concentrate cursed energy and fight all at the same time was something I couldn’t entirely wrap my mind around.

I ran my hands through my hair as I dried it, detangling it and staring into the mirror in front of me. My thoughts wandered further until I heard a small ding from my phone. It was Yuji.

If you need me tonight don’t hesitate to call me, you probably don’t know where my room is yet, I’ll come to you. I’m turning in for the night, but I mean it. Sleep good, y/n!

I smiled at his message, sending a quick thank you before shutting off my phone and returning to the mirror in front of me to do my skin care.

Another ding interrupted my thoughts once again, thinking it might have been Yuji, I unlocked my phone to see what the commotion was about. To my surprise, Inumaki had sent me a waving emoji. I smiled, my stomach fluttering and leaving my mind blank.

Inumaki 🍙! : 👋

y/n: Hi Toge!

Inumaki 🍙! : Do you usually eat breakfast?

His question threw me off, it wasn’t what I was expecting whatsoever, but I went along with it.

y/n: not usually no, but I probably should 😅

Inumaki 🍙!: okay! Sleep good, y/l/n, im headed to bed.

I tapped my chin, grinning about the conversation but being just as perplexed about it. Why would he ask me something so random? Especially as I was about to sleep.

I turned out the lights, trying not to think about the things that lingered in the shadows that I was unaware of. I shook my head, focusing on the comforting warmth of the sheets that surrounded me.

I stared blankly into the darkness, deciphering the shapes that I was still not completely familiar with. I find it hard to tell what things are real and how much of the black I was hallucinating because of my horrid imagination. I knew outside cursed spirits couldn’t enter Jujutsu high, Gojo had explained that yesterday, but something Yuji had said didn’t sit right with me

I wanted to make sure nothing came after you.

Was it possible for such a thing to happen here? Should it be something to worry about? Or should I simply just prepare myself in case the time arises.

My thoughts lingered for a while, I knew my mother had been widowed before I was born, but I wasn’t sure the situation completely. My step dad had always been my father, I didn’t consider him anything other than that, but was it possible I had been born into one of the Jujutsu clans and been completely unaware of it? I just couldn’t understand why they hadn’t told me or bothered to reach out to me after dumping me off here.

The room had started to spin, I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek without my consent. Why had all of this happened so suddenly? I thought I would’ve been happier here than back in Tokyo, and while I am happy with my new friends, why had my entire life been flipped so mercilessly so quickly. It felt like the door had been ripped from the hinges, or my home had been pulled from the foundations and placed in a new spot.

Ding!

Was that my phone? I had forgotten it was there.

I thought I told you to call me if you needed anything, at this rate you’re going to wake the whole school up. I’m coming over.

Before I could respond, my door was opened frantically by Yuji.

“Y/n, are you crying?” He hurried over to my bed to wipe the tears from my face. I sat up, attempting to compose myself in front of Itadori. He stopped me, sitting on the foot of the bed.

“What are you thinking about y/n?” He asked. I suddenly felt like a therapy patient.

“Everything, Yuji.” I let another tear fall as I pulled my legs to my chest. He smiled at me slightly.

“I know it’s hard to process, you’re going to struggle with that for a while.” Silence rang loudly after he said that. I allowed myself a shallow breath.

“Do you think I’m going to fit in here? I haven’t figured out anything about my parents, about my past. I don’t even feel like I fit in with them very well anymore. I don’t even feel like I know them. I dont really feel much of anything other than that if you want me to be honest.” He looked at me genuinely, sweeping over my features.

“I think you’ll be just fine. I’m sure they don’t mean any harm by it.”

“But do you think they care anymore? Do you think they ever did? Why would you dump your own kid in a place like this with no guidance, not even a word of affirmation after the ordeal-“ before I could finish my sentence I was being crushed by Yuji’s embrace. He held me there, letting me cry on his shoulder without release.

“I don’t know the situation, y/n, but I do know that you’ve made friends here and we all care for you, even if it is your second day.” He pulled away from me, smirking a bit. “I’m sure Inumaki would argue with you if he heard you speaking such nonsense.” My heart thudded at the mention of Inumaki. I wasn’t sure why my pulse increased or my cheeks heated, and I wasn’t exactly sure why I didn’t argue with my body’s decisions to do so.

“What does Toge have to do with this?” He smirked harder at me, wiping the remaining tears and poking my cheek.

“If you haven’t already noticed, he seems quite fond of you. He never offered any of us his number except Yuta, and that was an exciting encounter for sure. Toge doesn’t do social interaction with other people, y/n, much less willing sit beside them after a training session.” My gaze settled on his face, he was being genuine. I figured Toge was only being nice to me, but here I was being proven wrong again.

“It’s only my second day, Yuji.” He glared at me, puffing out his bottom lip.

“We’ll just have to see then. But you seem to like the thought of being on his mind. Either way, I got you to stop crying so I see this as a win in my book” he flashed his teeth at me. I grimaced.

The rest of the night was spent with me tossing and turning with Inumaki on the back of my mind. I hated the thought of someone already being fond of me, I hated it so much that I found myself enjoying the thought. I hated the way my cheeks reddened when he touched me, when he spoke to me. I hated the way that I wanted to text him in the middle of the night when I needed guidance for these sort of things. I also hated the fact that he was surprisingly a good cook.

I glared a hole in my door, someone was knocking on it in the earlier hours of the morning. Thinking it was Yuji, as it usually was, I went to open it and was met with a fragrant smelling Inumaki. I let out a gasp.

He had a small box in his hand with a smile on his face. He was in his pajamas, not bothering with the uniform yet, so his face was completely uncovered and visible to my eye. My face flushed completely as he motioned for me to take the box.

“Tuna, tuna.” He said, waving it in front of me. Reluctantly I took the box, eyeing him carefully. He started at me expectantly, waiting for me to open it. I did so, smelling the contents before seeing it. I covered my mouth with my hands to stifle another gasp from escaping my lips.

“T-toge you didn’t need to-“ he grabbed my hand, earning my attention once more. He shook his head vigorously to show me that he wanted to, I didn’t need to worry.

My eyes trailed back down into the box, it continued a few croissants inside with a small note that had a smiley face on it. I smiled back up at Inumaki, who smiled happily back at me.

“You need to eat.” He mouthed to me, keeping me focused on the way his lips moved when he did so. His violet eyes seemed to glow as he looked at me. I couldn’t help but blush further, he still hadn’t let go of my hand and I was overly aware of it.

“Thank you, Toge.” His face reddened and his eyes darted to the side. He nodded slightly before dropping my hand and giving me a wave. He then darted back down the hallway, leaving me speechless with my door wide open.

The day continued something like that. Toge also made me lunch, forcing me to take it regardless of how I felt about it. One thing was for certain, and that was that he knew what he was doing in the kitchen; but why had he bothered to do so much for me? His eyes had dark circles under them, leading me to believe that he had stayed up to do this for me. I couldn’t help but feel guilty regardless of how generous he was being.

Yuji continued to give me smirks throughout the day, as well, which didn’t help the way I felt towards Inumaki’s kindness. Though, it left me wondering, maybe Yuji had a point. Maybe I liked being on Toge’s mind.

[loverhymeswith]

Let's Be Alone Together || Part Four

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Tommy's revelation is cut short by an unexpected distraction

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: This chapter contains scenes of a violent nature, including a physical attack, blood, guns and gore. Please proceed with caution. Also, a probably poor description of inside the Shelby's betting shop.

A/N: Shout out to @a-reader-and-a-writer for the love, support and whump-spiration💖

Masterlist

For half a moment, you think that Tommy Shelby is going to kiss you. His mouth - parted - is so close to your own that if either of you were to move forwards, even by just an inch, your lips would be touching. 

So close, yet so far. 

Because in the quiet of the betting shop, the two of you stand frozen; a tableau. Your hands, surprisingly steady, rest against Tommy’s broad chest, fingertips brushing the dark leather straps of his shoulder holster. His hands, surprisingly soft and warm, cup your jaw as he searches your gaze. 

“Tommy…” 

His extraordinary blue eyes widen, blinking rapidly. But it’s not the sound of his name as it falls from your lips that breaks whatever spell he’s fallen under. Somewhere in the back of the shop, a floorboard creaks.

Tensing beneath your touch, Tommy’s voice is low but urgent when he finally speaks. “Were you alone? Before I got here?”

Tentatively, you nod. Arthur had locked the door behind him before leaving earlier this morning. It’s inconceivable that anyone else could have been here with you - that you hadn’t been aware of their presence this whole time.

Isn’t it?

Tommy carefully releases you, his scar-flecked hands balling into fists as they fall to his sides. “Go,” he tells you in the same quietly compelling tone that leaves no room for argument. “Lock yourself in the office. Don’t come out until I tell you to do so.”

Deprived of the reassuring warmth of his touch, your head spins at the sudden shift in the man before you - the man now reaching for his gun. From curiously captivated to deadly calm - this is the side of Tommy you recognise. The side you have become accustomed to. 

The man who protects his empire and his assets at all costs. 

“Go.”

With little choice but to follow his orders, you abandon the wooden table in the centre of the room and hurry behind the metal bars that separate Polly’s office - and the cash boxes - from the rest of the shop. The gate shuts behind you with a heavy clang and with trembling fingers you lock yourself inside, pocketing the key.

Despite your line of sight being skewed by the bars, you watch uneasily as Tommy begins his sweep of the shop, one unwavering arm outstretched as he aims his gun into the dimly lit corners of the room. 

Is it possible he’s overreacting, or is there really someone else here? Someone who doesn’t belong. 

The thought alone causes you to falter, staggering backwards until you reach the far wall of the office. How long have they been watching you? What would have happened had Tommy not returned? Have you really been a sitting duck all this time?

With a start, you remember the gun. The small pistol Arthur had given you - an employment gift of sorts - stashed away in your handbag beneath the wooden table. If you could just make it out of the cage undetected… You’ve never fired the thing, but the intruder doesn’t know that.

Attentioned focused solely on Tommy as he slips through the curtains to check the rest of the house, you take a hesitant step forwards. Three more steps and you’ll be back at the gate. But before you can move another inch, something - someone - grabs hold of you from behind, dragging you away from the bars. 

A rough hand smothers your mouth, stifling the scream you were about to let rip.

“Make a sound and my pal over there will blow his fuckin’ brains out.”

The voice, barely more than a harsh whisper, is unfamiliar and you freeze in the foreign grip, just in time to see a shadowy figure move beyond the bars. Damning evidence of Tommy’s impending peril.

“Atta girl,” your assailant mutters into your ear, his hot, damp breath making your skin crawl. “Now, you’re gonna do exactly what I say and no one has to get hurt. We just want the cash.”

Fear paralyses your body, but your mind is whirring, desperate for a way out. Because you recognise the northern accent. You know enough about the Shelby’s business dealings to understand that it’s far more than money these Yorkshiremen are after.

Power. Revenge. War.

If you stand here silently, they will murder Tommy in cold blood.

Despite the heavy breathing of the man holding you captive, you strain your ears for the faintest sound - any indication of where Tommy is or what he’s doing. If he comes back into the shop and finds you being held hostage, he’ll take aim at your captor and it won’t end well for anyone.

You can’t let it come to that.

With concern for Tommy clouding your judgement and no better plan emerging, you say a fleeting prayer to the god you no longer believe in and discretely raise your left leg, bringing your heel down with great force on your assailant’s foot. 

The man yelps. The shock of the attack briefly loosens his grip, just as you’d hoped, allowing you enough room to wiggle out of his arms whilst simultaneously elbowing him in the stomach. As he doubles over in pain, you bolt to the gate, scrambling for the keys.

Get the gun. Get to Tommy. Get out.

From the furthest recess of the shop, you hear Tommy - alerted by the sounds of your struggle - shouting your name, his voice thick and rasping with panic.

“There’s two of them,” you yell back, no longer fearing for your own safety. You just need Tommy to be ok.

But there’s no response, and before you can unlock the gate, a hand clamps tightly around your forearm, hauling you away from the bars and spinning you around.

“You stupid bitch.” 

The man lashes out, his palm connecting with your cheek in a wicked blow. Tears spring to your eyes as your skin burns, but you manage to stumble to the side, ducking unsteadily in order to avoid a second strike.

“Didn’t I warn you, eh? Didn’t want to spill blood today but looks like you’re leavin’ us with no choice.”

The hold on your arm is relinquished, only to be replaced almost instantly by the same hand clasping your neck, thick fingers pressing painfully into your windpipe until it’s difficult to breathe. 

But apparently, this would be far too kind a demise. Because, moments later, you feel the telltale sting of metal as the cold, hard muzzle of a gun kisses your temple.

No. Not like this. 

Where is Tommy?

As you grapple to free yourself from the tight grip around your throat in a panic-stricken haze, you recollect a lesson given to you by John all those months ago - half in jest - on the basics of self-defence: how to hit a man where it hurts. 

If this is the end, at least you’ll go down fighting. Maybe they made a Peaky Blinder out of you, after all.

Your fingers scratch desperately at your assailant’s hands as he draws you closer, the dampness beneath your nails indicating that you too are capable of spilling blood. But it’s a mere distraction. He doesn’t notice you jerk your knee upwards in a violent fashion, as high as it will go, until it’s too late.

Seconds away from blacking out - or having your brains blown out - you hit the magic spot. 

The man lets out an almighty grunt as he releases you, both hands flying to his crotch as he folds to the floor. Nothing less than sheer instinct sees you lurching forwards and wrenching the gun out of his weakened, bloody grip.

You’re panting now, every breath burning as you fight to fill your lungs and clear your head. You have the gun trained on the crumpled man, but the nightmare is far from over. Behind you, there are sounds of a skirmish. Grunting and shouting as Tommy wrestles with the second intruder, but mercifully no gunshots. 

Without taking your eyes off your attacker, you slowly inch backwards until you hit the bars of the cage. The keys remain jammed in the lock, just as you’d left them.

“Tommy,” you yell, frantically. “Are you ok?” But the damage to your throat has left your voice hoarse, little more than a wheeze. 

When Tommy - understandably - doesn’t reply, you risk a glance over your shoulder, just in time to spot him grabbing the stranger by his jacket and hauling him against the blackboard. The man might tower over him by at least half a foot, but he is no match for Tommy’s pure strength. As Tommy begins pummelling his fists into the man’s face, you dare to allow yourself a moment of relief and, barely registering the horror of the situation, you look away.

Returning your attention to your own assailant, you are startled to find that, like something out of your very worst dreams, he has risen. His hideous face twists into a cruel smirk as he approaches, his pace slow yet menacing. 

“You ain’t got it in you, lass.”

Maybe he’s right. Your hands are certainly trembling as they tighten around the gun, the prospect of taking a man’s life suddenly very terribly real.

Kill or be killed. 

It doesn’t make it any easier. And you’d had the nerve to call Tommy a coward. Maybe you should take a look in the mirror.

On second thoughts, better not. Because in one moment the man is standing before you, his arms outstretched and ready to attack. The next, there is a deafening bang and he slumps to the floor, his brains splattered on the wall behind him. 

Stunned into stillness, you hear Tommy shout your name, his spent gun clattering to the ground. You’re vaguely aware of the cage opening behind you and the next thing you know, you’re collapsing into a strong, reassuring pair of arms.

“It’s over now. I’ve got you. It’s over.” 

Tommy’s hushed words are a soothing balm as he gently turns you to face him, assessing you for injury as he holds you at arm’s length. Whatever he sees quickly causes his brow to furrow and his jaw to tense, his attention lingering on the bruises around your neck.

Through tear-stained eyes you meet his gaze - a frightening, ice-cold gaze - the kind of gaze that promises a swift and painful death to those who hurt you - except he’s already delivered that, hasn’t he?

In the waning afternoon light, you take the opportunity to study him, too. His shirt is stained red and a sheen of sweat covers his skin. The lengths of his hair are damp, slicked across his forehead. But despite being in such an unusual state of disarray, there’s no obvious sign of injury, except for a small cut above his brow. 

Tommy’s fury passes and gradually, his expression softens. “I’ve got you, love. It’s ok. You’re going to be ok, you hear me?”

He starts to pull you closer as you nod mutely, but you feel something damp against your temple and you stiffen in his arms. When you touch a finger to your skin, it comes away crimson.

“Blood…” you murmur, somehow not as horrified as you know you should be.

Ever so slowly, so as not to startle you, Tommy takes your face in his hands just like before. 

“It’s not yours,” he assures you, softly wiping away the evidence with his thumb, oblivious - or maybe not - to the fact that his own hands are already stained. “You’re ok, eh. We’re ok.” 

“I couldn’t do it, Tommy. I couldn’t pull the trigger.” 

“I know.” He lowers his head, until your brows are almost touching. “And that is nothing to be ashamed of. You did more than anyone could have asked for. I saw the way you fought back. The boys will be so proud of you. I am proud of you.”

You try to shake your head, still in his grasp. “It wasn’t enough.” 

Because you should have been better. Quicker off the mark. You shouldn’t have frozen. You should have noticed earlier that you weren’t alone.

“It was more than enough,” Tommy tells you firmly. “You are more than enough. All this time, I’ve underestimated you. I thought it was you who needed protecting but now I see that I was wrong. I think maybe it was me this whole time.”

“What do you mean?”

In lieu of giving you an answer, Tommy leans in, finally closing the distance. His lips - surprisingly soft - brush over yours, a gentle caress and a silent request.

This time, you won’t hesitate. This time, you won’t freeze. Looping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself onto your tip toes and deepen the kiss, distantly wondering if he’s right. 

Maybe it has been him, this whole time.

Tommy Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal @simpforbuckyb @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @iammrsrogers @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy @fia-thefirst @dreamy-caramel @trixie23

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.20

Summary: Grief comes in many different forms and stages. You're stuck on anger, and Wednesday accompanies you to the funeral. But she says something wrong, with the best of intentions, and you end up doing something that will change your family dynamic for the worse.

Word Count: 7.7k Warnings: grief, child abuse, self neglect (not eating, recklessness, not taking care of self, excessive drinking), extreme anger, flashbacks (mentions of car accident, injuries, illusions to criminal activity), swearing, violence, smoking Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @captainbeat @smromanoff

Everyone says grief comes in five stages; denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But you disagree. It’s not five stages, it’s one. Only one stage that washes over you like a wave and holds you under until you’re drowning. You’re drowning and watching everyone on the surface live their lives as if you aren’t just right underneath them, choking on the salty sea water as you scream for help.

It’s only one stage; agony.

The house was bigger than you remembered when you got home far too early in the morning. The barristers were cleaner, the kitchen was far more pristine, and it was quiet. It was far too quiet, and your hands started to go clammy at the revelation. There wasn’t even any comfort in the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. Tick-tocks burned themselves into your brain until it was stabbing into your head like a knife.

You started humming a tuneless song. It eased the pain slightly.

"Don't hum, dear," your mother said as she took her gloves off and handed them to your maid and previous nanny, Mabel. "It's childish."

Your humming died off and the silence came back.

"Mabel will show you to your room,” your father said, resting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. For a moment, things almost seemed okay. “We will mourn tomorrow, then start the preparations.”

And just like that everything came crashing down once again. Paired perfectly with the migraine that still refused to settle.

“Oh, Y/N,” your father called out before you managed to get more than three steps up.

You turned around slowly, each joint still aching from the fall earlier in the night. Was it that same night? It felt so long ago. Nothing felt like you had been on a carnival date earlier in the night, that you had been having fun with Wednesday and the gang less than eight hours ago. Or was it longer than that? Did it even matter anymore?

“Your principal wanted you to have your phone back,” he continued when you stayed silent. He smiled softly down at the phone in his hands before looking up and handing it back. “Your conversations are a bit concerning,” he said when your fingers brushed his to take it back. “I installed a program to track your activity.” You blinked once. “For your well-being.”

For my well-being. Right. Of course.

“You have a few unread messages,” your father called after you as you turned to walk back up the stairs. “You should let them know everything is alright.”

Be angry, a voice in the back of your head growled when Mabel continued to guide you through the now-unfamiliar corridors. It was a familiar voice, one that hadn’t reared its head in months, but you couldn’t quite place it. He went through your phone, so you need to get angry. No. No, you wouldn’t get angry. Why not? Your jaw clenched painfully. Nicky wouldn’t have gotten angry.

“Y/N.”

You stopped in the doorway of the room - your room - and looked sideways at Mabel. She looked older, more worn. Maybe it was just from working for your parents for so long. How was her son? Had he graduated college yet? He had wanted to be an engineer, if you remembered right. Why did she look so sad?

“I am truly sorry,” she said softly. “I cannot imagine your grief.”

No. No, she couldn’t imagine your grief. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to see him not even a week earlier, alive, and not knowing it would be the last time you saw him. She couldn’t fucking imagine what it was like and no one could fucking imagine what it was like.

The migraine throbbed again and you squeezed your eyes shut to try and ease it.

“The headaches will stop in time,” she said. Your eyes flew open. “They always have.”

“What?”

Mabel tilted her head and a crinkle formed between her eyes.

“Your headaches,” she said, her finger lifting to tap lightly against your left temple. “They always got worse when Nicky stopped suppressing.”

“Suppressing?”

Her sorrowful smile slipped into a frown.

"Yes," she said softly, "don't you remember?"

No.

"Well, I suppose that would defeat the point," she chuckled lightly. "He could suppress memories," she explained softly, gently, agonisingly. "He always chose the bad ones, of course." 

No. 

"I myself got a slight headache when he passed."

No.

"It's how I knew he was truly gone."

No!

"Y/N?"

You shoved past Mabel, forcing her back into the hall. The stairs passed under you four at a time until you were on the ground floor.

"Darling?-"

"-Where are you going?-"

"-It's 4 in the morning-"

"-Get back in the house."

Your parents' calls fell on deaf ears as you threw the front door open and stormed outside. Your feet picked up speed as you walked down the endless driveway. The moment they hit the pavement you broke out into a jog, then a sprint. Your shoes hit the pavement of the road in a steady rhythm.

"You really wanna know?" Nicky asked after taking another one of your chess pieces.

"You promised you would tell me," you said with a frown.

"How about I make it your graduation present," he teased. "Give you something to look forward to."

"Deal," you said with a smile. He knocked your king off the board.

The excessively large houses blurred as you ran down the street. Motion lights turned on and guard dogs barked when you passed by.

"That was the year they left us to fend for ourselves for the week," Nicky laughed with Yoko.

"I don't remember that," you said with a slight frown.

"You were, uh, too young," Nicky said with a smile and a pat on your back. "Not worth remembering anyway."

The houses thinned and were quickly replaced with trees. Your feet stumbled as pavement turned into dirt. Icy air froze your tired lungs, leaving a sensation of needles in your chest.

You pushed your feet faster.

"Nicky, I'm tired," you whined after tripping over your own feet again.

"Just a few more hours," he said. His shirt had finally dried and looked stiff. “Then we’ll be back at Nevermore.”

"You said that a few hours ago," you complained. "My skin is itchy."

"We'll wash it off later," he said. He wasn't even looking at you.

"Are they gonna find us?" You asked as you did a little jog to catch up to him and hold his hand.

"No," he said without hesitation. The dried blood was starting to flake off his forehead. The cut on his nose looked angry.

"Is this gonna give me bad dreams?" You asked in a small voice. He stopped in his tracks and picked you up, letting you crawl onto his back.

"Of course not," he said softly. "You won't even remember it."

The forest flew by. Each twig and branch that whipped across your face made you feel more and more alive. It was a feeling, and you needed a feeling. Anything, everything, whatever you could get.

Everything hurt. Oh god, it hurt so bad and you couldn’t scream.

“Hang on, kid, we’ve gotta get the door.”

“Where’s Nicky?” You asked. Your tongue felt heavy, like lead.

“Gotta get you first,” a man’s voice said. “Stay still.”

“Nicky?” You slurred; the words tasted of copper.

Your eyes fell to the top of the car that was now underneath you. It was covered in something shiny. Something red.

Your lungs couldn’t take it anymore. They couldn’t take the cold, couldn’t take the exertion, the stress, none of it. And it felt. You could feel them. The more you ran, the more it hurt and soon you could focus on the pain in your side instead of the pain in your head.

Memory suppression.

There was no thought about stopping, your feet just slowed their movements until you collapsed to your knees on the cold, damp forest floor. You felt the end of a stick dig into your hand, splitting the skin. The blood was warm; it was comforting. Each gasping breath felt like you were inhaling shards of glass, each one more painful than the last.

And it felt.

“I feel angry,” you said as you sat at the top of the wall and watched Nicky continue to climb.

“You always feel angry,” he grunted. He was stuck. As usual.

“I don’t know why,” you sighed. “I can’t think of anything that would make me angry.”

“It’ll go away,” he said as his face finally pulled up and you could look him in the eyes. “Good kids don’t stay angry.”

“Am I a good kid?” You asked softly. He smiled.

“The best.”

You let out the most feral, unhinged, excruciating scream you could possibly produce. It hurt your throat and left it feeling raw.

But it felt.

The sun had started to rise before you could get up from your position on the ground. Your knees were stiff and soaked to the bone and the stick in your hand had broken off. It would leave a splinter that would need to be dug out. There was a lingering ache in your throat and lungs and that migraine still wouldn’t go away. And when you started walking mindlessly back to the house, you could feel blisters on your feet and heels; a few of them even popped.

But at least it felt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?-”

“-We were about to call the police-”

“-You look like a stray dog-”

“-We just cleaned the entry-”

“-Where do you think you’re going?”

You couldn’t recall getting home. But you continued walking through the house as your parents called after you, practically dragging yourself up the stairs until you made it into your room. The door fell shut and the lock clicked into place and all you could do was fall back to your knees.

The cold wooden floor didn’t feel so bad. At least it felt.

—---

You wished you were numb again.

The day of mourning came and went, each second testing your patience and wearing you thin. You hadn’t slept, hadn’t showered, hadn’t even gotten up from your spot on the floor. You could hear your phone vibrating on the wood, almost loud enough to wake the dead. Maybe it would wake Nicky, you thought before finally checking it to make it stop.

Not even noon and you had 17 missed calls, 72 texts, and a plethora of messages from the vast array of other social media outlets. A large number were from Yoko, then Ajax, the rest of the group, and your family back home. Two or three calls from Momma Weems and your family. But your eyes started to sting when you saw the name for two messages.

Nicky.

You clicked on them immediately, desperately hoping to see what he had said. Something in the back of your head was screaming at you not to open them, not to get your hopes up. Your eyes trailed over the messages, reading them once, twice, three times before it finally clicked.

It wasn’t Nicky.

You had given Wednesday his phone.

You hadn’t ever changed the name.

Nicky: Thing wishes to know if you’ve made it back safe.

Nicky: I wish to know as well.

Fuck. Now you were making Wednesday feel things too? Why would she even care anyway.  It wasn’t like she loved you anyway, wasn’t like she even really cared. You knew she didn’t do love, she had said it to her mother time and time again. Why would she care if you were safe.

Didn’t she know Nicky was the one who needed the attention?

You growled at nothing in particular before throwing your phone across the room, hearing the screen shatter when it hit the wall. The sound made you flinch and you instantly felt that guilty feeling deep in the pit of your stomach. It vibrated again.

You didn’t check it.

—---

“You need to eat something before you go,” Mabel urged you once again as you finished buttoning up your shirt.

“‘m not hungry,” you mumbled. Your fingers faltered on the buttons; it wasn’t fitting like it was supposed to.

“You haven’t eaten in five days,” she said in a far softer voice. It was humiliating.

“Too busy planning,” you said, finally deciding to give up and instead throwing a jacket over the crooked, too-big shirt. “I’ll eat when I’m dead.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

You moved past Mabel and went down the stairs to meet up with your parents. It was the day to finalise plans; something that you knew was going to cause argument after argument. There had already been too many screaming matches the past few days, none of which ever came to a definitive conclusion.

Maybe today would be different.

“That jacket is unprofessional,” your mother said with a slight frown.

“The shirt doesn’t fit,” you said without looking up at her. Your fingers toyed with the shattered phone in your pocket.

“We will have it tailored,” your mother sighed, “again.”

“We will discuss it later,” your father said as he ushered everyone to the car. “We need to get going so we won’t be late.”

You sat in the back with the both of them while Jenkins started the drive to the funeral home. With a thunk, your head hit the window and you looked out at the houses passing by. The harness was pulled painfully tight and your wings were already stiff, but you didn’t care. At least it felt, right?

The phone in your pocket vibrated, and you pulled it out slowly to look at the two new messages.

Yoko: You don’t have to answer me, but answer Wednesday. She’s losing her mind

Ash: just saw your pop in town. told me about nicky. im so sorry

You exhaled through your nose and slid the phone back into your pocket without answering. There was no time to answer anyone anyway, you had planning to do. Although you shouldn’t be, he was still the source of the migraine that refused to go away.

Memory suppression. Just the thought made you sick and your mouth feel like you had swallowed cotton. How could he do that? How could he just hide your memories from you? Your own memories. He had no fucking right, those were your memories, not his.

“We’re here.”

You pulled your head back from the window and blinked a few times, doing your best to hide the anger. As you uncurled your fists, you could feel your nails pulling out of the skin; you had left four perfect crescent shaped cuts on your palms. Thankfully your pants were black, and you wiped the slightest bit of blood off on the legs.

The next thing you remember is sitting in one of the chairs across from the funeral director. You couldn’t recall getting out of the car, or introducing yourself. Hopefully you had done well or you would get an earful once you left.

“Today you will select the casket and can order the headstone,” the funeral director said as he slid over a bunch of paper.

“Casket?” You asked, turning your head to look at your parents. “We never agreed on burial.”

“Your mother and I have made the executive decision,” your father said with a smile.

“Then make a different one,” you said with a slightly raised voice.

“I’ll give you three a moment,” the funeral director said with a professional smile. Everyone stayed silent as he grabbed a few things and left, shutting the door behind him.

“Do not question our decisions in front of strangers,” your father said, his polite smile falling immediately.

“He didn’t want to be buried,” you said. Your chest felt tight, like it was caught in vice grips.

“He shall be buried with the other Smiths,” your mother said while you chuckled humourlessly. You pushed your chair back and stood up, walking to the other side of the table and pacing.

“He said he didn’t want to be buried,” you argued; the migraine was back. “Said it creeped him out and he would rather be cremated.”

“We never heard him say such a thing,” your mother said with a sigh.

“Maybe because you were never there,” you scoffed before freezing in your tracks.

Instantly the atmosphere in the room changed from uneasiness to aggression. You could feel the hair on the back of your neck and arms stand up and your breath caught in your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I beg your pardon?”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry-”

“-We were never there?” Your father asked, louder this time. 

You could hear the chair scrape against the floor and you turned your body to face him. He looked furious and the migraine came back stronger than before. Almost like someone was pushing glass into each individual fold of your brain. You could feel your palms getting sweaty.

Fight back, the voice in your head said. He abandoned us. Fight. Back.

“You weren’t there,” you said with a shaky voice. Be confident. “You left us and didn’t come back.”

“Did you ever stop to ask yourself why we would even consider doing such a thing?” Your father asked.

“Let’s focus on the burial,” your mother cut in, “we can talk about this later.”

“It’s because you produced two freak kids,” you said, your voice stronger, more confident. Your father walked around the table to come closer. Keep fighting. “Could you imagine if that got out?” He looked furious. “If anyone discovered that the high and mighty Smith family had two Outcast kids that they hid away-”

-your head jerked to the right as the slap echoed in the otherwise silent room. Keep it together, you thought as your lower lip started to quiver. You held back the stinging in your eyes as you stood up taller and turned back around to face him. It was times like this where you wished you were smaller so you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“You will never say such a thing again,” he said as he jabbed a finger into your chest. “Do I make myself clear?”

Hit him back.

“Crystal,” you whispered through clenched teeth.

“He will be buried,” your father said with another jab. “That’s final.”

You could feel the persistent stinging of your cheek as you all sat down and the funeral director came back in. He didn’t comment. You didn’t prompt him to.

—---

Mabel had worked for the Smith family for 23 years, she knew when to hold her tongue. But when you all came back from the funeral home and she saw the new blooming bruise on your cheek, she felt a mix of anger and pity. She wouldn’t pretend you were the best at holding your tongue; you never had been. But your father also allowed you to push his buttons until he snapped.

She didn’t have to ask to know that was exactly what happened.

The days leading up to the funeral reminded her an awful lot of when you were younger, with the obvious differences. You were still reckless, almost even careless. Accidentally breaking things, roaming around the house without direction, doing anything and everything your heart desired without seeking permission or forgiveness.

There were times when she would be cleaning and would hear the sound of the grand piano lingering in the air, and she would sneak around the corner to watch you. Back ramrod straight, slender fingers poised perfectly over the keys, face completely neutral as you read the music on the stand. It was beautiful to hear you play again, and the occasional jazz tune that would sound when you were certain your mother wasn’t around was all the more enjoyable because of the slightest smile on your face.

Other times Mabel would catch you leaving the house without warning, not coming back until late in the night with dazed eyes and dried tear tracks on your cheeks. Those were the nights she would gently take you by the shoulders and guide you back up to your room. You did nothing to assist her as she cleaned you up and dressed you in something comfortable so she could put you to bed.

She did her best to ignore each and every new bruise or scratch or scar.

It was impossible to get you to eat. You dropped weight faster than she could keep track of, and no matter how many meals she left in your room, they always went untouched. She tried to keep small snacks like protein bars in your room in the hopes that you would eat them, but she had no way to tell if you did or not.

On evenings where guests would come over and you would be “encouraged” to socialise, she took note of the amount of drinks you would have each evening. It was always far too many, and she and Jenkins would end up carrying you back up to your bed before everyone had left for the night. You would always accept your scolding with a grimace and two Tylenol the next morning and go about your day.

You would pick fights with your parents. Never over anything important, always little things and they were starting to pick up on that as well. At first they had fought back, getting into screaming matches with you and sending you off to your room. But then you tried to start fights over the silverware, or the way your shoes fit, or even how bright the lights were in the room. It didn’t take long for your parents to stop arguing back and just ignore you.

Mabel noticed that almost made you more angry.

Other times, your parents would nit pick at you as well. Over your hair, or the style of clothing you wore. If you had worn the same shirt twice or tracked mud into the house. Your speech quickly became more "professional" and you selected your words carefully in an effort to retaliate. It was far less outwardly destructive, but Mabel could still see the damage it inflicted reflect in your eyes.

But through all of your anger and self destruction and attempts to grab anyone’s attention, you always treated her and Jenkins with the utmost kindness and respect. That was what reminded her of when you were young. It was in the gentle “thank yous” or the soft smiles when she would hand you something. The questions about her son, or about Jenkins’ wife and cats, or any of the neighbours.

She knew you were a good kid. She knew, and Jenkins knew, and that was probably what hurt them the most through it all. You were a good kid with no one to truly lean on and no one to help guide you through this loss. And they knew it was just going to build and build and build inside you until it exploded.

The day before the funeral was the day you would see Nicky for the last time, and Mabel could see the fear and anger in your eyes. She and Jenkins had fully prepared themselves for your mental state when you got back, but even they couldn’t have prepared themselves fully.

You came into the house dazed, not hearing a single thing your parents were saying. But then it was like a switch had been flipped and you clenched your jaw before making a snide remark back to your mother. It didn’t take long to turn into a screaming match, and Mabel and Jenkins watched in horror as you balled up your fist and swung at your father.

The fear in his own eyes was evident even though your fist connected with the brick wall beside him; whether on purpose or not, you had missed him completely. Tears fell from your eyes and you screamed again as your father pulled you into a hug. Mabel watched helplessly as you tried to push him away before finally giving in and crying into his shoulder.

You held onto him like your life depended on it as your blood dripped down the pristine, white walls of the house.

“Your tie is crooked,” Mabel told you on the morning of the funeral. You had been struggling to get ready for over an hour, and no amount of makeup could hide the bags under your eyes or the lingering bruise on your cheek.

“So are these fucking buttons,” you mumbled as you ripped your dress shirt open to start over. She could feel you getting angry again. It was probably from the lack of sleep.

Or lack of food.

Or lack of help in general.

“Stay still,” Mabel huffed, setting the laundry basket down on your bed and standing in front of you.

You sighed, but remained still as she got to work on your shirt. It had been tailored only a few days before and still seemed a bit big again; it broke her heart. But she did her best to ignore it and focused on buttoning up your shirt properly. Your violent treatment had loosened two or three buttons, but she certainly wasn’t going to bring that up to you.

“How have your school ties survived this long if you can’t do them yourself?” She asked, her eyes darting up to meet yours. She almost thought you smiled.

“Wednesday always fixes them for me,” you said. You didn’t look down, but that was alright, she was focused on your tie anyway.

“You like this girl?” She asked softly. If your parents heard, they would have started screaming.

“A lot,” you answered just as softly. “I think I love her.”

“That’s a big emotion for you,” she said not unkindly.

“I hope I don’t fuck it up,” you whispered.

“You won’t,” she said with a smile as she patted your tie down. “You’re all set.”

You turned to look up at the mirror, eyes squinting and your jaw clenching before you relaxed. Mabel kept her smile to herself; she didn’t want to unintentionally encourage you to fight the reflection. You stood up straight and pressed your tie flat once again before slipping the suit jacket on.

“Thank you, Mabel,” you said softly, and you quickly leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. Your lips were chapped, but it was expected.

“I’ll see you when you get home,” she said with a smile. You smiled back once, halfheartedly, before walking out of the room.

She really hoped your anger wouldn’t explode at the funeral.

—---

The whole car ride made Wednesday feel sick to her stomach. It had been a short flight down to D.C. and now she, Thing, Yoko, and Weems were finishing the trip with the short drive to the funeral. The rest of the gang had opted to stay at Nevermore for the time being; they didn't want to overwhelm you. The funeral was supposed to be outside, or so your mother had said, but it looked like rain. Usually perfect for such an occasion.

Just not this one.

She checked the phone again, hoping you had finally answered. It was a foolish hope, she knew that much, but it still resided in her chest. No one had heard anything from you since you had left the harvest festival, not even Yoko or your family. She shouldn’t have expected you to answer her of all people.

But she hoped you would have.

“We shall give her space,” Weems said once she pulled the car through the gates to the cemetery. It was connected to the reception hall, where everyone would go after the service.

It reminded Wednesday an awful lot of the cemetery back home.

“Except you, Addams,” Yoko said, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts.

“Why me?” She asked.

“You give her peace,” Weems answered.

Well, that was comforting; surprising, Wednesday knew. To know that everyone else could see her effect on you; had they seen your effect on her? They probably had. Enid certainly had, and that was more than enough torture. But if they said she gave you peace, then who was she to argue.

Once the car was parked, everyone got out. Thing climbed onto her shoulder as she unfolded the umbrella. She waited patiently as Weems and Yoko got out as well, each holding their own umbrellas, before they started the short walk to the grave.

It seemed the rain had ruined the original funeral plans, seeing how no one was sitting anymore and the chairs were in the process of being removed. Wednesday and the small group stood off to the side and waited. They hadn’t exactly been invited, but who was going to stop them? Especially at a funeral.

You were one of the lead pallbearers, the one on the front left. Wednesday felt her heart drop into her stomach at the sight of you; dark eyes, clothes hanging off your smaller frame, your wings invisible beneath your suit jacket. But the worst part was you didn’t seem sad. No, you looked angry.

After lowering the casket back to the ground, you hesitated, your fingers running across the wood before you walked to stand near your parents. They tried to offer you an umbrella but you ignored them. You simply stood in the rain, looking down at Nicky’s casket as an old, unsteady man started talking.

Wednesday simply watched you the whole time. Watched the difference in your posture, your back straight and head up. She took note of the way you clasped your hands in front of you even though she could see the scabbed over skin pulled taut across your knuckles. She watched the muscles in your jaw tighten and relax, over and over and over as you blinked too many times to keep the tears at bay.

You were upset, rightfully so, but Wednesday couldn’t have found you more beautiful. Not because you were suffering, not because you were struggling, but because you were. You were handling everything so well, at least on the outside, and she couldn’t help but admire the way the rain fell down your face, caressing the skin in comfort.

Your family, you included, looked impeccable standing there together. Wednesday could only imagine how powerful all of you would have looked if the four of you had been together; you, Nicky, and your parents. Standing there in perfectly tailored suits, manicured to perfection, neutral expressions on your faces. Is that how you would have looked if you had stayed with them? Would she have had the same pull toward you?

She waited until the funeral itself was over before making her way to your side. Everyone else - including Thing - had gone inside to escape the rain and start the reception, but you didn’t move a muscle. Her shoulder brushed against your arm when she got close enough, and for a moment your shoulders fell and your jaw unclenched.

“I’m tired, Wends,” you said in such a quiet voice that Wednesday almost couldn’t hear you over the rain. “And I feel alone.”

Time to use the comfort teachings everyone had been helping her with for the past two weeks. They had drilled it into her head time and time again, through all hours of the day and night until she could recite it properly. It was robotic sounding, she knew that much, but it was a start. She hoped it would work.

“It’s okay to feel sad,” Wednesday said. You stiffened beside her. “But you are not alone.”

“Did Yoko teach you that?” You asked, immediately catching on. She should have known better.

“I-,” don’t lie, “-yes,” she admitted. “I’m not particularly adept at comfort.”

“I don’t want comfort,” you said, turning to look at her. The rain had finally started washing off the makeup from your face and she thought she could see something on your cheek. “I don’t want pity. I want you to be real with me.”

“Real?” Wednesday inquired with furrowed brows.

“Yes, Wednesday, real,” you huffed. “Be real with me and tell me what you’re thinking.”

Now that you had put her on the spot, she wasn’t sure what she was thinking. She was thinking of the now-obvious bruise on your cheek and where it had possibly come from. She was thinking of the bags under your eyes if you had been getting enough sleep, which clearly you hadn’t.

Part of her was thinking of her own parents, as unusual as it would be. How they had fallen in love at a funeral and had confessed their undying devotion to each other. Funerals had always been a romantic event for the Addams family, and she was aware this was for your brother, but she couldn’t deny she knew what her parents had meant every time they reminisced.

Oh. That’s what she was thinking.

“I am thinking…,” she paused, blinking at you twice, three times and looking away. You wanted real. She looked back up at you to meet your probing gaze. “I love you.”

Your brows knit together as you looked away from her for a moment.

“What?” You asked quietly.

“You asked what I was thinking,” Wednesday clarified slowly. “I was simply thinking that I-”

“-Don’t say it again,” you interrupted.

And right there, right then, Wednesday felt her cold dead heart break in her chest.

“You did not just say that,” you said with a huff. “Did you really just confess?”

“Yes,” Wednesday said indignantly. “It’s what I was thinking at the moment.”

“We’re at my brother’s funeral, Wednesday,” you said, far louder this time. “Do you really think this is the time?”

“You asked,” she said again. “Why would you ask if you didn’t want to know?”

“I can’t,” you said as you held your hands up and started backing up. “I just- I can’t do this right now.”

Wednesday let her umbrella fall as she watched you walk off toward the reception hall with hands on your head, covering your ears. She could feel the rain slowly seeping through her coat, but all she could really focus on was you. Only you, and how her father had been right.

Love was agony.

—---

You were going to be sick. You could feel it in your chest, your lungs, your stomach. Your mouth wouldn’t stop salivating and you were going to be sick. How could she say that? How could she tell you that now? Your palms were sweaty when you dragged them down your face, ignoring the makeup that you wiped off with it.

It should have been exciting to hear Wednesday say such a thing. She was capable of love, a genuine love, and had even felt so strongly as to verbally tell you as such. And it had been ruined because they had killed Nicky and now you couldn’t even enjoy the single fucking good thing in your life.

You felt sick.

Your parents were standing in the middle of the room, talking and laughing with some lawyer or congressman or senator or whoever the fuck else could put up with them long enough to talk. It was like they weren’t even upset, they weren’t even devastated that their son, their first born, was currently being buried six feet under. Didn’t they care?

You felt sick.

Weems, Yoko, and Thing were off to the side, talking with each other. They looked up, almost as if sensing your staring, and gave you sad smiles. They pity you, the voice in your head spat in disgust. You frowned at the thought and turned around, looking for someone, anyone to talk to. Hell, at that point you would’ve taken the old man off to the side that was giving you a look that made you rather uncomfortable.

Your eyes fell on a couple standing next to the fireplace, talking quietly with each other. Something about them seemed familiar, but you couldn’t quite place from where. But you stopped caring when you saw the subtle cloud of smoke fall from the taller one’s lips and you quickly made your way over.

“Mind if I steal a hit?” You asked when you got nearby. The taller one smiled sadly.

“Sure,” they said as they handed the vape over.

You grabbed it and brought it to your lips, inhaling deeply. It scalded your throat and stung your lungs as you held it in for far too long before slowly exhaling. You watched the smoke as it evaporated into the air, leaving nothing but a sickeningly sweet smell in its place.

“That’s disgusting,” you mumbled as you handed it back to them. The shorter one still hadn’t looked up from the hole they were staring into the ground.

“It’s marshmallow,” they chuckled.

“Like I said,” you said, “disgusting.”

“You’re Nicky’s sister,” they said with a half smile, avoiding your gaze by looking out at the crowd again.

“You’re a couple of strangers,” you said.

“I’m Casey,” they chuckled lightly, “and this is Devon.”

Devon finally looked up and eyed you up and down before looking back to the crowd with the slightest hint of a sneer. If you hadn’t spent so much time with Wednesday, you would’ve missed it. What could they possibly be sneering at you for? It was your brother’s funeral. You felt the muscles in your jaw tighten.

“He talked about you a lot,” Casey said softly.

“How would you know?” You asked way more harshly than necessary. Part of you didn’t care. Okay, none of you cared. “He hasn’t exactly done much talking recently.”

“The three of us were… close,” they said with a distracted nod.

“He was in a coma for four years,” you scoffed, “how close could you be.” You reached over and took the vape from their hand and brought it to your mouth for another hit.

“We were his partners.”

You choked on the smoke, leaving your throat raw and scratchy. Your head spun to look at Casey and Devon, eying them to see any sort of discrepancies in their body language. If Wednesday had taught you one thing, it was how to tell if someone was lying. Avoiding eye contact, licking their lips, anything.

There wasn’t a single sign.

He hadn’t told you he was dating anyone. Why hadn’t he told you? Surely he would have, you two told each other everything. He was your big brother, for fuck sake, he would have told you. Right?

Right?

“We loved him too,” Casey said softly; they still weren’t looking at you.

He lied. He fucking lied.

You looked out at the crowd and took another hit of the vape. Then another. And another. And a fourth one for good measure. It felt like your lungs were going to burn themselves to embers, but you didn’t care. At least it felt. After a fifth hit, you slipped it back into Casey’s hand and continued looking out at the crowd.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice now hoarse and deeper than usual.

“We’ll get through it,” they said. “He’ll get his justice.”

They know he deserves justice too, the voice in the back of your head said. You couldn’t argue with it. But what else could you say? It was too much and you had too many questions. Where had they met? How long had they known Nicky? How long had it been going on?

You felt sick.

You didn’t bother saying anything else to them before walking off, walking through a haze until you ended up with the group your parents were talking to. A few of them tried talking to you, giving their most insincere condolences before going back to their conversations.

It was disgusting. Watching them laugh and talk as if you weren’t standing at a funeral reception. As if you hadn’t been standing at Nicky’s literal graveside less than an hour ago. Heartless, the voice said, they killed him and are using it as an excuse to socialise. 

“I can’t recall what caused his condition,” one of the men said when there was a lull in the conversation.

“A car wreck,” your father said with a few mindless nods of his head.

“That’s tragic,” a woman said. “Drunk driver?”

“An Outcast, actually,” your father answered.

Wait.

“What did you say?” You asked, drawing everyone’s attention.

You felt something tug on your pants, and your eyes darted down for just long enough to see Thing. He was wearing a little black bowtie around one of his fingers. But you weren’t focusing on him; you were too busy thinking about what your father had said.

“I said an Outcast caused the wreck that killed my son,” your father continued. His back straightened as he kept eye contact with you.

“Abominations, the lot of them,” a man huffed before taking another drink of the wine in his glass.

Thing pulled at your pants leg again. You kicked him away, listened to the subtle sound of him scuttling across the floor. Thankfully no one else had noticed him.

“An Outcast didn’t kill him,” you bit back. “You two were the ones that pulled his life support.”

The group around you fell silent, now beyond interested in the conversation. Any chance to get a good helping of gossip, of course. That was how all socialites worked, especially when another socialite was involved. In this case it was your parents; they were going to be the talk of the town for a year.

“No son of mine should have to exist as a vegetable simply because we couldn’t be merciful,” your mother said. “Especially because of some sinful abomination.”

“Stop calling them abominations,” you growled through clenched teeth.

Your fingers were starting to ache as they curled into fists at your side. Your pulse was rushing in your ear and for a moment, you felt your chest was going to explode. That your heart would beat faster and faster, harder and harder until it finally broke free.

You took a single step closer.

“If it were up to me, I’d have them all euthanised,” your father said as he smiled at you with his “show everyone we’re perfect” smile. You took another step forward until you were almost directly in front of him. “The world would be a much better place.”

The sounds of the world muffled in your ears, and all you could hear was the sound of your own breathing. Erratic, shallow, rushed. Something dripped down your neck and your jaw felt like it was going to crack under the pressure. That migraine came roaring back as you stared into your father’s eyes.

Do it.

Your fist connected with his nose before you could even comprehend what was happening. The people around you gasped and stepped back as your father fell to the ground. One of his hands attempted to stop the flow of blood while he held the other out in front of him.

But you saw red.

You knelt down on top of him, only one thing on your mind as you grabbed his shirt collar. He almost looked remorseful for a moment. But only for a moment. Again. You tightened your grip on his collar as you swung again. And again. And again.

Harder.

You could hear Nicky in the back of your head, screaming and pounding against the inside of your skull. Telling you to stop, begging you to let your father go. Each time Nicky pounded against your skull, you threw another punch. And another. Something wet slid down your cheeks and you couldn’t stop.

Something wrapped around your waist and yanked you back. Hard. The wind flew out of your lungs and you instantly grabbed onto the arms around you. You tried to pull them off but your hands were slick and you couldn’t get a good hold. You were stuck.

“Y/N, stop,” the voice said into your ear. Weems?

“Say it again,” you shouted at your father who was frozen on the ground, bruised eyes focused on you. “Say it again, you fucking coward.”

“Breathe,” another voice said before someone stepped in front of you. Yoko?

“You're defending the group that killed your brother,” your mother said as she knelt down to look at your father’s injuries. He was wheezing and covered in blood. "You should do this to them instead."

You tried to lunge forward again, and the arms around your waist almost gave out. You threw a leg out, hoping to kick him while he was down. Just one more. But the arms around your waist tightened again, and Yoko grabbed your flailing feet until you were being carried out of the room.

“Don’t you fucking touch them,” you shouted as you continued attempting to fight and Weems and Yoko struggled to carry you. “I’ll fucking kill you next time.”

You felt sick.

The cold air and rain hit you like a brick wall when you were finally outside. The arms and hands holding you back let go and you fell onto the ground as you stared at the now-closed doors of the reception hall. Your frantic breathing was the only thing you could hear.

“Breathe.”

Another face came into view, and almost instantly your breath caught in your throat. Wednesday’s eyes were wide and focused on your face. They were bloodshot; why were they bloodshot? Her hands were poised to touch you, to check you for injuries, but the moment you felt her hand on your arm you flinched.

You saw red. Only red. You wanted to hurt something. Someone. You didn’t give a fuck who it was, you just wanted to make someone else hurt the way you were hurting. To swing at whoever was closest.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you said as you crawled back across the ground. Wednesday immediately let go.

I don’t want to hurt you, you thought as you pushed yourself up to your feet until you could start stumbling away. Shaky fingers unbuttoned your jacket and ripped the buttons off your shirt until you could reach the harness. They were calling after you; you didn’t know what they were saying. The harness hit the ground and the moment your wings unfurled, you jumped into the air.

You had nearly hurt Wednesday.

You felt sick.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Stolen Child: A Much Needed Screaming Fit

Okay, so, as I said earlier - I'm fine. The story's fine. I'm not angry at anyone about anything or shouting at or accusing anyone of anything or any of that sort of thing that I might come across as somehow because I'm shouting and only sort of semi-coherently. I'm just shouting because I need to shout.

Basically, I've been feeling increasingly just…tired and tense? The temperature spike this weekend did not help at all, since I am not a heat person and it narfs my sleep. And my brain finally phrased last month as "I didn't have a single day off in August because every time I wasn't at work I was some stripe of not-feeling-well", at which point the rest of my mind and body went "YES EXACTLY!" and doubled down on the exhaustion and anxiety. I also have another routine medical appointment next Tuesday and something going on with my hand that looks kinda like ringworm, but doesn't act like ringworm (and how would I have picked up ringworm there?), which I will need to make another appointment for. Which means I really need to have a good, old fashioned, overstimulated three-year-old level melt down about something I care about, but that is not ultimately important to the universe and then go…I dunno. Maybe eat some ice cream and take a nap. Definitely with the napping.

Since Stolen Child is kinda the Big Craft Community Craft Thing right now and ranting about it could, conceivably, generate some useful dialogue which always results in Happy Brain Chemicals (useful right now!), we're going with that one. So if you feel like reading through the flailing mental health fail rant and giving advice, observations, feedback, or just patting me on the head and saying "Don't forget to breathe, dear. Air is important", go right on ahead. If you don't, eh. Not your job. Feel free to keep scrolling.

And now! Here we go! Ready, set - MELT DOWN!

This right here? Is a great comment. It's a lovely comment. I love informative comments like this! There's only one problem with it:

I SERIOUSLY NEEDED THIS INFO BACK WHEN I WAS PLANNING THE ORIGINAL STORY!

See, back in 2017, when I was first plotting this whole thing, my plan was to have him wind up…not heir. I seriously think he'd be happier doing like Tom and Henry and living at Downton, but running a clock shop somewhere and letting Mary run the estate and George be the heir. Thing is, I didn't know that was possible just like that. I hadn't made any of my UK fan-friends at the time (heck, I don't think I had this account yet?). As I have mentioned a million times, I fail at research, although I have been slowly getting a bit better with help. So at the time I thought that an Earl's son became the heir, no questions asked, and no options unless they abdicated which was fully what I intended on having Thomas do after a bit of trying and getting a headache and having him and Mary both unintentionally-but-avoidably stomp all over each other's toes. Then I started rewatching (didn't make it through season one because I have officially hit the 'can't really watch things on my own' stage) and was immediately reminded that Matthew didn't have a choice but to be heir. Oh! Oops! Guess Thomas can't abdicate! Which is how we wound up with the current draft.

And this comment.

Now, I have no reason to disbelieve the statement that they don't need to recognize Thomas, but I can't think of why my UK friends wouldn't have pointed it out at some point, except that I did always call it the Thomas-as-Heir fic which could have lead to the concept that heir was my desired end game. Or perhaps it was one of those things that just didn't get questioned because subconsciously they thought it was my desired end game. Or maybe something else perfectly logical! I mean, there are reasons it could have happened, but my brain is not braining good right now, so. Point being, I didn't know and I'm still not sure and this firmly falls outside of my 'things I can comfortably research'. If it were modern, sure! But history?

Seriously, my researching lessons in school extended to 'go to the library and read a book' and stopped. There was nothing about how to gauge how trustworthy the book was, or if there was, I didn't learn it because I moved through three school districts (five if you count college and uni) and wasn't in the right district at the right time. Given how obvious it is that there are a lot of history books out there that straight up lie (and I don't just mean the school texts. I've tried to teach myself history in recent years and wound up straight up calling bull shit on several books), this leads to massive trust issues. I asked at my local library if they had a research librarian on staff and bless his heart, the fellow I was talking to didn't even know what that was. There's another library nearby that is bigger, but I keep forgetting that it's part of our library system now and honestly I don't even know how to drive there and don't like driving in that area anyway and I'm not even sure the busses will take me there in a reasonable manner given public transport in this area. I know I've heard of a couple other tricks over the years that I've carefully noted down in places I've forgotten about so that I could reference them later.

…yeah.

And if it is true (which I have every reason to believe it is), what then? I've already set up the entire story to have Thomas be recognized as heir! I mean, I could put it on hold and rewrite the ending. There are a couple of scenes that would be easy, but others would be straight up impossible. I'd also have to lose at least three scenes that I've been looking forward to sharing and that people would love, and I don't know what I'd replace them with, and I'd have to rewrite the dinner scene (*straight up cries at the thought*), and I am a slow writer, so I have no idea when it would be done! I kinda hate the idea of telling everyone "We're going to be a chapter a week!" and then three chapters later going "Haha, just kidding! Indefinite hiatus while I fix the entire plot!" Especially since right now reader comments are definitely my primary 'happy chemical' source and I need that! On the other hand, I really, really love the idea of this being a one shot and not having to figure out what happens next! But it might not get done for another ten years if I try that!

If I do stick with him as heir, it seems like people would know that not recognizing him was an option, so I'd still need to do some rewriting to explain why he winds up heir! And why would he? The only thing I can come up with given my current setting is Cora pitching an ever loving (dignified, restrained) fit over the idea of not acknowledging him and he and Robert just going "OKAY OKAY WE YIELD!" which will still take some rewriting, but a lot less (I think I can keep the rewrites ahead of the posting schedule for the most part maybe?), and will still leave me figuring out where we go from here, but might work as a decent compromise?

Either way, I have to figure out what I'm doing before I post next week's chapter! And all my brain wants to do is melt into a puddle of goo for a month! The idea of trying to research or plot or anything like that just makes me want to sit in the shower and cry! I WANT A MONTH'S VACATION FROM LIFE, DAMN IT ALL!

Edit: I now have an appointment to have my hand looked at this Wednesday.

[darkbluekies]

A oneshot let's see if I do this right, can you do a oneshot of Hedwig meeting the reader? As in the start of it all I wanna see a little mini story of all that

I've got my eye on you

female!yandere OC x reader

Summary: A new students catches the eye of the popular, rich girl and she finds herself falling for you harder than she's ever done before. Hedwig comes up with a plan to lull you in and make sure you'll be hers only.

Warnings: none really, I think, maybe manipulation? Hedwig changes in front of reader (back towards them) but still-

Word count: 2.1k

Senior year. Only one more year until she’s free and gets out of here. She’ll go to Paris. Or Milan. Maybe travel around the world?

Hedwig steps into the classroom and greets her friends. Her father has forced her to go to a normal school to understand the normal people. They’re nice, but she feels like they’re not understanding her in the way her rich friends understand her. Hedwig can’t talk about her life in the same way without getting jealous looks. But she’s come to terms with it now. Her wealth isn’t only negative, she's gotten quite popular by it. If you don’t want her, you want to be her. 

Everything is normal … until she steps her foot into the art classroom for the first time this semester. Someone is sitting in the very spot she normally sits. Someone she’s never seen before. 

“Excuse me”, she says. 

The person — who happens to be you — looks up. 

“Yeah?” you ask quietly. 

“This is my desk”, she says. 

“Oh, I’m sorry … I didn’t know …”

You’re about to take your stuff and leave, but she stops you. 

“No, no, no”, she says. “It’s okay. You can stay. There are two chairs, aren’t there? I’ll sit beside you.”

“I’ll remember it for the next time.”

“Thank you.”

Hedwig's friend has to sit somewhere else. The friend gives you a nasty look before sitting down in the front of the class. 

You start working on your new projects. Hedwig glances over at your self portrait and finds herself smiling. 

“Pretty”, she says. 

“Oh, thank you”, you say quietly without looking at her.

“I don’t know what I should do. I can’t come up with something.” She drops her pencil down on the table. “My brain isn’t working.”

You look up from your portrait and meet her hazel eyes. 

“Why don’t you paint a scenery?” you ask. “That always works.”

Hedwig smiles. “What kind of scenery should I paint? 

You think. “Maybe … a winter landscape? You won’t have to use too many colors and details.”

“Thank you.” She blushes. “What’s your name, by the way? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Y/N, I’m new.”

“Really? No wonder I didn’t know who you were. I’m so sorry for not noticing you earlier.”

She can’t understand how she hasn’t. You’re gorgeous! How has she not noticed you until today? Now that she has, she can’t tear her eyes off of you.

“It’s okay”, you whisper, suddenly embarrassed. “I was actually trying my best not to be noticed.”

“Why?”

You shrug and look away. Hedwig can feel her entire body heat up. She looks down at your hand holding the pen and wants nothing more than to take it in hers. 

“You’re good at drawing”, she says when she realizes that she’s been staring at your hand for a few minutes. Playing it off as staring at your drawing. “It really looks like you.”

“Thank you.”

“Could you help me with mine?”

You nod and turn to her. Hedwig’s holding her pen and you take it out of her hands in a gentle manner that makes her heart flip. Your fingers brush against her hand and it sends electric shocks all throughout her body. She gulps and watches how you help her sketch out an outline of a few mountains before turning back to your own drawing. All nerves in her body are screaming at her to make you touch her again. She can’t understand why she’s suddenly feeling like this, but she knows that she needs more. 

“I-I’m Hedwig by the way”, she says quickly, desperate to pick up the conversation again. 

“I know”, you answer quietly. “Everyone talks about you.”

“Oh.” Hedwig’s suddenly terrified of what you’ve heard about her, maybe people’s gossip has made you dislike her already? She feels a weird longing for you to like her, to give her approval. “What are they saying?”

“They talk about you like you’re a celebrity. They’re talking about your parents and how they think your life is. I’m not really sure, I haven’t heard much.”

“Don’t listen. People are always talking.”

You nod and the situation grows silent again. Hedwig bites her lip. 

“Could you help me again?” she asks. “I don’t know how to do this.”

You give out a small sigh and turn to her again. Unlike last time, you place your hand over hers, guiding her hand and the pen. Hedwig can swear that her heart stops at the feeling of your soft hand against hers. She feels dizzy. 

WHen it’s lunch time, Hedwig asks if you want to eat with her. You nod shyly. You’ve never sat with the popular kids before and you don’t know any of these kids. Only Hedwig and you only met her an hour ago. To your surprise, she barely acknowledges her friends. Her full attention is on you, asking you where you’re from, what made you move here, how your family life looks like, what your interests are, what makes you scared and happy and what kind of person you are. Not a single time during lunch does she look away from your face. She has a sparkling hint in her eyes and a smile on her perfect face. 

The very next day, Hedwig looks up from her desk when you enter the classroom. She’s sitting alone today.

“Y/N, do you want to sit with me?” she asks and removes her bag from the chair beside her. “I saved a seat for you.”

Without answering, you sit down beside her. She’s quick to turn to you and ask you about your morning. 

“Y/N, would you like to come over to my house after school and study?” she asks. “We have a test coming up in two weeks and … I need a study buddy.”

You nod carefully. A bit of help on geometry wouldn’t hurt. And that’s how you come home to Hedwig’s gigantic villa for the first time. It looks more like a smaller mansion than a regular house. A white — almost yellow — Georgian house with lots of details. The entrance to the driveway is a pair of giant black gates to keep unwanted people from coming in. She has a chauffeur who drives her to and from school each day and he greets you nicely, adding honorifics. 

“My parents aren’t home”, Hedwig says over her shoulder as you enter the big hall.

A maid welcomes Hedwig home and offers to take your bag, but you shake your head, too intimidated by the sheer size of Hedwig’s house to be able to think clearly. 

You follow Hedwig upstairs, bag clutched in your hands. 

“This is scaring me a bit …”, you whisper. 

“What?” she asks in worry. 

“All of this … it’s a bit intimidating.”

Hedwig smiles reassuringly. “Don’t be scared. It’s not a museum, it’s a home.”

Hopefully it’s your home too, but Hedwig doesn’t say that.

“Are you hungry?” she asks and opens the door to her room. 

Even her room looks like money. 

“A bit” you admit.”

“Yeah, I noticed that you didn’t eat the school lunch”, Hedwig smiles and. “I don’t blame you. I’ll go tell the chef to prepare something for you, okay? He makes fantastic food.”

“You have a chef?”

“Yeah! You’ll love his food, I promise. He makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches you’ll ever have. I’ll go tell him to make some for you.”

Before you can stop her, she’s already darted out the door. You decide to pass the time by looking around her white room. You find pictures of her and alleged friends on cruises and yachts, her in pools and in the mountains plastered on the wall. This girl seems to have been everywhere. 

“I’m back!” Hedwig smiles and creeps up beside you. “What are you looking at?”

“Just your pictures”, you answer. “Are these your friends?”

“Yeah … they are. I don’t meet them as much because my father wants me to be in a public school with all the other children of our city. They go to a private school together. But I spend a lot of my vacations with them. We’ve been all around the world.”

“I can tell.”

“Do you like to travel?”

“Who doesn’t? I like to explore new places, but it costs a lot to go somewhere.”

“What’s your favorite place to visit?”

You shrug. “I haven’t been to so many places. What’s yours?”

“I really like Paris. It’s a beautiful city and they have such tasty food.” She turns around. “Should we study a little?”

You nod. You sit down at her desk and bring out your calculators.

A knock on the door interrupts you. It's the chef with the grilled cheese sandwiches. Hedwig thanks him and brings the plate over to you. Two perfectly grilled sandwiches are placed on the porcelain. Your mouth waters. 

“Bon appetit”, Hedwig smiles. “They’re all yours.”

“Thank you”, you say shyly but you don’t dare to touch them. Somehow you feel guilty.

“Y/N, are you okay?” 

“Yes … I just feel weird for making your chef make this for me.”

“It’s his job, don’t worry about it. Eat up now!”

This time, you dare to pick it up and take a bite. Heaven has granted access to your mouth.

“I told you it was good”, Hedwig smiles. 

You eat while you study and when you’re finally done, you notice how much time has passed. 

“It seems like you’ll have to stay here overnight …”, Hedwig says and the next sentence she says is nothing but a great lie. “The last bus has gone and my driver has finished for the day. Can your parents pick you up?”

You shake your head. They wouldn’t be pleased to drive you at this hour. It only makes Hedwig smile. Perfect. 

“You can stay here, my bed is big enough for two”, she says. “Just send a quick message to your parents and tell them that you’ll stay here.”

You sigh and do as she says. Your parents send you a heart back. They’re only happy that you’ve made a friend. 

You eat a delicious dinner in the kitchen made by her chef. It hits you that you haven’t seen her parents at all, but you don’t question it. From what you know about her, they’re busy.

When you’re going to bed, Hedwig walks over to her walk-in closet to grab herself a new pair of pajamas for both you and her. One of them being in your size. To your great surprise, she turns her back to you and removes her clothes. You gulp and try to look away in embarrassment. 

“S-Shouldn’t you go into the bathroom to change?” you stutter. 

“Why?” she asks and turns around. “It’s my room. Besides, if models can change in front of twenty people they don’t know … I can change in front of one person I hold dearly. But if you want to change in the bathroom, it’s down the hall. If you want to take a shower, there’s a white towel for you hanging on the hook.”

It sounds like she has planned this. Because she has. 

You do take a shower before you change into her pajamas and return to her room. She’s lying in her bed, scrolling on her phone. 

“We have to be up by seven tomorrow”, she says. “Otherwise we’ll be late to school.”

You nod and walk around the queen sized bed. This feels so wrong somehow. You’ve never shared a bed with someone before and especially not a beautiful girl who changed in front of you fifteen minutes ago. Hedwig turns off her phone and lies down with her front facing you. You try to mirror her motions and soon you're both lying down, facing one another.

“Goodnight, sleep well”, she smiles and turns off the light. 

Her fluffy sheets and soft mattress lull you into a deep slumber. Hedwig, however, can’t seem to be able to close her eyes. She’s staring at your features, wondering how she got so lucky to get you here. Her plan worked! She’s a genius! Soon, you’ll agree to be hers and these kinds of nights will be a recurring thing. Soon, she’ll dare to wrap her arms around you as you go to sleep. She’ll be able to kiss you and give you everything you want. 

Oh, Hedwig can’t wait until you’re fully hers. Then, no one will be able to take you from her, because what Hedwig wants, Hedwig gets … and so has it always been. The ones that cross her always get shoved aside one way or another. 

“You’re mine, my wonderful little Y/N”, she whispers and lets her fingertips brush over your cheek. “I’ll treat you so well, I promise. I’ll make sure you’re safe and happy. My beautiful Y/N.”

[littlesubcutie]

Imagine this,

Your daddy comes home it’s been a long day, he’s had a rough one and is angry he decides to take the edge off by getting high and having a few drinks with you. As you take hit after hit of weed you can slowly feel yourself getting stupider and worrying what’s got daddy all worked up. He’s silent and just keeps feeling you he’s “fine”. The more high and drunk you get you start to tell him exactly what you want begging him to just take all that anger out on you, you promise him you can’t take it he can be as rough as he likes.

He looks at you in a way you’ve never seen before his eyes filled with rage grabs you by the throat and pushes you into the wall with such force you’ve got tears starting to swell up in your picture perfect eyes. He questions you “are you sure you’re up for this princess, are you sure you can take this”. You whimper and managed to get out softly while his hand is still choking you against the wall “y-y-y-yes daddy” as the tears start to drip down your face.

That was all he needed to take out this fucking stressful day on his put and without wasting a moment he rips a hole in the front of your tights and starts rubbing your clit hard and fast which only leads to him slamming finger after finger in your tight little pussy without warning you whimper at the pain of each finger he adds as tears flow down your precious face. Barely able to breathe now and losing consciousness you tell him “yes hurt me daddy I’m yours to do as you please”. He grabs your throat just a little tighter and starts sliding you up the wall until he can get your legs over his shoulders and the moment he does, he lets go of your throat allowing you to breather again and just as you take that first breath in it’s followed instantly by moaning as you can feel his tongue and mouth sucking on your clit through the hole in ripped in your tights earlier.

This was such a rush you’ve never had someone care so little and yet so much to give you exactly what that sick slutty brain of yours has craved for fucking years, you’ve finally got a daddy that will cross the line of pleasure and pain and do the things you’ve fantasised about for years. It doesn’t take long for all that pressure that been building up inside of your pathetic slutty body to finally want to be realised. These thoughts of him possibly being the only one that could ever make you feel this way combined with the pain and pleasure he is given to you has you ready to cum already.

He keeps eating your pussy like he hasn’t eaten it in weeks acting like an animal that’s barely been feed occasionally stopping to put bite marks in your thighs just to watch you fucking quiver from the pain each time you look down he smiles every time you shake and whimper from it hurting which in turn makes you happy because your finally being a good slave for daddy and giving him what he wants.

You ask him if you can cum and he promptly replies “no, wait until I say you do as told whore”. You get lost at the thought of him saying this to you but try to keep a clear mind and focusing on cumming when daddy says he stops eating you out and bites down on your inner thigh harder than he has ever before you almost jump off of him screaming from the pain and as you look down you can see he has made you bleed from the bite.

He licks the blood up and starts eating you out again while tears of pain and pleasure stream down your face, he’s getting faster and and faster and stops for a second and says “you can cum now my pathetic needy little slut”. You take no time in screaming out in pleasure as you doesn’t stop eating you eat while you shake violently on his shoulders against the wall as you’ve never felt this type of pleasure before and you’ve never cummed as hard as this but he want stop he keeps eating you out even as you beg him to stop he keeps going and going until all the pressure finally releases even harder than it ever has before and your pathetic little pussy squirts all over your daddy’s face.

You get embarrassed, slightly blushing and worried about what he’s gonna think of you. You’ve never done this before, you didn’t even know you could do this until now and it’s all because of him, all you do know is you just don’t want it to end not now, not ever.

He licks all the squirt up mixing it in with the blood until his had his fill and then grabs you off his shoulders and forces your ruined face already covered in tears into the floor “clean up your fucking mess now” he says as he pushes your face into your squirting mess on the ground. You start to lick it up and ass you do you can feel him rip the hole in your tights just that bit larger and before you can realise what his happening you can feel his big thick juicy cock right in your pussy where it belongs. You moan from the pleasure and as you lift your head up to moan you are met with him smashing it back into the floor. “Did I say to stop cleaning your fucking mess you stupid slut you do as I say, do you understand.”

You start licking again and cleaning the floor while he pounds you from behind using his bodyweight to keep you pinned to the ground. It feels so good and you can feel his cock so deep inside you rubbing in places you never thought possible for a man to actually hit. As you clean the last few drops. You moan to him “please breed me daddy, I know I’m a stupid little slut but please breed me and make me yours”. You felt his cock grow in size and width from those words you knew he was close now as he pushes your head into the ground he grabs your long perfect hair and rips your head up just to make sure he hears you moan. He demands “ come again and I’ll breed you I’ll make you mine for life”. Hearing this words and it’s already to late you have no time to warn him you’ve already started to cum “I-i-i-I’m cum-cum-cuming daddy” you scream out as fucks you like no one has ever done before him.

He can feel your pussy tightening around his cock and and cumming all over it and he doesn’t stop slamming into you while he cums and breeds you like the pathetic needy little slut you are. You feel his hot warm cum feel your needy pussy up there’s so much of it, it’s dripping out of your pussy while he keeps fucking more and more of it into you. He pulls his cock out and leaves you dripping in crying in the fetal position as he leaves the room.

Moments later he returns “ are you ok princess, you did such a good job letting daddy take his anger out”. You whimper while crying “yes I’m ok, do you feel better daddy”. He replies “yes darling it’s all thanks to you, let me take care of you”. You can feel him cleaning your bleeding bite mark up with some antiseptic and he picks you up and carries you to the shower. He starts washing your hair and cleaning your body off while you cry on his shoulder still in awe of the pleasure you’ve just had.

As he showers you and looks after you you can see him looking at the damage his down and you see a single tear start to form in his eyes “I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to hurt you this much I just had a really bad day”. You respond “I’m glad I could make it better” as you share a tearful embrace with each other in the shower you look at one another and kiss passionately and the last words to leave both of your lips at the same time is “I love you”.

You know who xx

This.... ladies and gentlemen... is how you capture my attention 🤌

[oleander-nin]

Flirting and Feelings(Rise! Leo x Reader)

A/N, not important: Hate this with all my heart. I can't write. Going to scream. This was going to be so much longer, but if I have to spend any more time on it, I'm going to rip my hair out. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: bad writing, emotions, Leo gets really anxious for a minute there

Words: 1485

Summary: ROTTMNT Leo decided to boldly flirt but the reader thinks he's making fun of them.

Leo keeps his gaze on the human in the doorway, a dreamy look in his eyes as he watches them laugh with Mikey in the kitchen. It was hard for Leo to stay silent, wanting nothing more than to go up to his crush friend and start talking to them. Being able to only watch the two talk, the two cook, hurt. Leo had talked to Mikey earlier to confirm they didn’t each have a crush on the same person, Leo almost giddy with joy when Mikey denied feeling any romantic attraction towards (Y/n). Leo was confident Mikey remembered the plan, Mikey having felt bad for Leo’s inability to converse with his crush. All Leo needed to do was wait for the signal, and he could go talk to (Y/n). Alone. Leo gulped, taking in a deep breath trying to calm his nerves. He’d have to wait for them to put whatever they were making into the oven first anyway, he had time. He just had to memorize what to say.

Leo looks back to his phone, a light dust of red across his snout and spreading to his cheek bone refuses to fade, the anticipation making his heart beat furiously. The wikiHow article wasn’t the most helpful, but it was better than Donnie’s advice.(He appreciated it, but Leo had the feeling that ignoring (Y/n) and not talking to them at all wouldn’t help.) The only thing that resonated with Leo was to flirt. Leo was confident he could do that, and most likely do it well. Leo was the face man after all, smooth talking was his thing!

Leo’s head perks up once more as he hears the shut of the oven, Mikey saying something to (Y/n) Leo couldn’t quite hear. Leo watches carefully as Mikey exits the kitchen with his hands behind his back, whistling the opening tune to the Jupiter Jim 8 episode mini series: The Galactic 7. Mikey winks at Leo before going down one of the many adjoined tunnels in the lair, leaving Leo’s sight. Leo beams, his hands tapping his thighs nervously. The whistling tune was the signal, he had around 30 minutes to go do what he wanted. A romantic confession between two people who were certainly destined to fall in love. At least, that’s what Leo hoped.

Swallowing his fear, Leo stands up and rubs his sweaty palms on his bike shorts, making his way to the kitchen. Knocking slightly on the wooden cabinet by the entrance to alert them to his presence, Leo shoots (Y/n) the smuggest grin he could muster. (Y/n) gives Leo a small wave return, acknowledging him before returning back to their phone. Leo’s confidence crumbles slightly at this, having wanted a more definite confirmation that he was welcome in their presence. Leo shrugs it off though, his wide grin still plastered on his face despite the vice around his chest.

Leo leans against the island counter, drumming his knuckles against the hard surface. (Y/n) glances at Leo, their eyes scanning his as they attempt to decipher what the turtle mutant was doing. Leo picks up one of his hands, halting the small rhythm being beaten into the faux wood surface and gives (Y/n) a small wave. Leo’s face softens as the human rolls their eyes, chuckling softly. The butterflies tormenting his stomach calm slightly, his chest filling with air once more.

“You feeling okay?” The sudden sound of their voice makes Leo jump slightly, the haze lifting off his brain. Leo lets out a small laugh, a brighter, softer smile replacing the previous smug one.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you have a Band-aid though?” Leo’s confidence quickly returns as he asks his question, his brain staticky as he tries to keep his hands from shaking. This was it. He was going to tell them. Sure, he was going to tell them through a dorky pick-up line, but tell them nonetheless.

(Y/n) shifts in their position, putting their phone on the island as they pat their pockets. They frown slightly, looking up at Leo with concern that made his heart melt. “Nope, sorry. Do you need me to run to the bathroom to get you one?”

Leo just about died at that, feeling touched they cared enough to offer to go get one for him. He felt slightly guilty now, knowing he wasn’t actually injured. “No, it’s fine. I just scraped my knees when I fell for you.” Leo accompanies the delivery of the line with a wink, a small blush adorning his face once more. It felt off to Leo, he knew he said it wrong. It didn’t flow out of his mouth the way he wanted it to, and he felt his chest tighten up again. Leo scans their face, his bright smile seeming more nervous as he awaits (Y/n)’s response.

And waited.

And waited.

Leo’s smile falls completely at (Y/n)’s reaction, or lack thereof, as he starts twiddling with his fingers laughing nervously. (Y/n)’s face is blank, their forefinger tapping the counter as they look at Leo with their eyebrows furrowed. Leo didn’t understand. He expected a reaction at the very least, not judging silence. Leo chewed on the inside of his cheek, laughing nervously as he opened his mouth to speak. “Hey, look I’m-”

“Don’t say something you don’t mean.”

Leo’s taken aback by their sudden words, their face not changing from the annoyed look. Leo sinks slightly at the interruption, not knowing how to respond. “Excuse me?”

(Y/n) sighs, their body shifting to lean on their right arm while their left hand pinches the bridge of their nose in frustration. They let out a tired sigh, and Leo’s heart sinks into his stomach. Leo didn’t understand what he did wrong. Were they mad at him? Why was their first thought that Leo was lying? Did they really dislike Leo this much?

“The pick-up line. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” They finally clarified, their arms now crossed. Leo pats his thighs awkwardly, feeling stupid and pathetic. How did he mess up so badly he made the one person he finally loved believe his feelings were a joke? Leo regretted trying, regretted not listening to Donnie. Maybe this all would’ve gone better if Leo just ignored his feelings until they disappeared.

Leo racks his brain, trying to find the best way to explain why he did what he did. In the end, only four simple words popped out. “I meant every word.”

(Y/n) gives Leo a look he can’t quite decipher, his mask mimicking furrowing eyebrows as he scans them. (Y/n) visibly chews on their cheek, huffing slightly. “Do you mean it?”

Leo nods, swallowing nervously as his fingers tap out a nonsensical rhythm into the counter. (Y/n)’s face finally has a smile, small chuckles falling from their lips. (Y/n) reaches their hand out, setting it on top of Leo’s own shaking appendage. Leo’s eyes softened, his face one of worry but it was starting to settle. Leo meets (Y/n)’s eyes, trying to figure out the meaning of anything (Y/n) was doing.

“I like you too, Leo.”

Leo freezes at this, his brain frying for a moment as he processes (Y/n)’s words. They like him back. They like him back. Leo’s face finally breaks from the stress filled gaze as a large smile kicks his frown out of place. Leo pats the counter, his brain buzzing with excitement. Leo rounds the island while (Y/n) watches with a smile, a loud laugh coming from their mouth when Leo pulls them into a tight hug. Leo feels their arms wrap around him, their hands resting in the middle of his carapace. Leo was shaking slightly, his brain running a mile a minute as he held (Y/n) close. (Y/n) pats Leo’s back, pushing him off slightly as they let out an awkward laugh. Leo lets go, an embarrassed blush tinting his green cheeks red. Leo pats his thighs twice, looking around the kitchen to avoid (Y/n)’s gaze. 

“So….” Leo starts, still avoiding (Y/n)’s eyes. Leo watches them lean their back against the wall, the dopey grin on (Y/n)’s face making Leo’s heart flutter. (Y/n) motions one of their hands in a circle, prompting Leo to continue. “Would you like to become my partner?”

(Y/n) snorts at this, laughing at his choice in wording. The human flashes Leo a wide smile, looking at Leo endearingly. “In crime, or romantic? Because both are a yes.”

Leo quickly pulls (Y/n) into another hug, rambling on and on about how happy he was, his voice loud as he cheers. (Y/n) just hugs Leo back and lets him ramble, happy to be in the moment.