#hums... idk man. its rough.

[maythray]

unfortunately my body and mind seem to have been tailor-made for creative work however i kind of hate creative work but i hate academic work too and i dont know what to do about it. like ohhh youre interested in computers? take a major thatll go towards ai and programming!!! .... what if i... Dont want that... what if i want to assist in refining designs of websites or applications to make them more accessible to people overall. design with consistency rather than the bullshit discords and nearly every other major website has been doing. ... What if i want that..... instead...

[urmum-lovesme]

Bunny (P5)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: its been tough day today y'all #Ihateexams (projecting in this chpt idk if you can tell BAHAHA). Also I'm sorry for the late update 😬. My poor girl y/n idk if things can get any worse than this tbh..? (or can they....)

warnings: smoking, weed, drinking, a strip club, naked women, harassment, mention of sex, crying, aggressive behaviour (shoving/shouting), mentions of domestic abuse.

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10) (P11) (P12) (P13)

Y/N stood at the sink, scrubbing at a plate with slow, methodical circles. The warm water ran over her hands, the sound of it filling the quiet kitchen. It was almost unsettling... the quiet. Usually, the house was filled with slurred shouting, breaking bottles, slamming drawers or the heavy silence of a man passed out on the couch. But today?

Today, Luke was standing right next to her, drying the dishes.

Just a towel in his hands, stacking plates in uneven piles as she placed them onto the drying rack. It wasn’t much- but it was sober. He was sober. Maybe a little hungover, his face drawn into a small tired frown, but he wasn’t slurring his words, wasn’t swaying on his feet. That alone made her stomach twist.

“You been out a lot lately,” 

“I’ve been working.”

Luke commented, voice rough from sleep or whiskey- probably both she couldn't differentiate between the two anymore. Y/N hummed, placing another plate on the drying rack. He let out a low exhale, rubbing the towel over a glass. 

“That’s good… keeping busy.” 

A pause. 

“JJ doin’ alright?”

Her hands faltered just slightly before she continued clearing her throat, “Yeah. He’s- good.”

Luke nodded, setting the glass down with a quiet clink, running a hand over his face. It was such a normal thing, a simple chore, standing here washing dishes with her dad. It should’ve been a small moment like it was for so many other people, something forgettable, something easy. She could feel the way her chest ached, feel the way she wanted to hold onto this moment, just for a little while- mind floating back to when she was younger and he’d take her and JJ on fishing trips with him, make them crappy, burnt pancakes for breakfast. But she couldn’t help the instinct of keeping her walls up, watching him from the corner of her eye, waiting for the moment the calm shattered, for reality to crash back down.

Because with Luke, it always did.

The kitchen was now quiet, except for the clink of dishes and the hum of the old ceiling fan overhead. The dim light cast long shadows across the counters, stretching out between them. Y/N wiped her hands on the rag, dishes now washed, her gaze still flickered to Luke drying the last dish. The silence had been hanging heavy; she could feel it pressing down on her shoulders, waiting to crack open. And then, without looking up, Luke muttered, 

“Better not be lying.”

Y/N’s hands froze still gripping onto the rag in her hands, she blinked once, twice, before glancing over at him. 

“What?”

Luke finally looked at her, his eyes sharp, unreadable, “about working”. Y/N felt her pulse quicken. She forced herself to keep her expression neutral, even as she slowly pulled her hands towards the sink, wiping it with the rag. 

“I work at the country club.”

Luke huffed, tossing the dish towel he was using onto the counter. “Yeah-” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

“You sure?”

“Yes- you think I’m dealing dru—?”

“-I think you’re my kid, and I know what it looks like when someone’s keeping secrets.” 

He cut in but his voice wasn’t raised, it didn’t need to be. It was threatening enough as it was. Y/N inhaled sharply through her nose, her grip tightening around the cloth in her hands. She wanted to snap back, wanted to tell him to fuck off, that shes the only reason they still had a roof over their heads and food in the fridge- but there was something in his tone, in the way he was watching her, that made it harder to breathe. She swallowed hard. 

“I told you,” she said, voice quieter now, “I’m a waitress and sometimes... I clean”

 “I hope so.”

Luke stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. Y/N’s stomach twisted. He dropped the dish cloth onto the counter and walked over to the fridge, cracking it open and grabbing a bottle of beer. Then he walked away without another word, leaving her standing there, heart pounding, hands fisting the material of her t-shirt.

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

The club was louder than usual tonight, the air thick with sweat and smoke. Y/N felt the exhaustion settling deep in her bones, dragging at her every step. It had been a long week- too long. She picked up an extra shift at the country club and seemed to be coming to the club every evening, so all she wanted was to get through the night without any more bullshit but, of course, that was too much to ask.

“Aw c’mon sweetheart, give me a smile.”

Y/N barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She forced a tight-lipped grin instead, just enough to appease the drunk tourist slouched in front of her. He looked like the type who had never stepped foot in a place like this before, all sunburnt and sloppy, his polo shirt wrinkled from a day of drinking. “Just trying to get past sugar” she said, voice smooth but empty. The guy let out a loud, obnoxious laugh and leaned in closer. 

“And I’m just trying to have a little fun, sugar”

Y/N’s fingers twitched at her sides. She could feel the sweat sticking to her skin, the air suddenly feeling too thick, too suffocating. She spoke out to the man, keeping her tone light even though she could feel her patience fraying.

“I’m sure there are plenty of other girls who’d love to entertain you,” 

The man clucked his tongue, tilting his head as his eyes went down to stare at her chest- tits being pushed up by a leopard print bra- before noticing the slight frown on her brow. 

“Don’t be like that. You’re too pretty to have a face like that.”

Her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head at his comment. She didn’t want to deal with this tonight. Not after the week she’d had. Not after— the man reached out, just barely brushing his fingers against her waist. It was light, barely anything. But it was enough for Y/N to take a sharp step back, her bracelets jingling at the sound, heart kicking up into her throat. She said, her voice sharper now,

“Don’t touch me”

“Whoa, relax, baby. No need to get all worked up.”

The guy raised his hands like he was innocent, like she was the one making a scene. Y/N swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Her nails dug into her palms, her entire body stiff as she fought to keep herself together as she walked over to an empty booth but she wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. She sank into the empty booth, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes- trying not to smudge her mascara- as she tried to shake off the lingering tension from the encounter. Her pulse was still thrumming too fast, her body coiled tight. She just needed a second- just a second to breathe.

“Hey”

A soft voice pulled her back. Y/N blinked up to see Bambi standing there, arms crossed loosely over her chest, her head tilted in concern.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Y/N exhaled, nodding quickly. Bambi didn’t look convinced. She slid into the seat across from her, watching her carefully. “Maybe you should take a break Bunny…” Y/N shook her head before she could even think about it. 

“No, he was just an asshole. I’m fine.”

Bambi sighed, reaching out to rub Y/N’s arm lightly. Her voice dropped, softer now. “C’mon, don’t be like this, okay? Just take the rest of the night off. It’s dead in here anyway.” Y/N hesitated, her gaze flickering up to the small digital clock on the wall.

1:37 AM.

She could technically leave. The money tonight hadn’t been great, but she wasn’t sure she had the energy to keep pushing through either. “I don’t know…” she muttered. Bambi didn’t wait for her to make a decision. She just stood up, nodding her head toward the back. 

“C’mon.”

Y/N followed her into the dressing room, the fluorescent lights making everything feel a little too bright. Bambi shuffled through her bag, muttering under her breath, until she finally pulled something out and turned back to Y/N. She watched as Bambi pressed a small joint into her palm.

“Take the night off” 

Y/N stared down at it for a moment before her fingers curled around it. Maybe just this once couldn’t hurt? Y/N stepped out of the club, her bag now  slung over her shoulder as she zipped up her hoodie against the cool night air. The parking lot was mostly empty, the neon glow from the club’s sign casting long, eerie shadows across the pavement.

It was one of those rare nights that Rafe didn’t show up, and for once, she felt relieved. The last time she saw him was at the country club that night- so it's not like she was eager to see him again. But it was odd, him not being there. In all these past few weeks he’d been getting under her skin more than usual, and she didn’t have the energy to deal with his shit tonight anyways. Always in the background, always watching, always pushing- she couldn’t deny that it was starting to get to her. So maybe it was good that he wasn't there... She let out a slow breath as she made her way towards her car thinking about getting home, showering, and forgetting this night- this week- ever happened. But then she saw it.

Something fluttering against her windshield. Her brows pulled together as she got closer, her stomach twisting in irritation before she even knew what it was. And sure enough—

“What the fuck?”

A goddamn parking ticket

Y/N snatched it off the glass, scoffing as she scanned over the bullshit fine. She always parked here. She never got ticketed. But apparently, one of her tires was inches over the line, and that was enough for some asshole cop to give her a fine?

“Fucks sake” 

She muttered, shoving the ticket into her bag as she yanked her car door open. She threw herself into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut a little harder than necessary. Just one more thing, one more headache. She dumped her bag into the passenger seat before her hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles tight, her jaw locked.

She just needed to get out of here.

Yet she couldn’t figure out if she was thinking of the club parking lot- or the island in general. Y/N let out a slow breath, her head falling back against the headrest. Her eyes fluttered shut for a second, just long enough to let the exhaustion settle in her bones. Surprisingly, sitting alone in her car with the world muffled behind closed doors was hitting her all at once. She exhaled again, longer this time, before reaching up to tug at her earrings. The hoops clinked softly as she dropped them into the cupholder. Then came the rings, the thin ones stacked over her fingers, and finally the bracelets- the million little silver chains and beads that lined her wrists.

Her eyes flickered down.

A deep, ugly bruise was forming just beneath the faint imprints the bracelets had left behind. It had been a few days, but the color was still harsh- fading from deep purple to that sickly yellow-green. A reminder of her father's hold over her life, even when he wasn’t around. Her fingers ghosted over it and she swallowed looking away. Her gaze landed on the joint in the cupholder instead, its paper crinkled slightly from being shoved into her palm earlier. She thought about it. Thought about lighting up, about just forgetting for a little while and falling into the muffled haze she hasn’t been in for a while, but before she could, the screen of her phone lit up in her lap.

JJ (10)

She sighed, unlocking her phone with tired fingers.

JJ  :  yo 

JJ  :  are you coming to the bonfire tonight y/n? 

JJ : I literally told the gang ur coming

JJ  :  bruh 

JJ  :  answer ur phoneeeee

JJ  :  seriously?????

JJ  :  i've seen you like twice this week and its literally Saturday 

JJ  :  where are you 

JJ  :  you never spend time with me anymore what is going on with you

JJ : ?

Her grip tightened on the phone slightly before she groaned, tossing it onto the passenger seat and dragging a hand down her face. JJ was having a go at her- she was the older sibling wasn’t it meant to be the other way around? Did he really think she was choosing to distance herself from him- she’s the only one keeping their family afloat and now she’s getting punished by him too. She shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek as she jammed the key into the ignition, shifting the car into reverse.

The tires screeched slightly against the pavement as she pulled out of the parking lot, gripping the wheel a little too hard. She sighed through her nose, stretching her fingers along the steering wheel. The hum of the engine was the only thing filling the silence, and it was too heavy, so she reached for the radio flicking the knob with her thumb. Nothing. She twisted it again but still nothing. Her eye twitched as she muttered, smacking the side of the console in frustration. 

"Stupid piece of shit" 

Yet the radio stayed stubbornly dead, leaving her with just the sound of her own breathing and the occasional rattle of the engine. The Cut blurred past her windows as she drove, the streetlights casting flickering shadows across the road. Her fingers drummed against the wheel, her body still buzzing with the exhaustion of the night. As she sat in silence driving she couldn’t help but mull over the question in her mind- and then it hit her

She didn’t want to go home.

Why the hell would she? Home was where all her problems were. Where her dad’s temper sat in the walls like cigarette smoke, where she could still hear the echoes of slammed doors and broken bottles. No, she couldn’t go back there- she didn’t want to. Her fingers tightened around the wheel, knuckles paling as she made a sharp turn, diverting from the usual route. 

She knew exactly where she needed to be.

The road stretched longer as she drove toward the beach, the town fading behind her, the air growing saltier. When she finally pulled into a small parking lot—one that was never busy, never full, one that she used to bring JJ to when they were younger and Luke had too much to drink. She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. Looking out through the windscreen she could see the dark ocean stretched out in front of her, endless, the waves crashing against the shore in a slow, steady rhythm. She killed the engine, sitting there for a second, just staring and she let out a small sigh, eyes looking down at the joint still sitting in her cup holder.

For a second, she just stared at it, debating.

Then, with a quiet sigh, she grabbed it, fingers brushing against the lighter beside it as she slipped out of the car. The beach was almost completely dark, save for the glow of the distant streetlights casting long shadows across the sand. The wind rolled in off the water, cool against her skin as she walked a little further down. She sat down, legs bent, one arm wrapped around her knees as she pulled the joint to her lips, sparking the lighter. The flame flickered for a moment before catching, the tip burning red-hot as she inhaled, holding the smoke deep in her lungs before slowly blowing it out.

The tension in her chest didn’t ease, not really, but at least it dulled the sharp edges.

She took another drag.

Then another and before she could stop it, before she even realised, her vision blurred.

The tears came out of nowhere.

Hot, quiet, slipping down her cheeks, dripping onto the sleeves of her hoodie. She rubbed at her face roughly, sniffling as she took another pull from the joint, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She hated crying- Luke always told her it was a sign of weakness- she wasn’t weak. But she was just so fucking tired. Of working her ass off just to barely scrape by. Of dealing with her dad. Of feeling like she was letting everyone down, like JJ was slipping away.

Like she was letting him down. 

Y/N wiped her sleeve under her eyes again, sniffling hard, trying to force herself to get it together. The waves rolled in, soft and steady, the only sound filling the silence between her sniffles. The joint burned between her fingers, the cherry coloured tip glowing faintly in the dark. She brought it to her lips again, inhaling slow, the warmth spreading through her lungs, through her limbs, settling somewhere deep in her bones. Her eyes stayed locked on the water, mind hazy, thoughts swimming.

She barely even registered the sound of a car approaching in the distance. Not until the glow of headlights swept over the sand, catching the edge of her vision. Her head turned lazily, gaze trailing toward the parking lot just as a car pulled up right next to hers. She blinked at it once, twice, before looking back at the water, unfazed.

Probably just some kids hooking up.

No one ever came here. No one even knew about this spot. She rubbed at her cheek with the sleeve of her hoodie, feeling the dampness of the material. The joint between her fingers had burned down about halfway now, the fuzzy warmth settling into her muscles, making her limbs feel heavier. She took another slow drag, exhaling through her nose, ignoring the sound of an engine cutting off behind her. Whoever it was, they weren’t her problem.

The bright glare of the headlights blinked off and the sound of a car door slamming shut echoed.  

She stayed still, unmoving, her gaze fixed on the water. Whoever it was, she didn’t care. Not enough to turn around, not enough to pull herself out of the haze settling over her, even when footsteps crunched against the sand.

A little uneven.

A little slow.

Whoever it was, were clearly coming her way. Her fingers tightened slightly around what was left of the joint, bringing it to her lips again just as the footsteps stopped.

Someone stood there, still as stone, eyes locked on her.

He hadn’t even recognized her at first- too caught up in his own head, too wired from the line he’d done before leaving Barry’s, his thoughts still tangled up in the mess of the night. He’d just wanted to clear his mind, let the salt air knock some sense back into him. But then he’d seen the curve of her shoulder and the delicate seashell inked into her skin, peeking out on her shoulder blade where her hoodie had slipped down. His jaw tensed, the buzz in his veins sharpening, his body instinctively pulling him closer before his mind could catch up.

He knew that tattoo.

And now, he wasn’t going anywhere- because what was she doing on his side of part beach?

“What are you doing here?”

His tone was unexpected- like he’d been caught off guard, like she was an intruder. But why wouldn’t he be? She doesn’t belong here. Not on this stretch of sand. This place was his mother’s. 

Their place.

Before everything turned to shit, she’d bring him here on Sundays, just the two of them. She’d pack fresh fruit in a cooler, spread out a towel, and run her fingers through his hair while he sat between her legs, half-asleep from the warmth of the sun. It was the only place he'd ever cherished. 

And now she was here. 

Sitting in his sand. 

Smoking on his beach. 

Y/N doesn’t even look up, her voice sharp, cutting through the thick silence.

“Sorry is this your beach, Rafe?”

She almost laughs at herself, because it’s fucking ridiculous—the whole situation. She was supposed to be alone. Sitting in peace. But then he showed up. Just like her goddamn father. Just like every other man in her life who couldn’t let her fucking breathe. She hears his steps before she sees him, the uneven drag of his shoes against the sand. Then suddenly, he’s towering over her, and she feels it—the shift in the air, the pull of something inevitable. Her fingers drop the burnt-out joint into the sand, and she moves to stand, to leave, to get the hell away from him, but—

Rafe blocks her.

She collides into his chest with a quiet oof, stumbling back slightly, her balance thrown off for just a second. Y/N exhales sharply, shaking her head, before trying to move past him again. But this time, Rafe doesn’t just stand there. His hand comes out fast, gripping her upper arm- not hard, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks. She has to take a step back, her pulse spiking, annoyance flashing hot in her chest as she lets out a small scoff even in her drugged haze.

“Don’t be a bitch, Maybank.”

The words land like a slap. A slow-burning ember turning into a wildfire. It’s not even just the insult- it’s the way he says it. That low, condescending drawl. Like he’s above her. Like he thinks he can control her, that she’s just another thing for him to mess with, to push and pull whenever it suits him. And she doesn’t know if it’s the anger which has been building for weeks now, or the fact she was high.

But before she even fully registers the movement her hands shove into his chest 

Forcefully 

Enough that Rafe actually stumbles back, his balance thrown for a split second. And he just stands there, staring at her. Like he’s trying to process what just happened. For once, there’s no quick comeback. No smug remark. Just stunned silence as he looks at her like she’s someone he doesn’t quite recognize.

But then—just as quickly—his expression shifts. That smug fucking smirk creeps back onto his face, eyes flickering with something almost amused. Y/N feels her blood boil.

“YOU'RE THE FUCKING BITCH!”

Her voice cracks with frustration as she yells the words out at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She doesn’t even recognise herself- doesn’t care that she’s causing a scene, doesn’t care that her whole body is vibrating with anger. She’s shaking as she points her finger at him jaggedly and loudly slurs out,

“You’re the stupid fucking bitch”

Her breath comes in ragged bursts, chest rising and falling too fast, her whole body trembling with the weight of everything she’s been holding inside. Her chest tightens, a lump forming in her throat, and she knows—knows—she’s about to break. But she can’t stop herself now.

Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up, taken aback. Not just by what she said, but how she said it. Her voice isn’t steady like always. It’s cracked, uneven, shaking as much as her hands. The words come out slower, slurred, not just from the blunt but from the exhaustion, she’s unraveling right in front of him, drowning in everything she’s tried so hard to keep buried.

She can’t take it anymore so with a harsh, desperate push, she shoves him back- harder this time. "What do you want from me, huh?" Her voice cracks as she spits the words at him, and her body shakes with the force of everything she’s holding in. 

"What do you want from me?.... Why won’t you just fucking leave me alone?!"

Her breath hitches, and her voice breaks completely in the middle of her sentence. It’s too much, and the tears she’s been fighting back spill over, streaking down her cheeks. They roll freely down her face now, mixing with the salt from the sea breeze, soaking into her already damp skin.

She stands there, trembling, her hands balled into fists, her chest heaving as she stares at him like she’s ready to either fight or run. For a moment, Rafe’s gaze softens but just as quickly, that softness vanishes, replaced by the cold indifference he wears so effortlessly.

He steps closer, his presence towering over her, filling the space between them. She can feel the weight of him standing there, like he’s waiting for something—and then, in his usual, dismissive tone, he speaks.

“You’re a fucking mess.”

It stings. The way he says it, like it's just another observation, like it means nothing to him. But it cuts deeper than anything he's said before.

Because she knows it true.

Her voice shakes with the anger which is still there, but now it’s mixed with something else- something raw and vulnerable.

“You’re so fucking selfish.”

She spits the words at him like they’re poison, her eyes flashing with something fierce, but he just stands there, watching her, as if it’s all some kind of show. She shoves him again, but this time he reacts faster, his hand shooting out to catch her wrist with surprising force.

“Don’t fucking push me.”

He holds her there, and the moment his fingers close around her wrist, she winces. It’s an instinctive reaction, and she can’t stop herself. The pain flares in an instant. Her bruised wrist—the one that’s been aching since her father grabbed it—feels like it’s being crushed.

Rafe notices. 

He sees the way her face contorts with the slightest touch, the way her breath hitches as she struggles to keep her composure. Her pulse quickens as she yanks her wrist free, glaring at him with a mixture of fury and desperation.

“Get off of me” 

She snaps, her voice breaking with frustration. He doesn’t say anything at first, but she can see the way his eyes linger on her, studying her like he’s piecing something together. It doesn’t take long for her to realize he’s noticed the bruise, and that just makes her snap harder.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” 

“Maybank—” 

But she cuts him off, her frustration pouring out in a torrent of words She points at herself, her finger trembling in the air before she repeatedly jabs it into her chest aggressively. 

“D'you think I want to work in that fucking club, huh? HUH, RAFE?!”

The words fly out of her like she’s been holding them back forever, her voice cracking slightly at the end. There’s desperation there now, unfiltered and it’s not just anger anymore. She’s screaming at him because he’s been tormenting her—trapping her in the world she’s trying to claw her way out of. Stuck between trying to survive and trying to hold onto a shred of dignity. The silence lingers between them, suffocating in its weight, and for the first time, it’s not charged with anger or frustration- it’s something else, something she can’t quite place. Her voice is quieter now, the anger draining out of her, leaving only exhaustion.

“Just leave me alone.”

The words are like a plea, but they still hold a sharp edge. She shoves past him, not bothering to spare him a glance as she walks towards her car, her body moving with purpose, as if every step is an effort to desperately escape from this moment, from him.

Behind her, Rafe watches her walk away, his eyes fixed on her retreating figure. His jaw clenches, and he gnaws at the inside of his cheek, unsure of what he’s feeling. There’s something there- it’s almost as if the walls he’s built around himself, the ones that keep him from caring about anything or anyone, are starting to crack. Why does he feel like this? Why does he feel this nagging sense of... 

Regret

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[hatsbuckets]

It's two am and idk why I woke up like on the dot but damn I'm glad I did. Anyway,,,

Johnny waking up from a nightmare, trembling in Simon's arms. Simon holds him, has no other choice as Johnny practically clings to him, with little idea if he's doing it "right."

But Simon doesn't move, doesn't speak. Just holds him, arms wrapped tight around the man shaking against his chest.

And when Johnny can finally breath properly again, voice hoarse and raw, "Tell me something good LT..."

Simon swallows, takes a deep breath of the Sergeant's hair, voice sleep rough, "Mm," he hums, "you're somethin' good, Johnny."

Johnny's laugh cracks apart halfway through. The salt of his sweat mixing with new tears. Simon has a near heart attack, shifting before Johnny squeezes his arms and legs.

"Ye cannae say shite like that" he whispers, voice cracking.

Simon exhales, curling around Johnny just a bit more, "Even if i's true?"

"Aye," he murmurs, "'specially tha'."

Simon's hands freeze where they were moving, soothing at Johnny's back and ribs. One moves to Johnny's chin, catching the Scot between a calloused thumb and forefinger, the rough digit swiping over its favorite little scar beneath his lip.

"Johnny..."

"...Simon?"

"I love you."

The sound that leaves Johnny, half laugh, half aching sob, is swallowed by the soft press of Simon's lips. Gentle. Reverent. Whole.

[cruel-seduction]

One body, two claims.

Pairing - Werewolf theodore x reader x Vampire Lorenzo

A/n - Hello, my certified cute red flags!! This is based on Request. It can be read for Werewolf Theodore au (series) but it’s not primarily because whenever I will write about the Theodore werewolf au it’s not gonna be mentioned. Also I don't do threesome Idk man it just makes me feel weird. But the request idea was noiceee so I had to. And also cause it's nice to give a try.

Summary - A werewolf and a vampire—both bound to you in ways neither can ignore, both unwilling to let the other win. Caught between their hatred and their hunger, you’re not just desired—you’re possessed. And when their rivalry turns into something far more primal, you realize there’s no escaping them. Not when they’ve decided to share.

Content Warning: Degrading, choking, spanking, slapping tits, hair pulling, rough handling, dominance struggle, praise kink, primal play, possessiveness, forced choice, overstimulation, threesome, double claiming, intensity, rough P in V, power dynamics, marking, jealousy-fueled pleasure, forced eye contact, being manhandled.

There were two bonds tied to your body—one that burned, one that lingered.

You could still feel the bite. The deep, brutal imprint of werewolf fangs, buried into the soft curve between your shoulder and neck, marking you as Theo’s mate. It had been weeks, but the wound pulsed like it had never healed, a constant reminder of the moment his teeth sank in and changed you. Mating wasn’t a choice—it was instinct. And Theo had acted on it like the animal he was.

Then there was Lorenzo.

His bond wasn’t forced like Theo’s bite. It was slow, insidious—like a drug you never meant to take, but now you couldn’t live without. Vampire bonds weren’t about pain. They were about addiction, obsession. His first taste of you had been a simple, fleeting thing—his lips parting over your wrist, fangs scraping tender flesh, the barest sip of blood before he pulled away. He hadn’t drained you. He hadn’t marked you.

But he had claimed you all the same.

You felt it in your bones, deep in your chest—the pull toward him. The way your body reacted to his presence, how your pulse skipped when he stepped too close. Blood sang for its master, and he reveled in it.

And neither was willing to let the other win.

That’s why you were here, wedged between them in a room thick with tension, your back against a desk as two predators circled you—your body their battlefield.

Theo exhaled sharply, his jaw tight. "You think a dead thing like you can satisfy her?" Lorenzo let out a slow, mocking hum. "At least I don’t have to fuck on a full moon like some rabid dog."

Your teeth clenched. Enough.

"I swear to fucking god," you hissed, finally pushing off the desk and stepping between them. "If you two want to measure dicks, do it somewhere else. I’m not your fucking trophy to fight over."

They both looked at you then—really looked at you. And that was the problem. Because the second you had their attention, you weren’t just talking. You were prey.

Theo’s amber eyes flickered dark, hunger twisting beneath his resentment. Lorenzo’s pupils dilated slightly, lips parting just enough to reveal the sharp glint of his fangs.

Fuck.

You had just made things worse. Your breath hitched.

The air in the room had changed—thicker now, dense with the weight of something primal. You had made a mistake.

Because standing between them, caught in the crossfire of their rage and possessiveness, meant you weren’t just some woman anymore. You were claimed. You were theirs. And neither one of them was willing to let the other take the first touch.

Which was why—when they finally moved—they grabbed you at the same time.

Theo’s hand shot to your throat, fingers curling around it like he had every fucking right to. His palm was hot—burning, searing, territorial. His grip wasn't suffocating, but it reminded you exactly who had marked on you.

At the same time, Lorenzo’s fingers gripped your jaw, cold and unyielding, forcing your head to tilt so his scarlet eyes could bore into yours. His touch sent a different kind of shiver down your spine—not warmth, but a chilling pull. The bond. His claim.

Theo growled lowly. "You don’t get to touch her first, leech." Lorenzo’s lips curled. "And yet, here I am." You let out a shaky breath, heart hammering against your ribs, pulse slamming against Theo’s palm.

"You’re both out of your fucking minds," you managed.

Enzo chuckled, the sound dark, mocking. "Tell me, sweetheart," he murmured, thumb stroking over your cheek, mocking the softness in his voice when his grip was anything but gentle. "Do you actually like being fought over? Or are you just a filthy little whore who wants both?"

Heat shot straight through you, searing, humiliating.

Theo’s fingers flexed around your throat, tightening slightly. His breath ghosted against your temple, hot, breathless, his own restraint hanging by a thread. "She’s already soaked," he muttered, voice thick with arrogance. "Of course she fucking likes it."

Your stomach clenched. You hated them.  You hated how much they knew your body better than you did.

Lorenzo’s thumb pressed against your lips, forcing them to part slightly. "Which is it, then?" he mused. "Do we keep fighting, or do you beg?"

Theo smirked. "She won’t beg. She’s too fucking stubborn for that." Enzo hummed. "Guess we’ll have to break her in, then."

And you realized—you weren’t getting out of this.

Their hands stayed on you—branding, possessive, unrelenting. Theo’s grip on your throat wasn’t suffocating, but it reminded you exactly what he was—a predator. A wolf who had marked on you, tethering you to him with something deeper than choice. His fingers flexed slightly, his thumb pressing against the flutter of your pulse.

Lorenzo’s hold was different—colder, calculated, cruel. His fingers on your jaw weren’t just restraint. They were in control. He could feel the way your breath hitched, how your lips parted involuntarily at his touch. A vampire’s bond was undeniable. It made your body betray you in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge.

You were caught between them, your own body a battleground. And neither was willing to let the other win.

They didn’t kiss you.

Not at first.

They hovered, ghosting their lips over your skin but never touching, never giving you what you wanted.

Lorenzo leaned in first, his breath cool against your ear. "You can feel it, can’t you?" he murmured. "The way your body is made for me. For us."

Theo let out a sharp exhale, his lips hovering over your throat. Right over the imprint. "She’s shaking," he muttered, smirking against your skin. "Not from fear, though. Are you, sweetheart?" Your fingers curled into fists. They were playing with you.

Their lips brushed over your jaw, your throat, your cheek—never pressing, never giving in. Lorenzo chuckled, amused by your frustration. "You want it?" he mused. "Then choose."

Your stomach clenched. Theo’s grip tightened. "Kiss one of us." It wasn’t a request. It was a demand.

A choice.

But not really. Because whichever one you chose, the other wasn’t going to let it happen. You hesitated, pulse hammering. Who?

Theo—hot, reckless, possessive? Enzo—cold, controlled, dangerously composed?

Your body knew the answer before you did.

You reached for Theo first, your fingers gripping his collar as you dragged him down, crashing your lips against his.

He groaned lowly against your mouth, rough and impatient, his grip on your throat shifting—one hand curling around your waist instead, pulling you flush against him. The kiss was raw, all tongue and dominance, Theo kissing you like he already owned you.

And then—you were gone.

Ripped away mid-kiss, your breath stolen as Lorenzo’s cold fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back.

A sharp gasp left your lips as you found yourself pressed against him instead, his amused smirk inches from your mouth. "You really thought you’d get away with that?" Enzo murmured, tilting his head.

Theo let out a vicious growl, teeth bared. "You’re fucking dead."

Lorenzo ignored him. His eyes were only on you. "Try again, sweetheart," he purred, tilting your chin up. "This time, pick right."

And you knew—you weren’t getting out of this without giving them both what they wanted.

Lorenzo’s grip on your jaw tightened slightly, tilting your face up toward him. His red eyes gleamed with amusement, his smirk just this side of cruel. “Go on, then,” he murmured. “Make it fair.”

Theo was still seething, his presence behind you radiating heat, dominance, frustration. You could feel the tension crackling in the air.

And you were the prize.

Your pulse fluttered beneath Lorenzo’s fingertips as you hesitated, and that brief second of reluctance only made his smirk widen. He knew. He knew you wanted this.

So you kissed him.

Your hands pressed against his chest, and he let you take control for only a second—just long enough for you to think you had it. Then his fingers twisted deeper into your hair, pulling, forcing you to open wider for him. The kiss was expert, smooth, consuming. He tasted like something addictive, something that promised danger and ruin in the same breath.

Behind you, Theo let out a low, displeased sound—a warning growl. And then his lips were on your neck.

The contrast was devastating.

Lorenzo’s lips were cool and practiced, taking what he wanted effortlessly. Theo’s mouth was hot, relentless, demanding. His teeth scraped against your throat, just over the imprint, before his tongue soothed the mark. He sucked, bit, marked—staking his claim all over again.

You whimpered against Lorenzo’s mouth, your body betraying you as heat coiled low in your stomach. “Oh, listen to that,” Lorenzo chuckled, breaking the kiss to glance at Theo. “She’s already falling apart, and we’ve barely touched her.”

Theo’s teeth grazed lower, his tongue tracing bruises into your skin. His hands gripped your waist roughly, pressing you back against him. “Pathetic,” he muttered. “So eager already.”

Lorenzo hummed, pleased. “Aren’t you just a desperate little thing?” His fingers skimmed down your torso, teasing, toying, never quite giving you enough.

Theo’s hand slid lower, down your stomach, between your thighs—cupping you through your clothes. Your breath hitched, your legs twitching instinctively.

“Oh, she’s soaked,” Theo mused darkly, his tone both amused and condescending. “Course she is.”

Lorenzo’s hand moved at the same time, palming your breast through your shirt, fingers tightening just enough to make you gasp.

Theo smirked against your neck. “You like this, don’t you?” he murmured. “Being fought over like a toy?”

Lorenzo chuckled, his fingers flicking over your nipple.Your head tilted back against Theo’s shoulder, helpless, panting.

And the worst part? They weren’t wrong.

They were relentless. Overwhelming.

Their hands never stopped moving, their touches purposeful—both claiming, both taking.

Theo’s grip at your waist tightened, fingers digging into your skin, while Lorenzo tilted your chin up again, his thumb pressing against your lips. His smirk was effortless, infuriatingly confident, as he traced the outline of your mouth.

“Pretty little thing,” he murmured. “Wonder if you even know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Before you could answer, before you could even catch your breath, fabric tore. The sudden rush of cool air against your bare skin sent a shiver down your spine.

Theo had ripped the back of your clothes clean open, the shredded fabric slipping from your shoulders. Lorenzo followed suit with cruel precision, taking the torn edge between his fingers and pulling—slow, deliberate, savoring the way your body tensed beneath their hands.

And then you were bare.

Your stomach twisted—a rush of heat, of exposure, of the undeniable reality that you were at their mercy.

The moment you tried to step back, Theo’s hand pressed firm against your spine, shoving you downward. Your palms met the ground, your knees sinking into the cool surface beneath you, leaving you on all fours—trapped between them.

Lorenzo hummed approvingly from above, crouching slightly so his fingers could skim down your throat, your collarbone—teasing. "Now that’s a sight," he mused. "You look better like this."

Behind you, Theo exhaled sharply. Then—a sharp smack.

You jolted forward, a shocked gasp leaving your lips as the sharp sting of Theo’s palm burned across your backside.

Lorenzo chuckled darkly. "Oh, I like that," he mused, watching you tremble. "Let’s see what else we can get out of her." Lorenzo’s grip on your jaw tightened as he tilted your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His crimson eyes burned with satisfaction, flicking down to your parted lips.

The sharp sting of his palm slapping your breast pulled a gasp from your lips before you could stop it. The pain blurred into pleasure too fast, your skin left burning under his touch, only to be soothed by his other hand as it skimmed down your throat.

Behind you, Theo’s hands branded your hips, holding you still as he shoved his knee between your legs. His breath was hot against your ear, low and laced with something dangerous.

“Look at her,” Theo muttered darkly. “Already shaking.” Lorenzo smirked. “She likes it.”

His thumb dragged along your lower lip before he pressed two fingers into your mouth, forcing them past your tongue. His grip never wavered, even as you shuddered—even as your breath came faster, caught between the heat behind you and the dominance in front of you.

“Suck,” Lorenzo demanded.

Your lashes fluttered as you obeyed, lips wrapping around his fingers. His pupils blown wide with hunger, lips curling as he watched you.

Behind you, Theo shifted, the sound of his belt unfastening making your stomach tighten. He freed himself, the thick heat of him pressing firm against you—hot, heavy, teasing.

Theo dragged himself through your slick folds. Your body trembled at the unbearable tease, the slow, torturous way he coated himself in your arousal.

Lorenzo pulled his fingers from your mouth with a soft pop, replacing them with something harder, heavier—his cock pressing past your lips in the same effortless command. His grip buried in your hair, holding you there, forcing you to take him inch by inch.

Behind you, Theo’s grip on your hips tightened before he finally pushed forward—

You choked on a moan, your body arching as he filled you, stretching you wide with a brutal first thrust.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Theo growled, one hand cracking against your ass with a sharp slap. Lorenzo groaned above you, watching you struggle to breathe between them. “Messy little thing,” he mused. “I think she likes this even more than she lets on.”

Another thrust—deeper, harder. Your body shuddered beneath them, caught between two relentless forces, overwhelmed, consumed, claimed.

Lorenzo’s grip in your hair was ruthless, holding you steady as you took every inch of him down your throat, choking around the weight of it. His fingers dug into your scalp, controlling every slow, torturous thrust.

“That’s it,” he groaned, watching the way your lips stretched around him. “So fucking pretty like this. A mess, but still so eager.”

Behind you, Theo’s pace was merciless, his hips snapping forward, filling you completely before pulling back just enough to do it all over again. His fingers bruised into your hips, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“She’s dripping,” Theo muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. Another sharp slap to your ass sent a shock of pleasure through your spine, a whimper caught in your throat.

Lorenzo chuckled, tilting your head back just enough to see your glassy-eyed expression. His free hand ghosted over your throat, teasing the sensitive skin, pressing just enough to remind you who was in control.

“You like being used like this, don’t you?” he murmured, smirking when you moaned in response. “Fuck, you were made for this.”

Theo’s pace stuttered for half a second, a deep groan leaving his lips. “She’s gonna make me come,” he growled, his grip tightening. “So fucking tight, clenching around me like she was made for my cock.”

Your whole body tensed, overwhelmed by the way they pushed you higher, driving you straight into blinding pleasure. The world blurred, nothing but the sensation of being utterly consumed between them. And then you came, you came so hard but it didn’t stop Theo it only made him overstimulate you. 

Theo cursed under his breath, his rhythm turning sloppy as he buried himself deep, holding you there as he groaned through his release. The heat of it sent another shudder through you, your own pleasure tipping over the edge right alongside his.

Lorenzo wasn’t far behind, his grip tightening in your hair as he pushed deep one last time, his own release hitting him in a sharp, low moan. He held you still as he came down your throat, forcing you to take every drop.

For a second, all that filled the room was the sound of ragged breathing—yours, theirs, tangled together.

And then, just as you thought you might catch your breath, Theo’s hands were on you again—pulling you up, flipping you effortlessly, pressing you down onto your back.

Lorenzo let out a low, dark chuckle. “Switching already?”

Theo smirked, dragging his thumb over your swollen lips, his other hand gripping your thigh, pulling your legs apart. “What? Afraid you won’t handle the view from behind?”

Lorenzo’s fangs glinted in the dim light, his fingers skimming down your stomach, teasing their way between your thighs. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed your ear. “We’re nowhere near finished.”

And then they were on you again—flipping the power, the pace, the control.

And you were utterly, completely theirs.

Taglist - @empath-bunny @gipsonnikki @emptyachingblue @syymplypotter @a-little-funny @chimchoom (comment/dm to get added)

[lilithandherharlots]

Too shy to tell you

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

Miguel hides your heals in hopes of making you forget you ever owned a pair...he confesses about his theft during a hot and heavy night of sex.

Warnings: This might be interpreted as possessive or an unhealthy bond. Though its supposed to be just a very shy and respectful Miguel who let's loose during sex.:]

Authors note: I am not a writer!! This is my first time righting fanfic.. like.. ever!!! So don't attack me. Though honest, constructive criticism is something that I would love to hear. Sorry if there are spelling mistakes. Also, I don't know how to put proper description..... enjoy!!!!

:::

"Miggy?" I call out to my boyfriend who's currently towering over the coffee machine, waiting for it to brew.

"Yes, my love?" He responds with a look over his shoulder.

"Have you seen my black pointed heals? I can't seem to find them."

"No. Have you checked by the door?" He was lying.

He was lying. He was lying, and he didn't feel bad about it. The truth was he had stuffed them in the highest cupboard of the laundry room. He knew you couldn't reach it. He liked it that way. He couldn't let you open it since he had stuffed at least 4 pairs of heals in there.

"No miggy, they aren't here." You say after checking everywhere by the front door.

"Idk what to say, baby... we have to leave soon. Just throw on a different pair and I'll buy you some new ones later."

He was a liar... and he was damn good at it... until he wasn't.

:::

It was 2am. This insanity started hours ago, but Miguel's stamina wouldn't let down. Your soft moans could fuel him till sun rise, and he would love to do this forever. But unlike him, you have limits. Limits to your ability to stay strong, or at least keep yourself up right. But he doesn't really care. Your begs for a break won't succeed with a constantly starving man like him.

"One more round, please baby... please. I need you." His desperate begs caress your tear stained cheeks as he whispers them softly, leaning over you and filling you with sloppy thrust.

"Miguel- please.. It's too much.." You whine as you try to pull away, gripping desperately onto the sheets.

"Last one.... I promise..." he lies.

He said the same thing the last 4 rounds. If he could have it his way he'd continue. But he knew you couldn't keep going for much longer, so he used this opportunity to tell you what he couldn't bring himself to say otherwise.

"I lied..." he confesses. Watching your tits bounce with every rough trust, keeping himself busy while you tried to form a reply. It took you a while, but you managed to let out a soft hum, waiting for him to explain himself further.

"I took them. Your heels.. I fucking hate those things.." he thrust get faster as he says it. Hoping to make your brain foggy enough to not remember his confessions in the morning.

"I like your height, so why do you wear those weird things?" His heart felt lighter as he told you.

"I like that your height forces you to get on your tippy toes every time you want a kiss from me.. and even then, I have to bend over to reach you.... I like that you rely on me to reach those high shelves. Every time you ask me, you grow as red as a rose...."

You can feel his movements speed up. You can barely hear him... your mind fuzzy from pleasure. Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin felt like white noise at this point. The dim shadow of his frame covering you completely.

"You're so small under me.. your body falls any way I bend it..." At his point, he was just speaking the first thing to cross his mind.

You didn't hear him, and he knew it. Seconds later, you feel his weight shift, the mattress by your head sinking under his heavy hand as he leaned in and whispered.

"Please don't take that away from me."

His words were demanding. He felt exactly what he said. Even though your eyes were shut tight, you knew his eyes were locked on you. His breath heavy, as if he just confessed a dirty secret. He kinda did...

"Promise me.... Promise me you won't wear them and I'll help you cum."

As tired as you were. You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. So you give in.

"F-fine... I promise."

"You promise what?" He smirked hearing your whiney voice.

"I promise I won't wear the heels!!"

The pleasure he got from you saying that was immense. He shifted his weight once more as he changed your position like a marionette doll. Spreading your legs apart. His hands wrapped around your thighs, and his claws dug into your skin. The stinging pain of it was a wake-up call, causing you to gasp for air.

This position caused him to go deeper. The sticky mess from your previous rounds was being pushed out of your aching hole. The sound of his hips hitting your ass grew louder with every precise thrust. They got louder and louder until they stopped. Your thighs had clenched closed as you hit that high you were chasing. And you took him with you. Tightening around his pulsing cock in a way that made him fill you to the brim once more.

He watched your body shake. Your hips jerking forward. He would usually take that as his sign to keep going, but your fucked out face was telling him you couldn't take another thrust.

"You did great my love..... my little angel~" He cooed gentle praises as he rubbed your claw marked thighs.

"I'll buy you the cutest flats."

:::

A thing he didn't know.. is that you lied, too. His secret cupboard was emptied, and your heal collection was restored... and yes.. he pouted in silence.

The end

[sanshinesante]

𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍| 𝐉𝐉𝐊

Warnings: fingering, rough sex, semi public sex and breeding

A/N; why am I already behind on these🤠

Wc; idk 400-500?

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

“Fucking slut” jungkook’s fingers are deep inside your cunt as you grip the bathroom stall door.

“You want to speed your legs open for everyone to see” Jungkook slaps your cunt and you mewl trembling.

“You’re just some whore

wanting to get fucked huh? Embarrassing me everywhere we go. Dancing like slut for everyone to see” jungkook fingers you hard and fast. You expect his harsh words your cunt flooding in wetness

Jungkook turns you around slamming your chest into to stall. You glance at the public door where anyone can come in and see your disarray.

“Hey, I’m speaking to you.” Jungkook manhandled you around spreading your leg open where he could slip into you so perfectly.

He does, his hard thickcock bruising your insides. You moan loudly and Jungkook holds your face.

“Are you really enjoying this? Such a slut. You like be treated like cum dump where every man near can just slip in?” You pussy cleanches as you shake your head no.

“No, you don’t, you would want another man to come and use you? To fill that cunt up” You share your head.

“No? Only me, your only a slut of me?” You nod your head your eyes bugging out of his pounding as he fucks your head. You feel your brain hanging out of its normal spot.

Jungkook whips you around again smacking your ass hard. Gripping the meaty flesh. You moan biting your lips as he pounds into you.

“Yeah, your my cum dump I can cum in you as many times as I want.”

“Such a slut”

“What a disgusting whore for me”

“Everyone would be so disgusted on how much of a cock whore you are”

He goes on and on until you come. You hand griping your skirt as you shake in

Pain. Jungkook paints you white and you fall on the floor. His cum slipped out of you as he adjusted his pants. Looking down at you.

“Such a skank”. He plays with your face you hum. As you slowly get up his cum sliding down your leg.

“Yeah make sure you go out there and grind your cum filled pussy on the boy you was dancing on.” Jungkook helps you in your clothes as you limp you out of the stall.

[tyunphoria]

🌪️it’s a scream, BABY ! — h.js

- - - - -

⚠️NSFW CONTENT⚠️

- - - - -

ghostface!han jisung x reader

SYPNOSIS: when you thought you finally escaped that psycho who calls himself ghostface . . . think again. he always finds you.

INCLUDES: AFAB reader, ex!bf han jisung, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), slight angst near the end if you squint, SMUTTT, aftercare, ngl kinda rushed oops.

WARNINGS: obsessive behaviour, threatening, mentions of death and murders, han having slight yandere tendencies, DOM!han, fingering, hair pulling, dacryphilia, praise, implied voice kink, knife play, fear play, finger-sucking, rough sex ig idk, begging.

wc: 3.7k

You approach the front door with relief, the aches in your feet swelling after a long day. "I'm home," you call out wearily.

Silence responds. No clattering of dishes from the kitchen, no muffled music from upstairs. Just the low whine of machinery emanating from somewhere.

Frowning, you kick off your heels, biting your lip against the sting of fresh blisters forming at the back of your ankles. Your shoulders slump as you drop onto the couch, its faded pattern doing little to lift your spirits.

Wincing, you massage the ache from your feet, inspecting the angry skin stretched tight over your swollen heels. Exhaustion seeps into your bones as the steady hum of the fan fades into the background. You lean your head back, eyes drifting shut against the gathering gloom. Slipping off your shoes was the first victory of what promises to be a long night ahead.

Laundry, mopping the floor, cleaning out the cupboards; fuck it, that can wait till tomorrow morning.

Sliding the uniform jacket from your shoulders, you sigh with the release of tension. The cool air hits your skin as you unbutton your work blouse, revealing a tank top beneath.

You adjust your skirt, glad to be free of the restrictive waistband and back into casual clothes. Glancing at the clock, you let out a sigh. Your roommate must be still working out late again. So much for a promised and well deserved girl’s night.

For now, though, you tune out the noise and settle further into the couch. Remote in hand, you aimlessly scroll through TV options in search of a mindless distraction. Anything to pull your exhausted mind from the drudgery of the day.

2 years, you frown.

It’s been two years since you’ve moved to seoul after the ghostface attacks from your hometown. You were lucky enough to survive, but the price of your survival was steep. It entailed enduring the loss of friends and family.

Till this day, it’s still a mystery as to who the killer was. Rather, killers as some people theorize.

But you know who he is.

You knew ghostface all too well.

How could you not ? He was the man you once loved and cared for. Until he went batshit insane and claimed to only be doing what’s best for the both of you by killing anyone who came in between your relationship.

You can’t tell the police. You can’t tell anyone. If his name happens to get leaked in the public, you’re the first person he’d go for.

“Stop thinking about him,” you groan, rubbing your temples. He’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere, why stress over it ? You settle on the news channel instead as you slump further into the couch.

“We interrupt your regular programming with breaking news. This is Lee Dae-suk reporting live from the scene. Just moments ago, authorities received a distress call by a janitor from HYBE Co.” you quickly sit up from your seat as you hear these words. That’s where you worked . . .

“Upon arrival, they discovered a chilling scene that has left investigators and the community in shock,” the reporter continues on with how there were two victims from your workplace suffering from injury and were rushed to the er, and the other two were found dead. “. . . the initials G.F. were carved on their chests. Detectives suspect that this traces back to the ghostface attacks of 2021 in [hometown]. We advise all citizens of seoul to be on high alert for potential suspects. Law enforcement officials advises everyone to stay indoors no longer than nine.

We will keep our viewers informed as this case unfolds. We now return to your regular scheduled programming brought to you by—“

You grab the remote and quickly shut off the tv.

“Shit, please f/n, answer your phone,” you gnaw on your nails whilst pacing around the living room. If this is the same ghostface, he must’ve followed you. It would be all your fault for leading him here. The thought makes you sick.

You dial her number again with shaking hands, desperate for an answer.

“Hey—“

“F/n!”

“you’ve reached f/n’s voice mail ! i’ll call you back when—“

“Fuck !” You exclaimed, throwing your phone onto the couch in frustration. The worry and fear is eating you alive. You try calling again and again, each unanswered ring twisting the knot of anxiety in your stomach tighter. With a sigh of defeat, you finally slump down on the couch, cradling your head in your hands.

"She'll be fine...she has to be fine," you say quietly to yourself, taking a slow, steadying breath. But before you can fully calm your racing mind, your phone suddenly rings, the sound jolting through you. Your heart leaps into your throat as you don’t bother checking the caller ID before picking it up with trembling hands.

“Hello ? F/n ?”

- “hey, baby.”

replied a deep, gravelly, modulated voice.

- “miss me ?”

Your breath hitched as you froze. A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes flicker to the open blinds.

“Ghostface.” You acknowledge. From the other line, you could hear him click his tongue in disapproval.

- “I prefer the nickname ‘darling’.”

“What the fuck do you want, Jisung ?” You tried not to show any signs of fear but the slight tremble in your voice says so otherwise.

“What ? Aren’t you gonna go ask me what my favourite scary movie is ?” You made your way in the kitchen as your hand inched to grab a knife.

- “I have a better question. Do you like games, y/n ?”

You pass your index finger between the various knives on the rack, fingers wrapping around the biggest handle.

“Fuck you.”

Jisung can be heard chuckling. His laugh made your stomach twist. What sick bastard thinks all of this is just a game ?

- “Even with that knife in your hand, you’re still as beautiful as ever. And the look of fear in your face ? It’s fucking hot, baby . . .”

You feel your heart starting to race as you flinch and turn around, all your senses now activated.

- “Tell me, are you gonna stab poor ol’ ghostface with that knife ? You aren’t any better from me, y/n.”

He was taunting you and you knew that.

You end the call after telling him that he could go fuck himself before rushing over to the windows and locking them shut. Same goes for the door as well while you clutch the edge of the dinner table as if your body were threatening to collapse.

The phone vibrates in your hand, except this time it wasn’t a call but a notification from the unknown number.

Your hands begin to shake once again as you huff and puff to regain composure, clicking on the notification to reveal a video.

A video of f/n entering her car.

You jumped at another vibration. He’s trying to call you again. The whole situation was frustrating — not only were you scared as shit, also a bit agitated with how he wasn’t just threatening you but your loved ones as well.

You peer down the halls, silently peeking at every room. When you finally accept the call, your heart drops at his words.

- “Hang up on me again, I dare you. I’ll mail this bitch’s head at your door, don’t fucking test me, y/n.”

The violence of his threat burned your eyes but you had no choice but to swallow back your tears. You’d just have to listen, so no one else got hurt. You can’t bear losing anyone—not again . .

“Jisung,” you close your eyes as a shuddered breath escapes your lips. “I’ll listen. I’ll do anything you want, okay ? Just please, don’t hurt anyone.”

He slightly softens at your pleas. Jisung still loves you, with all his heart and he wishes for nothing more than to go back to how things used to be. But he knew better than that, he's already far too deep to return with how he used to be.

- “Such a good girl for me . . . See how easy it is to obey ?”

Despite the fear, you cursed at the way he still had an affect on you. Somewhere in him, it’s still the same Han Jisung you’ve grown to love. The feelings you’ve stored away after all these years were beginning to resurface, and you were ashamed to admit it.

- “hm, what game, what game . . . Have you ever heard of the game hot and cold ?”

You nod, clutching the phone tighter. Words were stuck in your throat and you knew he could see you though he seemed to be dissatisfied.

- “Use your words, beautiful.”

His nicknames are starting to trigger a reaction that you hadn’t expected and felt so guilty. Heat spreads through your body, and shamefully enough, between your legs.

“I have,” you stammer.

- “Alright. Here’s the deal; find me and all of this’ll be over. I’ll leave you alone. Sounds like a plan ?” It seems all too good to be true. Find him and then what ? Will you have to just trust his word and believe that you’ll be finally left alone ?

- “Better start looking, I’m getting impatient here, princess.”

After a few minutes, neither of you spoke. The silence is weighing heavily down on your shoulders. The thought of not knowing where he is and him being able to pop out and slice you at any moment now increased your degree of fear. You walk out of the living room and open your roommate’s door, switching the light on.

- “cold.”

You grumble in response and made your way to your own bed room, eyes landing on the doors of your closet. Hands inching closer to the handles, you hear his breathing become more erratic making you pause.

- “Why’d you stop, baby ? Perhaps I’m in there.”

Your hands trembled as you grab the handles of your closet and pulled it wide open with eyes closed. To your surprise, he wasn’t there.

- “keep looking, sweetheart.” He laughs tauntingly. “Remember, this isn’t some cliche horror movie. The closet, really ?”

- “What's next ? The basement ?”

“Fuck you !” You didn’t wanna play this game anymore. By the time you found him, you’d be dead from a heart attack.

You exit your room and keep walking.

- “still cold.”

Sighing in annoyance, you head for the opposite direction, about to pass the bathroom till he spoke.

- “warmer.”

Taking a deep breath, the door creaks open as you step inside, flicking the light switch on. You inch closer to the shower curtain, letting out a tiny whimper.

- “You’re getting so warm. Very good, baby.”

You never had a thing for praise till now and let me just say that shit made your knees buckle. You wish you could just tell him to stop messing with you, the whole situation itself was already confusing enough.

- “Now you’re boiling.”

You grip the shower curtain and throw it open.

Nothing.

Absolutely, nothing.

“Bastard,” you groan. “Show yourself, asshole ! I’ll beat the shit out of you !“

- “hey now, no need to get violent. Keep talking to me like that and I’ll fuck that attitude out of you,” han spat.

“I’m done with your shit. Grow a pair and come at me, why don’t you ?” You held your phone tightly in your hand you could’ve crushed it. You head to the kitchen and grab a glass of water to soothe your dry throat. You laugh in realization, “I doubt you’re even here. God, I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I fell for it. How else could you send the video if her work’s like miles and miles away ?”

- “you asked for it. No backing out, ‘kay babe ?”

You pause. “What ?”

You immediately drop the glass along with your phone as a gloved hand reaches from behind to clasp over your mouth. Letting out a muffled scream, you thrash in his grasp, reaching to grab the knife from the counter but his free hand swiftly takes hold of both of your wrists and binding them behind your back as the masked man hunches you over the counter.

“Surprise, y/n.”

Tears blur your vision with your screams and whimpers getting muffled by jisung’s glove. He lets go, giving you some time to catch your breath.

“Let go, jisung !”

He inhales audibly, bringing you tight against him. “Scared, sweetheart ? I know you want this as much as I do . . . Think I didn’t notice the way you were practically soaking wet with just my voice ?” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak. “Such a naughty, naughty girl.”

The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen. A moan threatens to leave your mouth but you manage to bite your lip. His hand inches lower, slipping through the waistband of your shorts, clenching your thighs to refrain from giving him access.

“Open those legs for me, pretty girl,” he clicks his tongue, getting impatient.

“Burn in hell.”

With that little comment, he rips off your shorts along with your lacy panties. A new complaint comes from the back of your throat and you start to squirm and thrash again, unconsciously moving your ass against his clothed cock to push him away.

He snickers, keeping you pinned on the counter. “Impatient, are we ?” He lifts his robe and tugs his sweatpants down. Han jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick.

“I missed you,” he rips his mask off, trailing kissing along your neck while he taps the flat of the knife against your cheek. “So fucking much . . .”

“What do you want ?” You gulp, melting in his tight embrace. God, you missed this. You missed him.

“You.” He rolls his eyes, “thought it was pretty obvious, but guess i have to spell it out.”

Han lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and stomach, applying more pressure afterwards to slice your tank top open. The cold air hitting your hardened nipples and the knife lightly dragging along your breasts made you gasp and arch your back against him.

He teases your cunt with the handle, dragging the object along your folds as he circles your clit with it. “Like that, sweetheart ?”

You moan as he smiles at the cry he drew from you.

“Use your words, baby,”

You took a shaky breath, hips swaying. “Fuck you, han jisung.”

He plasters on an amused smile as he shoves the handle in your cunt.

“I really gotta fix that nasty attitude of yours.” He says, taking his glove off.

He replaces the handle with his fingers, gently curling them as he moves it in and out your sopping pussy. You draw out a long whine, legs trembling and you could barely keep yourself up. “Oh god…. Fuck, jisung….”

The cute noises you were making encourages him to keep going as he picks up the pace, thrusting his fingers harder and deeper.

His other hand reaches up and closes his fist around your throat, scissoring his fingers inside of you. You’re reaching for logic, for dignity, but everywhere there’s only him.

Your moans were getting louder and louder at each plunge of his fingers, deciding ‘fuck it’ since it felt too good to stop now. His thumb pressed your clit in a delicious way which brought a familiar sensation in your lower belly. The coil in your stomach tightens painfully.

Han grins at this, knowing you were close.

He purposely pulls his fingers out before your release, suddenly feeling empty as a long string of curses and whines spill from your lips.

“Seriously ? Literally what the fuck—“

Han silences you by pushing the two fingers into your mouth.

His fingers skillfully venture deeper into your throat. The slight pressure causes you to choke momentarily, a mix of vulnerability and exhilaration flooding your senses. Your lips form a tight seal around his fingers, tongue swirling and sucking on them as the primal desire to please him fuels your actions while you greedily lapped your tongue.

His mouth, warm and eager, delicately explored the tender flesh of your neck beneath his lips. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, breath hitching in anticipation as he lines himself up against your entrance.

Moaning, you can’t help but impatiently grind against him

“What’s wrong baby ?” Han releases his fingers from your mouth as you gasp for air. “want my cock instead ?”

You nod eagerly.

His grip on your hip tightens as he tugs your hair back, eliciting a curt hiss from your hips. “Words, y/n.”

“Yes . . Please, I want you so bad, please fuck me.”

“Good girl.” He wastes no time sheathing and snapping himself inside of you, his thrust knocking the wind out of your lungs. He swears quietly, feeling how soft your walls were pulsing around him — warm and perfect, everything he missed over the past few years. You choke on your words, eyes fogging with tears as you slur out random sentences.

He grunts, starting off slow. “Thought I stretched you out pretty good but you’re still so goddamn tight. When was the last time you fucked someone, pretty baby ?”

Han deepens his strokes but keeps a teasingly slow pace. “Pl—Please, Jisung-ah …. go faster.” You sniffle, pathetically begging for his cock at this point. It hurt too much. You needed him more than ever.

“Where's the girl who was telling me to burn in hell a couple of minutes ago ?” He laughs and grabs your jaw to turn and face him, “you look better so needy for me like that . . Now, answer my question.” A groan leaves your mouth as his grip gets tighter.

“Since you left !” You sob as he rocks his hips faster, quickly fucking into your heat. “I haven’t found anyone as good as you, jisung-ah—“

He grins, roughly pinning you down on the counter. It was the answer he exactly wanted to hear.

You gasp as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, beginning to see stars as he brings a hand around to the front, running a finger against your swollen clit.

Moving inside of you at a nearly brutal pace, as you feel your release come closer and closer. He feels it too with the way you tighten around him. “M’cumming,” you whine, but he doesn’t stop. Then you came, walls clenching around him as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your legs tremble under the intensity, tapping on his arm for him to let you breathe for a second.

His hands grab your waist and uses it as leverage to thrust into you, leaving you little to no time to at least catch your breath. You try to speak but another one of his hard thrusts trigger a loud moan.

“Doing so well for me, baby. Think you can cum a second time ?” You moan brokenly, unable to respond. Your tongue hangs from your swollen lips and your throat feels dry. You never expected being fucked silly by the one and only han jisung ever again but here we are. You feel selfish for not wanting it to end and for wanting to be with him again.

He pulls you up and flips you around, hungrily smashing his lips against yours as if he’s been waiting to finally taste and have you all to himself for decades.

- - - -

“I hate you,” you groan as he lays you down on the soft mattress of your bed. “so fucking much.” Han only ever grins in response as he wipes away the cum trickling down your inner thighs.

You can barely move. You can’t even twitch a single finger.

Your limbs were sore and it was all his fault.

Summoning the last ounce of strength within you, you deliver a knee to his abdomen, eliciting a deep grunt from his lips. A look of mild annoyance crosses his face as he settles down beside you, encircling your waist with his strong arm. He presses his face into the soft curve of your neck, his fingertips tracing soothing circles along the tender flesh of your thighs.

“I missed you,”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

You didn’t respond to that.

Suddenly, your lips meet in a sweet collision, a mingling of desire and longing. The taste of anticipation linger on your tongues as Han’s kisses began soft and tender, gentle brushes of lips that convey a depth of emotion words could never capture. With each meeting of your mouths, your passion ignites, growing more fervent, more urgent.

His hand cradles your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline, while your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the ardor of your embrace. Your mouths moved in perfect synchronicity, exploring and claiming, as if they were trying to memorize every contour, every taste.

The moment is abruptly shattered by the piercing wail of police sirens echoing just outside the house. Panic grips your heart, forcing you to acknowledge the harsh reality that the person you love is still a criminal; a killer.

With a heavy sigh, he gently drapes the covers over your form, shielding you from the impending chaos. Reluctantly, he pulls himself away, but not without leaving a lingering kiss upon your trembling lips, as if to imprint his love upon you, even in the face of uncertainty.

"Y/n?!" A familiar voice calls out from outside, the voice of your roommate.

His lips press against your forehead, his touch both comforting and fleeting. Your fingers instinctively cling to his sleeve, desperately trying to hold onto the moments you have shared.

"Wait, Jisung..." you plead, your voice laced with apprehension and longing. Your thumbs nervously fiddle with each other, betraying the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

A mischievous smile plays upon his lips as he leans closer, his voice a whispered reassurance. "Will you come back?" The thought of losing him again scared you.

"It isn’t that easy to get rid of me," he smiles cheekily as he opens the window sill, "Don't miss me too much.

“Remember, whether you like it or not, I'll always find you."

a/n: the amount of times ive watched all of the scream movies (esp 1, 4, and 6) is not healthy</3

also, han jisung brain rot wkjanjanw

this was honestly supposed to be a two part with minsung but i decided against it idk kinda wanna do more ghostface aus with ateez or something

like im boutta write some ethan landry x readers cus lemme js say 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

[yeollie-plz]

Promises.

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Synopsis: In a world where gender roles have been reestablished, Joel continues to save you.

Genre: fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: no outbreak but different outbreak?, i can't explain it, established relationship, Y/N insert, p in v sex, unprotected sex, forced marriage, kissing, mentions of alcoholism and abusive relationships, explosions, pet names, kissing, orgasm denial, breeding kink?, rough sex, spanking, hair pulling

All gif credits to owners!

A/N: Once again writing from a dream I had, idk why I get such vivid dreams sometimes but its honestly so fun!

Also! I am so sorry that I haven't written something in so long, I had literally no motivation. But I hope you didn't miss me too much! And hey, I'm coming back with a bang! (literally, in a few aspects)

When the world almost ended 20 years ago, the government had to issue new laws. Laws that matched up women to men, in order to ensure the repopulation of the human race.

If you were of age, you were matched and married, the man basically owned you. It was very medieval in concept and for a lot also in practice. But for you, it brought you Joel who had slowly but surely became your whole world.

He was kind and took care of you. Nothing like the horror stories you would hear from the other women. He wanted to protect you and let you take your time to warm up to him.

When you finally admitted you liked him he was overjoyed. He had kissed you but took his time with everything else. He knew it was your first time and he wanted to make sure you felt safe and loved. Joel was good and you couldn't be more happy with who was chosen for you.

The world, although now different and strange was the world you had to live in. You had to stay home, unless accompanied by Joel. The goal to repopulate the earth after an alien race tried to take over and wiped out half the population was going well. But with less humans and more aliens taking up living here, it wasn't the safest anymore.

Everyone was assigned a job, a person to marry, and a home to live in. It was organized with the goal of integrating humans and the aliens. And it was working as well as it could be. In the beginning it was rough but after so many years people were getting used to the new world order.

There, of course, was still some rebel groups out there. Women who wanted freedom, aliens who didn't want to be a part of earth, and humans who didn't want them either. Riots would happen here and there because of these rebel groups. But you? You were safe with Joel, you knew that, and you trusted him fully.

You woke to the sun shining in through the large windows that lined your apartment. One good thing about being assigned housing was that most were very nice. Rolling over you were met with an empty bed, Joel was no where to be found. There was no sound coming from the connected bathroom, and just as you were about to get out of bed in search of him there was a crash in the kitchen.

Out of instinct you threw the seats off of you and ran into the kitchen. Only to be met with Joel bent down on the floor cleaning up a broken plate.

"Joel?" You questioned, the shock now leaving your voice and being replaced by amusement.

"Hi baby." He said sheepishly as he picked up the last few shards.

"You okay?"

"Yep, just trying to make you breakfast a failing miserably, the usual." He shrugs and throws the shards away before leaving his mess for a second to give you a kiss on the cheek.

"It's the thought the counts." You smile at him while watching while he finishes up his cleaning.

You sit at the counter, watching him intently. After he finishes cleaning he returns to the stove. You hum to yourself as you watch him. The way his back flexes as he moves his arms makes you bite your lip.

Joel turns as you basically eye fuck him, smirking as he notices the look on your face. Placing a plate in front of you, he smiles at you, and leans across the counter for a kiss. You give him one and utter a small thank you.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Joel spoke up, "Got a lot of cleanup at work today, someone vandalized the train station." He said almost absentmindedly.

You nod in response not being able to hide the concerned look on your face.

"What?" He questions, quickly noticing.

"It's just-" You set down your fork, "-it was probably one of the rebels and I just don't want you to be put in danger."

He smiles lovingly at you, "I'm sure they won't be anywhere near it anymore, it was just some spray paint. Besides, you don't think I can protect myself?"

"No, I know you can protect yourself. But you'll just want to protect everyone else as well, then you'll get yourself in trouble."

Joel lets out a half scoff half laugh at your statement. He knows you are right, he is a protector by nature. He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him in an attempt to draw your eyes to his.

"The only person I want to protect is you. Sure, I will help the guys if they need it but my main goal is always to come home to you." Kissing your knuckles, he puts your hand down.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

It had been a few hours since Joel had left for work. You did what you did most days which included some cleaning with a lot of relaxing. As you were settling down on the couch after cleaning up the breakfast dishes, heavy knocking came from the front door.

The sound made you jump, the aggression of the pounds sent chills down your spine. You usually weren't one to open the door when Joel wasn't home but you did like to at least see who is was.

So, as another set of knocks sounded on the heavy wood door, you dragged your ice cold body towards it. Your feet felt like lead as you stood straight to see clearly out of the peep hole.

On the other side was your neighbor, Jill. Jill had always been nice to you, yet you didn't really like her husband. He was arrogant and rude to say the least. But as Jill stood on the other side of the door, you could see fear etching her face. She shook as she glanced back and forth down the hallway. It was almost like she thought someone was following her.

After a few seconds of debating what to do and watching Jill secretively, you decided that whatever was happening to her was important enough to help. Girls had to stick together, especially when your world had become what it was.

Just as Jill was about to pound on the door again, you opened it slowly revealing yourself to her. She seemed almost shocked that you had answered.

"Jill?" You questioned trying to snap her out of her trance enough for her to explain.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do." She looked at you with pleading eyes and you knew this was something serious.

"Come in, I'll get you something to drink. Maybe some tea?" You weren't sure what else to do but when you were anxious you liked a nice warm tea, maybe Jill did too. She nods at your suggestion and enters the house.

You close the door behind the two of you. Telling her to make herself comfortable while you made her tea.

When you returned to the living room with a nice cup of tea, Jill was still stood in the entrance of your apartment. Arms crossed like she was trying to protect herself.

Slowly you made your way over to her, holding out the mug to her. She took it after a beat or two of staring at it.

"Please, sit down. Take your time, you can tell me what happened." She looked up from the mug to you as you spoke and nodded tentatively, but did what you said anyway.

Silence washed over the two of you and stayed there for almost three whole minutes. You weren't sure what to do so you kept glancing around like something on walls would tell you what to do.

Suddenly she placed her mug down on the coffee table. Your head snapped towards her, you had almost forgotten why she was here. Something had clearly happened and you were curious what.

"I'm sorry for coming over here so abruptly, it's terrible of me to put you in this position." She said with a sigh.

"It's no problem. I can tell you aren't doing great so I'd like to be there for you if I can be." You offer a smile which she almost returns.

"Uh well how do I put this?" She sits and thinks for a second.

"My match...my match isn't such a good fit. He isn't a good person. Since the wedding day he has gotten drunk almost every night. He gets angry and yells and breaks things. He's just a bad person. Even not drunk he isn't a good person." You nod along to the things she's saying. you've heard of bad matches but nothing this bad.

"Well for a while I put up with it. I mean what else am I going to do? This is what had been chosen for me. He didn't always take it out on me too, he would yell at nothing or himself. But eventually it was turned towards me. Nothing I did was right and no matter how hard I worked to keep everything perfect he'd find something wrong with it." Tears are beginning to form in the corners of her eyes the longer she tells you about her husband.

All you can do is sit there and listen, unsure of how to respond. You've never seen Joel angry, let alone as angry as she is describing her husband.

After taking a moment to compose herself, Jill continues, "He would yell and call me names. Tell me how worthless I am and he would throw things, break things. He never got physical with me so I took it. I took the names, I took the insults, all of it. But I couldn't take it anymore, I tried to stand up for myself. And-and-" She chokes up not able to finish her sentence.

This is when you reach out your arm to touch her shoulder. An attempt at a reassuring gesture that just has her jumping back instead. She recovers and looks up at you with apologetic eyes. You give a small smile back.

"He hurt me, badly. I thought he wouldn't stop, it just kept happening. I think I blacked out because when I came to he was gone. I didn't know what else to do so I came over here. I think I should go to the hospital but I can't go without him. I just don't know what to do." She was fully crying now, her words almost indiscernible as she sobbed.

You offered her a tissue which she took and sobbed even more into. Unsure if you should try and comfort her again, you decided it was better to try and this time she didn't shy away. Instead she leaned into the touch and you stroked her shoulder slowly. The action seemed to calm her down remarkably and she eventually calmed down enough that you felt it was a good time to finally respond.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you. I'm so sorry we don't get choices or options. I'm so sorry we are forced to submit to insane ideals and insane people." She lets out another sob. "Listen, Joel doesn't work too far from here and if you think you are strong enough we can go to him and he can take you to the hospital. As long as we have a man with us, they should treat you."

"You mean...go out alone."

You debate what you had just suggested, I guess you had suggested going out alone but it wouldn't be too far of a journey.

"It's not too far and we aren't alone we have each other. We can wear disguises if it makes you feel better. I just want to be able to get you the help you need."

"Are you sure Joel will help me?"

You nod, "If I ask him, he will do it."

She frowns a bit at your statement, you didn't realize how perfect you were making your relationship seem after she just poured her heart out to you.

"Listen, he will help, I promise."

So, the two of you donned some hood and masks in an attempt to cover your hair and feminine features. You also gave Jill an ice pack to soothe her injuries for the time being.

"Ready?" You glanced at her trying to decipher what she was thinking. She stood there still looking very guarded. "Here, we can hold hands, make sure the other doesn't get lost." You offer your hand to her with a smile, she smiles back and takes it.

Leaving your apartment the two of you make your way to the ground floor. It wasn't often that you left the apartment but when you did it was obviously always accompanied by Joel. Something about leaving on your own felt freeing but very scary at the same time.

The train station was a short walk from your building, maybe half a block. Joel always told you exactly where he was working that day and what he was doing. You liked to hear his stories of the outside world and it made you feel safe to know he was safe.

As the two of you got closer to the bustling crowds trying to catch their trains, you felt Jill tense up next to you. You glance at her and squeeze her hand tighter. This draws her attention to you.

"Not far now, we'll be fine."

You didn't know how much you would regret this sentence because as soon as you caught sight of Joel's salt and pepper hair an explosion busted out the wall a mere hundred or so feet to the left of you.

Through the hole in the wall came a group of rebel aliens, screaming and yelling something. With how loud and close the explosion was you ears were ringing. You glanced around at the crowd who was now running around in fear. Trying to catch a glimpse of your husband in the mess, you felt a hand tug yours. Looking down you saw Jill on the ground, curled into herself. She was crying again.

You jumped into action trying to pull her up so no one stepped on her, but she wouldn't budge. "Jill please, get up we need to get somewhere safer!"

She still didn't move, you looked around desperately. Either you were going to find Joel or someone else that could help. That's when you caught a glimpse of him. There was no way he could hear you over the yells and chaos but you called his name anyway.

And it was almost like his ears were trained to hear your voice and your voice alone because not long after beginning to call out to him, he locked eyes with him. He took a double take, convincing himself it wasn't really you. Then his eyebrows furrowed realizing he wasn't imagining things and quickly pushed through the crowd towards you.

He was now stood in front of you, your face in his hands as he looked you over. "Baby what are you doing here? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

The questions came quickly, too quickly to answer so you nodded instead.

"Joel, I'm fine. I came to get your help and then the explosion..." You trailed off not sure how to explain yourself now that you had put yourself in such danger.

"Tell me later, come on, I gotta get you out of here." He tries to drag you out but you pull him back, stopping him.

"I can't go, we need to get Jill."

"Jill? Our neighbor, Jill?" You nod and gesture to her still on the ground.

He looks confused but doesn't question it, instead he walks over to Jill.

"Jill? Can you walk?" She shakes her head no.

"Can I carry you, we really need to get somewhere safe." She takes minute and eyes him closely, trying to decide if he was trustworthy. Finally, she nods.

So he picks her up carefully and turns to you, "Hold onto my shirt and don't let go." You nod and grab ahold of the plaid shirt he was currently wearing.

That's how the three of you made your way out of the chaos. But Joel didn't stop until you were at least a block away from the danger before stopping and setting Jill carefully down onto her shaking legs.

You quickly made your way to her to help her stabilize herself and when she did you looked back at Joel. His back was turned to you and his hands were in his hair. He wasn't happy, you knew that, so you didn't speak just kept trying to calm down Jill.

Finally he turned back around, eyes filled with something you had never seen before. At least something you had never seen in Joel.

He breathed deeply, "I need to get you home." He said simply.

"Okay, but Jill needs to go to the hospital first."

"What?" The curtness of his voice had you reeling back a bit, was he angry? You had never really seen Joel angry before, not at you at least.

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself before he said something he would regret.

"We will take her to the hospital, make sure she is in safe hands, then we are going home."

"But what if she needs me?" The look on his face at your response should've had you stopping at 'but', so you just nodded.

And that's what you did. Made sure Jill was in safe hands and that her family was called to help her and you were dragged home. It was less than twenty minutes before Joel was pushing you back out the door and dragging you home.

You didn't protest but you also didn't know what to say to him. So as the two of you entered your apartment, you went to explain yourself. Instead your explanations were muffled by Joel's lips on yours. The kiss was desperate, like he was unsure you were really there. Maybe unsure you were really okay?

"Joel-" You mumble into his lips as he doesn't stop kissing yours. A grunt sounds from him as he hears you say his name.

He doesn't want to talk it seems because his lips stay on yours and his hands find the back of your thighs lifting you up into arms. You help him by jumping and wrapping your legs around his hips. Your arms find their place behind his neck.

Joel carries you through the apartment, lips never letting up. They only disconnect as he drops you onto your bed and quickly takes off his shirt. Leaning back over you his knee is placed between your legs and you gasp at how close he is, his body heat, making you feel even warmer than you already did.

"I thought I lost you." He says simply but you can see in his eyes he really means those words.

But you don't have a chance to respond because his lips are back on you. This time trailing down your jaw to your neck, only to be stopped by the fabric of your shirt. Joel lets out another grunt as he grabs the bottom of shirt and quickly whips it off of you like it had offended him.

As soon as the shirt is off of you his lips are back on your neck, now trailing to the places he really wanted to get to. Your bra is unclasped quicker than you can even process what is happening. His mouth instantly biting at the sensitive skin of your breast, biting at it only a bit before licking down to your nipple.

You gasp as his mouth latches onto the sensitive bud. You hadn't realized how turned you were until that moment. Sure you wanted this, you always wanted Joel but the danger of the day was catching up with you. Now you needed him, needed to feel protected, loved.

"Joel please, I-" Hearing you beg had him unlatching his mouth from your breast and looking up at you.

For almost the first time in an hour he finally addresses you, "What do you want baby?"

"You Joel, I need you. I-I'm sorry." The apology wasn't what he was asking for but it was what he needed to hear because as soon as those two words left your lips he was returning his attention to your chest.

He now attached himself to your other breast, giving that nipple what it had been missing. His hands worked at the button of your pants, undoing it and the zipper quickly. He shoved them down your legs with your help, lips never leaving your flushed skin.

As soon as your pants were down his hands were playing with the hem of your underwear. The thin fabric causing his touches to feel even more intense as he teased you just a bit. But he knew neither of you could wait much longer so he pushed them to the side and started stroking your clit.

Slow circles at first which had you arching your back, chest pushed even farther into his mouth as he continued to take care of both of your nipples. He stroked your clit a few more times before letting his fingers dip further down, teasing your slit.

You were wet, very wet, so they slid easily against you and you gasped. You could feel him smirk against your nipple. But this time he detached himself from it and returned his mouth to yours.

He worked a finger into you in time with your kissing. Then two, then three. They curved against your insides, you moaned into the kiss and bit down on his lip as he brushed the perfect spot inside of you.

Your head tossed back as you got closer to your peak the more he stroked you g spot. When you gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin enough to draw blood, he pulled his fingers out of you. Leaving you at the brink of an orgasm. You let out a whine as your head snapped back up to look at him.

"I don't like punishing you, doll, but tonight you're gonna need some discipline." You didn't argue just let your head drop slightly. He brought his down and caught your lips in his, forcing your head back up.

You didn't notice but he had unbuckled his jeans and pushed them and his underwear down just enough to let his member loose. He doesn't take your panties off either, instead he leaves them how they were when he was fingering you as his tip teases your entrance. You were still very sensitive from your denied orgasm so your hips jerked up at the contact.

He pretended not to notice and slapped his dick onto your clit, causing you to buck up once again. He pulled back, eyes searching yours. Joel had this look about him when the two of you had sex, something between dominance and love but right now it was a fire. One you hadn't seen before and it made you nervous but oh so excited. It had you gushing between your legs.

You bit your lip as his tip pushed past your entrance, sliding in easily with how wet you were, not to mention his thick fingers being there only minutes earlier.

"Always so tight." Joel grunts as he hilts himself fully inside of you. He stays like that reveling in the feeling before slowly pulling himself almost fully out of you just to snap his hips forward back into you.

He continues this and it is so aggressive that you need to grip onto his shoulders again for any form of support. He had never fucked you like this before. It had your brain fogging up with pleasure.

Your peak catches up with you quickly. You whimper, needing the release you have been waiting for. Joel notices and brings his thumb down to rub your clit a few times. Your heart swells thinking he is going to let you cum. But it is too good to be true because just as you begin to clench around him he is pulling away and out of you.

"Told you, you need to remember how to be a good girl first." The name has you swallowing a lump in your throat.

"I am Joel, please, I need you inside me." He stutters at your words, but recovers quickly, flipping you over onto your stomach.

"You don't just get to cum whenever you want, gonna have to work for it pretty girl." He kneads your ass as he speaks, clearly liking his new view.

"I'll do anything." You speak so quietly, Joel almost misses it. A dark chuckle leaves his lips.

"Want you to suck my dick so badly right now, you have no idea. But this-" His hand lands onto your round ass with a smack, "-this is too tempting right now."

Another smack and his member is returning between your legs as he pushes into you. You moan loudly at the intrusion, constantly getting more and more sensitive the more he denies you of what you need.

He thrusts in an out of you at the same speed as earlier. When his hips snap into yours, he lands a smack onto your ass. He relishes the feeling of you sucking him in each time he spanks you. The feeling causing you to clench onto his dick.

The hand not making your skin burn red is holding your hip so tightly the skin is turning white, you there will be bruises there tomorrow. Hell, at this rate you'll have all kinds of marks tomorrow.

"Want to fill you up, need to see you full of my cum." Although you knew what had gotten into Joel, you had never seen this side of him and it was almost jarring how much of a change it was. Was this the true him? Was he scared to show this side of himself? Scared you couldn't handle it? Fuck was he wrong.

"Please, I need your cum." And you decided to truly show him he was wrong. You liked this side of him and you wanted him to know that.

Joel grunted snapping his hips into yours so roughly it had you seeing stars. You could tell he was close and unsurprisingly so were you. You pushed your hips back into his and he was too far gone to deny you any longer.

"Joel, baby, please can I cum now?"

"Let go for me, I need you clench around this dick as I fill you with my seed. Want to see you all round and pregnant for me." His words send you over the edge with the orgasm you have been waiting for all night.

You clench like a vice onto his cock, the feeling sending him over his edge as well. The hand that was spanking you is sent up your spine to grip the back of your hair pulling your head back so he can attach his lips to yours.

You each moan into each other's mouths as he continues to pump you full of his seed. He works you both through your orgasms as your lips work against each other as well. Your breaths come out ragged as he finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours.

His eyes are closed as he speaks, "Did I hurt you baby?"

"No! I uh, I actually enjoyed it very much." He laughs at your response.

"I'm glad." He pauses. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Your brows furrow.

"For getting mad and getting rough with you, I never wanted to show you this side of me."

"Hey, look at me." He does. "I like every side of you. I should be the one apologizing right now. I got myself into danger by going against the rules."

Joel sighs and swallows the lump that was sitting in the back of his throat.

"I love you." Is all he can think to say.

"I love you." Is all you need to respond.

[moonknightly]

lost in a moment, every moment when we touch—

poe dameron x afab!reader

word count: 2.8k+

warnings: porn with really no plot, alcohol consumption (and poe's kind of pushing it without really pushing it), rough sex, idk nothing special it's just drunk sex with your boyfriend after you leave a shitty bar for the night, i use “fuck” a lot because “kriff” just wasn’t hitting the way i needed it to

notes: happy may the fourth babies<3 i haven't written for my man in years but here he is

It’s rare that you find yourself able to step away from the fast paced, chaotic world this never ending war has brought upon the galaxy. You hardly have a moment to breathe before jumping from one mission onto the next. 

Not that you mind, of course you don’t mind. You knew what you were signing up for when you joined the Resistance. 

So of course you look a little out of place when you wind up with a night off after another successful mission and end up at a questionable bar with your comrades. The music is loud but so different from rapid gunfire, and it’s dark but not like the endless galaxy outside of your X-Wing. The stimuli are so completely unfamiliar while harboring traits you should be accustomed to. 

One thing that you think will always be familiar, however, is Poe. 

He looks relaxed. Sure of himself. Confident. You know better than to believe that the man never feels nervous or out of place like you’re feeling now, though he could’ve fooled you—he always seems so stoic, so sure, even when he has to fake it. 

But you know that he’s not faking it now. He really is just relaxed, taking the full opportunity of a night away from the Resistance and the Order to let himself be. The crowd doesn’t bother him, the burn of alcohol sliding down his throat isn’t as foreign to him. He looks as comfortable here as he does when he’s flying. 

And it’s hot. You have to fucking admit, you find it so hot. 

Maybe it’s the shot (two?) that he’s ordered for you, maybe it’s leftover adrenaline, you’re not sure. You think it could be because he’s just…hot. You’re allowed to objectify your boyfriend, right? It feels like you’re objectifying him. Oh Maker are you-

“How many shots is it going to take to loosen you up, baby?”

His voice shocks you out of your thoughts. Your eyes flash towards him and fuck, the way he’s looking at you-

“Are you trying to get me drunk, General?”

“Maybe.” He says it so nonchalantly, like he’s not doing something kind of questionable, something that should’ve been a red flag for you. 

But it’s Poe. You trust Poe. 

He clears his throat when you don’t answer and your attention is brought back to his infuriatingly handsome face. He’s always handsome, Gods he is so so good looking but the alcohol has you wanting to crawl into his lap and wrap your legs around his middle while he tangles a hand into the back of your hair and you wonder if you’d be able to taste traces of booze-

You had to have made a face. Had to have. Poe looks amused and he’s chuckling, watching you with that certain fondness in his stupid brown eyes that he only has for you. 

“Can we get a third?” Poe asks the bartender (so it was two) as they make their round. 

You laugh quietly under your breath, cheeks warming just a bit. “So you are trying to get me drunk.” 

“No baby,” he hums, easily slipping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer into his side. His body feels like it's on fire, he’s always so warm and inviting and sturdy. You’re able to release some of the tension that seems ever present in your body when he’s holding you. “I’m just tryin’ to get you to relax is all.”

“That so?” you hum, allowing your hand to inch its way under his shirt so you can gently touch the small of his back, craving skin to skin. He shivers. 

Poe only hums, his smile turning into more of a smirk as two shots are placed down in front of him. He slides yours across the bar towards you, raising the small glass to his lips just as you did, timing his shot so you take them together. You’re getting used to the burn, but it still causes you to pull a face. Poe however, looks completely unphased by the scorching liquid sliding down his throat. 

And he missed a drop. It’s rolling down his neck, mingling with leftover sweat and oh no, oh no. You want to catch it for him before it dries and turns his skin sticky. You want to lean forward and lick the column of his throat and relish in that sweet and salty taste on your tongue that could only belong to him, you want-

You let your thoughts run wild for a moment, and again you would probably feel bad about some of the things you’re thinking but he’s your boyfriend, it has to be okay. 

When that shot hits your bloodstream and that drop is still near his collarbone, you indulge in those not so innocent thoughts. 

You lean forward and grip the edge of his shirt gently, tugging it to the side, just enough to expose more of his collarbone to you. Poe watches with curious eyes and a tilt of his head, lips pursed, and he’s about to ask what you’re doing when your tongue hits his warm skin and his words dissolve into the quietest of moans. You gently lap at the spot, only soaking his skin further and when you finally give him a little bite, let your teeth graze against his skin, he loses it. 

He’s the first to pull away, keeping his hands on your waist, eyes dark and locked on yours. You glance at him, looking him up and down once, twice, and you don’t remember his pants being so tight when you’d walked into the bar. 

“What are you trying to do baby?” he husks, voice strangled, trying to control his desire and failing miserably. 

You shrug, trying to keep it innocent. “I was just trying to clean you up.”

His mouth falls slack, just a little, and his pupils are completely blown. He licks his lips and what should’ve been such a simple action isn’t. His wet tongue peeking out of his mouth, running along his bottom lip…you’re struggling to keep your composure, just like him. You still don’t have the upper hand.

And Poe notices. Oh, of course he notices. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking about honey.” 

He perches his elbow on the bar, tilting his head to the side as he regards you carefully, intent to hang onto your every word. 

But your words escape you. Completely escape you. He’s winning this game of cat and mouse and he knows it. 

He’s sure another round will get you talking, so he orders you each your fourth. You reach for the glass to throw it back but Poe stops you, easily plucking it from your fingers. 

“C’mere,” he purrs, leaving his own glass on the counter as he grabs your chin and forces your head back. You open your mouth without him needing to ask, without needing to even think about it really. 

It’s so interesting, how you obey him even when there’s no verbal command given. 

Poe brings the glass to your lips and slowly starts to tip it back, letting the stinging liquid flow down your throat slowly this time, prolonging the burn. Once you’ve finished the shot, Poe moves his grip from your jaw to the hair at the back of your neck and he pulls, bringing your lips crashing onto his. He smirks into it when your hands meet the tops of his thighs, and he thinks he’s finally going to get you into his lap so he can discreetly grind against your ass while you makeout at the bar. 

But you dig your nails into his skin instead, pausing again, holding still. 

He groans quietly in the back of his throat and pulls away, just enough for him to look into your eyes, the furrow between his brows prominent. 

You’re smiling, just a little bit, cheeks flushed and eyes a little wild. You lick your lips before you speak. “If we start this here I don’t think I’d be able to stop you from bending me over the counter in front of everyone.”

Poe tilts his head, as if he’s considering how right you actually are when the reality is, yeah, he knows he would. If he could get away with it, if he was on a planet where nobody knew his name, he would.

“So?” he asks, unable to keep the amusement off his face and the little bit of humor out of his tone. “You’re saying you don’t want everyone to watch you get split open on my cock?” 

You hit his chest, attempting to chastise him for his vulgar words but he’s said worse, and you don’t actually hate it. Poe just laughs because he knows as much. 

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he runs his hands up your thighs, fingers grabbing onto your hips. “Then why don’t we get out of here before that happens, hm?”

You don’t need him to ask twice. You’re just as eager to get him somewhere quiet and alone. 

Poe throws a handful of credits, enough to pay for your drinks and probably more, down on the counter before standing with you. He reaches for his last shot, still untouched on the counter in front of him, and throws it back. He doesn’t even flinch, again, and his hand immediately falls to your lower back as he starts to guide you through the busy bar. Nobody looks your way, nobody pays attention because this isn’t anything new. Poe’s only been going home with you for a long time now.

You’d already reserved quarters for the evening, knowing you wouldn’t want to fly back to base after getting hammered. The room isn’t anything fancy, but it’s clean and the bed is softer than anything you’ve laid on in years. Poe doesn’t even worry about taking off your clothes before he’s pushing you down onto it. 

He kisses you and somehow his lips are even more frantic than they had been at the bar only ten minutes before. He moans as he licks into your mouth, familiar and warm, bringing one hand up to cup your jaw and keep you still for him. You’re completely pliant underneath him while he kisses your breath away, letting him take the lead. 

His lips break away from yours though, sooner than you’d like, and you whine but it’s quickly replaced by a sharp gasp when he nips your collarbone. He closes his lips around your skin, sucking gently at first but then you can feel his teeth start to sink in. When he pulls back, he traces the small, red bruise with the tip of his finger.

“That’s for not letting everyone watch,” he teases gently, his smirk playful. “I thought it would be a good reminder, but this will have to do.” 

“Mm, I don’t think anyone really needs a reminder,” you chuckle. You can’t help but dissolve into a quiet laugh, but the sound is cut short when Poe kisses you again. 

This time, he doesn’t pull away. Not until you’re panting and writhing underneath him, lips glossy and swollen, eyes glazed. His cock is so hard in his pants, it’s a surprise the zipper didn’t bust. You rub your thighs together, trying to clench just right so you find some sort of relief. You’re both more than ready, just from a little kissing and what you’d call foreplay at the bar. 

You’re pretty sure Poe Dameron could look at you a certain way and you’d be ready, though. The thought makes you laugh again as he grabs your hips and easily flips you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up and back until your ass meets his clothed dick. He doesn’t ask you why you’re laughing, too preoccupied with tugging your pants down from your waist to your thighs, and just like before the sound is cut short again, replaced with a sharp gasp and a moan as his hand falls to your ass in a stinging slap. 

He smacks your ass a second time before you hear the soft clanking of metal, and you know he’s undoing his belt. You bite your lip in anticipation as you feel him notch the tip of his cock at your entrance, but he doesn’t push into you any further than that, not yet. He wants to hear you whine for it.

And you do. You whine and you moan quietly and try to push yourself back onto him, but he doesn’t let you. Poe sighs, feigning disappointment, and not a second later you feel his hand wrap around your neck and he’s pulling, pulling you up until your back meets his chest and his lips land at the shell of your ear, his breath hot and heavy. 

“So kriffing needy,” he hums as he finally slips all of the way inside of your tight body. “So warm, and so kriffing, kriff-” 

“I think you might be the needy one,” you whimper, turning your face to glance at him over your shoulder, except he never lets you, his fingers around your neck holding you effectively in place. 

Poe huffs, drawing his hips back before snapping them forward again, just once. Just to give you a taste. “I think you might want to hold onto something before I blow your back out.”

Except he never lets you do that either, not before he’s started a relentless pace against you, his hips slapping against your ass with each thrust and you wonder briefly if he actually could blow your back out like this. You wouldn’t be surprised. He’s almost brutal, the way he fucks you but it’s exactly how you want it. Rough, fast, heated. You want to be completely surrounded by him. 

“That’s it baby, just take it. Just take it.” 

He has one arm wrapped tightly around your middle to keep you upright and close while his hand that had previously been around your neck drifts down to the hem of your shirt. He tugs the fabric over your head with as little difficulty as he can manage, bra coming with it, pace never changing. He watches your tits bounce over your shoulder as he fucks into you from behind, fingers slipping down to play with your clit. 

Your eyes roll back as he plucks pleasure from your body with each little stroke of his fingers and the delicious drag of his cock inside of you. His moans in your ear shoot straight to your pussy each and every time, and you feel like you can’t breathe. He’s fucking you so thoroughly, so deeply you feel like you can feel him in your throat.

It’s quick, and it’s exactly how you need it. It’s not a night full of pleasure and cumming your brains out until you’re so cock drunk you can’t remember your own name, although you can’t seem to think of anything other than his. Or say anything for that matter.  

He rubs your clit faster, applying just a little more pressure as he angles his hips up, bullying that spot inside of you over and over again. 

“Kriff, baby, come on,” he moans, tongue swiping out to lick along your ear. “I’m gonna cum, I need you to cum too.” 

You’re so close. Right on the edge of falling into oblivion but you just can’t quite get there. A little cry escapes your throat, one that makes a growl tear from Poe’s. 

He collapses forward suddenly, caging you in under his body as he continues to rut himself into, chasing both his and your release like it’s the most important mission he’s ever completed. It’s then, once you are actually completely surrounded by him that you let go. 

You’re not sure if the sounds leaving your body are moans or screams or some combination of both. Your hearing fades and your vision turns stark white behind your eyelids. You’re not sure how long you stay there, suspended in absolute bliss before he lets you come down, slowly slowly slowly, fingers still playing with your clit as he finally stills inside of you. You can feel Poe’s warm cum leaking out around him and dripping down onto the mattress below.

His lips are still at your ear, and you let yourself focus on the sound of his breathing as you try to remember how to do so properly. You’re covered in sweat, but so is he, and your limbs feel like they weigh twice as much as usual. It’s so hard to move, and you don’t want to. You want to stay in this little bubble, trapped underneath him where all you have to do is lay there and take it like he tells you. 

You let yourself live in that little daydream as Poe settles on top of you, too tired himself to even pull out or roll over but you don’t mind. Not at all.

The war can wait.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

you know how cats like when you scratch above their tailbone

that but with lee know, like

if your fucking him from behind, just scratch and stroke over his tailbone, its enough to get him coming untouched

and the way he mewls like a kitten...

kitty~

lee know x reader

warnings: dom reader, sub lee know, reader fucking him though could be w a strap or a dick, cumming untouched, kitty lino, idk what else

a/n: help, help, help, anon you are 😵‍💫🙏, this is really short and kinda shit bc i haven't written in forever but found this in my inbox and couldn't resist

it happens when you're fucking into him, ass up and head buried into the pillows bc poor baby is too embarrassed to let you hear the downright slutty whines and pleads dripping from his lips one after another as you ram into prostate over and over.

any other day you'd tug him up by his hair, wrap your hand around his throat and pull his back flush to your chest. making his head spin by placing your lips beside his ear, teeth nipping at his earlobe while you whispered such dizzying things to him.

but you're feeling nice today-or cruel.

with you, he finds that the two are often intertwined; one and the same really. able to bring him to the brink of insanity, leaving him drowning in the pool of your desire.

mercy is delivered in the form of sweet words and honeyed praises that seep into his skin, making him delirious like venom. and mercy is injected into him in the cruel way you thrust, pulling hoarse whines from him with every jolt of your hips: rough, demanding, animalistic, just the way he likes it.

"oh kitty~" you coo, and he mewls, proving the point you've made. "so pathetic." and you were right. you make him feel like he's melting, drooling into a puddle for you to mold and remake into whatever you pleased.

you sigh, "so messy," another truth, you were almost worried for your sheets with the amount of pre-cum he was leaking. "you gonna purr for me next? like a good kitty?"

he clenched around you, delightfully so.

he just looks so much like a cat right now.

the cat ears you had so lovingly placed in his hair, matching in colour so well they fit in seamlessly they might as well be real.

the way his hips sway, grinding back onto you to match your thrusts. you swear if he had a tail it would be flicking back and forth. wrapping around your thigh or ankle, trying to find some form of holding onto you- stay sane in the depths of this haze.

you were sure if he could purr, it would be loud enough for you to hear no matter how much he'd try to hide them. you could still hear his muffled mewls and cute hiccupy gasps even now.

just like a cat.

your pretty kitty, your lino.

and maybe...just maybe...

experimentally, cautiously (because much like a cat, you knew he didn't need to be provoked much to bite) you pressed your hand, lightly against his tailbone.

his reaction was immediate, and obvious, startlingly so.

his back arched. his thighs trembling, keening as he pressed back against you, grinding needily, like he couldn't get enough, like he could never get enough.

so you pressed slightly harder, rubbing small circles to the area, ripping high desperate mewls as he spasmed around you. unable to help his head snapping back, looking at you with wide, watery eyes as he came, dirtying the already ruined bedding with his spend.

you couldn't bring yourself to care at this point.

and he couldn't either.

you hummed, amused as you watch him slump onto the dirtied sheets, completely boneless. a quiet cry following when you slipped out of him.

"well that's something new~"

"-you...-you are never doing that again." he huffs, quietly, with little deliberation. with just enough force, in a way that you know he's going to be begging for it in less time than one may think with a stubborn, steadfast man such as your lino.

you only laughed and he shuddered at the sound.

"we'll see, kitty."

a/n: please, please give me a little slack if this is awful-the thoughts took over i wrote this in like half an hour in a moment of weaknessssss😫 i can't control them anymoreeeee

also ik i have a taglist i'll prolly get that out later today if i ever get it out at all😭

[reiding-writing]

SCREAM AT THE ABYSS — SPENCER REID!

after being kidnapped because of your involvement in the case, spencer and the team rushes to shut down the operation as quickly as possible.

s1!spencer x fem!reader | mystery | 4.0k | event masterlist.

main masterlist.

| part one. | part two. | part three. |

a/n — happy? ending? maybe? uh… idk bro

The van’s doors slam shut with a cold finality, the sound echoing in your mind like a death knell.

The air inside is thick, musty, and suffocating, and your heart hammers in your chest as you struggle against the hands pinning you down.

Your breath is coming in shallow gasps, muffled by the rough cloth they’ve tied over your mouth. The floor of the van is cold, hard, and your skin scrapes against the metal as you writhe, trying to free yourself. But the grip on you is unyielding.

The men say nothing, their movements precise and practiced. It’s terrifying in its efficiency, how quickly they’ve taken control. You try to scream, to shout Spencer’s name, but your voice is swallowed by the cloth gag and the darkness.

The van jerks forward, and you’re thrown back against the wall, your head pounding as the vehicle accelerates through the night.

Time blurs, the minutes stretching into an eternity. The sound of the engine and the steady hum of the tires are the only things you can focus on, grounding you as your thoughts race. How did they manage to grab you? The club was literally crawling with police. Where were they taking you? Did anyone notice that you disappeared? The questions pile up in your mind, each one more frantic than the last.

You force yourself to calm down, to breathe through the panic that’s clawing at your throat. You can’t lose control. Not now. You try to remember everything you’ve learned—everything you and Spencer uncovered. The missing girls, the disappearances, the trafficking ring. It’s all connected. You are now part of that connection.

The realisation hits you hard: you’re not just chasing the truth anymore—you’ve become its prey.

The van lurches to a stop after what feels like hours. Your heart leaps into your throat as you hear the doors swing open, the crunch of gravel under heavy boots. The hands tighten around your arms, dragging you roughly toward the exit.

Your body resists, instinctively fighting, but it’s useless. They haul you out of the van and onto your feet, the blindfold over your eyes making it impossible to see where you are.

You can hear distant voices now—faint murmurs of conversation, some in a language you don’t understand. There’s a sickening sense of organisation to it all, like this is something they’ve done a hundred times before. You’re pulled forward, the sound of a heavy door creaking open, and the air shifts as you’re led inside.

The smell hits you first—damp, metallic, and faintly chemical, like rust and bleach mingling in the stale air. You try to make sense of your surroundings, but everything feels disjointed, your senses heightened but useless without your sight. The blindfold is ripped off, and the dim light of the room stings your eyes.

It’s a warehouse. Or at least, something like it. The walls are gray, lined with stacks of crates and industrial equipment. There are a few flickering overhead lights, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Your stomach churns as you notice the small cages along one side of the room. Empty now, but too small for anything other than a person.

There’s a man standing in front of you, older than the others, his presence commanding in a way that sends a cold shiver down your spine. His suit is pristine, his demeanor too calm for the circumstances. He steps forward, appraising you like a piece of merchandise.

“You’ve been poking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he says, his voice low and smooth, as if this is all just a game to him. “We don’t take kindly to curious minds like yours.”

You feel the bile rise in your throat, but you hold his gaze. Despite the fear gnawing at your insides, you refuse to look away. “What do you want from me?” The words come out muffled, but the venom is clear in your tone.

He smirks, a slow, predatory expression. “It’s not what we want from you. It’s what we want with you.” He gestures to the cages, the darkened corners of the warehouse where shadows shift and other captives might be hidden. “You see, girls like you are quite valuable. Especially when they know too much.”

The weight of his words crashes down on you, and suddenly, the stories you and Spencer uncovered—the whispered rumours, the reports of girls vanishing into thin air—become horrifyingly real. This isn’t just a trafficking ring; it’s a machine, a well-oiled operation designed to exploit the most vulnerable. And now, they’ve pulled you into their web.

The man’s eyes narrow. “You’re not the first to think you can expose us. But you might be the last if you’re smart.”

He steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You have no idea how deep this goes. We own people—law enforcement, officials, you think your amateur investigation will protect you? You can’t touch us.”

You feel cold all over, the enormity of what he’s saying sinking in. They’re bigger than anything you’ve imagined, and the people you thought you could trust may be compromised.

One of the men standing beside you moves toward a nearby table, grabbing something—a syringe. Your pulse spikes, adrenaline flooding your system as you realise what’s about to happen.

You thrash again, the blind panic finally setting in, but the hands pinning you are too strong. They hold you down as the needle pierces your skin, the sharp sting quickly dulling as something cold spreads through your veins.

Your vision blurs, the room around you beginning to fade, but you hear the man’s voice one last time, as distant and cruel as the darkness closing in.

“Welcome to the market.”

The world tilts, and then everything goes black.

—

When you wake, you’re lying on a cold floor, the taste of blood sharp in your mouth. Your wrists are bound, and you’re in a different part of the warehouse, the dim light casting long, eerie shadows in its corners. The sounds around you are different now—muffled voices, footsteps echoing on metal stairs, the distant hum of a generator.

Your body feels heavy, sluggish, whatever they injected you with still coursing through your system. Panic threatens to overwhelm you, but you force yourself to focus. Stay calm. Think. You scan the room, your heart pounding as you see other girls huddled in the corners, some barely conscious, others staring blankly ahead.

This is what Charli went through. This is what all of them went through. And now, you're trapped in the very nightmare you were trying to stop.

But somewhere out there, Spencer is still looking for you, he has to be. And if you can hold on—just a little longer—maybe you’ll find a way out before you disappear for good.

—

You don’t know how long you’ve been in the warehouse. The minutes blur into hours, the cold seeping into your bones. You drift in and out of consciousness, each time waking to the same gray walls and the quiet murmurs of the other captives.

There’s no sense of time, no way to gauge how long you’ve been held or if anyone is coming for you. Your thoughts grow darker with each passing moment, and for the first time, a terrible possibility creeps into your mind—what if no one ever finds you?

Then, one night, everything changes.

You’re startled awake by a series of loud crashes, followed by shouting and the unmistakable sound of gunfire. The entire warehouse erupts into chaos—men yelling, doors slamming, the heavy thud of boots on concrete.

The other captives stir around you, eyes wide with confusion and fear, but none of them move. Everyone is too frightened, too broken, to hope for rescue.

Your heart races as the door to your cell flies open, and for a terrifying second, you think it’s one of them coming to take you. But it’s not. It’s Spencer.

He looks disheveled, his face streaked with dirt and sweat, but his eyes lock onto yours with a fierce determination. Relief washes over you, overwhelming and disorienting, but you can barely process it as he rushes to untie your hands. "It’s okay," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "You’re safe now. We’re getting you out of here."

Your mind struggles to catch up with what’s happening. You’re safe. The words don’t seem real, not after the nightmare you’ve endured. But then Spencer is pulling you to your feet, his arm around your waist as he helps you stumble toward the exit. “You’re okay, I’ve got you,”

All around you, agents from the BAU and local law enforcement swarm the building, subduing the traffickers, rounding up the men who took you. The sting operation has finally come to fruition, and the trafficking ring is being torn apart.

But the price of that success hits hard as you step out into the night air, your legs trembling beneath you.

In the days that follow, the weight of what happened doesn’t lift. It sits heavy on your chest, even as you’re surrounded by people trying to reassure you, to tell you that you’re safe now, that it’s all behind you.

The arrests make headlines: dozens of men involved in the trafficking ring, including high-profile figures in the D.C area, are taken down. The news calls it a victory for the BAU and law enforcement. They call it justice.

But it doesn’t feel like justice.

Not when the trauma lingers like an open wound, raw and festering beneath the surface. You sit in the hospital room, staring at the IV in your arm, but all you can think about is the warehouse. The cold concrete. The cages. The girls who weren’t so lucky.

Spencer comes to see you every day, though you don’t say much. He sits in the chair beside your bed, his eyes full of worry, as if he’s searching for the right thing to say but knows that nothing will fix it.

He saved you, but you can see the guilt weighing on him, the same questions gnawing at him that haunt you: How many girls did they miss? How long had this been going on? Why didn’t anyone notice sooner?

“You don’t have to talk,” he says one afternoon, breaking the silence. His voice is gentle, but there’s an edge to it, a weariness that mirrors your own. “But when you’re ready… I’ll be here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

You want to respond, but the words don’t come. You’re trapped in the in-between—relieved that you’re out of that hell, but shattered by the memory of it, by what you witnessed, by how close you came to disappearing completely.

—

The days stretch into weeks. The investigation wraps up, the trial dates are set, and the media frenzy dies down. But your world feels smaller now, confined to the four walls of your apartment, where you spend most of your time trying to make sense of everything that’s happened.

The smallest things bring it all rushing back—a sharp sound, the clink of metal, the smell of bleach—and suddenly, you’re back in that van, or in that warehouse, bound and powerless.

You’ve been through the trauma debriefs, sat through sessions with psychologists who try to help you process the experience. They talk about recovery in terms of stages, as if healing is something you can track and measure. But for you, recovery isn’t linear. It’s fractured, messy, one step forward and two steps back.

One evening, Spencer comes over to check on you. He brings takeout and sits with you on the couch, both of you eating in silence. After a while, he sets his food down and looks at you with an intensity you haven’t seen since the night he found you.

“I know it’s hard,” he says quietly. “I know you’re still processing, but you did something incredible. You found the truth. And because of you, so many girls are going to be saved.”

You swallow hard, staring at your untouched food. “But I couldn’t save them all.”

Spencer’s expression softens. “No one could’ve. This operation—it was bigger than any of us imagined. You did everything you could, and more than most people would have. That’s what matters.”

His words settle over you like a blanket, warm but not entirely comforting. You know he’s right, but the guilt still gnaws at you. You think of Charli, of the girls who didn’t make it out. You think of the nights you spent terrified, wondering if you would ever escape. The victory feels hollow.

“I don’t know how to go back to normal,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t even know what normal is anymore.”

Spencer is quiet for a moment, then he reaches out, placing a deft hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to go back to how things were. There’s no ‘normal’ after something like this. But you will heal. It just takes time. And when you’re ready, we’ll keep fighting. For the ones we didn’t find. For the ones who are still out there.”

You meet his gaze, and for the first time in weeks, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s faint, fragile, but it’s there. The trauma won’t vanish overnight, and you know the nightmares will come for a while yet. But Spencer is right—what you uncovered, what you survived, will save lives.

Maybe you didn’t stop it all. Maybe you couldn’t save everyone. But you made sure the world knows what’s happening. And for now, that has to be enough.

As you sit there, the weight of everything still heavy on your shoulders, you take a breath. It’s shaky, but it’s a start. You survived. You’re still here. And for the first time in a long time, that feels like a victory.

In the months that follow, you begin to rebuild. It’s slow, agonising at times, but each day you feel a little more like yourself—though a new version of yourself, forever changed by what you went through.

The nightmares come less frequently, the panic attacks that once struck you in broad daylight begin to subside. But something is always there, lurking in the quiet moments, reminding you of the darkness you escaped.

It’s during one of those quiet moments, sitting in the early morning light by your window, that the idea first comes to you. You’ve spent so long trying to understand what happened, to come to terms with it, but you realise that your experience doesn’t have to be just your burden. It could be a way to help others. To make sure something like this never happens again.

You begin to think about the girls who went missing, and the eerie silence that had surrounded their disappearances until it was too late. The indifference of the campus administration, the lack of awareness, how easy it had been for these predators to operate in plain sight.

If anything was going to change, people needed to be aware. Students needed to be armed with knowledge and resources—tools to protect themselves and others.

That’s when you decide. You’re going to turn your pain into something meaningful.

—

The first meeting of your support group takes place on a rainy Tuesday evening in one of the small, out-of-the-way rooms on campus. The turnout is small—just a handful of students—but that doesn’t matter.

What matters is that they’re there. You sit in a circle, Spencer at your side, Detective Walker standing off to the side, her presence both protective and reassuring.

You never expected her to become such an ally after the initial doubts she had about your investigation, but after the sting operation, she’d been just as shaken by the scope of the trafficking ring as you were. Since then, she’d committed himself to working with you and Spencer, determined to prevent anything like it from happening again.

As you look around the room at the students—some hesitant, others eager to share their fears and concerns—you realise how important this is.

These are people who are scared, who’ve heard the stories and rumours about the disappearances, but never knew where to turn.

Some of them share personal experiences of feeling unsafe on campus, of reporting suspicious behaviour only to be dismissed or ignored. Others simply want to know how to protect themselves and their friends.

You take a deep breath, then start to speak. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight,” you begin, your voice steady but soft. “I know how hard it can be to talk about things like this. To admit that you feel vulnerable, or that you’re scared. But that’s why we’re here. To change that. To make sure no one has to feel like they’re alone.”

You pause, glancing at Spencer, who gives you an encouraging nod. “Some of you might have heard about what happened a few months ago. About the investigation into the missing girls and how it all led to… something much bigger. I was part of that investigation. And while we were able to stop some of the people responsible, the truth is, this could happen again. It happens more often than we realise.”

There’s a quiet murmur in the room, but no one looks away. They’re listening. You can feel the weight of their attention, and you press on.

“That’s why we’re starting this group. To create a space where we can talk openly about campus safety, about the things that make us feel unsafe, and to figure out how we can protect ourselves and each other. We want to raise awareness, but more than that, we want to take action. We want to make sure the administration hears us, that they take real steps to keep us safe.”

Detective Walker steps forward then, her authoritative voice grounding the room. “I’ll be working closely with you all to help guide these conversations. We’re also going to be pushing for more campus safety initiatives—better lighting, more security, self-defense classes. But what matters most is that you’re aware of the risks and that you don’t hesitate to report anything suspicious. Your vigilance is the best defense.”

The group talks for over an hour that first night. Some students share their experiences—times they felt unsafe walking home alone, or how they avoided certain areas of campus after dark.

Others ask questions about how to recognise warning signs, about what they should do if they feel they’re being watched or followed. You and Spencer answer as best you can, while Walker gives practical advice, but you’re careful not to push too hard. This is a space for support, not fear-mongering.

As the meeting comes to a close, you feel a sense of relief. It’s a small step, but it’s a step forward. And in a way, it’s part of your own healing process, turning your trauma into something that might help others.

Over the next few months, the support group grows. What started with just a few students in a small room blossoms into something larger. More people show up, word spreads, and soon, the administration can no longer ignore the conversation.

Spencer helps you organise events in his spare time—awareness campaigns, partnerships with local law enforcement, and self-defence workshops led by professionals. Detective Walker becomes a trusted figure on campus, and her involvement lends credibility to your efforts.

One night, after another well-attended meeting, you stand with Spencer in the empty room, gathering your things. The exhaustion is still there—the weight of everything you’ve been through never fully leaves—but there’s also a sense of accomplishment. Of hope.

“You did it,” Spencer says, breaking the comfortable silence. “You turned this into something real.”

You glance at him, offering a small smile. “We did it. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

He shakes his head. “You were always the one pushing forward, even when it was hardest. I just followed your lead.”

You pause, thinking back to everything that brought you to this point—the investigation, the sting, the night you thought you’d never make it out of that warehouse alive. The memories still haunt you, but they don’t control you anymore. You’ve taken that power back.

“None of this brings back the girls we couldn’t save,” you say quietly. “But at least now, we’re doing something. We’re making sure people know what’s out there. Maybe it’ll stop someone else from going through what we did.”

Spencer nods. “It will. I know it will.”

And you believe him. It doesn’t erase the trauma, but it gives it purpose. And that’s enough.

As you lock up the room and step out into the night, you take a deep breath of the cool air. The campus is still, the buildings lit up by streetlights that feel brighter than they used to.

There’s a sense of safety now, not just for you, but for everyone who came to those meetings, who learned something that might one day save their life.

You reflect on the journey that led you here—from the isolation and doubt at the start, through the horror of the trafficking ring, to this moment of quiet resolution.

You’ve changed. You’re stronger. And now, you’re not just surviving—you’re making sure others have the chance to, too.

—

The city buzzes with energy on Friday night, vibrant and alive with laughter and music echoing from the clubs lining the streets. Young people gather in groups, their voices blending into a lively symphony as they celebrate the end of the week.

“Hey, you almost here?”

Jules takes a deep breath, a feeling of giddiness washing over her as she glances at the neon lights flickering across the street. The club is packed, and the atmosphere is electric. “Yeah, yeah I’m almost here,”

“Great, I’ll see—” The line cuts out into static, and Jules furrows here eyebrows, pulling the screen away from her ear momentarily.

“Hey? Hello?” she asks, pulling her phone closer to her ear.

“Yeah, I’m—”

Jules sighs as the line continues to cut out, ending with a dead tone as the call ends. “Stupid phone— whatever,” She dumps her cell into her purse as she turns towards the club, crossing over the street.

Before she can even make it to the sidewalk, a hand clamps down over her mouth, yanking her back into the darkness. Panic ignites within her, and she struggles, her heels clattering against the pavement.

The laughter and music from the club fade into oblivion as she’s pulled toward a nearby alley, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Help! Let me go!” she cries out, muffled by the grip on her mouth. But the streets are alive with laughter, the music too loud for anyone to hear her desperate pleas.

[saddleups]

the way you write a submissive man...please please do one with arthur. not so much a femdom but a putting him "in his place" type beat if that makes sense?

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 3.9k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . request , complete. ARTHUR MORGAN X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . sub!arthur . reader ties arthur up . withholding orgasm . "good boy" praise . p in v .... the usual p_rn without a plot !

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . luuuuuv a sub arthur so i wrote this embarrassingly fast !! and i want to formally apologize if i've been spamming the tag ??? drabbles are my bread and butter so i can get 'em done in like two days if i lock in .... anyways much like my james drabble(s) been experimenting with longer exposition. less dialogue-y more scene setting ?? idk im gonna stfu now lol

Feigning warmth in Colter was a beast all its own, though Mother Nature offered a rare mercy—the morning chill lingered, crisp but not biting. The cabin, a sanctuary of dim, crackling warmth, did most of the work in coaxing a semblance of comfort. A fire flickered, throwing erratic shadows across the room, embers dancing like whispered secrets in the stillness. Seated at your vanity, the door slightly ajar, you could hear the cabin stirring to life. Soft murmurs, snatches of idle chatter, and deep sighs wove through the wooden walls—conversations wandering from the philosophical to the trivial, questions about what there was to eat, what there was to drink.

A faint knock broke the quiet—a mere courtesy, as the familiar rhythm of his footsteps had already betrayed Arthur’s presence. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he drawled, slipping into the room without waiting for a reply, his usual ease faltering when he noticed your state, sitting casually on the vanity chair in your undergarments. His gaze softened in surprise. “Sorry—didn’t mean to walk in on ya’.” You gave him a nod, a hollow gesture of reassurance, though something within felt distant, a dull weight settling in your chest. It was a feeling unshaken by his soft eyes, by the habitual endearments that had once been enough.

You kept your gaze on the vanity mirror, watching him through sidelong glances as he lingered, a mix of apology and something else tugging at his expression. “It’d gone on longer than I thought,” Arthur mumbled, shifting uncomfortably, referring to some simple errand—just retrieving supplies before your time in Colter dwindled to its end. You hummed in response, a indifferent acknowledgment as you absentmindedly gathered your hair.

A low, almost frustrated scoff escaped him. “Aw, c’mon, darlin’…” He stepped forward, his rough hands rising to rest on your shoulders, his lips brushing the nape of your neck in a tentative attempt to break the silence. His touch lingered, relishing the warmth of your skin against his calloused fingertips, as though he could remind you of something that once was there. But you rolled your shoulders, slipping from his grasp, closing the door with an unsettling finality.

Arthur’s gaze followed, catching the faint, fading scent of you in the air as you pulled away, his brow furrowing with a pang he barely masked. There was confusion in his silence, frustration pressing against the seams of his patience. He sank onto the chair you’d just abandoned, placing his weathered hat on the table behind him as if setting down an unspoken challenge. His voice, rougher now, tore through the heavy quiet. “You gonna tell me what I did, or are we just gonna keep playin’ the silent game?”

As you stand behind him, the air thickens with a silence that feels almost tactile. Arthur’s gaze lingers on you, curiosity and a flicker of wariness in his eyes, though he says nothing. You lift the ribbon slowly, letting it slide between your fingers, the soft fabric grazing his roughened skin. He shivers, his breathing slowing, waiting.

Taking his hands, you bring them to rest behind his back. His fingers curl, instinctively seeking yours, but you ease them apart, guiding his hands to lie open. Carefully, you begin to wrap the ribbon around his wrists, the silk gliding over his calloused skin, each loop deliberate, firm. Arthur clears his throat softly, his voice roughened by the stillness. “What’re ya up to, darlin’?” he murmurs, his tone somewhere between intrigue and uncertainty.

You don’t answer, only continue winding the ribbon, feeling the warmth of his pulse under your touch. He inhales, slow and steady, watching your hands, his breath hitching slightly as you pull the fabric snug. “Ya' really think this’ll hold me?” he teases, the edge of a smile playing at his lips, though a hint of nervousness betrays him.

“Doesn't need it to,” you reply softly, knotting the ribbon firmly, your voice barely more than a murmur.

He shifts, rolling his shoulders, testing the silk, his expression turning serious. “If there’s somethin’ I’ve done wrong… ya oughta tell me. Ain’t fair, keepin’ me in the dark like this.”

Your fingers linger at his wrists, a thumb brushing gently over his pulse, feeling the rhythm quicken under your touch. “I don’t think you’d understand,” you whisper, the words spilling out before you can stop them, loaded with the weight of what remains unsaid.

Arthur closes his eyes for a moment, leaning slightly into your touch, resignation seeping into his voice. “Try me,” he breathes, the words low and rough.

Your hand slips away, leaving a lingering sensation as you both feel the growing desire between you. An insaitable hunger that has been dormant, waiting to be fed. You kiss him fiercely, teeth clashing in passion. Your mouths open and tongues intertwine, merging into one. Arthur moans as he is caught off guard by the intensity of the kiss.

He has always been the one to take control, prideful and strong, reveling in your pleasure and wearing it like a badge of honor. But now, he finds himself on the receiving end. The thought of it ignites something within him, making him painfully hard against his denim. It's instinct for him to lift you up and press you onto the mattress, promising to "take care" of you in his slow drawl. The lovemaking is intense, resulting in bruises and soreness that you both relish in. He enjoys leaving marks on your body that remind you that you belong to him. Instead he's seated with a dainty ribbon tying his hands together, and for whatever reason he refuses to break free.

It must be your newfound dominance. It ignites something else in him, something instinctual. You straddle his lap, feeling the pressure of his bulge against you like a perfect fit. Your kisses become more urgent and you bite his lip, savoring the sweet sounds that escape from him. Your hands claw at his back before tangling in his hair, pulling hard enough to expose his neck for you to explore with your tongue. Placing open mouth kisses along his jaw, grazing your teeth against his freckled flesh. Each movement causes his length to twitch, it only encourages you to further turn the dial.

"Yer a mean lady, tyin’ me up like this," Arthur grunts.

You chuckle darkly and reply, "you've been a bad boy Arthur. A very bad boy."

"Have I now?" Arthur's voice was low, a challenge in his eyes despite his bound hands. "And what exactly do ya' plan to do about it?"

You leaned in close, your breath hot against his ear. "Everything," you whispered, letting the word hang between you like a promise.

Slowly, deliberately, you began to unbutton his shirt, your fingers trailing over each newly exposed inch of skin. Arthur's breath hitched, his muscles tensing under your touch. You took your time, savoring the anticipation building between you. When his chest was bare, you ran your nails lightly down his torso, watching goosebumps rise in their wake. Arthur groaned, straining against the ribbon.

"Darlin'," he growled, "you're playin' with fire."

A wicked glint flashes in your eye as you smirk. "Pretty bold words coming from someone who's tied up." You roll your hips and Arthur instinctively mirrors your movements. "You could break out of those bonds with ease, baby." You taunt him, relishing in the heat rising on his cheeks.

"But you won't, will you?"

Arthur grunts in defeat. "No, ma'am."

"You're enjoying this, aren''t you?"

He hesitates before admitting, "Yes, I do." A warm hue of rose kisses his freckled cheeks.

You smiled, a predatory glint in your eyes. "Good boy," you purred, rewarding him with a slow, sensual roll of your hips. Arthur's head fell back, a low moan escaping his lips. You could feel him straining against his trousers, desperate for more friction. But you weren't done teasing him yet. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath your touch. "You've always been so strong, so in control," you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. "But now? Now you're mine to do with as I please."

You nipped at his earlobe, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Arthur. His muscles tensed, biceps flexing as he fought the urge to break free from his silken bonds.

"Darlin'," he growled, his voice husky with desire,

"Don'tchu 'darlin'' me," you chided, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "You've had your way for so long. Now it's my turn."

Your hands slid down his chest, fingers tracing the scars and contours of his body. Arthur's breath quickened as you reached the waistband of his trousers. With agonizing slowness, you began to undo his belt.

"Christ," Arthur muttered, his hips lifting involuntarily.

You tsked, pressing him back down. "Patience."

Finally, you freed him from the confines of his clothing. Arthur hissed as the cool air hit his heated skin. His impressive member rested against his taut abdomen, slick with the beads of pre-cum. You wrapped your hand around him, giving a few experimental strokes that had him groaning and straining against the ribbon.

"Look at you," you murmured, your voice low and husky. "So desperate, so needy. All for me."

Arthur's eyes were dark with desire, his chest heaving as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Please," he rasped, the word barely audible.

You leaned in, your lips ghosting over his. "Please what, Arthur? Use your words."

He groaned, frustration and arousal warring in his expression. "Please... touch me I...Need you so bad, darlin'."

A slow smile spread across your face. "That's better," you purred, rewarding him with a deep, passionate kiss. Your hand resumed its movements, stroking him with a maddening mix of pressure and speed. Arthur's hips bucked, seeking more friction, more touch, more of everything you were offering. You broke the kiss, trailing your lips down his neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Arthur's head fell back, a low moan rumbling in his chest.

"God, darlin'," Arthur gasped, his voice rough with need. "Yer killin' me here."

You smiled against his skin, your teeth grazing his pulse point. "Are you gonna be a good boy for me?" you murmured. Slowly, teasingly, you slid down his body, trailing kisses as you went. Arthur's muscles tensed under your touch, his bound hands clenching and unclenching with the effort of restraining himself. When you reached his cock, you paused, your breath hot against him. "I asked you Arthur, are you gonna be a good boy for me?" Arthur's hips jerked involuntarily, seeking contact. You placed a hand on his thigh, holding him still waiting for his response.

He's completely undone by you, a panting sweating mess. The eagerness on his face hard to miss. Whatta sight. Notorious outlaw, enforcer of the Van Der Linde Gang, whimpering at your touch. Begging for release. as if you held the answers to the universe.

"I'm waiting."

Arthur swallows, "Please make me cum"

Your lips curled into a wicked smile. "That's not quite what I asked for, Arthur," you purred, your breath ghosting over his aching length. "But I suppose it'll do... for now." Without warning, you took him into your mouth, relishing the strangled gasp that escaped his lips. Your tongue swirled around his tip before you slowly, torturously, took him deeper. Arthur's hips bucked involuntarily, but your firm grip on his thighs kept him in place.

"Christ almighty," he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he strained against the silk ribbon binding his wrists. But he didn't break free, didn't try to take control. He was yours, completely at your mercy. You worked him with your mouth and hands, alternating between teasing licks and deep, hungry strokes. Arthur's breathing grew ragged, punctuated by low moans and muttered curses. You could feel him getting close, his thighs trembling under your touch.

Just as he teetered on the edge, you pulled away. Arthur let out a frustrated groan, his hips lifting off the chair, seeking contact.

"Not yet," you whispered, your voice husky with your own arousal. "I'm not done with you."

You stood, slowly removing your undergarments as Arthur watched with hungry eyes. His gaze raked over your body, drinking in every curve and line.

"Yer a goddamn tease," he growled, but there was no real anger in his voice - only desperate need.

You straddled him again, positioning yourself just above his straining member. "And you love it," you murmured, capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

Slowly, torturously, you lowered yourself onto him. Arthur groaned into your mouth as you enveloped him, the sensation almost overwhelming after all the teasing. You set a languid pace, rolling your hips in a way that had him seeing stars. Both of you erupted in a fit of moans, uncaring of who witnessed it outside the wooden doors.

"Darlin'," Arthur panted, breaking the kiss. "Please... I needa touch you."

“Answer my question then.”

He’s almost confused, mind completely lost in you. “Wh-what was it?”

“Are you gonna be a good boy?”

Arthur bites his lips, his voice above a whisper. “y-yes.”

With a wicked smile, you slowly pull yourself off of him, leaving only the tip of his throbbing cock at your entrance. You taunt him, grinding your hips teasingly, making him think he'll be engulfed by you once again.

"What's that? I couldn't hear ya, cowboy."

His pleading eyes meet yours as he begs, "Please, god yes! I'll do anything for you." The desperation in his voice only fuels your desire to dominate him completely.

You savored the power you held over him, a cheeky smile playing on your lips. With calculated slowness, you reached behind him and untied the ribbon, knowing he was at your mercy. Your body pressed against his, the heat between you palpable as he devoured you like a starving man to a meal. He took your nipple in his mouth, biting and sucking with an intensity that sent electric waves pulsating through your body, nearly causing you to collapse.

"Ar-Arthur!" you moaned in pleasure.

"Told ya I needed ya' darlin'," Arthur growled, desperation evident in his voice. "So please - please untie me. Yer makin' a grown man beg for christs sake."

You complied and his hands were free to roam your body with a primal hunger that left you breathless. His calloused fingers dug into your hips, directing your movements as he thrust up to meet you with a ferocity that made your head spin. The change in angle only intensified the pleasure, sending shivers down your spine and overwhelming every sense until all that mattered was this moment of pure desire between the two of you.

The delicate vanity chair beneath you both creaked in unison with your movements, the wood straining under the weight. His thick cock filled you completely, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Does it feel good, my sweet girl?" His deep voice rumbled, his hands gripping your hips to guide your movements. You could only nod, your eyes closed in bliss as he continued to fill you with his skilled touch. "Yes, Arthur," you gasped, feeling yourself lose control under his expert ministrations. "You're so good for me, but—."

Leaning forward, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "—I want to try something new." Arthur's half lidded eyes squinted with intrigue, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "What'd you have in mind, darlin'?" he murmured, his hands sliding up your back.

With a mischievous smile, you climbed off his lap, taking his hand and leading him to the bed. "Be good for me and lie down," you commanded softly. Arthur complied, his eyes never leaving yours as he stretched out on the mattress. You straddled him again, but this time facing away from him. Arthur's breath hitched as you lowered yourself onto him, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through both of you. His hands found your hips, guiding you as you began to move.

"Christ," Arthur groaned, his fingers digging into your flesh. You reveled in the sensation of him filling you completely, the new angle allowing him to hit spots that made you see stars. Arthur's hands roamed your body, caressing your back, your thighs, your breasts. You leaned back, bracing yourself on his chest as you rode him with increasing fervor.

Arthur panted your name, his voice rough with desire. "Gonna be the death of me." You chuckled breathlessly, grinding your hips in a way that made him groan. "What a way to go," you teased.

His hands tightened on your hips, guiding your movements as he thrust up to meet you. The room filled with the sounds of your combined pleasure, gasps and moans mingling with the creak of the bed. Taking Arthur’s hand to your front, you slip them between your legs. His rough palm covered yours, “Help me with this.” You cry, as he guides your movements, circling your sensitive clit. The dual sensations of his thick length inside you and the pressure on your glit had you spiraling. Arthur could feel your core tightening around his girth, his undoing was just as close as yours.

"I'm—" you panted, arching your back, "Oh God, Arthur, I'm—"

His growl reverberates through your body as his hips buck uncontrollably beneath you. The heat emanating from him is almost suffocating, but you relish in it, knowing what it means. With malicious intent, you raise your hips just enough for the tip of his cock to graze your dripping entrance, teasing and taunting him until he whines with frustration.

"Do you want to cum inside me, baby?" you purr, a wicked gleam in your eyes as you slide the tip out completely and rub your slick juices against his shaft.

A beautiful sound escapes Arthur's lips as he grasps at the sheets beneath him, his toes curling in pleasure and desperation.

"Please," he begs, aching to be filled by you. "I want to feel your tight pussy on me, I want to fill you up with my hot cum. Let me, my sweet girl," he pleads, his need evident in every fiber of his being.

Pleased with his answer, you turn your frame to face him instead. And with a praise you sink into him. Good boy. The best boy. Arthur let out a low, guttural moan as you enveloped him once more, the feeling of you wrapping around him sending shockwaves through his entire being. His hands instinctively found their way to your thighs, gripping them with an urgency that only fueled your desire. As you began to ride him once again, an orgasmic rhythm was established, each thrust igniting more of that fiery need within you.

"Y-you feel incredible," he gasped between breaths, his voice nearly breaking as he tried to keep pace with you. You could feel him swelling deeper inside, a perfect fit that left no room for anything but the two of you in this moment. The heat between your bodies was electrifying, every sensation heightened as you drove down harder, the sound of skin slapping together echoing against the walls. Arthur’s eyes were glued to where you joined, filled with a mixture of lust and awe that made your heart race.

"You like how I take you?" you teased breathlessly, leaning forward just enough to tease his lips with yours before pulling back again, knowing how it drove him wild. His eyes flared with need as he panted, "God girl! yes, don't stop."

You could feel the tension building within both of you—every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. You let out soft whimper, “give me your cum.”

Arthur's breath hitched at your words, the raw desperation slashing through him like a blade. "Y-yes, I will, just… just a little longer," he gasped, his grip tightening on your thighs as you continued to ride him ravenously, drawing out every sensation to its fullest. The sounds of your bodies colliding echoed in the room, punctuated by the sweet notes of pleasure that filled the air.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the rhythm of your bodies moving together, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both like a warm embrace. You could feel the heat pooling deep within you, an insistent throb that demanded release. Your breaths came quicker as you leaned back slightly, one hand finding its way to your clit again to push yourself even closer.

"Arthur," you breathed heavily, looking back at him through semi-lidded eyes. "I want to feel you explode inside me."

His eyes danced with a mix of longing and determination as he nodded vigorously, his body twitching beneath you. "You have no idea what yer doin' to me," he murmured hoarsely.

Every thrust became more urgent, more fervent as he chased both of your climaxes. His hands mapped your body, fingers digging into your skin with just enough

pressure to send shivers racing down your spine. You could feel the tension coiling tighter, an exquisite build-up that threatened to explode at any moment. Each time you sank down onto him, you felt as if you were drawing ever closer to a point of no return, the heat between you reaching a fever pitch.

“Arthur—” you gasped, your voice trembling with need as the edge of bliss danced tantalizingly close. His eyes were locked onto yours, fierce and filled with promise. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Just a little more,” he urged, his voice gravelly and filled with intensity. “I want us both to go together.”

His words ignited something primal within you; you changed your angle slightly, moving in a way that made him fill you deeper, harder. The overwhelming sensations drove tears of pleasure to your eyes, and your breath became ragged with the effort of holding back.

“Please,” he urged again, his hips thrusting up in desperation, urging you even further toward that peak of ecstasy. “I’m so close… just let go.”

With every thrust and swirl of your hips, it felt as though you were unraveling at the seams. Your body was responding to his every movement, every whisper and every plea pulling you deeper under the spell of pleasure. You could feel the dam within you beginning to crack, a sweet pressure building that begged for release.

“Arthur, I—” You choked out as his grip on your thighs shifted, pulling you down hard against him, the sensation sending shockwaves through your entire being. “I can’t hold it back!”

“Jus’ let it happen!” His voice was urgent, filled with fervor that matched your own.

With one final thrust, you spiraled over the edge. A wave of ecstasy crashed over you like a tidal wave, pulling every part of you under as you cried out his name. You felt your walls quiver around him, clamping down tightly as your body seized in pleasure, each pulse radiating through your veins like the sweetest venom. Arthur followed closely behind, his own orgasm tearing through him with a force that left you breathless. “Yes! Yes!” he shouted, lost in the depth of his release as he filled you completely, repeating your name like a hymn. The warmth of him inside you sent aftershocks of bliss coursing through your body, intensifying your own climax until it felt like stars were exploding behind your closed eyelids.

The world around you faded into nothingness; all that remained was the intoxicating rhythm of your pulse and the sound of ragged breaths mingling together. You collapse atop of him, cock still firmly placed inside you. You refuse for him to remove it, “let’s just stay like this for a minute,”

Arthur chuckles hoarsely, his own throat sore from his relentless moaning. “I ain’t arguin’, you really did a number on me today pretty girl."

[lilangelbuds]

jsjcjdc while im still here!

i was the anon that requested a big bulky brother and chubby little sister :> they only have each other to care about, the sister being cuddly for her big brother and he revels in it!

she gets so… kilig? giddy in english probably? that she kisses his cute lil face! then he gets so giddy too that he bites and grabs her tummy and cheeks… then its just two losers being sweet with each other and breeding his cute lil sister >_< idk!

The room was warm, it clung to your skin and made you want to curl up in it forever. The lights were dim, casting a soft amber glow over everything, and the faint hum of the ceiling fan provided a soothing background noise. He had always been the kind of man who took up space not just physically, though his broad shoulders and muscular frame certainly did that, but in a way that made you feel safe, grounded. She, on the other hand, was softer, rounder, the kind of person who seemed to radiate comfort, like a blanket fresh out of the dryer on a cold day.

She sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, dressed in an oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed, though whether it was from the warmth of the room or something else, she couldn’t say. He lounged beside her, one arm stretched out along the back of the couch, his fingers idly toying with a strand of her hair. They’d always been like this, connected in some inexplicable way, two people who existed in their own little world.

“You’re staring,” she said, her voice teasing but tinged with a nervousness that made her heart race.

He smirked, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest. “Can’t help it. You’re cute when you’re all flustered.”

She rolled her eyes, but the heat in her cheeks deepened. “I’m not flustered.”

“Sure you’re not,” he replied, his tone playful. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin. “You’re all red, though. Like a little tomato.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” she groaned, shoving at his chest, but there was no real force behind it. Her hand lingered there, pressed against the solid wall of muscle beneath his shirt. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, and it made her own skip a beat.

He caught her wrist, his fingers wrapping around it easily. “Am I, though?”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, the air between them thick with something unspoken. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the way it seemed to see right through her, and it made her stomach twist in the most delicious way.

“I… I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the fan.

He didn’t respond, not with words anyway. Instead, he leaned in again, his face so close to hers that she could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his lips curved into that infuriatingly confident smile. She thought he might kiss her, and for a second, she panicked, her heart pounding in her chest. But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his breath warm against her ear.

“You’re so cute, sis” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Her breath caught, and before she could think, before she could stop herself, she leaned in and pressed a quick, nervous kiss to his cheek. It was impulsive, stupid even, and as soon as she did it, she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he froze, his body going completely still.

For a moment, she thought she’d made a terrible mistake, that she’d crossed some invisible line they’d never spoken of. But then, slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with something that made her shiver.

“I… I don’t know,” she stammered, her face burning. “I just… you were being all… and I…”

He didn’t let her finish. With a low growl, he grabbed her by the waist, his hands big and rough against her soft flesh, and pulled her into his lap. She let out a startled squeak, her hands flying to his shoulders for balance, but he didn’t give her a chance to protest.

“You’re such a little brat,” he muttered, his grip tightening as he leaned in and nipped at her cheek, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp.

“Hey!” she protested, though there was no real anger in her voice. She squirmed in his lap, trying to push him away, but he just laughed, the sound deep and rich, and held her tighter.

“You started it,” he said, his voice teasing but with an undercurrent of something darker, something that made her stomach tighten.

She pouted, her lower lip sticking out in a way that made him want to bite it. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Sure you didn’t,” he said, his hands sliding up her sides, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her tummy. She squealed, trying to wriggle away, but he held her firm, his touch both punishing and impossibly gentle.

“Stop!” she laughed, her voice high and breathless. “That tickles!”

“Good,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned in and bit her cheek again, this time a little harder. She yelped, her hands flying to her face, but he was already moving, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that made her shiver.

“You’re such a bully,” she whined, though her hands found their way into his hair, her fingers tangling in the thick strands.

“You love it,” he said, his voice muffled against her skin.

She didn’t argue, because he was right. She did love it. She loved the way he made her feel, the way he made her laugh and blush and squirm. She loved the way his hands felt on her, big and rough but somehow still gentle. She loved the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing in the room—the only thing in the world.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, the air between them thick with something unspoken. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss so soft, so tentative, that it made her heart ache.

She froze, her breath catching in her throat, and for a second, she thought she might cry. But then he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding up her back to cradle her head, and she melted into him, her hands fisting in his shirt as she kissed him back with everything she had.

It was messy, their teeth clashing, their noses bumping, but it was perfect. She could feel the heat of his body, the way his heart pounded in his chest, and it made her dizzy. She wanted more, wanted to crawl inside him and never leave.

He pulled back slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, their faces inches apart.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he said, his voice rough with desire.

She blushed, her hands moving to his chest, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles through his shirt. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He laughed, the sound soft and warm, and then he was kissing her again, his hands everywhere, his touch setting her skin on fire. She could feel the weight of him pressing her into the couch, the way his body seemed to envelop hers, and it made her head spin.

“I want you,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and urgent.

She shivered, her hands sliding down to his waist, her fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans. “Then take me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a growl, he shoved her sweater up, his hands sliding over her soft flesh, his mouth finding hers again in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and heat. She whimpered, her back arching as his fingers found the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down roughly.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at her, his chest heaving. “You’re mine, you know that?”

She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’ve always been yours.”

That was all he needed. With a low growl, he pulled her leggings the rest of the way off, his hands sliding up her thighs, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. She gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders as he positioned himself between her legs, his body pressing her into the couch.

He looked down at her, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite name, and then he was pushing into her, slow and steady, his breath hitching as he filled her. She let out a soft moan, her hands clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough as he buried himself in her to the hilt. “You feel so good.”

She whimpered, her hips lifting to meet his, her body already craving more. “Please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His hands slid down to her hips, his grip tight as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, each one sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body. She clung to him, her nails digging into his back as she moaned, the sound soft and breathless.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “I love you, sis,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she clutched him tighter, her body trembling as he moved inside her. “I love you too, big bro,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

He kissed her then, his lips soft against hers, and for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of them, lost in each other, their bodies moving together in a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. She could feel the heat building inside her, the pressure coiling tight in her stomach, and she knew she was close.

He must have felt it too because he broke the kiss, his eyes locked on hers, his expression intense. “Come with me,” he said, his voice low and urgent.

She nodded, her body trembling as she gave herself over to him, letting him take her higher and higher until she finally shattered, her body convulsing around his as she cried out his name. He followed her a moment later, his body stiffening as he spilled inside her, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he buried his face in her neck.

For a long time, they just lay there, their bodies tangled together, their hearts beating in sync. She could feel his warmth, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, and it made her feel safe, loved.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, the weight of everything they’d just shared hanging in the air between them.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with concern.

She nodded, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “I’m perfect.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that made her heart skip a beat, and then he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss so soft, so tender, that it made her chest ache.

“Good,” he murmured against her lips. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

She laughed, the sound soft and breathless, and then he was kissing her again, his hands everywhere, his touch setting her skin on fire. She could feel the heat building inside her again, the pressure coiling tight in her stomach, and she knew she was in trouble.

“You’re insatiable,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “When it comes to you? Always.”

And then he was moving again, his body pressing her into the couch, his hands sliding over her soft flesh, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and heat. She moaned, her hands flying to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he took her higher and higher.

[l0serloki]

Waiting Game

Nanami Kento x Reader

Your boyfriend keeps you waiting while he's busy doing work. You can't help but want more when his thigh felt so good..

CW : SMUT, f!reader, thigh riding, daddy kink & nicknames, minor ass slapping, cockwarming, creampie

A/N : idk what came over me when I woke up today but this was the result. ive been plagued with the horny

masterlist

Your hands claw at Nanami’s slacks. He had you perched on his thigh as he continued to do his work. Occasionally his hand would grip at your side, pulling you along his toned muscles with even more ferocity.

“Ken..” You plead as your desperate attempts to get off on his thigh fail. You wanted more, even just a bit.

“I’m busy bunny. You like living in a nice house don’t you? Let daddy finish his work.” Nanami taps your cheek as he continues to focus writing. You let out a displeased huff and continue to gyrate against him.

“Just a bit more?” You beg and the blond man sighs.

“What do you mean?” He presses on your back as your hands travel down to his trousers.

“Just the tip? Please daddy?” You press your face against his chest and he only rolls his eyes at your attempts.

“Go on then. Just the tip.” He pushes his legs out more so you can unbuckle his pants, your greedy hands working fast. Your mouth practically waters as it slaps out of his confinements and his thick digits move your underwear to the side.

“T-thank you.” You praise him as you rub his cockhead through your folds, moans leaving your lips. He only hums in agreement as he squeezes you.

“Be quick. Sit down so I can get back to work.” He gives you a demanding look. You slowly push the start of his cock in, your hands gripping at his nice shirt.

“Please.. More.” You knew what you were doing. ‘Just the tip’ never meant just the tip. He knew that and so did you. He only laughs at your pathetic comment and shakes his head.

“If you want more, then take it. But you’ll have to be a good cocksleeve until I’m finished. No moving.” He tuts, continuing to work out the taxes. Your body is begging for anything at this point, even warming his cock while waiting for him to be finished. You sink down slowly, enjoying the delicious stretch of each inch.

He was not joking either. It had been ten minutes and everytime you even somewhat squirmed he would give you a look and a harsh smack to your rear. You had practically drenched him and his shirt, sitting there for what felt like hours. His pencil finally stopped its etching and you felt his hands tug at your shoulders.

“Good girl. Keeping my cock so warm. You want daddy to fuck you now?” He grins as you shake your head.

“Please! Really need it.” He only chuckles at your response.

“Mm of course you do. Look at the mess you made on me.” He forces your head to look down at where the two of you connect. Your slick drenched on his skin. Your face feels hot as you peek up at him, still as needy as before. He gives you a soft smile as he moves his finger down, wiping away at the strings of lubricant. 

“Mm. Tastes good.” He whispers as he cleans off the digit, moving his hips ever so slightly. 

“No more teasing.” You cry out and he seems to take pity on you. His rough hands grip at your body as he moves you up and down, meeting each thrust with fervor.

“Take it like the good girl you are.” Nanami chokes out as you tighten against him. You finally were getting what you wanted and it was beyond divine.

“Ken..” Your head lolled to the side as he used your body, fucking against you at a brutal pace. He only smirks as he sees your dumbed-down face and continues.

“Feeling good princess? I can feel you clenching me. You want daddy to give you your reward?” Nanami’s voice is strained as his pace stutters. You clench at the nasty words and can only moan in agreement as you get closer and closer.

“Tell me you want it and I’ll give it to you. I need a yes.” He grits out as you both are on the brink of pleasure.

“Y-yes please! Yes!” You whimper out before the string inside of your stomach snaps. Your cunt spasms against him, milking him for all he’s worth. Nanami’s head hangs next to you as he fills you up, trying to take a breather.

“Fuck.. You’re so good baby.” He leans in to give you a soft and reassuring kiss, holding you tight in his embrace. You rest your head against his shoulder as you take in the moment. 

“I love you.” You whisper out and Nanami presses a smooch to your forehead.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

[tomblythismyhusband]

sweetest con [ billy the kid x fem!reader]

[summary]: billy the kid x fem!reader | you and Billy enjoy a quiet morning before he has to leave town.

[warnings]: just fluff :), mentions of violence (murder)

[wc]: 1860

[authors note]: this was so cutesy to write. i love soft billy. i feel like it kinda got a tinsy bit sad at the end, was thinking of doing a part 2 but idk!!! lmk!

The sun fell in warm beams through the curtains of your bedroom. The warmth enveloped your body, making yourself smile. Your eyes cracked open and your heart fluttered at the sight of Billy, still lying next to you, soundly asleep. His face looked peaceful, his hair a perfect mess.

You laid there for a moment watching him, debating whether or not to wake him. You felt a sense of pride that you were the one to see him sleeping and in such a vulnerable position like this.

When the name “Billy the Kid” was usually mentioned, fear swept through the minds of those who heard it. He was a wanted man, a murderer. He was said to be cold blooded and ruthless. It was valid for anyone to be wary but you knew the real him.

Instead of terror your body was always filled with love whenever you heard his name. You always had to be careful how much you felt these emotions when out on the town. It would be very suspicious if you were all smiley when someone mentioned him. No one knew it, but he was yours and only yours.

You shifted your body to lay on your side, staring at Billy’s sleeping face which was now illuminated by the sunlight. You could see the dots of faint freckles on his nose, the perfect shape of his soft lips, and the hint of blush in his cheeks.

He looked like art. Art that you could never get tired of.

You took a hand and gently ran it over his cheek. His skin was warm and comforting. You brushed some of his messy brown curls off his forehead as he stirred a bit.

His blue eyes fluttered open and a small, groggy smile pulled at his lips.

“Mornin’ beautiful.” He mumbled, the smile still on his face. You always liked him in the morning. He was always softer, more down to earth.

You leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his nose. He let out a deep hum in response.

“Morning to you too.” You whispered, your face still close to his. Billy let out a sigh, staring up at you. The sunlight seemed to make his eyes glow an even brighter blue.

“You always look so gorgeous in the morning, darlin’” He said softly, running his finger gently through your hair. The feeling of his fingers brushing their way through your locks made your head feel like it was buzzing. You leaned down to plant another kiss on his nose, overcome with happiness.

“I like it when you play with my hair.” You sighed once you pulled back. “It feels nice.” This earned you a smile in return from him.

“Well I like being this close to you.” He said in a low voice.

His eyes studied your face, taking in every perfect.

“I would never leave this bed, and stay here with you forever if I could.” He whispered, moving his hand up to trace your lips with his rough fingers.

You pursed your lips, kissing his thumb as it gently ran across your mouth. He moved his thumb off your lips and you spoke.

“We don’t get to spend time like this together often… its rarity makes it more special don’t you think?” You said softly.

Billy let out a small chuckle. “You’re right…. But in all honesty I could do the same thing everyday with you and it would still be special, y/n.”

You felt your cheeks warm at this and leaned in for a kiss on his lips. Unlike your usual kisses with Billy, this one was soft, slow, and gentle. The usual roughness and need for dominance had melted away.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you slid closer to him, not breaking the kiss. When you finally pulled back he wrapped his strong arms around your body and held you tightly, as you placed your head on his chest. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you laid there. Billy gently ran his fingers over your hips, tracing every delicate curve with love.

“Do you know what time it is?” He mumbled into your hair after long moments of silence. You shook your head letting out a sigh. You dreaded this question, but you knew it was coming.

“Do you really have to go Billy? Can’t you stay a bit longer?” You whispered, a hint of sadness in your voice.

Billy kissed the top of your head softly, letting his lips linger for a moment. “You know why I can’t stay darlin’. It’s too dangerous for me right now.” He said in a low voice.

As much as you hated it, you knew he was right. He was on the run. In sweet moments like these you always forgot that he was a wanted man. An outlaw. In a perfect world he would be safe from the law, but the world wasn’t perfect.

You tilted your head up to gaze up at him. “Please don’t go away for too long this time ok?” You said quietly.

Billy gave you a sad smile. He wanted to comfort you, tell you he would be back soon, but he also knew he shouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

“I’ll try my hardest darlin’…..” He paused for a moment, lips parted. Finally he spoke again. “But I can’t make you any promises…”

You let out a huff in reply, squeezing him closer to you. He combed his fingers through your hair in a comforting way.

“Darlin’ the worst case scenario would be me gettin’ caught, because I’m sure as hell not coming back if I’m hung.” He said in a serious tone.

You squeezed him a little tighter. “I know…..” You said sadly. “Your constant runnin’ just really is the sweetest con.”

A small laugh puffed past his lips. “And why’s that?”

You gazed up at him. “I don’t like how you always have to leave… but at least I know I still have you, at least you’re still mine.”

Billy leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips again. You wished that you could lie like this with him forever.

He then shifted his body, almost like he was signaling to you that he had to get ready to go. You released your grip reluctantly and watched him sit up. You stayed laying down, your head in the soft pillows as you watched him stretch up his arms and let out a soft grunt. You liked the view of his broad shoulders, and bare chest in the morning sun. All these little things about him made it even harder to watch him go.

You watched him as he turned his head towards you. “Now don’t get all pouty on me darlin’” He teased, brushing his fingers on your arm.

You let out a breathy laugh and pulled yourself up from the pillows so you were sitting next to him. Your messy hair and rumpled clothes made Billy admire how effortlessly beautiful you were. He took his hand and ran it across your collarbone while staring deeply into your eyes.

“Every second I’m gone I’ll be thinking of you.” He whispered.

My cheeks grew warm, as a smile spread across my face.

“I love you Billy.” You said softly. A look of excitement flashed across Billy’s face, before it turned loving. He had never really had someone who he had truly loved. All the women he had been with were always temporary. They were only interested in late night meetups, and casual flings. It was comforting to have you and to know that this wasn’t temporary, this wasn’t a fling, this was real.

He leaned in to kiss you on the forehead with a smile. “I love you too angel.” He said quietly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He gave you one final kiss on your lips before pulling back the covers of the sheets to climb out of bed. He was still groggy, his movements a little sluggish. You flopped back down on the pillow watching him with admiration.

You watched as he roamed around the room collecting his things. You noticed how his back flexed as he pulled on his shirt.

“Darlin’ don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” He teased when he noticed your eyes roaming his body.

You giggled and sat up in bed, pulling the covers off of yourself. “I can’t help it. You know I have a thing for rugged outlaws.” Billy let out a chuckle at your teases.

You got up handing him things like his socks and his suspenders. You sat down at your vanity and brushed out your hair. He was almost dressed when suddenly he frowned.

“Y/n where are my boots?” He said, searching around the room. His eyebrows were furrowed.

You looked at him through the mirror and smiled. “If I tell you then you are able to leave.” You pouted. Billy came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He placed his head in the crook of your neck and stared into your eyes through the mirror.

“Darlin…….” He sighed. It pained him to see you so desperate for him to stay.

“Fine…” You breathed, leaning your head against his affectionately. “Your boots are beneath my bed.”

Billy let out a small chuckle. He placed a kiss on your cheek. “Thank you.” He said softly as he pulled away to grab his boots. You watched as he bent down and spotted the pair near the front end of the bed. He sat down and yanked them on.

You knew that it was time to say goodbye once the boots came on. It was almost routine now.

You stood up as he slung his gun over his waist and placed his hat on his head. You walked over to stand in front of him, his tall body towering over you.

“Be safe ok?” You whispered, grabbing one of his hands.

“I will be. Don’t worry.” Billy said softly. His voice had a tinge of sadness to it. It made you feel better knowing that you weren’t the only one saddened to have to be apart.

His hand squeezed yours in a comforting way. You tried to soak in every aspect of him because you knew the moment he left the loneliness would creep in.

You leaned up to kiss him. You savored the kiss. You memorized the shape of his mouth, the softness of his touch, the warmth of his breath. You didn’t know when he would be back, it could be days, weeks, maybe even months.

You pushed down the looming fear that this could be the last time. The world was a dangerous place for him. The slight chance that the next time you’d see him would be at his grave scared you.

Billy could sense the tenseness and anxiety in your body. He cupped your face gently.

“Y/n, I’ll be fine. Please trust me.” You could see the sincerity in his eyes, and nodded.

“Goodbye Billy.” You whispered.

“Goodbye darlin’. I love you.”

And with that he was gone. To your disappointment he seemed to have left quickly. A part of you pursued that he would come running back, but he never did. You couldn’t help but relish in the feeling of sadness that had crept into your heart.

He came and he went. And you couldn’t help but wish that his boots were still neatly tucked beneath your bed.

[lookinghalfacorpse]

Thinking Affections again, and idk if this counts as a prompt or not, but in itwall you mentioned how cPhil constantly touches cDreams hair to calm him down and is just sth he likes so just that being a their thing they do when cuddling or sth is just phil petting and massaging his head

anything can be a prompt if i brainrot hard enough

/dsmp /rp

Dream wasn't sleeping well.

Sleep was always a fickle, delicate thing with him. There were plenty of nights where his exhaustion would take over and he would sleep soundly, especially early on during his time at the cottage, but there were also long periods where he'd barely sleep at all. He would wake from nightmares and seizures, or he'd simply tremble on his mattress for hours and hours, unable to slow his heartrate from its anxious pace. Em helped him to feel safe those nights, but even she couldn't keep his fears at bay completely. For as loving as the dog was, she couldn't stop someone from coming in the night to drag him back into the hell he escaped from. The hell he planned to return to someday. He laughed, sometimes, at the odd predicament he created for himself.

He procrastinated sleep by reading in the living room.

Techno gave him some shitty novel about an underground culture of elves. It was entertaining enough. He sat on the floor with a dog on his lap, leaning against the couch, and pulled his hair from his face. He had to tilt the book forward so the dim light of the fireplace could illuminate the page.

He heard Philza sit on the couch behind him.

The old man hummed thoughtfully before threading his fingers through Dream's long hair, pushing it behind his ears. "Might be less annoying if I braid it," he offered.

"I'm gonna take it out before bed," Dream replied, "but go ahead."

"It's my pleasure, mate." Phil's voice edged close to a whisper. He began carefully selecting some strands of hair from Dream's hairline and drawing them back, letting his fingertips trail along the boy's scalp. Dream shivered at the touch, feeling his skin erupt into goosebumps. "You should be sleeping," Phil continued.

The offer to braid his hair was a trick from the start; Phil wasn't doing anything that seemed close to a hairstyle. Instead, he rubbed and massaged along Dream's head, sometimes scratching with his fingertips. The book slowly dropped to his lap as he couldn't focus on the words anymore. His eyes fluttered closed.

"In... In the prison," Dream started, "Quackity liked to grab my hair. He'd grab it, like, in the front, and slam my head on the ground."

Phil's fingers trailed softly along the back of his skull. "Dream..."

"Sam hated when he did that. My skull would crack, and it would bleed a lot."

Phil could surely feel the bumps and valleys along his skin. They were hard to miss. He would feel rough scars and some patches of flaky, dry skin. Maybe some sharp lines where a crack healed. Dream's hair has been a source of frustration and humiliation for a long time; he hated that Quackity could feel the thick mats, the tangles, the spots of blood he couldn't wash out.

He felt Phil plant a kiss on the top of his head.

"Join me on the couch?"

Dream would spend the night there, on the couch, lying on top of Philza with his head on the old man's chest, sighing at the sensation of his head being massaged until he fell asleep.