#ready or not fanfiction

[yaoiconnoisseur]

Wake up writers and artists! A new thing to obsessively write and draw our blorbos doing just dropped

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

jason todd but he treats you like you invented sliced bread

jason todd but he gags at the thought of people that aren’t you checking him out and trying to get with him

jason todd but he calls you princess and buys you whatever you want

jason todd but he’s taller than you, stronger than you, and yet still the most gentle person you’ve ever met or been with

jason todd but you both tease and flirt with each other like you’re still in the honeymoon phase

jason todd but he acts like your guard dog

jason todd but he kisses and bites at your neck until you’re weak in the knees

jason todd but he eats you out until your legs are shaking from how many times you’ve come before he even thinks of pulling his cock out

jason todd but he’s folding you over his arm and fucking you so hard you’re dizzy

jason todd but he calls you pretty all the while like it’s the only word he knows

jason todd but he cleans you up after, cuddles you for hours

jason todd but he already has you asking when can you do it again

jason todd but you wake up to the smell of bacon and coffee the next morning

jason todd but he’s the best boyfriend in the world

[blusandbirds]

the batkids will deliberately get jason into their favorite pieces of media so he’ll write fanfiction for it.

dick discovered this strategy when he forced jason to watch one of his favorite shows with him. he’d totally forgotten that the show ended on a cliffhanger before it was cancelled, but rewatching it brought back that feeling of dissatisfaction he had the first time around. so dick opens up the ao3 tag for the show and to his surprise, there’s a brand new fic addressing every single loose end, complete with beautiful prose and amazing characterization. dick practically weeps. it’s only when he realizes some of the things in the fic match up with the rants jason had during their watch of the show that he has barbara confirm his suspicions about who the author is.

somehow everybody but jason gets wind of this and they’re taking unashamed advantage of it. the next time they see a movie together, stephanie leans over to jason to whisper about the romantic potential between two characters. she gets like three fics for her ship out of that. when jason goes outside, barbara switches electronic billboards and redirects taxis with ads for her favorite show. and of course, every targeted ad on his phone and computer are for the same show. when he finally gives in and watches it, barbara ends up with plenty of content to get her through the between seasons break.

everybody in jason’s family is subscribed to the ao3 account that he doesn’t know they know he has. one day, they’re all chilling in the library, and at the same time jason publishes his latest fic (for a movie bruce of all people was very insistent he watch), everybody’s email notifications go off. he narrows his eyes suspiciously. “just some wayne enterprises stuff.” “got a package delivered.” “what’s an email?”

it’s fine. he’ll let them get away with it. besides, he does the same thing to damian to get fanart out of him.

[chaos-bringer-13]

I just told mom about some bits of Danny Phantom lore and it basically went like this:

Me: So, this kid goes into his mad scientists parents' portal, activates it, sorta dies and instantly resurrects as a half ghost.

Mom, terrified: Poor mother.

Me: Nah, his parents didn't actually notice, they're kinda negligent, too invested into their work.

Mom, more terrified: Poor children.

[mauvecherie-writes]

so ready: l.hamilton.

pairing: lewis hamilton x pt fem!black reader

summary: you’re his trainer, he’s him, the chemistry is undeniable.

warning: 18+ mdni, EXTREME SEXUAL CONTENT, pwp, fast paced, teasing, dirty talk, degradation kink?, unprotected sex, guys, I’m a slut - we sucking and fucking over here.

notes: I put a break on working on endless melodies, this picture called for my attention and here we are 😩. I also don’t know where the 3.5K words came from 😭 this was meant to be short.

w.c: 3.5K

tags: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @hersinsarescarlet @emjayewrites @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @felicity-x0 @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy

buy me a kofi.

You sighed as you walked through the underground garage of the building. You were mentally preparing yourself to be in your client’s presence. You wish you could have rejected his contract but it was such good money to resist - a resource that you needed at the time - and he was a good man. Refusing to train him would have not made sense outside of the biggest con being that you were attracted to him.

Deeply attracted to him.

Every session was a fighting battle and today would be no different.

It had been seven months since you started working with him. Lewis was very serious about his physical health but he was so flirtatious and it made it hard to concentrate on your job. But today, you promised yourself that you would be serious and not give into his little games.

On the elevator ride up to his penthouse, you trained your mind to block his advances and not give into his charm. However, whether you intended to or not, your outfit choice for the session was along the lines of cute and practical. The grey headband keeping your hair away from your face was matching the gym shorts that you were wearing. Your physique was on display without it coming off as a little desperate. It’s not like you needed to put in any type of effort anyway, you were beautiful enough on your own but the outfit was just a greater temptation for Lewis.

Even though you lied to yourself that you didn’t enjoy the game of teasing that you played with him.

“Lewis! I’m here!” You yelled as you walked through the lobby of his penthouse. The patters of Roscoe’s feet against the marbled floor rang through to your ears. The aging dog ran towards you and it brought a smile to your face. You bent down and grabbed the pup’s face into your hands and caressed the deep folds of his cheeks.

“Hi boy!” You spoke with a high pitch to your voice. “You’ve been good for your Dads when I’ve been away?” He licked the palms of your hands as he wiggled his tail.

“Yeah! Because you’re a good boy aren’t you? It’s your Dad that’s the trouble maker.” You said to Roscoe before standing up straight.

“Oh I’m a trouble maker now?” His voice was the first thing that you heard before you saw him. As you walked to the kitchen to wash your hands, you caught sight of him leaning against the living room area wall as he watched you.

Dressed in a dark grey fitted t-shirt and matching grey shorts with black thermals beneath. His locs were braided away from his face, forcing you to bare witness to his beauty.

“You’ve always been one, don’t act so surprised now.” You replied as you watched your hands. You may not be able to see him but you could feel his eyes on your back. You bit your lip as you wiped your hands and then turned around. Your hands were on either side of your body on the counter as you looked at him.

“When have I ever caused trouble for you darling?” He asked as he stood to his full height and moved closer to you in the kitchen area, stopping by the island and leaning fowards against it.

“Do you really want me to answer that question? Because I have a list of examples.”

He laughed at your response instead of answering. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

“Anyway. Are you ready for our session today? I don’t want any problems this time around. You have somewhere to be and so do I. So no funny games.” You stressed the last part of your statement - more to yourself than to him.

Lewis’s eyes were drooped low, his long lashes nearly touching the apple of his cheeks as they hung low before he trailed them from the exposed skin of your thighs to your flushed cheeks as you held in your breath. His teeth trapped the flesh of his bottom lip to restrict his smile from spreading as he stood up straight.

“I’ll be on my good behaviour. I promise.” His voice was an octave deep and laced with temptation. You knew then, that this training session would be anything but smooth sailing.

.

.

A good sparring session was a great way to end a productive session. Lewis stayed true to his word for most of the time but he’d throw in a flirtatious jab here and there that had you flustered. As much as you tried to hate it, you revelled in the way that those comments made you feel.

One last sparring session and you won’t have to see him for another three days.

You needed that breather.

“Come on baby girl. You can give it to me harder than that.” He teased as he bounced on his feet as he moved away from you. You rolled your eyes as you flexed your arms.

“I’m your trainer Lewis. I’m not supposed to be harder on you.”

“I can take it.” He shrugged. “That’s something you’re supposed to be saying in the right circumstances.”

“You’re a cocky little shit!” You stressed as your fingers flexed in the punching mitts before you began to run after him.

“There we gooo. Give me that fire, show me what you got baby.” He smirked at you. You fumed as you stopped chasing him and took off your punching mitts.

“Beating your ass would give me the greatest pleasure.” You said as you threw the mitts down before pulling the bandage wrap out of your open bag.

“I can do many things that can bring you pleasure that don’t involve us boxing.”

“Prove it.” You spat at him.

Before things moved forward, Lewis did the one thing that he knew would disrupt your focus.

He took his shirt off and kicked it close to the edge of the floor to ceiling mirror. All of the witty comments dried in your throat as you took him in. The defined muscles of his abs, the deep pelvis lines, the rich tan contrasting his tattoos and most of all, the budding chest hair.

Involuntarily, your thighs clenched at the sight.

He licked his lips as he watched you struggle for words. He could see the fight in your eyes as you were determined to not fall into the trap of your attraction but your body was failing tremendously.

Fine. You thought. Two can play that game.

Without warning, you grabbed the edge of your top and pulled it over your head. If Lewis thought his naked chest would disrupt you then you could pull the same card. Left in just your padded sports bra, you watched as Lewis became as speechless as you had been.

You were not going to make this easy for him.

Lewis finished wrapping his hands. “I’m ready.”

The both of you put up a good fight. Physically and mentally. Every hit, every jab, felt like a victory in the war of desire. Both of your bodies damp from sweat with how much energy you exerted during this ‘friendly’ sparring session.

You were winning. He asked for your all and you gave it. This was something just to prove to yourself that you could resist him. That you could withstand his charm and that your attraction didn’t lead you blind.

Then he grabbed your wrists and pulled younclose to his body. You gasped as he tightly held your hands behind your back trapping them by his torso as his other arm wrapped around your waist.

“Aren’t you tired of playing this game sweetheart?” He whispered in your ear.

“You started it. Of everyone, you should know how crucial professionalism should be.” You hissed back as you struggled to get out of his hold.

“How could I focus on staying professional when every part of me wants to explore every inch on you. And don’t try to deny it either. I see the way you look at me, the way you desire me in a way that would disgrace the gods.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he spoke. His words were the apple from the tree of knowledge and his voice was the serpent in the garden of Eden.

“I can’t pretend anymore.” He confessed. “I want you YN. I want you so fucking much.”

“Now you admit it.” You say as you squirmed. Lewis held onto you tighter.

“I never denied it darling.” He chuckled in your ear. “You did. We wouldn’t be having this back and forth if you had just admitted that you were into me the way I was into you.”

“That wouldn’t change the fact that I was compromising a client-employer relationship and my reputation just for some dick.”

“This dick would change your life baby.”

“You’re so fucking annoying!”

“Turn around and say that to my face.”

He spun you in his arms before another word could be uttered. You stared at each other with no words spoken as your eyes ventured from their eyes to their lips. The action causing you to lick your lips.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased as his hands dropped to your waist and pulled you closer. The smile on his face held the promise of everything that he had teased and taunted you about. Wicked and sinful things that had your mouth watering at the mere thought of them.

Body to body like this, the wall that you had been building in your mind had come crumbling down. Not that you had put up that big of a fight anyway but the effort that had been exerted up to now was too much and you were giving it up.

You were ready. You were more than ready.

“You’ve been trying your hardest to break me. And for a while I forgot that I too can play this game very well.” You said as you hooked a finger around the strap of your bra and brought it down your arm.

“I want you Lewis, I do.” You finally admitted. “But you want me just as much, if not more.” You unhooked your bra and flung it across the room. He fought to push the bandages away from his knuckles before embracing you with his big hands running up and down your back.

“If you had just given me the chance, I would loved on you the second I knew that you felt the same.” He whispered as his hands trailed down your back and settled on your ass. He kneaded the flesh of your ass cheeks, drawing you closer so that you could feel his breath on the top of your lip.

You leaned forward and kissed him with all of your might. All of the pent up desire you had been holding at bay for the last seven months burst out of you. You pushed your body into his as he moved his lips roughly over yours, opening your mouth for the sweet intrusion of his tongue as he deepened the kiss. Your nails dug into his back as you wrapped a leg around his waist as you felt the lower part of his body pressing into you.

Lewis moved his hand from your ass, trailing it up your spine before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you inwards. You gasped as he nibbled on your bottom lip, pulling the lip into his mouth. Your pussy creamed at the realisation at just how hard his dick was as it rested against you.

“Let me taste you.” You said as you pulled your lips away. “Please.”

“Do you think you deserve it? After the way you made me feel for wanting you? You think you deserve my touch?”

“Lewis … please.”

“Take these off.” He growled as he tugged at your grey shorts. You made light work of them before stepping back into his embrace. Your small cotton panties were digging into the flesh of your hips but Lewis quickly tugged at the material and shoved them down the length of her legs.

His eyes focused back on your face as he felt your hands move down the back of his head and edge him closer to your core. He pushed your legs further apart as his fingers teased your hot skin. His eyes soaking in every reaction that he drew out of you.

“You have spend the last seven months playing hard to get but here you are, ready to crumble at the touch of my fingers.” Lewis whispered as he pressed kisses onto your stomach.

“You’re talking entirely too much for someone who has pussy staring them in their face.”

“And this pussy is glorious, believe me. But I need you to suffer a little bit.”

He gave you an inch by running his fingers teased along your slit but did not settle his fingers where you needed him the most. Instead of shoving his digits into your cunt like he wanted, he brought them to his lips and licked them clean.

“So good.” He said and then stood straight and buried his face into the crook of your neck. He licked at your flesh before sinking in his teeth. The way he drew your skin into his mouth caused you to moan.

“Lew, please. Please.” You begged before he claimed your mouth yet again. He kissed you hard with his tongue lashing against yours before his teeth sunk into your bottom lip causing the sweetest pain to shoot up your spine. You pushed your body against him as far as your standing position would allow.

He wrapped his hands in your sweated out hair which was reverting back to its natural curl pattern. He pulled away from your lips and stared down at you with the darkest look of arousal tainting his beautiful eyes.

You watched as a cocky smirk etched on his face. You knew Lewis had you. Once your inhibitions were shut down, it was very easy for you to turn to your desires. And that lust had you falling to your knees as you looked up at him as his cock swelled in the confines of his thermals.

You pushed the fabric further down his thick thighs until his cock was revealed and … holy shit.

You knew that Lewis had the inches and the girth to work with but you weren’t expecting it to be so … heavy? His dick was so big and thick but it was nothing you couldn’t work with. Especially with the smugness glazing his eyes, you took it as a challenge.

His legs were spread, standing tall and proud as his dick bobbed in front of you. Heavy, leaking and begging for your oral attention.

“Open your mouth.” He said as he held his cock by the base and pointed it towards your plump lips.

Your mouth quickly hung open and your tongue darted out to lick his tip. You swirled your tongue around the head before you slid most of his dick into your mouth and sucked. You were extra as fuck as you licked and slurped, wanting him to understand the sloppy, messy head that awaited him. That you had been fantasising about this moment for a long time and now you were going to show to show him what you were about.

“Sucking this dick so fucking good.” He groaned as he held your head and tipped it back before moving his hips so that his tip was brushing back against the back of your throat.

“This is what you needed huh? My dick in your mouth to turn you into a little slut for me.” You moaned around him as you stretched your hands out on his torso, feeling his chest hairs prickle against your palm.

You don’t answer him as you continue working your head up and down his length. He felt so good in your mouth. The muskiness of his scent was all that you could think off as your saliva pooled in your mouth the more he worked his hips, fucking your mouth.

You were so eager to suck his dick. You pushed your head down further, taking him deeper down your throat which caused his knees to buckle.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Lewis groaned as he fisted your hair tighter, looking down at you as you moved your head fast, spit bubbles building as your nose brushed against his pelvis before your hand came up to fondle with his balls.

“Just like that. Keep sucking me just like that baby.” He gasped as you continued sucking on him as if you were trying to take his soul. Sure, Lewis had brought you down to your knees but you were making him regret ever thinking that he held all of the cards. There were no words to describe just how good you were sucking his dick. Your hands cradling his balls, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat - this was more than otherworldly.

When you pulled your lips away from him, Lewis felt like he could breathe as you moved your hand around his length in tight, circular motions.

“If I didn’t want to come inside of you, I would have come all over your beautiful face.” He spoke with a hoarseness to his voice before he manoeuvered you underneath him. The gym mats were harsh against your skin but you were past the point of caring.

“Fuck me.” You whispered as Lewis shifted your legs into the crooks of his arms as his dick rubbed against your opening. You reached up and claimed his mouth. His saltiness lingered between each entanglement of your lips. You tasted the remnants of your sweetness in his mouth the longer you greedily moved your mouth against his.

You didn’t care for the way the hard mats were biting into your skin. All you cared about what the surge of lust that burst through you as Lewis rubbed his cock against your cunt. His hand travelled up to your throat and squeezed as he positioned himself in between your legs. Every single gasp and little cry that he pulled out of you pushed him closer to the edge. His lips sought your earlobe as he raised your leg to his shoulder before he finally sunk into your pussy.

You were so soft. So sweet. So tight. So wet. You accepted him like you’d been waiting for him all this time and then clenched onto him so hard that Lewis so felt lightheaded before he could complete his stroke.

Lewis needed to regain his composure but you were a withering mess beneath him. Your scent like a cocoon around the both of you, he couldn’t find his bearings as he found a rhythm to his strokes.

Slow and deep as you arched your back and dug your nails into the skin of his back.

Your lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath with the sexy sounds of your pleasure reverberating through the room, bouncing off the equipment back into his ears.

Lewis let your legs fall back to his waist as he dropped to his forearms so that his body, slick with sweat, pressed against yours. You immediately wrapped both of your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you as he resumed his slow, deep thrusts coupled with circular motions that always pulled a sharp, little cry from you beneath him.

For months he had dreamt you like this. Underneath him, begging and crying for him as he deprived your body of pleasure.

Your nipples grazed his chest as he moved. You trailed your fingernails down the length of his back as you pulled him in for frantic kisses as the both of you moved towards the inevitable conclusion.

Lewis pressed his forehead against yours as your pussy started clenching rapidly around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he demanded through his teeth. “Cum all over this dick.”

You screamed his name and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing your cries of pleasure, thrusting hard and fast into you as he chased the orgasm building in him.

You scratched at his back, gripped the sheets and bit into the pillow even as you started moving your hips up to meet his dick.

“Lewis!” You yelled as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your orgasm plummeting through your body.

“That’s it sweetheart. Come all over this dick.” He growled into your ear as he bucked his hips hard and fast before the force of his climax had him tensing and twitching in between your legs.

You hummed softly as Lewis returned to himself once his muscles had stopped twitching. All that pent up energy had finally been released and the both of you were butt naked in his private gym.

So many lines had been crossed tonight but either of you cared. Especially when he kissed you senseless and promised you more orgasms than you were ready to give.

London fashion week be damned ….

[demaparbat-hp]

As she watches Lee and Kya avoid each other's eyes from across the room, the phrase comes back to her, swift and silent:

"To hesitate is to lose."

.

As Song treats the victim of an unfortunate interaction with a rare poisonous flower, her day takes an unexpected turn when it becomes apparent that the old man's nephew and her assistant have history.

A vivid history.

[roosterforme]

Ready, Rough and Unromantic | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley has a rough day at work, he knows the only thing that will make him feel better is his wife. But will you let him dominate you? Will you let him use you just how he needs to? He shouldn't have been surprised by your answer or your response to him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, rough smut, dominant smut

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"I am so proud of you, Roo," you whispered, kissing his neck and zipping up his flight suit. It was early, the sun was just peeking through the bedroom curtains, but you were up helping him get ready for the first day of his duties.

Bradley would be spending the week as an assistant instructor at Top Gun. Few people would appreciate what an honor this was, but you understood it implicitly. You hadn't yet bothered to dress for the day, but you decided to wake up early to wish him luck. 

He ran his fingers along your soft skin, completely bare for him except for your glasses and wedding rings, as he said, "I always want to make you proud, Baby Girl."

When Bradley tipped his head down to kiss your cheek, you giggled. The sound went right to the part of his brain that controlled his unbridled desire for you. All he had to do was squeeze your bare hip with his big hand, and you looked up into his eyes.

"Do we have time?" you asked softly before you bit your lip.

He kind of shrugged and grunted, but you were already lowering the zipper of his flight suit all the way down. Bradley let you take the lead on this one, and when you dropped to your knees, he was not disappointed. 

The way you wrapped your pretty lips around his cock... yeah, there would always be time for that. "You're so fucking good," he groaned as you took him deep, and he hit the back of your throat. You sucked on him until you were gagging, then you pulled him out as a strand of your saliva dripped onto your tits.

"This is for good luck," you told him before you tilted your head and sucked on his balls until he was pulling on your hair a little rough.

"Oh," he groaned. "My wife doesn't mess around." His words were deep and gruff compared to the long, soft moans you made as your tongue swirled up the length of his cock. 

You kissed the tip of him, whispered, "I love you," and then you gave him absolutely filthy head until he was cumming all over you. Your hollowed cheeks and warm hands had him fucking your face until cum dripped out of the corners of your lips. And when he spurted onto your glasses a second later, your giggle returned.

Bradley loved the sight of it enough that he wanted to make a mess with you later on when he had more time. Coat your glasses up real good. Maybe help you lick them clean. 

"Fuck," he growled. "I need to leave, Sweetheart." Bradley pulled you to your feet and placed a soft slap to your ass. You kissed him hard one time, and he promised he'd take care of you later.

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

"Tally, tally!" called one of the younger recruits into the radio. But his teammate and wingman left him hanging long enough that Bradley got himself quickly into position. A few seconds later, Bradley got tone on him and eliminated him. 

He was feeling great, and when the team landed along with Bradley, he took some time to show them where they went wrong and how they could improve. "As soon as you hesitate, it's over," he informed them, knowing very well that he had learned that lesson himself not terribly long ago.

The recruits filed back inside for lunch while Bradley joined Maverick and the other teachers to go over the plans for the afternoon. Honestly, he was having a great day, and when he was told he'd be taking another team up in the afternoon, he was looking forward to it.

But he must have been distracted. Or maybe he was the one who hesitated this time. Because as soon as Bradley managed to fly the two seater Super Hornet into a corner, he heard tone lock onto his own aircraft. 

He had been outmaneuvered by a twenty five year old student. 

Bradley landed his aircraft in a state of shocked silence, barely managing to communicate with the tower. He was mortified. And of course, as soon as he walked into the tower, everyone knew about it. 

"It happens," Mav told him. "It was your first day instructing. You'll nail their asses to the wall tomorrow."

But Bradley could see the looks on the students' faces. He could practically hear Nat's voice through her text message.

Are you fucking kidding me, Rooster? They took you out?

He wasn't even sure how she heard about it from the simulation classroom. But seemingly everyone knew. It took everything inside him to keep his shoulders squared and his voice calm. Because inside he wanted to rage. He wanted back up in the air. He wanted to meticulously pick off every single other aircraft one at a time until he didn't feel like a joke anymore. 

And that made him feel like maybe he wasn't ready to be an instructor yet.

"Fuck," he growled, slamming his locker door closed later. Absolutely nobody messed with him in the locker room. Nobody would even look at him. He was surrounded by dead silence everywhere he went. 

As he stormed out to his Bronco, his skin was crawling with the burning need to prove himself. To dominate his surroundings. When he started up the engine, he took a few deep breaths that did nothing to calm the rising temperature of his humiliation. The blazing desire to conquer. Overpower. Defeat.

He needed to get home to you. Somehow he knew you were the only thing that would make him feel better.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, he was practically panting. You were already home from work. This was good. When he opened the front door, he called out, "Where are you?" His voice was raspy. His body was too hot. 

"In the kitchen, Roo!" you replied. "Come tell me all about your day!" 

You had taken your boots and socks off, but you were still in your uniform with your hair pulled back in a tight bun. And you were up on the kitchen counter changing the lightbulb that he had noticed kept flickering. This kind of shit was his job to take care of around the house. You shouldn't have to be up on the counter like this. 

But as soon as he really looked at you, his cock throbbed with need. You looked at him over your shoulder as you finished with the new bulb. "What's wrong?" you asked softly, slightly alarmed. You must have seen the look in his eyes. He had never looked at you like this before.

Bradley knew you could make him feel better. If you let him do it. If you'd let him take his day out on you. 

He snagged you off the counter and into his arms as you squealed, but you quickly gaped at him as he carried you to the bedroom. 

"Bradley?" you whispered, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and searching his face.

He tossed you onto the bed and climbed on top of you, not bothering to remove his boots. You were silent, eyes wide and lips softly parted as he let you have his body weight. Your gaze was on his lips like you were expecting him to kiss you and be your sweet husband like he usually was.

"No," he growled, and your eyes darted up to his. You looked needy and uncertain. Bradley could tell you wanted to ask him what was going on. But then he read your last name on your nametag, annoyed that it didn't say Bradshaw yet. Very gently, he removed it, snapped it in half, and threw it across the room. Then he unbuttoned your shirt without a word and pushed it open wide. 

Your nipples were straining against your black lace bra. You were very subtly rubbing yourself up against his hard cock. Your pupils were dilated. You wanted to get fucked. 

"I hate your fucking name tag. Okay?" he asked, voice gruff as he wrapped his hand around the front of your neck. "I hate it."

You bit your lip and whispered, "You had a bad day."

"You told me you were going to get a new name tag," he grunted, pressing his hard cock against your thigh. "You said you submitted the paperwork for your name change."

"I did." Your voice was so needy. Bradley shoved his thumb into your mouth and watched as you opened wide and licked him.

"Get a new fucking name tag. And leave the light bulbs for me to change."

"I will," you said again with your mouth full of his thumb.

"Shut up," he growled, and your eyes went so wide as you moaned. "I'm not in the fucking mood. And I'm not going to be sweet. Not right now. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you cry. Use your pussy exactly how I want to."

You moaned around his thumb again. 

"Tell me that's what you want," he demanded. You nodded your head, and he withdrew his thumb. "Fucking say it."

"I want it." Your voice was breathy but sure, and Bradley was going to dominate you until your tears and whining made him feel better. Because there was always only you who could fix him.

He practically ripped open the front of your khaki uniform pants to get to you. Bradley yanked the fabric down your legs and sent your pants across the room to meet your broken name tag. Tiny, black lace panties cut low on your hips. He could see your tattoo. He could tell you were wet through the fabric. 

"You look like a little slut," he informed you. He watched you bite your lip as your back arched off the bed. "You shouldn't be this excited about being manhandled." Then the scrap of black lace met the same fate as your pants and the name tag.

Bradley had to commend you. You kept your mouth shut as he unzipped his flight suit, lowering the sleeves and pulling his cock free. You were silent as he rubbed himself through your wet slit. You didn't make a noise as he slowly slid himself inside your dripping wet pussy until he bottomed out. And only the softest sound escaped your lips as Bradley wrapped his big hands around your hips and lifted you slightly off the bed.

But you screamed when he held you in place, your ass in midair, and fucked you like you were his own personal toy. He slammed into your pussy with short, rough strokes. It was, in so many ways, the dirtiest thing he had ever done to you. And it felt to fucking good, Bradley could cum inside you right now. But your screams had him going harder, wanting to enjoy this feeling of control for as long as possible. 

"Louder," he told you. But he didn't really even need to say anything as he tightened his grip on your flesh and fucked you until tears leaked from your eyes. Your cries filled the room, so loud his ears were ringing from it. 

He withdrew from your body and let you fall to the bed. You were scrambling now, reaching for him. Looking up at him with tears in your eyes like you needed him to kiss you. 

He flipped you onto your belly before ramming his cock inside you again. Your hands were all balled up in the pillowcase as you cried out against the bedding. The rapid slap slap slapping noise of his body dominating yours was one of the prettiest things he had ever heard. The way you were letting him calm his nerves and soothe his ego, well if he hadn't already married you, he'd do it today. 

He palmed you softly before laying a solid smack right to the round of your ass. You moaned and sucked in a deep breath as he leaned down and put his lips next to your ear. "Tell me you want me to stop."

You shook your head and turned to look back at him, eyes red with tears. "Keep going," you hiccupped. "Please."

Bradley pushed your face back down into the pillow as you gasped and cried for him. He pumped his hips hard, grabbing at your thighs and your backside. Then he wrapped his forearm underneath you and pulled you up until you were on your knees for him. And how he had the perfect view of your body as you took him, full hilt, like a champ. You gorgeous pussy grabbed at him with each stroke, and Bradley spit on you where you were joined, making everything wetter.

"You like this, don't you?" he asked as you moaned and whimpered. "Huh? You actually fucking like this." He was so close as he spanked you just to feel you clench around him. "You fucking slut." 

He pressed his lips to your ear again and slipped his hand up to shove his fingers into your mouth. You were moaning and slobbering all over his hand, crying into the pillow. 

"You're perfect," Bradley growled as he filled you up with his cum. He fucked you with jerky strokes, pushing his load deeper and deeper until he guided you down flat on your belly with his hand on your ass. You were half crushed under his body weight, kitten licking his fingers when he realized he felt so good. So much calmer. You made everything better just like he knew you would.

But now he was slightly concerned that he had taken it too far, even with your permission. As he kissed along the back of your neck and ran his fingers softly up your arm, he whispered, "Are you okay, Baby Girl?"

Your voice was still a little watery with tears as you said, "I won't be able to walk tomorrow. And now I need to update my to-do list so I remember to order a new name tag. But that was hot. Do you feel better?"

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and buried his nose against your skin. He felt perfect. "So much better. Thank you." 

He helped you to your feet with the promise of a bubble bath. Then he assured you he could figure out how to make something for dinner. After he picked up all of the discarded clothing, he threw your name tag in the bathroom trash can while you sank down into the tub.

"I have an extra name tag in my office, you know," you told him with an eye roll and a smirk. 

"I know," he replied, bending to kiss your nose. "And I have an extra one in my locker. You can have it. We can match. It'll be cute." And now all he could think about was you wearing his last name on your khaki uniform every day. 

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

Okay, yes...okay, yep. That happened. Stay tuned for the upcoming (4th!) series with Roo and BG called Always Ever Only You! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny is not okay.

He had just gotten back from shoving a very offended Spoiler out of the second story window with a broom when he discovered Red Robin hacking into one of the family computers and had to whack him too.

The broom was getting used a lot today, huh?

In Danny's defense, he had locked up the portals and lab tight before activating the houses security system. Unfortunately, Vlads murderer - some guy named Deathstroke- had used a Fenton product to do the crime, and now his parents (as oblivious as ever) are out hunting the hit man for revenge. Jazz was in on a girl's trip with her friends for a week, and his friends are both out of town with their respective families so the three of them had no idea any of this was going on.

Now here he is dealing with a bat infestation. He hopes his parents will forgive him for blowing up the computer, but he really doesn't want his parents going to jail. And with half the stuff on the computer being destructive mad scientist inventions and the other half being plans/tools to commit horrific atrocities and genocide of an entire dimensions worth of sentient beings?

Jail. Jail for a thousand years. Can't let that happen. So Danny is on his one man mission of throwing ninjas with daddy issues out various windows over and over again. This can't last forever! They have a city to return to, right?!

Well, turns out he was right! Too bad they were all now in what Danny could only guess was a new world full of talking monsters that kept trying to eat them!

At least the house came with them so they had shelter. Why did mom program the teleporter to activate without coordinates put in anyway. What where these monsters? Where is Nadiria supposed to be in the galaxy? Where they still in the milky way? Was it safe to fanboy about being on another planet? Can Danny become a "monster wrangler" alongside the bats so they don't get eaten?

Can danny manage to hide his identity as a ghost/ "monster" from the bats while they're trapped in this freaky place?

[hangingoffence]

gk jason (with a stubble bc hes too naked without it)

[bonchobrick]

tw: slight suicidal actions (but not really the batfam are wildly clueless to the actual context to danny's bullshit hes not suicidal--in this fic--he's dead get it RIGHT brucie)

Au where Batfam are entirely convinced that the new vigilante in Gotham, danny, has time travel powers because he can vanish away from their senses completely

This becomes a problem however when 

Bruce searches for him because wants to save Jason. Danny can save Jason not in the--im a time traveler and i can bring him or you back from or to the past--but in the, I’m a ghost king and have domain over the dead haha

Batfam become really concerned watching Phantom fight because “if he has time travel powers why doesn’t he avoid getting hit every time he can” and get worried phantom is purposefully letting himself get hurt

Danny in all honesty is just vibin the entire time while the batfam is going crazy at every sliver of info they get about danny because like

okay hes a time traveler thats established they got over that

This guy whos somehow been able to stop and rehabilitate rouges (ghosts) in his town is 15??

he may be the kindest most self destructive kid they've ever met like who immediately agrees to help people who were trying to capture and interogate him because he 'thinks we are better than the last billionaire who did this' what the FUCK

Oh yeah and they find out as a bonus in the end that his normal unpowered form he is a teen with black hair and blue eyes (bruce no no dont do it dont--)

---

Bruce is losing his mind

Okay so at the start of this there’s an unknown vigilante (danny) that Batman tends to bump into. Except Batman isn’t sure what he is.

Every time they run into each other Batman can tell there should just be a person beside him but before he gets a glimpse and opens his eyes to empty fresh air.

A vigilante that can vanish before their very eyes?

What do the bats think about this?

They think this vigilante can control time and is doing that to sneak out of their gaze.

Now here’s where the funny part comes in

Bruce goes on a wild hunt to search for the vigilante with a plan. To make them turn back time so that he can save his son.

The problem with this?

Danny is not a time traveler most days–scratch that he's not one at all. He can save his son Jason though, in fact he wants to, it’s just he needs to figure out a way to do this whilst not blowing his cover that he is the goddamn ghost king.

So he pretends that he does have time powers and that he just… uh… needs a minute to figure them out… yeah that!

Cue Batfam getting progressively more worried about Danny because ‘if he could turn back time—why doesn’t he avoid those hits?’

They all kinda think Danny is like purposefully hurting himself so now Danny is forced to eat breakfast with them and sleep at their manor.  I mean he’s confused at why they always look so worried about something but he’ll make sure Batman’s son gets home soon! Plus the rich people temporary-living-situation without all the ‘I want to adopt you’ billionaire bullshit is pretty sweet!!

(somewhere in the ghost zone jason is tearing up laughing at the batfam as they struggle to not burst into flames trying to figure out danny-- like for christs sake they think the ghost king is an american doctor who and are trying to get him to spill where his tardis is)

[theetherealbloom]

LORD I’M SO UNWELLLLLLL PLEASEEEE AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Sweet indulgence 🛼

Written for the Valentine's Day pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles blog.

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Flirting; Sexual Tension; Record label owner!Eddie; Waiter!Steve; Steve in roller skates; First date (Eddie says it counts 💖)

Notes: continued from this one.

"You can’t be fucking serious,” Steve says. 

“Why not?” Eddie throws the garishly pink flier back down on the table. “It’s still Valentine’s Day.” 

“For thirteen more minutes,” Steve bristles, pen pressing down on his little notepad so hard that Eddie is afraid he’ll punch a hole through it. “You don’t even have a date.” 

“Didn’t know that was required,” Eddie grins. “All I’m saying is, if you offer a Valentine’s Day special, then that special should be available for the entirety of Valentine’s Day, so …” 

Steve makes an exasperated sound, but still jots down the order. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he barks over his shoulder as he pushes away from the table and disappears into the kitchen. “Just so you know.” 

Eddie watches him glide away, legs and ass a meal in their own right in those shorts and knee-highs and the fucking roller skates. 

Maybe the boy has a point. Maybe he is being ridiculous. 

It’s not exactly normal behavior, discovering that your former high school king is now a waiter at the diner down the street, and then promptly declaring said diner your new after-work dinner spot. But Eddie never claimed to be normal. And he’s always been a tad bit obsessed with Steve Harrington, so here they are. 

Steve has long resigned himself to his nightly visits. Never once has he acknowledged their shared history, and Eddie hasn’t pushed. Instead, he’s slowly putting together all the little puzzle pieces he’s been collecting. 

Steve will grumble and scowl and bitch over Eddie’s absurd orders and constant attempts at flirting, but he never fails to pocket his generous tips, so he must be struggling financially. He’s pulling at least one job besides the one at the diner. Most likely a babysitting gig, as indicated by the sparkly hair clips and stickers that Eddie regularly spots in his hair and on his clothes. He’s also not seeing anyone, because if he was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be working the night shift on Valentine’s Day. 

He also hasn’t eaten in a while, if the tummy rumble as he brings the order is anything to go by. Eddie quirks a brow. Steve blushes and hugs the tray to his chest. 

“Enjoy your meal,” he says, but Eddie holds up a hand and gestures invitingly at the empty seat opposite him. 

“Join me?” 

Steve’s brow furrows. “I’m on the clock.” 

“Oh yeah, and super fucking busy, I can see,” Eddie quips. “Indulge me, my liege.” 

Steve chews on his bottom lip, casting a hesitant glance towards the kitchen. Finally, he sighs and slips into the free seat. Eddie hands over one of the two cupcakes on his plate, decorated in a lopsided tower of frosting and a smattering of heart-shaped sprinkles. Steve devours nearly half of it with two enormous bites, and if triumph blooms warm and heavy in Eddie’s chest, that’s neither here nor there. 

“So,” he drawls, ignoring his own cupcake in favor of stacking his chin on top of his folded hands, peering at Steve over the rim of his sunglasses. “How was your day? Been handing out lots of these little babies?” 

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, sure,” he says around a mouthful of frosting. “Have you seen this place? Premium date spot. So classy and romantic.” 

They lapse into silence for a few seconds. Steve grabs the milkshake with the two straws without waiting for an invitation and takes an enormous sip. There’s a tiny pink sprinkle at the corner of his mouth. Eddie resists the temptation to reach out and wipe it away. 

“What about you, huh? You own the record label down the street, right? Surely your day was much more interesting than mine.” 

So he isn’t the only one who’s been puzzling, Eddie thinks. 

“Hellfire Records,” he nods, happy to ramble about his baby, even though Steve’s attempt at diverting the topic is not nearly as subtle as the boy may think. “We have some pretty cool bands, but I’m not sure they’re your taste, exactly.” 

“Oh?” Steve shoves the last bit of cupcake into his mouth, licking leftover frosting off his fingers. “Bold of you to assume that you’d know my taste. Indulge me?” 

Eddie does. 

Steve does, it turns out, know fuck all about metal and grunge, but he’s surprisingly interested and open-minded. Much more open-minded than Eddie would’ve expected from Hawkins High royalty. By the time they wrap up their little talk and make their way over to the counter, Steve has finished not only the milkshake, but also the second cupcake.

When Eddie hands over the usual fifty, Steve hesitates. 

“You already gave me all the food.” 

Eddie smiles easily. “So? Gotta let my favorite waiter know I appreciate him on this fine holiday.” 

Something flits over Steve’s face, something open and vulnerable, but it’s gone as soon as it came. 

“Don’t think you can buy my affection, Eddie,” he murmurs, snatching the bank note from Eddie’s fingers and stuffing it into his apron pocket. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie winks and saunters towards the door - carefully making sure to keep the giddy spring out of his step. Steve called him Eddie. Not Munson. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Good,” Steve calls after him. “See you tomorrow?” 

“You bet, big boy,” Eddie says. He’s just about to leave when something else occurs to him. “And I’ll be sure to pick a nicer spot for our second date, promise.” 

Steve’s blush is as pink as the sprinkle that’s still stuck at the corner of his mouth. Eddie doesn’t wait for his retort, just shuts the door and makes for home, grinning like a maniac.

🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕

Tagging some ppl who expressed interest last time: @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon @steddhie @formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

[sykokilljoyy]

secrets - wroetoshaw imagine

request: none! however it does kind of link to a few :p words: 1538 warnings: little bit embarrassing i can't lie. implied smut, allusions to sex, but generally just a lot of second hand embarrassment.

tl;dr: harry and y/n have been seeing each other for a while, but the secret's out when harry accidentally exposes some very intimate truths

“Come on, Harry,” Simon laughed, glee written all over his features. He holds onto JJ for support, who chuckled beside him.

“Boys, this is awful!” Harry‘s cheeks were burning, laughing along in front of the camera, which was setup haphazardly on the astro-turf football pitch.

“You said you would do it!” Ethan yelled playfully, holding his friend to his word, “At least give us odds.”

“Fine. Odds of 1-10,” Harry sighed.

It was just a stupid forfeit. He’d accidentally hit the goalpost and due to the rules of the Sidemen Sunday, he would have to do the next 3 penalties with his shirt off. It was the middle of January, so the bite of cold was nipping at his neck already, intruding through his layers of clothing.

“Bet,” Ethan giggled from behind the camera.

“Alright, boys,” Simon called, “3…2…1…”

“Six.”

“Six.”

“Fuck!” Harry cursed, a pit of nervousness pooling in his stomach.

The boisterous whoops and laughs from his friends helped to spur him on a little, but he had never been very confident in front of the camera, let alone topless in the middle of winter, outside the safety confines of his flat. A little part of him was beyond thankful that you were here, tucked behind the camera to help with filming. None of the boys knew, but Harry and yourself had been seeing each other in secret.

It started with just hanging out after filming every so often, grabbing lunch or rides home, just enjoying getting to know each other as a little more than acquaintances. This, however, turned quickly into a couple dates, which fell into long nights and messy mornings, legs tangled in his bed and hands reaching to wherever they could. Not that either of you were ashamed of the other, but there was a certain thrill of keeping it all under the covers that neither were fast to get rid of.

“Come on, Bog,” Ethan hollered. This triggered a wave of ceremonious chants, something along the lines of ‘get your tits out’ from his friends.

Sighing in defeat, Harry shook his jacket off hastily, presuming that if he just gets it over and done with, it’ll be less mortifying. Cheers continued until he was down to his last layer, only himself noting the memory of you wearing this exact t-shirt in his flat the night before, he tried not to think of the fact it still smelt like you.

As his lifted the shirt above his head, the blush dusted upon his freckled shoulders very visible, silence fell on the group. Now, it really wasn’t often that this hyper group of men were dead silent, but after seeing the litter of hickeys cascading down Harry’s chest, sensual scratches marking the skin of his back – a pin could drop and it would sound like something nuclear.

Behind the camera, you blushed deeply, pulling the hem of your hoodie to your nose to hide it. Your eyes followed the lines of the scratches on his back, the memories of the night before still more than fresh in your mind. Averting your gaze to the floor, you could feel your cheeks on fire. Luckily, your friends were all too distracted to notice.

“What?” Harry was immediately self-conscious at the unexpected reaction, pulling his shirt to his chest to cover himself. It was only when he caught a glimpse of something crimson, that it clicked.

“Oh fuck!”

Ethan was the first to laugh, a cackle that broke the shocked tension, the dam of silence bursting open as all of his friends jump to embarrass him.

It was a perfect overreaction, realistically it was only a couple hickeys and such, but as Harry had been historically private about his love life to his friends, this was an ideal opportunity to grill the youngest Sideman.

“Are you dating a vampire or something?” Josh joked first, earning a robust reaction from the group. Followed by waves of playful digs at the already embarrassed blonde boy, who was sheepishly pulling his shirt back over his chest.

“Who knew Harry was getting laid so much?” JJ was flabbergasted, playing up to the camera for a reaction.

“Seems like a very satisfied customer,” Simon chuckled, ruffling Harry’s hair – much to his discomfort, he pouted like a kid.

“Ask her yourself, isn’t that right, Y/N?” Josh chuckled.

He had only meant it as a joke. He had no idea of your relationship, only meaning to embarrass the boy further, as he knew Harry found you attractive.

However, when the pair of you froze like deer in headlights, your throat dry as you try and stutter a whimsical response, panicked eyes darting to each other for support, Josh’s eyes blew wide like dinner plates.

“Oh fuck, was it actually you?” All eyes were on you now, your heart pulsating loudly in your chest, waves of embarrassment hitting you. There was a reason you stayed behind the camera, the pressure of attention being directly on you made you crumble.

Harry knew that, so he spoke loudly to drag eyes back to him, now fully-clothed, “Yeah, uh, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

“I knew it!” Tobi called, turning to Simon with a victorious grin on his face.

“Fuck!” Simon cursed, “I said it was bullshit.”

���How did you know?” Harry asked Tobi, blush still tainting his cheeks.

“Harry, you practically can’t keep your eyes off her when you think no one’s watching,” this made you flustered, avoiding Harry’s dazed eyes.

“Fuck sake,” JJ interrupted, everyone turning to him as he fiddled with the camera, “Does that mean we can’t use any of this footage now?”

Chuckles rose from the group, but ultimately it was down to you and Harry to make that decision. His gaze found you, blue eyes laced with affection and a tiny bit of an apology for the embarrassment. Now that the cat was out the bag, he couldn’t care who knew. Of course, there was a terrifying reality of the fans reaction, but you’d been shipped so many times it seemed redundant by now.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind,” You smiled nervously, Harry looking at the football on the ground to hide his boyish grin, kicking it around a little at his feet.

Before everyone hopped back into recording the Sidemen Sunday, returning to their football forfeits, he made his way to you, whilst his friends were distracted retrieving the footballs that were kicked haphazardly across the pitch.

“You okay?” He asked softly, his cold hand ghosting over yours. The pair of you were used to keeping things out of the public eye, subtle glances, fleeting touches, whispers shared whilst no one was looking.

“I’m nervous,” You replied gently, feeling tense under his watchful eye.

“Don’t be,” His head dropped to kiss your cheek carefully, letting his lips linger on your icy skin, a safe way to reassure you that he was there.

It was only small; a gentle expression scratching the surface of his affectionate ways, but your heart skittered at the feeling of his hand playing with yours and his warm lips pressing against you. The strong scent of his cologne hit you at the closeness, the heat radiating from him in the bitter January air. You were still riding the coat tails of a silly schoolgirl crush as he pulled away, the exhilaration of being able to touch him outside the privacy of closed doors spurring you on.

Reaching up, you touched his cheek savouringly, leaning up onto your tip-toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. His hand slipped under your jacket and onto your clothed waist, pulling you towards him only lightly, smiling into the kiss once he felt the corners of your lips curl. Pulling apart, he hid his flustered blush by placing a kiss to your hairline.

“Do you want to get dinner after this?” You enquired hopefully, playing with the strings of his hoodie.

“Only if I can get a couple more of these,” Harry whistled playfully, pulling the collar of his jumper down to reveal the tender, crimson love bites.

“Harry!” You buried your face in his hoodie, embarrassment heating your cheeks promptly, his chest stuttering as he chuckles at your flustered reaction.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He giggled, and you peeled yourself from his embrace, glancing over to see the rest of the group getting ready to film again.

“I’ll take you somewhere real nice, to make up for it.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Mr,” You punched his bicep lightly, pushing him away, back towards the camera setup, “Now, go film. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

He nodded, pressing a quick final kiss to your cheek before jogging away sheepishly, batting away the childish calls and digs from his friends.

You watched him happily, smiling at the way he carried himself, the light in his eyes as he joked and battled with his friends, an extra pep in his step as the secretive weight off his shoulders were lifted. He was finally able to care for you in public, to touch you, hold you, tuck the hair behind your ear and kiss you gently without worrying who would find out, and you the same.

It would be hard, when the video releases, and the audience would see the announcement, but you weren’t worried. As long as he was with you, you wouldn’t be scared.

However, you weren’t sure you’ll ever live down the hickeys.

[feyhunter78]

Among The Sun

Description: The Conqueror, the Ravager of Lands, He who deals in blood and war. Emperor Miguel and his armies have scoured the land, and now they have set their sights on your kingdom. Will you fall to the Demonborn's blade, or will a strange connection between you and Miguel turn the tides of fate? Ch 2

The castle is abuzz with gossip and fear, words passed along in secret, gates closed, doors bolted. You press your back to the wall, the heavy curtain hiding you from the servants passing by. No one will tell you anything, simply bid you to dress and make yourself presentable as if there was to be a banquet, or a ball, not a potential siege.

“I’ve heard he’s coming from the West, that he set fire to the River Atraites, that his men—his armies of demons marched upon the flames.” One says, her voice hushed and filled with fear.

“No, he is coming from the East, the mountains bowed to him and allowed him passage through.” Another whispers, stronger but still afraid.

The Conqueror, the Ravager of Lands, He who deals in blood and war. He would be arriving soon if the rumors were to be believed, and you are no fool, you believe them.

You don’t know much about the Conqueror, your only information comes from rumors or war reports, neither of which are helpful. The rumors come from pleasurehouses, fanciful tales of the emperor storming in, scouring the establishment and searching for a woman with y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes. If one cannot be found, he is said to destroy the place, leaving terrifying claw marks and scorched bodies in his wake. If one can be found, the rumors say her cries of pleasure can be heard throughout the town and that she emerges from the encounter with only faint pleasant memories.

The war reports tell a different tale. They speak of him as merciless, tearing through men as if they are parchment, his armies moving as a perfect unit, no breaks, no faults, only skilled, relentless ruin. He is said to have claws and fangs, some say he has horns like a ram, and his eyes glow crimson. He is a terrifying sight to behold, half monster, half man, an abomination that has set half the continent ablaze.

You wait until their footsteps pass then slip from behind the curtain, hurrying down the hall to the throne room where your father, mother, and three brothers are set to gather. Instead, you stumble upon a horrid scene. Your father and brothers lie on the marble floor, bloodied and unmoving, your mother is draped over your eldest brother’s body, wailing wretchedly.

“Traitors to the crown, they have done this.” She shrieks, clinging to his body.

You’re frozen, staring at the carnage before you. True, you had no real fondness for your eldest brother, the gap between your ages was too far to bridge, but the others at least made an effort.

“What—what are we to do? Mother, you are queen, the Conqueror will be here, he will offer you what he offers every other window, you must be prepared.” You tell her, rushing to her side and attempting to pull her from your brother’s body.

She refuses to budge, shrugging you off. “I will not, he will not come here, we have nothing to offer.”

Your kingdom is not small, in fact it’s quite large, a port town, but your mother is right, it holds nothing that the Conqueror doesn’t already have. He has already captured the agricultural kingdoms, the larger trade kingdoms, and those who boast their stores of wealth and gems. His own lands that far-flung empire that declared him ruler after a bloody and horrid event, is rich in resources, the soil, and cities still boasting the remnants of Arcana. It is a wealthy and powerful force, wielded like an obsidian sword by the Conqueror.

“You do not know that, please, either we stay, and you take up your crown, or we flee to the ships.” You’re tugging on her arm, already formulating an escape route. But would you make it in time?

Your mother says nothing, only continues to weep and holds out her hand for her fallen crown. She has made her choice; she will doom you both to die here.

Your kingdom has fallen, the gates forced open, the crowns of your father and brothers thrown to the ground, their bodies lying beside them. There is no time to clean the throne room, you’ve received the reports, the Conqueror is mere minutes away.

The emperor is cruel, monstrous, a vile, wicked man who care only for conquest. You have heard the rumors, the whispers as his armies march across the lands, leaving death and destruction in their wake. And now he would be coming here, to give your mother the very same choice he gave to each former queen. Bend the knee, pay tribute, or watch your kingdom burn. Dozens of kingdoms have refused and burned, but your mother is not a warrior, she weeps over your father and brothers, laments their loss as your kingdom crumbles around you.

When the Conqueror comes, you fear the choice she will make, fear the rumors of the horrors that await those kingdoms gifted to the murderous emperor. You do not wish for your land to become a territory of the ravager, a sacrifice to the blood-soaked demon, Miguel the Conqueror, the Relentless, the Merciless, but you fear your mother will have no choice.

Miguel is bored, his fingers tangled in the hair of another whore as she moans, her face shoved into the pillows as she helplessly tries to fuck back on him. He has her bent over the bed, thrusting mindlessly as he starts out the window at this kingdom’s castle.

She is skilled, he will not deny it, but Miguel doesn’t simply desire skill, he desires the woman from his memories and dreams.

He lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes trying to picture you, his soulmate, his horizon, with your soft skin and stunning smile, the lilt of your voice, your tantalizing smell. He groans as the image forms, crystalline fractured fantasies, flashes of you, snatches of memories.

“Fuck, mi vida, you feel so good, wonderful, you are wonderful, my empress.” He sighs, his free hand settling on your—the whore’s hip, steadying himself before he pounds into her, picturing how pretty you’d look, grasping at the silken sheets he’s procured for you, whining as he smooths a hand down your spine.

You’d be so sweet for him, clinging to him as he fucks you, your pretty eyes fluttering closed, your lips parted so perfectly. He misses when he would see you in his dreams, when he would hold you for a moment before you disappeared like sand slipping through his fingers. Now all he sees when he sleeps is darkness, exhaustion hitting him like a horse.

“Please, Your Majesty, harder.” She begs, lifting her head from the mattress.

Her voice rips him from his fantasy, and he pulls out, tucking himself back into his breeches. “I asked you not to speak.”

She looks back at him, and he regrets not compelling her. She looks so much like you, the closest he’s found, but he shouldn’t have taken the chance.

He grabs her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You will remember none of this, only that you did your job and was paid handsomely for it.”

She nods, her shoulders drooping, eyes glazing over as his spell takes hold.

Miguel sighs and arranges her comfortably on the bed before leaving more than enough gold for her rudimentary services.

As he trudges down the stairs of the brothel, he’s met by his advisor, Lyla. She’s still in full armor except for those oddly shaped glasses that cover her eyes.

“It’s time.” She says, nodding towards the door.

Another kingdom to burn or capture, another fruitless search. Have the gods not dammed him enough? Have they not stricken him with this unholy visage, with these demonic powers, with a life of misery and death? You, you are the one he searches for, in your arms he will finally find rest, and if not, he will ensure it is so. There will be no kingdom for you to run to, no lands untouched by him, no bounty great enough to pull you from him, no powers beyond the divine will separate you, and even then, he has always desired to fight the gods.

He will offer this kingdom’s queen the choice he offers all others, waiting as they cower in fear, his eyes searching their court for you. But you are never there, and his anger only grows.

Perhaps this time will be different? Gabi would be fond of this land, would enjoy the flowers and streams. He prays that is a good sign.

TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer

[harmshake]

pairing: Rhea Ripley x Fem Reader | warnings: 18+, language, implied smut, I kept it cute this time 🤭 | word count: 408

wip thursday! thanks for the tag @whatdoeseverybodywant. 💕

"Easy"

There was something so sweet about her kisses. Not overbearing, quite gentle like you were a delicate thing she didn't want to suffocate. Yet you could feel how she held herself back, so sweet to keep her lips poised with greed that didn't spill over...

You slipped your hands to her warm cheeks, holding her to your kiss, tasting the sweetness of her tongue—literally as she'd just swallowed a small handful of strawberry jellybeans to nip and suck on your tongue instead.

"Demi..." Her name was a whisper that tumbled from your mouth to hers as her hands found your thighs in your jeans in the dark, massaging and inching up until they gripped your waist.

"Shhh...someone could hear," she whispered back with a slight giggle as you let out another whimper when her lips pressed those sweet kisses to your neck.

"Fuck them." Your greed was slipping out now, hungry for more of her kisses and hands that roamed your body, and cupped your breast behind your sweater. There were probably three other people in the room, seated far away and out of sight. If someone heard, it was their bad...

"Oh? Guess you wanna be kicked out of here then?" Demi glanced at you with a knowing smirk, knowing you really didn't give a fuck, before her eyes flickered to the movie screen you were both ignoring as you were much into watching each other. Your gaze fell to her slender throat, then, that you leaned over to kiss and she breathed a light laugh and flitting moan.

"You better hush then. I don't want to wait 'til we get home," you teased with your teeth teasing her skin that was still moist from your own sweet, sloppy kiss. You felt Demi's hand tug your hair, not aggressive, all gentle with that poise only she could possess as she yanked your head back, letting her strength shine through, and yanked a soft whimper from you.

Only she could look at you with those blue eyes, so sweet and yet so intense with the greed you saw she was working to rein in as she reined you in with her fist coiled in your hair.

But Demi was still in control and that was clear. It was easy for her, easy for you to let her. You bit your lip from her grip and her soft, heady tone as she reminded you, "Behave, baby. You know I'll make it worth the wait..."

tagging: @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @crxssjae @jeyusos-girl @jeysbvck @imabillyami

[rippersz]

𝖸𝗈𝗎, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖨 𝗋𝗎𝗇 𝗍𝗈.

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(DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT) (TW: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, slight glorification of both; gore, toxic love, fluffy love, nightmares, etc.) (Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader)

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"Where could I rest but in your hurricane?" ~ Erica Jong

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There’s hot breath at your heels. And a pounding in your head. And your feet are sore and your neck is aching and everything kind of hurts. Like you’ve been dragged across rocky lands by your ankles, only just given the chance to run once cut loose from rope binds.

Blindly, you turn corners.

Where are you?

One right, one left.

What’s happened?

One left, one right.

How do you get out?

Two lefts.

Is this a maze?

Two rights.

Is there an end?

No.

Just more darkness.

Something smacks the grass behind you, trampling it beneath heavy feet. Heavy… paws? You can’t tell. You don’t want to look back. The only way through is forward and forward is leading you to Hell. But there is no other choice.

You keep going.

Cool sweat paints your back, your temples, your upper lip and your thighs. Making you shiver through the hazy mist. Blood rushing and lungs burning. You can never get far enough. Never go fast enough. It gains whatever ground you trek and its warm breath laps like waves at your ankles.

“Come,” it’s telling you. “Give in to me.”

“You know you want to.”

“You know this is who you are.”

There’s light at the end. There. In the distance. One smooth run away. Only a few steps. You can do it. You can make it. Or you can run the other way, into the darkness. Or you can stop and let yourself be eaten. Consumed. It depends. What do you want to do? Where do you want to go?

The light.

It’s a saving grace.

The good ending.

Your mind hurts and your bones feel stiff but still you must go. Still you must try.

One foot in front of the other. Go. Go go go. Time is running out. The light gets closer. Closer. The beast chuckles somewhere behind you. A warm sound that slips through red teeth and pale skin.

“You’re precious to me,” it coos, watching your body push itself to ash. “Can’t you see that?”

No.

No you don’t want to.

This isn’t worth it.

Nothing is worth it.

There-

The light.

Close.

Close.

Closer.

Go.

Go.

There-

No.

No.

No.

…

…

…

..what?

…it’s… no. It’s just a lamp.

You stop, vision blurring, knees trembling. Staring as if your gaze could change reality. Just a lamp.

It’s just a lamp. Resting on a long branch. With a fake candle in the middle.

What?

What is this?

Why is this-

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

No.

Yes.

No, please-

Yes, right here-

“Look. Give in.”

Your feet shift without warning. Your body is pulled- you steer it- toward the beast. And you cannot stop it. You cannot do anything.

But you don’t want to.

Do you?

You move of your own accord.

You let it take you.

You see, in the dark, its bulky form.

You find comfort in what it can offer you. You find bliss in its soft fur and its glowing eyes. So many eyes. It is beautiful. It smiles wide.

“This is it, dearheart.”

Its voice is low and smooth and human.

You swallow.

“I love you.”

Which one of you said it?

Why did you say it first?

A tear slips down the side of your cheek, and you are smiling.

This is home.

Its glowing eyes are brighter than the sun. This is your good ending, you see.

This is it.

“I love you, too.”

You take a step forward.

–

There is a deep harsh ringing in your ears when your heart jumps to your throat. You try to grasp it, the panic, before it escapes - but it’s too late. You’re too slow. And your eyes are wide, aching, when they meet the dark wall opposite the bed. There’s sweat painting your back and neck, dampening the hairs at your nape, and your hands are clenched around the bedsheets. They’re sore. Tense. You’re wound up like a spring but there’s nowhere to bounce off to.

It wasn’t real, of course. It wasn’t real. It didn’t even feel real. And yet you were still scared.

Are scared.

Hyper aware of the way your body thrums, thumping from the adrenaline of a chase you never experienced. You quake in your meager bed. Thoughts swirl in a near deafening tornado. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to think. The silence is potent. Thick with its desire to have you killed. Maimed and left for dead.

You’re not ready to die. You’re not ready to leave just yet. The heaving gulps of air you take are so soothing, so comforting, you can’t die- you won’t die.

What if there’s something behind the door?

There isn’t. Don’t be stupid.

Skulking about. Waiting for you. Long fingers twitching and white eyes blazing and smile so wide it stretches the skin into its hairline. Smelling of rot and disgust. What if it is there. What if the beast, with its heavy paws and changing voice, lurks along with it. Two beasts. More monsters. A cacophony of horror waiting for you to leave.

There’s nothing there. Stop it.

But your eyes shift anyway, glancing, and suddenly the walls have peep holes and the bathroom is hiding something in the dark. Deep chuckles and hungry tongues and desperation to mutilate you. Watching you. Eager for your blood. For your bones and your flesh. You shiver, darting wide eyes around in the emptiness - as though looking at the monsters, facing them, could possibly save you. But they can’t. Nothing can. There, in the corner, is a stranger. A tall figure, too tall for the room, with a head that’s upside down and eyes too wide for its slim face. It smiles. Still and prone in the dark. It is watching. It is waiting.

You can’t do this.

You can’t do this again.

Are you hallucinating?

It doesn’t matter.

There’s a slight glow beneath the door, caused by the flicker of hallway candlelight, and you’re scrambling out of bed before you can think. Before you can even stop yourself and pause and maybe turn on a light and come to the realization that you’re overreacting. It’s too cold, it’s too dark. Your hand slips on the doorknob, your bare feet fall sensitive on the chilled floor, your legs shake as you tear out of your bedroom. You don’t even know where you’re going. What can protect you? What place can hide you? The beast lurks around each corner. The tall figure follows behind. You can hear its footsteps. Are they yours?

Where are you going?

Who are you looking for?

What does safety mean when you are not home?

Your heart stutters as the pad of your foot hits the ground too hard and your leg goes buckling beneath you. No. Now is not where you fall. Now is not where you die. The figure gains, and you catch yourself against concrete brick with a loud ‘slap!’, and the sound spurs you again.

Running.

Like the dream.

Running where?

Is this the maze? Were they the same thing? No. No, couldn’t have been. There is no branch here with a fake lamp. There is no false candle flicker. There is only darkness and only silence and the embarrassing pitter-patter of your quick feet that make you cringe. You are being too loud. They will always know where you are. They will always find you.

What place is safe?

Where does protection exist in the dark?

There is no one to save you. No arms to run into. You run for so long, hearing the thumps of your own heart and mistaking them as chasing creatures, that the sweat on your back renews. It drops to the curve of your spine. You feel sick with your fear, with the way it suffocates you slowly. Draws you to the dark.

You can’t keep going. You can’t feel your legs. You don’t know where you are. You don’t-

Principal’s Quarters.

Oh.

No.

No, there’s-

No.

Are you serious? Is this it? Is this your lamp? Is this your plastic flame? Your end and your beginning? Is this where you will always return? The orbit you were born into? The infinity you occupy? The ouroboros you are caught in, eating your own tail, returning to your end? Your death? Your liberation?

The monsters lurk. They are behind you. You can’t turn - you won’t.

It is smiling, it is huffing, it is there, and you are in front of a twisted salvation that will embrace you with clean arms and red lips and blue eyes. Not white. Not a grin too large. Just right. Perfection. On the outside. On the inside, something a little rotted. But you don’t mind. This is your only choice, as you cannot turn around. As you won’t.

“Larissa?” Your voice is soft, weak, in the silence. There is no answer. There is no savior.

Your knuckles begin to pain as you knock on the door, hitting the wood so hard you can feel the pangs of hurt run through your tendons. Right down to your wrist. You knock once. Twice. You knock a third time and then you knock again, until it flows into one steady stream of sound that only draws the creatures nearer and as you knock, you fear that if she doesn’t open up soon, you will not be alive when she gets back. You will not be breathing. You will not be there to hold and pick up. There will be no more infinity and no more liberation. No more shared secrets and sobbed apologies and no more memories of how you untangled yourselves from the closet floor and sat in her living room at a complete loss for words. No more tension. No more quiet understanding. No more glancing at each other and no more weeks of avoidance. No more yearning. Strange yearning. Out of place yearning. No more thinking about apologies and warm hands and the way she held you together. No more contemplating the lack of fear- the nonexistence of it- because when you looked down, there was no blood beneath her fingernails. No blood on her teeth. No carnage in her form. Because you were safe and she would not hurt you and you were special and she would not eat you and you’re not sure if she loves you but that doesn’t matter right now because dear god Larissa just please- please- open the door-!

And so it opens. And the gods have answered.

“What on E-”

Your fist lands blindly on the soft skin of an exposed collarbone and before you can stop yourself, grasp onto a nearby wall or gain some sense, you are falling. Shifting into the depths, the churning tides of the room beyond, and letting out a small squeak as you go. For a long moment, everything is one quick whirl of dim light, dark shadow, and fear. It jumps to your tongue, climbs to your mouth and your hands, and you are clawing at the person that has opened the door. Behind you, as your head knocks to the side and a glimpse of the hallway grows clear, you swear you see movement. Creatures fleeing. Running away, back into the night, because they have come across something unknown. Tails between their legs and ears pressed back. Eyes wide with terror. They have run into the heart of a bigger beast. A smarter beast. A beast that watches with a gaze of cut cerulean and a tongue sharper than a knife’s edge. A beast so intelligent and cunning, it is capable of fooling the world. Tricking the tricksters. One big painting of iron-clad facades and not a single sniffing nose looking for her. A beast that opens her arms to you, and draws you in, and will not hurt you even if you beg.

A beast whose arms, cool and familiar, go running around your waist, eager to keep you from smashing your teeth out onto the hard floor. Her hold is strong and desperate, weakened from sleep, but good enough to clutch and pull you closer. Into safety. Large hands immediately press at your back, flung wide from surprise; and warm breath is pushed out in a rush from modest lungs. You cling to this post of life, to this beam of gold, to this beast, as your feet scramble over the threshold and the door slams! itself back into place behind you.

Safety at last.

From one darkness into another.

But this darkness has no interest in hunting you. She is only surprised that you have shown up at all.

“Y/n? What’s going on? Are you hurt?” Her hands fly to your waist, going to push you back to get a better look at you, but the fear still runs thick and you need a moment to think - so you push yourself closer and nearly topple the poor woman off balance.

“Sorry,” you mumble into her shoulder, finding immediate comfort in the smell of everything Larissa. It should be off-putting to push your face against her, to fall in love with the softness of her hastily thrown on robe, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. She is here and you are safe and as long as she is here, you will always be safe. Somehow. Someway.

“It’s okay,” comes her soft whisper. “It’s okay.”

Her gentleness is unexpected. Wasn’t it only about three weeks ago when you were running all over Nevermore, scared out of your mind? Frightened that she’d eat you alive–even though she said she wouldn’t? Full of begrudging trust and weepy eyes as you fell apart on the carpet of her walk-in closet? Was a bit of space, a bit of time, all you needed in order to come running back like the love-sick fool you are?

Or was it always meant to be like this? Running back to Larissa, who would probably always wipe the blood off of her lips and out of her mouth before trying to kiss you. Never wanting you to witness her horrors, no matter how self-indulgent. You think for just a moment, as you stand there melting into her body and shivering as her fingers go tangling into your hair, that you may be able to live the lie. Nothing is wrong. When you’re with her, there are no nightmares. When you’re with her, you’re safe. She will brush her teeth and then you will kiss her senseless. She will wash her hands and then she will touch your skin, reverent and desperate. She will wash the red from her hair and then she will let you brush it.

A modern romance. No horror. You can live it, you think. If only you tried.

“Are you alright?” She eventually whispers, heart beating steadily beneath your cheek and ear. Clearly, she’s worried. Trying to keep the tremor out of her voice but still swimming in relief because you’ve come to her. Out of all the people to go to and you came to her. You know she feels a new sense of hope, because you do too. Three weeks without confronting the depth of everything only led to sadness. Sadness and emptiness and desire. A deep clawing desire that begged you every day to show up in front of her and demand her attention. Knock on her office door, the door to her quarters, the door to her teacher’s room, anywhere everywhere, just for a moment of her time. Just to look into her eyes and know that you were okay. You wanted to be okay so bad. But you never gave in. You never went searching. You would’ve soon rather chained your feet to your desk than run out of your room and go to her.

Though now here you are, with your body working against you. Betrayal spelled in bold letters. Leading you back to the beast you want.

“No.” You’re safe, yes, but you’re not alright. You’re frazzled and tired and sleep has been an elusive creature and all you want is rest. So much rest you grow fat and lazy with it. Rest so good and long that it comes spilling out of your ears. Rest that hasn’t lied beside you in days because sleeping alone has proven so difficult. So bloody difficult in a way it hasn’t been in so long. And you don’t know what to do anymore. Running from imaginary creatures, nightmares that followed you in your mind, was the last straw. You’re exhausted. A sigh shakes your body, making your shoulders rise and fall with its strength.

Large palms find their way there, onto your biceps, and gently squeeze.

“What do you need?” Larissa’s voice is so kind, so open and sweet, you want to cry. “Tell me and I’ll do what I can.”

You don’t know. You really don’t know. All you can understand, accept, is the comfort of her strong arms. The power of her supple body. The protection she is giving you without wanting anything in return. So selfless a person, but so horrific a soul. You don’t know what you want from her aside from this eternity. This slice of heaven held near to her heart.

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, rubbing your forehead against the silk of her nightie. Your own has stopped sticking to your back, falling limp against the sweat that has cooled.

“A cup of tea, maybe?”

No. Not enough. You shake your head again.

“Okay,” she hums, “I may have some melatonin somewhere-”

“No,” you whisper. “It doesn’t- it won’t help.”

“Oh,” her shoulders jump as she gets an idea. “What about a bath? It might help.”

No. No no no. You’re much too tired to bathe. You’ll deal with that in the morning, even if you do feel a little gross. You’re recovering from a fear-induced marathon, your hair is greasy, and you’re probably a little smelly, but Larissa doesn’t care. She only holds you closer as you shake your head again and your chest goes slumping. You don’t want to bathe. You don’t want to do anything. You don’t even want to leave her side. The feeling of her breath, the rise and fall of her bust, is soothing enough to lull you to sleep. To a land of comforting dreams and maybe even a bit of blissful silence. Darkness. Not a thing to remember and thus, not a thing to dwell on. That’s what your body cries for. Larissa’s presence. The knowledge that she is safe, no matter what she has done.

“I-” your heart goes pounding away in your ears again, kick-started by anxiety. “I- can’t.” Why can’t you?

“Can’t do what, Y/n?” She manages then to pry you away from her, and holds you steady while she takes a small step back. Just so she can look into your eyes, lit up in the glare of the moon that shines through the living room’s tall gothic windows. It’s not too much light, but it’s enough. Enough for her to catch the desperation in your gaze and the way your cheeks go pink when you can view her properly. Finally revealed in the dim rays, her hair acts as a halo. Tied up in a loose bun, with flyaways going everywhere; face pale and free of makeup. Pink lips. Blonde lashes. Eyebrows so fair-haired you can barely see them, but still they are there. Delicate. So delicate and so lovely. You can’t imagine splashes of scarlet across her chin and chest. You can’t imagine the glint of murder in those cerulean eyes as she leans over a corpse. Gentle hands clenched so tight around a throat. Perfect teeth bared in a deep animalistic ferocity. You can’t picture it. You don’t want to.

But you want to fall asleep next to her? Good lord girl, get it together.

Get it together.

Why?

Why should you?

Why get it together, why even try, when you’re the exception?

“I don’t- I don’t want to- bath. Or drink tea.” You huff, finding it difficult to be honest under her intense blue eyes. Her lips instantly tug into a frown, reflecting her disappointment, but that’s the last thing you want. The straw that could probably break your back, so you’re quick to reassure. “I just- but I just-”

A hand finds your clenched fist. It caresses the hills of your knuckles. You glance at it, at the pale slender fingers, and you wonder (not for the first time) how such pretty palms- nails- glorious soft fingertips- could ever be capable of violence. Rough red violence that kills and maims and uses silver tines to tear apart cooked flesh. Steamed, grilled, poached to perfection by her own vein-deep desires. How can a willowy, strong, kind woman like Larissa ever want to kill? How can she feel even the smallest sparks of such vicious anger?

Unless it’s not done out of anger.

Unless it’s done out of pleasure.

An evil pleasure. Twisted with the kind of joy that comes from seeing another suffer. A slight inkling that perhaps the pain is deserved. Perhaps all humans need a little bit of it, a bit of searing- stabbing- hunting- in order to be humbled. Is that what she thinks? Is that what she feels? When she stands over them, when she looks at her shifting forearms and notices that the red stays red no matter what shape she takes - does she think about it then? Does she revel in it? Does she look just as beautiful? Do those doll lips pull up into a serene smile as she contemplates the richness of her impending dinner? Does she close her brilliant blue eyes when she hears the bones snap? Does she caress the cold face of a corpse and mourn their warmth before shoving their cheek into the shallows of dirty water and rushing off into the wood? Does she name them? Or does she know their names already? Does she have a system? Or is she spontaneous?

If you weren’t the exception, would you already be dead?

“Y/n-”

It doesn’t matter, you’ve decided. It doesn’t matter because you are the exception. And there is no point wasting precious thoughts on something as silly as your death. She will never hurt you. For some reason, she cares too much. And you are beyond exhausted, beyond drained, to trudge back to your own room and wait for the sun to rise before finally falling back asleep. The dark, recently, has become too haunting. And Larissa is so bright…

“I just wanna sleep,” you finally tell her, still entranced by the way her large hand covers your own. “I just want- rest. I’m so tired.” She can hear it in your voice, in the way your tone can’t reach higher than a hush. And your eyes, which flit to the broad line of her shoulders and the curved bit of her jaw. They’re shadowed and droopy and you’re too tired to explain any further.

Maybe, at a different time, perhaps in the morning, you will be able to tell her that not speaking for three weeks had nearly driven you completely mad. Focus did not exist for you while you taught. While you sat. While you lied awake in bed in the mornings and forced yourself to get up. She would walk the halls and you would pass her by and you’d glance and your eyes would meet and nothing would come of it. Beautiful woman, beautiful soul that she is, with her red hands and her secrets. Walking at a brisk pace to avoid being stopped by you, but you weren’t planning on asking her to talk. What sort of talking was there to do? Larissa wouldn’t stop and you wouldn’t ask her to. Some people are simply made to be outsiders. She runs a school of them, and still she is the most far removed. Perfectly sane and yet… and yet. The game was a different story. Adrenaline was high and she was in her element and you were a fool for ever agreeing to it but if you hadn’t…

“Alright,” comes the sweetest whisper, “I’ll take you back.”

If you hadn’t…

“No. No I don’t want that either. I just- I can’t-” you look up at her and plead with your eyes. You beg. You ask. Please. Please let me stay here with you.

If you hadn’t…

Recognition explodes in her gaze. Stay with her? You? You feel safe enough to do that? To sleep in the bed of a predator? To sink into her arms and yearn for more? Is that what a bit of warmth, a bit of care, can do? “Are you sure?” She is confused. Her perfect brows are furrowed. She thought you were scared. Of her. Of the dark. Of the monsters. Of her.

“Yes. I- yes. I can’t- I don’t want to be alone Larissa.” Her name is a concealed plea from your lips. Whispered and wanting.

If you hadn’t…

She is uncertain, running a soft thumb over your knuckles, but the last thing she wants is for you to go. Call it selfishness, call it disbelief, but she wants you near. Three weeks was too long. She’s missed you so much.

“Alright,” she murmurs, twisting her hands to run up to your shoulders. “Alright.” And she’s gently turning and steering you in front of her, walking you to the bedroom.

…then where would you be?

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Next part may include some kissy kissy lovey lovey... Lemme know if you wanna see it. - Rip x

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Tags: @kaymariesworld @bloommushroom @readingtheentrails @thegoddamnfeels @theonefairygodmother @theflashesoflove @sweetderacine @gwensfreak @shyladyfan @sunnyanon @emilynissangtr @sugipla @deongocrazy @nocteangelus15 @azu-zu @hopelessly-sapphic @enchantressb @syrenacrainn @im-a-carnivorous-plant @willowshadenox @aemilia19 @scarlettssub @ladysdraga @willisnotmental @gela123 @zillahofviolets-bayolet @the-bearr @amateurwritescm @alex-nyx @h-doodles

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