#tragic red shirt

[thresholdbb]

Justice for Joe!

[annqer]

nightwarden minthara

[bloodydeanwinchester]

don't think about "i'm 26 dude" dean sneaking away from sammy to go watch brokeback mountain in movie theaters. (literally the movie came out in theaters exactly 39 days after him saying those words in the pilot). don't think about how excited and hopeful he'd be sitting there watching two rugged cowboys fall in love. don't think about how devastated he'd feel watching ennis break down clutching their shirts in his arms at the end. and most of all don't think about dean going back to the shitty motel of the week afterwards trying to hide the puffy red of his eyes from sammy and pretend that his whole fucking world didn't just get rocked by a tragic love story about two cowboys in love. how even though it had a horrifically sad ending he still can't help but hope that he'll get to have that someday........

[babygorewhore]

His Little Angel

After watching your favorite Only fans member, one who wears a Ghostface mask, you wish you could see him in real life. When you attend Midsummer, you’re shocked at who’s the owner of that voice. Rafe Cameron.

Moodboard

Disclaimer: Girl in photo is just for aesthetic! I don’t look like that myself so it’s okay lol

Warnings! Female and male masterbation! Porn! Mask kink! Degrading! Blow Job!! No plot. Very little proof reading

Your clit was swollen and sore as your vibrator relentlessly moved , your eyes squeezed shut. Another night on only fans, moaning loud enough that you almost scared yourself and your spine curled on the bed.

“My pretty little angel, coming on my cock? Your pretty pussy is so soft, I can’t get enough.” His voice was addictive. Even if it was just from your phone.

After the third time, you finally pulled it away and panted. Your naked sweaty body underneath your cool room brought you to clean yourself up with a discarded shirt. You liked it messy but you didn’t want it completely running down your legs.

Ghostface just had that effect on you. He was your favorite Only fans star.

You had subscribed last month, paying the maximum amount of money to get the most exclusive content. Personal messages and his own nickname for you. Little Angel or Angel. Which was the ironic purpose because you were anything but. Every night spreading your legs eagerly to a man in a mask. He wore others but this one was your favorite. He wouldn’t reveal his face.

But he was tall, muscular with strong, long fingers and a thick, pulsing cock he finished stroking and cum spilled from the tip at the end of the video.

God, you wanted to blow him. Choke on whatever he gave you with no complaints. His voice was raspy and almost pleading at times.

But he was dominant. Everything you did was to his will.

You did exchange one picture with him. One where you were wearing your prettiest bra and panties after you came. Your cheeks were red, hair messy and your eyes glassy. You needed him to see the effect he had on you.

“Pretty little angel. Fucked out for me. You’re so fucking hot and so wet.” His message was always teasing. Ending just when you needed them to reach their peak. He did it on purpose.

You had a fantasy. Him breaking into your house with the mask, tying you to the bed and ripping off the mask before he buried his face in your cunt. The very idea caused your pussy to quiver. You watched another video and came again

Midsummer was the last thing you wanted to participate in. Even though you were technically a Kook, you hated the snobby assholes who looked down at anyone beneath them. Your parents weren’t like that, even when they worked closely with the worst of them.

The Cameron’s. The very name of the family made you want to gag. Okay, you hadn’t met them but you heard horror stories from Kiera, a girl you used to babysit as a teenager when she was in middle school, that they were evil. Especially the oldest. Rafe. He was a bully, stuck up and always got what he wanted. Including the company when Ward died on a tragic suicide on his own boat.

You wore a long, slick dress with high heels and a flower crown. Your hair spilling around your face and sweat proof makeup.

You felt pretty even though you dread seeing all these people. They knew you as a little girl, running around and following your rich parents. But you were so much more than that, especially as an adult.

Kiera waved at you and you returned it with a smile. The twinkling lights, gentle music and sunset was a beautiful picture as the dance floor filled. But your mind thought about Ghostface. What was he doing right now? Working his regular job? Planning more content? For you? Your cheeks warmed with memories. How dirty was that? Thinking about fucking a man in a mask while sweet couples swayed on the wood floor in front of you?

A few men offered to dance and you accepted. Awkwardly staring at their faces as they moved their hands too low on your waist but it was the most action you got in months other than your toys.

You were bored now. You had a fake smile, stood next to your parents for an hour before you decided to change scenery.

The inside of the house wasn’t as crowded but people still talked while holding drinks in clear glasses. A variety of ages were there, especially with staff. You recognized Topper, he used to be close with the Cameron’s before their daughter stayed with the Pouges. But currently he and a black male were talking shit to a blonde boy carrying a tray of drinks.

Frowning, you went to follow them to stop the scene when your father called you over, you didn’t know they came in.

“Sweetheart, I want you to meet someone!” Turning, your eyes widened.

Rafe Cameron, who was wearing a blue tux gave you an alluring dark look and smile. His hair was slicked back, exposing his perfect bone structure and pink lips. He loomed over you and even your dad with his height as you stood in the circle.

“Hi,” You clipped and stuck out your hand. His large hand was warm and strong as he shook yours.

“Rafe was just telling us how nice it was to finally see you after hearing so much, weren’t you?” Your mothers intentions were obvious as you tried not to roll your eyes. Yeah, he’s hot but he’s also an asshole.

“You’re as pretty as an angel.”

You stumbled back, slipping onto the floor, legs bent as you fell on the floor.

“Oh god! Baby, are you okay?” Your dad gasped.

Oh my god. His voice.

The nickname??

This couldn’t be real. This could not happen. Rafe was faster and wrapped his arm around your waist, bending down to lift you to your feet. He brought you close, almost chest to chest as his hand settled on your hip. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard and started stuttering. “Um-I’m okay I-uh you-“ You snapped your mouth shut as he gave you a smirk. Oh, he knew you alright. You sent him a fucking picture after you touched yourself to his porn and now he was holding you up.

Tightly.

“Here, I’ll take her to make sure she’s alright.” Rafe told your parents, his brows pulled together in concern-real or not as your mother nodded.

“Oh you’re such a gentleman,” She gave you a subtle pinch on your arm as his arm tightened around your body.

You expected him to just walk you to the nearest room but instead he picked you up bridal style, your feet flying as he secured you easily.

Was this really happening? Rafe Cameron was Ghostface on Only fans and now he was carrying you down a hallway where there wasn’t anyone to be found.

“My little angel, acting like such a sweet girl. No one knows how much of a slut you actually are.” He popped open a door, exposing an empty room with a table and chairs after whispering in your ear, his teeth gently grazing the skin.

You breathed sharply as he set you down, pushing your legs apart with his knee. “I’ve been dying to finally fuck this mouth that’s always moaning for me,” He growled. “This time without that fucking mask.”

“Rafe-“ You began but he shoved two fingers in your mouth to the back of your throat. His warm breath fanning your face as spit pooled from your mouth.

You gagged and rolled your head back. He’d made himself spill with this exact hand. He circled them slowly. “I’ve been wondering how that sounded from you.”

Without warning he grabbed a fist full of your hair and forced you from the table onto your knees. “And now, my angel is going to be my fucking whore.” He growled and tapped your cheek after pulling out his digits.

“Open that filthy mouth and do exactly what you’re made for.”

Your polished nails frantically moved to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his suit pants. His black boxers made him look like a model on a men’s magazine as his hard dick leaked precum as you pulled them down. It hung heavily in front of you as your cunt tightened around nothing.

Rafe took a hold of his cock and slapped your cheek with it. “Stick out your tongue,” He ordered and you obeyed. You wanted to please him. Be used by him and his commands were so fucking hot you could have came in your panties just from that.

Hearing his voice again stirred a raging fire inside you as you opened your mouth and sucked him like a lollipop. You pulled back to sloppily lick the sides, a pool of spit on your neck as your lips took him in. Rafes fingers in your hair pulled so tight more tears streamed down your face and stained your cheeks with makeup.

He started thrusting and hitting the back of your throat as he started fucking your face. “Such a fucking little slut. Not an angel anymore, huh? A cock sucking bitch.” His degradation only turned you on more as you slurped and took it.

“I’m always taking care of you, now you get to return the fucking favor.” Rafe grunted and pulled even harder. “I’m gonna cum down your slutty throat.”

True to his word, he spilled into and all over your mouth. When he finally let you go, you coughed and wiped your lips. Lipstick was all over the back of your hand. Rafe took out his phone as he adjusted himself back into his pants. A flash clicked and you leaned back, doe eyes wide.

“Now, I have my own little picture when I jerk off.” He gave you a wink and bent down, “And don't wipe your face. Everyone is gonna know exactly who’s cock you’ve sucked.”

Tagging @xxhellfirebunnyxx @scene-and-dandylover @drewstarkeyslut @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @imyourdaninow @slvt4jamesmarch @reidsbtch @take-everything-you-can @emsgoodthinkin @chrrymunson

If I didn’t tag someone forgot.

[redroomreflections]

Not Easily Broken Part 7

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce

Masterlist | General Masterlist

7/10

Note: Old friends I bet you never saw this day coming.

W/c:3.95

Rating: M (Minors DNI; angst, fluff, smut, heartbreak, heart fix? the best ending for them coming soon)Keep reading

As you pull into the driveway of your home, you give two quick honks before shifting the car into park. Anticipation bubbles inside you as you look forward to taking Ryan to his baseball practice. Undoing your seat belt, you glance at your watch to check the time, only to realize you're running late. A sigh escapes your lips, accompanied by a roll of your eyes at your oversight. Just as you're about to step out of the car, the front door swings open, drawing your attention away from your tardiness.

Ryan bounds down the steps, his red and white Raptors uniform proudly displaying his school's name. His baseball bag hangs heavily from his back as he rushes towards you. With a burst of energy, he throws himself into your arms, squeezing your midsection tightly and burying his head against your belly.

"Hi Mommy, I'm so excited you're here," he mumbles into you, his voice muffled by your shirt.

"Hi, baby, I'm thrilled to be here too," You reply, wrapping your arms around him and ruffling the curls on his head. "You need a haircut," you tease gently as you glance down at his tousled hair.

"Never," he declares with a shake of his head, a playful glint in his eyes.

“There’s no convincing him, I’ve tried,” Natasha says as she steps onto the front porch, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. You look up to acknowledge her, only to do a double take. Natasha looks incredible. She's sporting a fitted white tee that accentuates her toned figure, paired with denim shorts that hug her curves perfectly. Sunglasses perch on top of her head, and a pair of Converse shoes complete the effortlessly chic ensemble. It's not just about the outfit itself, but how she wears it with confidence.

“Is that what you wear to Little League?” you ask, tilting your head as you take in her casual yet stylish attire.

Natasha chuckles softly, a playful glint dancing in her eyes. “Well, I figured I’d give the other parents something to talk about,” she replies with a smirk. 

“Interesting,” You smile back. 

“Mommy, do you like my outfit?” Emma asks proudly as she stands beside Natasha. She's wearing a tart orange top paired with biker shorts, and her feet are adorned with the sparkliest shoes you've ever seen.

You glance over at Emma, a smile spreading across your face at her vibrant ensemble. "Wow, Emma, you look amazing!" you exclaim, genuinely impressed by her bold fashion choice. "Those shoes are dazzling."

Natasha beams with pride at Emma's excitement. "You look fantastic, sweetheart," she adds, reaching out to tousle Emma's hair affectionately.

Emma happily bounces down the steps one by one, her infectious giggles filling the air. Natasha's heart skips a beat as she watches her, a mini heart attack looming with each skipped step, especially when Emma forgoes holding onto the railing altogether.

You, still holding onto Ryan, quickly adjust, freeing one of your arms to reach out and steady Emma as she descends. With a reassuring smile, you wrap your arm around her, providing the support she needs to navigate the steps safely. Natasha breathes a sigh of relief as she sees you taking care of Emma, her worry dissipating as she watches the scene unfold.

“Okay, let’s all make it to the practice in one piece,” You remind Emma as she smiles up at you. “Do you have everything?” You ask Ryan and he nods. 

“Yep, all set,” He pats his backpack. 

“Mommy, are we going to get pizza after this game?” Emma questions eagerly. “My tummy has been rumbling for like an hour now. I think we have to get food.” 

You chuckle at Emma's enthusiasm, nodding in agreement. "Pizza sounds like a great idea, sweetheart," you reply, glancing over at Natasha for confirmation.

Natasha smiles warmly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Pizza it is," she confirms. "But first, let's cheer on Ryan at his practice and game, okay?"

Emma nods eagerly, her excitement evident as she bounces on the balls of her feet. "Okay, Mommy! Go, Ryan!" she cheers, already looking forward to the post-game pizza feast.

“Race to the car?” Ryan suggests, and Emma takes off before she even agrees to it.

You watch the two of them run towards your car, their laughter filling the air as they argue over who gets the front seat before you let out a soft sigh.

“Does the bickering ever stop?” you mumble more to yourself than anyone else.

“I don’t think it does,” Natasha laughs, joining you by your side. She wraps her arms around your body, pulling you close. Despite the recent tension with Yelena, you had hoped things wouldn’t change between the two of you."Hey you," She greets, her voice filled with warmth and affection as she looks into your eyes.

You turn to face Natasha, a small smile playing on your lips as you meet her gaze. Despite the lingering worries, being in her embrace brings a sense of comfort and reassurance.

"Hey back," you reply softly, leaning into her touch. "I'm glad you're here." You lean in for a quick kiss, savoring the taste of cherry lip gloss on her lips. “Ready to go?”

“I am,” Natasha nods. “Though earlier Ryan told me that he wished it was just the two of you going.”

“He did?” You glance over to the kids who are now both seated in the backseat.

“Mhmm,” Natasha hums. “It might be for the better.”

You ponder her words for a moment, considering Ryan's perspective. "Maybe he just wants some one-on-one time," you muse, glancing back at the kids with a thoughtful expression. "We can make that happen sometime soon." The idea of spending quality time with Ryan fills you with warmth, knowing that nurturing your bond with him is just as important as maintaining your relationship with Natasha.

"Come on, Mommy, I'm going to be late!" Ryan calls out, rolling down his window to get your attention.

You smile at his urgency, realizing that you've been caught up in the moment. "I'm coming, Ryan!" you call back, giving Natasha a quick squeeze before making your way to the driver's seat. As you start the car, you can't help but feel grateful for these little moments with your family, cherishing the bonds that hold you all together. You’re so glad you get to experience this again. 

*****************

You stand along the fence, the sweltering heat causing you to fan yourself off as you watch the game unfold in front of you. Somewhere behind you, Natasha sits with Emma, sharing popcorn and a few cold water bottles between them. Despite the discomfort of the heat, your eyes remain fixed on the field, eagerly awaiting Ryan's turn to bat. Each pitch and play holds your attention, anticipation building with each moment as you wait for the perfect opportunity to cheer on your son.

“Did we miss anything?” Kerry Cook asks as she settles into her spot next to Natasha. Her husband, Doug, follows behind, carrying their eight-month-old in a carrier on his body.

“No, not yet. It’s been slow,” Natasha replies, briefly tearing her gaze away from the field to acknowledge Kerry and Doug. Despite the conversation, her attention remains fixed on the game, her anticipation growing as she realizes Ryan will be up to bat soon.

“Good, Miles had a case of anxiety that we had to get together,” Kerry informs her, settling into her seat beside Natasha. “Is that y/n?” Kerry spots you only a few feet away.

“In the flesh,” Natasha nods, her attention still partly focused on the game.

“Wow, it’s been a while,” Kerry continues, observing you. “She looks toned.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Natasha replies nonchalantly, though her tone suggests otherwise.

“I’m sure,” Kerry responds, not sounding entirely convinced by Natasha's casual response. “It’s nice seeing her here. Well, even seeing you two in the same place is a miracle.” 

Natasha offers a small smile, sensing Kerry's curiosity lingering beneath the surface. "Yeah, we've been trying some things out," she says casually, subtly hinting at the efforts she and you have been making to reconcile and mend your relationship. Despite her attempt to keep it low-key, there's a hint of pride in her voice, a quiet acknowledgment of the progress you two have been making together.

"Congratulations," Kerry almost beams with pride, her genuine happiness for you shining through. If there was one person on your team rooting for you, it was her. 

Natasha enjoys Kerry and Doug’s company as they continue to watch the game. Occasionally, Emma will reach into the popcorn container to pop a few kernels into her mouth, and Natasha leans over for easier access. She could see you out of the corner of her eye, so engrossed in Ryan and his plays on the field. She'd missed this more than she could convey.

But as Ryan makes a good play that has them all cheering, Natasha's attention snaps back to the game. Ryan steps up to the plate, his determination is evident in the set of his shoulders, the pitcher winds up and delivers the ball with all his might. Ryan swings, the crack of the bat echoing across the field as the ball sails through the air.

It's not a perfect hit, but it's a solid one. The ball bounces just beyond the infield, rolling towards the outfield as Ryan takes off running. The fielders scramble to retrieve it, but Ryan's speed is impressive for his age. He rounds first base with determination, his eyes fixed on second as he picks up speed.

The outfielder scoops up the ball and throws it toward second base, but Ryan is already there, sliding into the base with a burst of energy. The umpire's call is clear: safe!

Cheers erupt from the sidelines as Ryan jumps to his feet, a triumphant grin on his face. His eyes scan the bleachers to find you standing directly in front of him. You offer a thumbs up to which he reciprocates. Gosh, you love that kid. 

“Which one is yours?” A soft voice interrupts your focus on the game, drawing your attention to the woman beside you. She exudes a soccer mom vibe, with a warm smile and an air of familiarity that instantly puts you at ease. Her features resemble those of Gina Davis—sharp cheekbones framing a heart-shaped face, with expressive hazel eyes that seem to shimmer with genuine interest. Her hair is styled in a casual yet chic bob, framing her face in loose waves that bounce with every movement.

Despite her friendly demeanor, there's something about her proximity to you that sets off a faint alarm in your mind. She stands a little too close for comfort, her body language subtly leaning towards you in a way that feels almost intrusive. It's enough to make Natasha, who's been watching discreetly from a distance, take notice.

You gesture towards Ryan. “The kid with the reddish curly hair who's currently goofing off with Miles”

"Oh, yeah, Ryan, he's pretty good," the woman compliments, her gaze shifting towards him with a nod of approval. “He’s cute. Clearly takes after you.”

“I don’t know about that,” You blush slightly. When she turns her attention back to you, you inquire about her own child. "You?"

"Oh, my son is Teddy over there with the buzz cut," she replies, pointing towards a boy on the field.

“He’s solid,” You nod. 

"I'd like to think so," she shrugs casually. "I'm Vera. What's your name?"

"Y/n," you reply, shaking her hand.

"Oh, you're the ex," Vera whistles, her tone carrying a hint of surprise.

“That would be me,” You tip your hat and offer a smile. “Has there been a lot of talk?”

Vera chuckles lightly, a knowing glint in her eye. "Oh, you know how it is," she replies vaguely, her tone suggesting that she's privy to some of the gossip but doesn't feel the need to delve into details.

"Unfortunately I do," you say with a rueful smile, acknowledging the sometimes intrusive nature of parents nearby. 

Vera, ever the conversationalist, leans in a bit closer, a curious glint in her eyes. "So, how have you been holding up?" she asks, her tone filled with genuine interest as she tries to strike up a conversation. “Divorce can’t be easy. Trust me I’d know.”

You offer a small, appreciative nod, grateful for Vera's attempt to connect. "It's been... challenging," you admit, your voice softening with a hint of vulnerability. "But I'm taking it one day at a time." Despite the difficulties, you find solace in the genuine concern of those around you, including Vera's compassionate gesture.

“Well, if you ever need a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen,” Vera offers, extending a comforting gesture.

“She won’t,” Natasha interrupts, her voice firm and protective, asserting her presence in the conversation.

Vera's expression falters momentarily at Natasha's interruption, her offer of support met with an unexpected rebuttal. She glances between you and Natasha, sensing an underlying tension in the exchange.

Undeterred, Vera quickly recovers with a gentle smile. "Of course," she replies diplomatically. “Well, nice meeting you.” Vera excuses herself to go sit on the other side of the bleachers. 

“You sure scared her,” You chuckled, breaking the tension with a light-hearted comment.

“Wasn’t my intention,” Natasha smirks, her expression softening as she meets your gaze. “He’s so happy you’re here,” she adds, tilting her chin towards Ryan, who keeps glancing over to you, almost as if to check that you’re still here. There's a fondness in Natasha's voice as she observes Ryan's behavior, a silent acknowledgment of the bond between mother and child.

“I’m happy to be here,” You wrap your arm around her waist to pull her closer to you. “We can throw some balls before bed and talk. How’s he been doing? With his anger and everything?” 

Natasha leans into your embrace, appreciating the comfort of your touch. "He's been better," she admits. "We've been working on it, but it's been a struggle. He's still adjusting, I think." 

There's a hint of vulnerability in her tone as she opens up about the challenges of parenting. Ryan especially in the past months has regressed and resorted to anger in the form of violence, mostly toward Natasha. She had reluctantly admitted this after you caught the tail end of her scolding when he’d thrown a video game remote at her head. You offer her a reassuring squeeze, silently conveying your support.

“I feel guilty,” You admit. “I know this isn’t the place for us to get into it but… I do.” You take a deep breath. “I’ve left you all in the dark about everything. It hasn’t been fair to them.” 

Natasha listens quietly, her expression softening as she hears your admission. She reaches out to gently cup your cheek, offering a reassuring touch. "I understand," she says softly, her voice laced with empathy. "It's been tough for all of us." She doesn't excuse your actions, but she also doesn't want to make you feel guiltier.

It’s Ryan’s turn again. Time to pay attention. 

*******************

Chuck E Cheese’s was a great place to go after a baseball game, especially for kids like Ryan and Emma who were bursting with energy after spending hours on the field. As you walked through the doors, the lively sounds of arcade games and children's laughter filled the air, causing you to instantly become overstimulated. 

Ryan's eyes widened with excitement as he caught sight of the colorful carousel and the flashing lights of the arcade games. Emma's face lit up as she spotted the towering play structure, complete with slides, tunnels, and ball pits.

You led the way to a table, the scent of freshly baked pizza wafting through the air and making your stomach growl in anticipation. The kids eagerly clamored around the table, their chatter filling the space as they debated which games to play first and which prizes to aim for.

As the kids dashed off to explore the arcade, you and Natasha settled into a booth, enjoying a moment of relative calm amidst the bustling atmosphere of Chuck E Cheese’s. You'd paid for 100 coins each, not much all things considered, but worth it for a fun time on a school night.

Sitting across from Natasha, you appreciated the chance to have a conversation without interruptions, even if it was just for a little while. The occasional shriek or burst of laughter from the arcade area served as background noise, a reminder of the chaos surrounding you.

“So, have you given any thought to the couple’s assignment thing?” You asked, breaking the brief lull in conversation. “Something for us to do together that doesn’t involve a bedroom.”

Natasha leaned back against the booth, her gaze thoughtful as she considered your question. "I have," she replied, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I was thinking maybe we could try cooking together. We used to enjoy trying out new recipes, remember?"

The memory brought warmth to your heart, a reminder of simpler times when it was just the two of you, experimenting in the kitchen and sharing meals. "That sounds perfect," you agree, returning her smile. "It'll be nice to spend some quality time together."

It was a date. 

"I remember those times in the kitchen," You began, your voice soft with emotion. "They were some of the best moments we shared." 

“That kitchen has seen a lot,” Natasha nods, grabbing a slice of pizza to bite into. 

“It has certainly seen better days,” You agree. “I’m really glad you didn’t sell the house.” 

Natasha's expression softens at your words. "Me too," she murmurs, setting down her slice of pizza to give you her full attention. "It wouldn't have felt right, you know? Selling the house felt like giving up on everything we built together."

You nod in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Despite all the challenges we've faced, this place still feels like home."

"It always will," Natasha replies, her voice filled with conviction. “There’s something else on the assignment list that would be cool. Do you want to discuss it now?”

“Here?” You look around. 

“Sure, why not,” Natasha shrugs. “It’s a simple question. What is something you’re glad you’ll never have to do again?” 

“Hmm, probably childbirth,” You answer honestly. You wipe your mouth with the corner of a napkin before setting it aside. 

Natasha's brows furrow slightly in confusion at your response. "Childbirth? Really?" she asks, her tone laced with curiosity. "I mean, I know it's not a walk in the park, but I thought you handled it like a champ. You never really talked about it being that bad."

You hesitate for a moment, your gaze drifting away from Natasha's as you search for the right words. "Yeah, well, I guess I just... tried to focus on the positive aspects," you reply vaguely, a faint hint of discomfort creeping into your voice. "But, um, the aftermath wasn't exactly a walk in the park either."

Natasha's expression softens with concern as she picks up on your hesitation. "What do you mean?" she prompts gently, reaching across the table to place her hand over yours. "Is everything okay?"

You take a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you prepare to share something you've kept buried for far too long. "I... I think I had postpartum depression," you admit your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... something I never really talked about."

Natasha's eyes widen slightly in surprise, her hand squeezing yours reassuringly. "I had no idea," she murmurs, her voice filled with empathy. 

“Yeah, I hid it well I guess,” You frown. “You were away on a mission when it got really bad. I had to take Ryan to the compound. I left him there for a few days. He just wouldn’t stop crying and I just needed time and…”

Natasha's expression softens further as she listens, her heart breaking at the thought of you struggling alone with Ryan. "I'm so sorry," she says, her voice filled with genuine remorse. "I wish I had been there for you."

You shake your head, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "It's not your fault," you reply, your voice tinged with sadness. "I didn't want to burden you with it, especially when you were away on a mission. I thought I could handle it on my own."

"You never have to handle things alone, y/n," she says softly, her eyes locked on yours. 

“Somehow I keep forgetting that,” You shrug. 

Natasha doesn’t want to ask the next question. She’s almost afraid of the answer you’re going to give. “So what were the positives for you? In therapy, you mentioned that things got rougher when we had kids. I understand PPD can exacerbate that.”

You pause, contemplating Natasha's question for a moment before answering. "Honestly," you begin, your voice low and hesitant, "for a long time, I couldn't see any positives. It felt like everything was just... too much. The sleepless nights, the constant crying, the feeling of being overwhelmed... I couldn't see past it."

Natasha's hand finds yours across the table, offering silent support as you continue. "But... therapy helped," you admit, a flicker of hope in your eyes. "Talking about it, understanding it... It helped me realize that there were moments of joy.  Like... the first time Ryan smiled, or when Emma said her first word. Little things that reminded me why I wanted to be a parent in the first place."

You glance up at Natasha, searching her eyes for understanding. "It's still hard," you confess, your voice raw with emotion. "But I'm learning to find the positives, even on the toughest days."

“Thank you for telling me this,” Natasha says. 

“I would have preferred us to talk about it over dinner but I guess Chuck E. Cheese’s was as good as any,” You try to lighten the mood. “Honestly, I didn’t think you would take this information so lightly. I know you have this view of pregnancy and everything and back then I didn’t want to change that for you.”

Natasha listens intently, her expression softening as you speak. "I'm sorry," she says sincerely."I never realized you were going through all of that alone. I wish you had felt comfortable talking to me about it."

You give her a small smile, appreciating her understanding. "It's okay," you reassure her. "I didn't even fully understand it myself at the time. But I'm glad we're talking about it now."

Natasha nods, her eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and gratitude. "Me too," she agrees softly. 

“But you never answered the question yourself,” You pointed out. Natasha raises a brow. “What’s something you’re glad you never have to do again?”

Natasha's expression turns thoughtful as she considers your question. After a moment of contemplation, she speaks, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "I think," she begins slowly, "I'm glad we never have to go back to feeling distant from each other. Those times when we were both struggling individually and couldn't find our way back to each other... I'm glad that's behind us now. I never want to feel that kind of disconnection again."

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of relief at her honesty. "Me neither," you admit. "I think we've both learned a lot from those moments, and we're stronger because of it."

Natasha smiles softly, her eyes meeting yours with warmth. "Absolutely," she agrees. 

This time you truly believed it. 

---> next part

[sadesluvr]

Beautiful Liar

After you boyfriend Randy is tragically murdered, Billy is determined to be the shoulder you cry on.

A/N: Been sitting on this idea for a while. Please read the tags, and minors DNI!

Word count: 3.6K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Dacryphilia / Manipulation / Grief / Unprotected sex / Creampies / Loss of virginity / Corruption kink / Gaslighting / Misogyny / Reader has a vagina / Fingering

Randy Meeks was dead, and there was no way to change that.  

He’d been murdered, brutally; his body in tatters, bloody mess left on the stockroom floor of the video store he’d worked at. Police had said it was a homicide, just another in a series of attacks by the infamous masked ‘Ghostface’ killer that had been running around Woodsboro. The whole town, your friend group included, had been speculating the person – or people’s - identity, wondering if they were male or female, old or young, insider or outsider...either way, the sole question was why. Why Woodsboro? Why now? Why your friends?  

The simple answer – in Randy’s case at least – was that you were living in a classic horror movie, in which none of you would get out of alive unless you followed the rules, (which was the sole reason why you hadn’t slept with him during your relationship) but that particular answer was far from satisfying to you. First Sidney’s mother had disappeared, next was Casey and her boyfriend, soon followed by Sidney’s father, Tatum, Randy and Sidney herself, leaving only you to remain. You were, as Randy would dub it, ‘the final girl’. 

And you hated it. Randy painted these women as strong, brave, heroic, even, but you were far from it; instead worn down and shattered by the massacre of those closest to you over the past six months. There was a reason that the term was only reserved for the movies; it was too difficult, maybe even downright impossible to be able to fight back in real life, especially when it had happened so constantly and so close to home. There were few words you had to speak anymore, and when you did you found that they were only able to materialise around Billy Loomis. 

Billy, and his friend Stu Macher were the only of those that remained. Randy would’ve chalked it down to it being intentional, but the only pattern you could see was that they were killing ‘boy-girl-boy-girl’, which meant either of the two could’ve been next. 

So, imagine your shock – and horror – when Stu had gone missing, leaving nothing but a bloodied shoe in his wake. It was the only death of your friends that you hadn’t been to; no morgue visits or ceremonies, with Billy choosing to spend the day with you after he claimed that the Macher’s had just wanted family at his funeral. You would’ve been hurt, but considering you’d spent the past few months feeling like a curse, you were rather happy to keep your distance. 

“Thanks for staying with me…” you sighed, rubbing your red eyes. You’d been crying over Randy again, and although Billy wasn’t someone who liked dealing with emotions, he’d been a shoulder to cry on – literally – his silence giving you space to vent. “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess…” 

“I think you’re taking this too hard,” he said simply, watching you intently as you tried to compose yourself. “None of this is your fault. There are psychos everywhere.” 

“Yeah, but why us? How am I still here?” you gasped, the question blatantly rhetorical.  

“Luck. And skill. You’ve been in the right place at the right time,” he sniffed. “Maybe the killer doesn’t want you dead...” 

“Oh, that’s comforting.” You scoffed, dabbing at your nose with a tissue. He didn’t reply, but he tapped his finger impatiently along the edge of the sofa as his eyes roamed your body.  

You used to be such a sweet little thing; always dolled up in your signature clothes and makeup, but now you were timid, a recluse, even, walking around in Randy’s old shirts and running on two hours of sleep (if that). He couldn’t argue – solely because he’d been the one to cause this - but in time he’d get you back to the way you were. In fact, he might’ve even enjoyed this broken version of you even more; with swollen lips, a melancholy glow, and a psyche that was desperate for affection that only your former boyfriend could’ve given to you. 

Killing Randy had been exhilarating. It’d been all too easy, the boy practically boasted about his job (and therefore his schedule), and then it had been down to hiding in the stock room on his late shift, only to lunge at him from the shadows, pointed blade digging in and ravaging his pale flesh, all the while he screamed – even cried – your name. That was your knight in shining armour, a guy who’d failed to follow the rules he swore to live by. Pathetic. 

He’d shown him his face right before he died, remembering the way his eyes, though dull and rubber like a fish, had seemingly shone with recognition. He’d put the pieces together, simply far too late. 

“Don’t worry, Randy,” he’d said. “I’ll take good care of your little girlfriend.” 

Even in his moribund state, the nerd had known what he’d meant, his eyes flickering with worry just as the life had snapped out of him, the whole situation comically cinematic. All that was next was to kill Sidney, the girl that Randy adored before you’d even transferred to Woodsboro. It was simple; Sidney was collateral, and you were a spoil of war. And there was no one left to save you. 

“I think you should go outside,” Billy said bluntly. “Being inside all day isn’t good for your head.” 

You sighed and wiped your face, glancing around your living room. Truthfully, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d opened the curtains; much less when was the last time you’d gotten off the couch. The television was always on, and you’d done nothing but aimlessly flick through the channels, both avoiding yet drawing yourself to the news, hoping there’d be an update on the killer. It struck you as odd that it had all gone silent. 

“Like...Where?” you said incredulously, and Billy resisted the urge to sigh. 

“We could go to the movies,” he suggested. “It’ll be on me. I’ll even let you watch those terrible romance ones with the sappy endings.” 

You seemed to perk up at this, glancing over at the time on the clock across the room. It was 6:15, and if you showered quick enough (and found some clean, unwrinkled clothes) you could make it to a random seven o’clock screening. It was kind enough that Billy was here with you, but offering to take you to a romance film took selfishness out of the question – he was a true friend, treating you in the same way he had Sidney.

You, like many others, had joked about how perfect he was, often wishing that Randy had been the same way. He’d been nice, without a doubt, but sometimes he was erratic and clingy (some would say annoying), whereas Billy was far more level-headed and relaxed, evident through his constant support. It was time for you to smile, even if it would be temporary. 

“Okay...” You whispered with a weak smile, standing to your feet. “Give me a minute, I’m just gonna freshen up.”   

Billy’s deep brown eyes followed your figure as you walked past him and disappeared up the stairs. Sitting for a moment, he stared at the blaring screen of the television before shutting it off. Considering your state, he’d been surprised that it had been that easy, but apparently all it took for a girl to come around was the promise of a free outing and cliche love stories. The silence was telling – your parents weren’t around – and he pondered your reaction to his arrival in your bedroom...for company, of course. 

Pushing himself up from the couch, he followed you, his shoes barely making a noise as he made his way up the steps before stopping at your bedroom door, being a gentleman and taking his shoes off before he entered. A crack of light from the doorway of the bathroom told him that it was occupied, and so he took it as a signal to enter your threshold, wasting no time in rummaging through your drawers.  

He ran his lithe fingers over the outlines of your bra, following the soft cotton and curved shape as he imagined holding your tits in his hands, groping and tugging on them as you rode his cock, screaming and moaning his name so loudly that you forgot all about your idiot boyfriend.

It was the same with your panties, except he wanted to cut them off you, to watch as your legs trembled from trying to avoid the blade; only to get nipped, ruby rivulets trickling down your thighs. He’d rub it, smear the substance across your skin as he tried to soothe you, your fluids coating his skin and fingernails, only to been mixed with the translucent l cream of your orgasm – over and over and over again.  

Sitting down on the edge of your bed, he waited for you to come in, raising his brows at your squeal upon seeing him. You were only in a dressing gown, with your bra peeking out of the sides of the fluffy material. If he wasn’t already hard, he certainly was now. 

“Billy!” You gasped. “I told you to wait downstairs!” 

“I got bored,” he shrugged. “I wanted to see more of you.” 

You gave him a pointed look as you scraped your earrings off the dresser, clipping them on as you paced around the room in search of an outfit.  

“You know me,” you chuckled. “We’ve been friends for a year.” 

“Yeah, but do you ever really know someone?” He said softly, his gaze locked on your own as he cocked his head, blinking slowly at your confused expression. There was something unsettling about his tone, and you couldn’t help but think back to one of Randy’s many pained rants: “Never trust anyone. Everyone’s a suspect, even the love interest!” Did he know something you didn’t, or was he just being his typical, elusive self?

“I mean, come on now, Y/N. Look around. There’s no one left…just us. I think it’s time we got to know each-other.” 

Pulling on some pants under your gown, you frowned. 

“What’re you saying?” 

“We should be closer than we are,” he said softly, reaching out a hand to fiddle with the strap of your gown leisurely, his eye contact fleeting, but coy. “How else are we going to get through this?” 

Your eyes widened, and you gave Billy a once over as you contemplated the implications of his words. He’d never really been that much of the touchy type up until now, and it couldn’t be coincidental that all of a sudden he’d become so close to you. Perhaps it was the stress; the trauma of losing his friends that made him feel like he needed to fill the void. Or maybe it was genuine, that he wanted to stick through this real-life tragedy with you. Why else would he stay the long nights and weekends, watching TV with you or offering you his snacks?  

“Y-You’re a good friend,” you stammered. “Really. But I just don’t know if I can let anyone close to me anymore. What if you get killed!?” You choked, and Billy pulled you to the side of him, pressing your head into the crook of his neck as you sobbed. Tracing small circles on your back, he let you fix yourself before he pulled away, staring into your eyes as he spoke. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. “I promise. And you know why?” 

You shook your head. 

“I spoke to Randy a few days before he died. He was  paranoid – you know how he was – I guess you could say that he had a sense he was going to die…” Billy paused, eyes flickering with recognition before he swallowed and continued. “…He said that if anything were to happen to him, that I should be the one to take care of you. He knew how close you were with Sidney, and she’d have wanted the same.” 

Shakily, your lips parted as you took a breath. Sidney, like many others, had always gushed about how sweet Billy was – particularly how patient he’d been when it’d come to having sex. It would only be logical for them to say that, given the fact that Stu was the only other candidate. No one else would’ve stuck beside you, putting up with your weeks of moping and incessant crying. It was only right that you started giving him some thanks. After all, he was all you had left. 

“O-okay,” you smiled softly before wrinkling your nose. You were so close to Billy that strands of his hair was grazing against your face, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne – icy, yet comforting. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I guess I got so wrapped up in thinking about Randy that I haven’t really been grateful to you. Come on, let’s go out —“ 

“This isn’t about the movies.” Billy interjected, his brows slightly  wrinkled. “This is about you. You’re a girl, and you have needs.”  

You froze, always worried it would come to this.  

“I can’t let you do that,” you said affirmatively. “You were with Sidney, she was my friend —“ 

“She’s gone now,” he said, zero inklings of emotion detected within his voice. “Just like Randy’s gone. I have needs too, you know. You’re not really being a good friend by ignoring them.” 

“Billy…” 

“You mean a lot to me,” he continued, placing a hand on your thigh, rubbing it in a slow but enticing manner. “I think about you a lot. I want to do more to help you…but you’re not letting me.” 

You knew it was wrong to go there, but part of you knew that he had a point. There was no use in festering in misery; Randy, Sidney and the rest of your friends were gone for good, and there was ultimately nothing that would change that. All you could do was focus on what you had now, and that was Billy; patient, willing, and ready to carry out the wishes of your deceased friends. You just had to let him in. 

Silently, you nodded, and he took that as confirmation to kiss you. His lips were warm and wanting, but certainly felt unfamiliar, and you found that it took you a while to find a suitable rhythm. Billy wasted no time in pushing you back onto the bed, kissing down your neck as he straddled you, the faint outline of his hardening cock brushing against your covered leg. His hands lingered on the tie of your robe, glancing down at it with a smirk before pulling it undone, exposing your semi-nude torso to the cool air of the bedroom. 

Your heart leapt out of your chest; not because what you were doing was taboo, but because you’d never done it before. You were about to lose your virginity to your dead friend’s boyfriend – something that your cloudy mind couldn’t comprehend.  

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, leaving love bits on your chest as his fingers slipped under your bra and pinching and rubbing at the surrounding skin and sensitive nipples. “Randy didn’t know what he had…” 

Letting out a moan, you allowed yourself to be consumed by him, pushing off his open button-up so that he was left in his white shirt. He didn’t look much, but his arms were surprisingly muscular, and you found yourself tracing along the outlines of his skin, inadvertently pulling him closer.  

Billy pulled away, a smirk visible on his face as he unzipped his pants, sliding his trousers to his ankles before readjusting himself on the bed. Taking your hand, he guided you off the bed and brought you to your feet. 

“Strip for me,” he lulled, watching you intently for a reaction. “I want to see how pretty you are…” 

Nervously, you peeled the robe off your body, dropping it to the floor at the edge of your bed before undoing your pants, all under the watchful, jaded eyes of Billy Loomis. As cliched as it sounded, you felt like a bride on her wedding night, nerves released by Billy’s soothing coos and gentle touch. He patted the bed – yours, which you seemed to forget – and you laid down, taking laboured breaths as his brown locks disappeared between your thighs, skin breaking into goosebumps as he slid your panties down your legs. 

“You’re wet...” he hummed, placing his index and middle together before rubbing your hood in small, deliberate circles. “I think you wanted me more than you let on.” 

“B-Billy...” you gasped, shutting your eyes at the pleasurable sensation. “I-I’ve never...” 

“Shh, I know, I know...” he whispered, his touch becoming rougher as he prodded and spread your lips apart, admiring your insides like some sort of fucked-up doctor. “ ‘M gonna make you feel good, but you need a little practise first...” 

Billy began to finger you, withdrawing his digits every so often to admire the way the slickness of your arousal coated his skin, glossy and translucent, the feeling second only to the blood of his victims on his skin. As he curled his fingers within you, he found that you began to shake and clench; your orgasm abruptly evident.

As much as he wanted to indulge in it, he wanted to savour you – and so pulled his fingers out, earning a breathy whine from you. Hastily, he lowered his boxers, his erect cock jutting out like a weapon as he stalked you, pushing your body deep into the pillows as he straddled you. 

“D-Do you have protection...?” you whispered meekly, and Billy could’ve came right there and then at the sight of you, lips parted and begging to be kissed as you gazed at him through your lashes.  

“No...” he replied, watching the fear wash over your face. “But it’s ok. I was safe with Sidney, and you’ve never had sex, right? That means you’re good.” 

Biting your lip, you debated protesting, but found it wasn't worth it. You wanted him – needed this – and you were already sinning by fucking your dead friends’ boyfriend. What did unprotected sex have on that? 

“You’re right,” you said with a small smile, puffing your cheeks as you prepared for him to enter you. “Be gentle...” 

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you,” he said firmly, eyes unblinking as he adjusted himself at your entrance, the edge of his cock grazing against your folds. “We’re in this together, remember?” 

You knew he meant it when he kissed you upon his penetration, his lips swallowing your whine as he entered you. He wasn’t by any means a stallion – simply averaged sized – but he filled you almost instantly, a dull ache forming around your walls as he began to thrust his hips up into you. If this was what sex was like; rhythmic, passionate, if not a little sharp-edged, then you were partially sad that you hadn’t got to experience it with Randy...the remaining deeply selfish part of you glad that it was with Billy. 

He seemed to know every part of you, where to kiss, where to rub, where to hold – when to slow down and when to quicken, all adorned with his sweet nothings that he spoke into your neck, ever so occasionally peering up at you through his lashes, his exact thoughts elusive to you. He cared, right? Why else would he hold you so close to him, kiss your collarbone, rub and soothe your thighs as he rolled his hips deeper, your pelvises slapping against each other in the heat of the moment? 

“You’re so tight,” he moaned as your lips gripped his bare shaft. “So good to me...Taking me so well...” 

You whined, the sound getting lost under the slight creaking of the bed and the rustle of your bedsheets, tightening your arms around his neck as you drew him closer into you and running a hand through his hair. Billy was thankful, thankful that you couldn’t see his shit-eating smirk from this position onto of you, but much more for Randy; as if he hadn’t had been such a paranoid nerd, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to imprint himself on you forever. 

His strokes were deep and fulfilling, the head of his cock beginning to buck up into your g-spot, pleasure made more overwhelming as he reached down again to rub at your clit. It was dark, somewhat twisted, but it was perfect; and you could actually feel your anxieties disappear entirely. Who was Randy? Had you ever really loved him? 

Even amongst your white haze as you got closer to the heat of your orgasm, you were able to make out the sound of a lock opening. Your eyes shot open, trying to piece together footsteps and visible signs of entry – Billy had been the only one to come in, perhaps he’d forgotten to lock the door? Or maybe it was your parents, home early from their outing? Worse, maybe it was the killer, dead on arrival like the Grim Reaper as soon as you’d gone against the rules and had sex. 

“Billy —“ you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as his cock hit your sensitive spot. “The door…I-I think someone’s here…” 

“Shh, you’re okay…” he murmured into your ear. “I didn’t hear anything…” 

A plunging, shaking feeling consumed you as you came, half-lidded eyes making out the shape of a gloved hand and knife creeping from behind the door. Instinctively, you opened your mouth to scream, but nothing came from it. All you could do was lie there, throat parched and the air knocked out of your lungs as you watched the figure enter the room; not hooded, masked or even bloody – but taking the shape and form of a tall, lanky boy with blonde hair. 

Stu was alive, and Billy had lied to you. 

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 14

Part 1 Part 13

Even with rationing, it doesn’t seem to take long for the water to start running dry. Days, maybe, but it’s hard to say without a clock. The red of the sky never fluctuates. It’s red. Red, red, read. Steve’s starting to hate the color.

They’ve slept three times, but Steve suspects the boredom of rotting in the Munson’s trailer might be getting to them. There’s only so many games of truth or dare you can play until you start to drift.

So, water’s been getting low. The crease between Eddie’s brows has grown deeper each time he takes a furtive swig. 

“We should go get water,” he says.

Steve doesn’t want to go out there. His shoulder still aches, sharp agony turned dull. It’s black around the edges, flesh turning necrotic. He hasn’t let Eddie see it since that first day; doesn’t want to needlessly frighten him.

“Steve?” 

Steve heaves a sigh before heading to the door where he left his sneakers. “Maybe grab a few shirts to filter that shit again?”

Eddie follows him, plopping down to tug his boots on while Steve shimmies his own shoes on leaning against the door, one foot at a time. 

“I was thinking we’d just take it back here and filter it in the bathroom,” Eddie says, yanking his laces tight. “Seems safer to do it with a locked door between us and anything trying to eat us.”

Steve thinks of his own house and the monster that got inside. Remembers the way the lock clicked on the door to the back porch. Had they locked the front? Did it matter, when that thing had knocked down his front door like it was made of tissue paper? He keeps his mouth shut.

“Good thinking.”

They go. It’s not a long trip, except how all trips feel long when there’s ash falling from the sky, and a shotgun clutched tightly enough to make your fingers numb, and Eddie Munson biting his lip to keep quiet at your side.

Steve feels woozy, like he used to during his brief stint in middle school wrestling. Coach would tell him to drop a certain weight and he would, counting calories at lunch with Carol, both ignoring Tommy’s snide comments. He’d only lasted a year. Didn’t like the uniforms, or the weight limits, or the violence. 

He feels just the same now, only worse. He knows you’re supposed to eat sugar after you donate at the blood drive. Steve donated a lot of his own blood to that thing’s claws and hasn’t eaten anything at all.

The quarry looks just as the same as last time – bloody. They form an efficient assembly line – Steve plucking lids of bottles and passing them to Eddie where he’s standing with his toes in the water. Eddie fills them as Steve prepares the next bottle, taking the filled one back and replacing the lid before doing it all over again. It moves quicker without the need to sift.

It still feels like too long by the time they’ve packed all the bottles away.

It’s quiet on the way up the incline. Quiet through town. It’s quiet all the way up until they hear the sound of pounding feet. 

Steve hears it first. He reaches out, snagging Eddie’s elbow, as the sound of steps move closer. 

“Wha–” Eddie starts.

“Shut up,” Steve hisses.

They’re on the path heading toward the trailer park, just before the pavement turns to gravel and the trailers come into view. The forest looms on their right. That’s where the sound is coming from.

It sounds like a person. It can’t be that thing – it had moved silently except the vocalizations from its mouth. But, what if it’s a trick? What if it’s a trap? What if he and Eddie have both cracked and there’s nothing there at all?

He shoves Eddie a step behind him, the other boy stays alarmingly quiet as Steve raises his shotgun and puts his finger on the trigger, scope trained on the noise coming toward them through the woods, ignores the way his hands are shaking.

What bursts through the trees isn’t what they could have ever expected. It’s a kid with a tragic bowl cut. He’s got a dirty flannel with a garish red and yellow vest thrown over it. The knees of his ratty jeans are covered in dirt, his palms scraped, like his foot had caught on a few roots in his mad dash away from something Steve doesn’t even want to think about.

His pupils are pinpricks, the whites of his eyes almost glowing as he looks from Eddie to Steve, who still has his finger on the trigger. Pointing at a kid. He drops his grip on the trigger, slowly lowering the shotgun even though all he wants to do is drop it, kick it as far away as possible, and hold up his empty hands as a show of how dangerous he’s not.

It's a fucking kid. He can’t be older than thirteen.

“It was behind me,” the kid says.

Eddie sucks in a harsh breath behind Steve, and he knows they’re both thinking of the same thing. Bloody claws, and petaled mouths that open to display rows of teeth in gleaming, concentric circles.

“Shit,” Steve says, “Go go go!” He turns to jog down the path, picking up his pace when he hears two sets of footsteps following in his wake.

He reaches the door first, and yanks it open just as he hears it – an inhuman shriek. It’s indescribable. And unmistakable.

When he turns back, Eddie and the kid have just come into view. He gestures them wildly to speed up, to get through the door, to fucking run.

It unfolds in front of him like a dream: the way Eddie’s dragging the kid by his arm, feet moving fast enough to blur even as it feels like they’re not making any headway at all. The way the shriek grows louder.

When they finally make it to the Munson trailer, they fall through the threshold, tripping over the rug at the entryway. Steve closing the tissue paper door behind them. He stands, braced for impact, gun raised and pointing at the closed front door.

The shriek grows louder, and louder, and louder, until it peters off. Fades away. Like the thing had found new prey to terrorize. It takes long minutes of tense silence for Steve to lower the shotgun, turn to the other two huddled behind him.

Eddie has his arms up, as if he can shield the kid from that thing should it huff and puff its way through the matchstick front door. Hell, maybe he can. But, at Steve’s lowered gun, he drops heavily to the couch, slamming his forehead to his hands, fingers gripped into his hair hard enough that it has to hurt.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Steve asks, looking at the kid. It comes out harsher than he means it to. The kid flinches, takes a startled step back toward Eddie.

“What Harrington means,” Eddie says, raising his head just enough to glare at Steve, “is are you okay?”

The kid sniffles, turning toward Eddie. His fists are balled at his sides even as he nods. “I’m fine,” the kid says, voice shaking enough to give his lie away.

“And what’s your name?” Eddie asks.

“Will,” he says, fingers loosening, shoulders falling. “Will Byers.”

Eddie gasps theatrically. “Not any relation to the great Jonathan Byers?”

For the first time, the kid smiles. It makes him look even younger. Steve’s stomach churns. “He’s my brother,” Will says, smiling shyly down at Eddie.

Steve has a hazy memory of a boy with an equally tragic bowl cut, disappearing into the hallways of the high school, sinking into the bleachers of sporting events, face hidden behind a camera. He wonders if that’s Will’s brother. If he’s missing him.

“And how did you get here, Will?” Steve asks, carefully modulating his voice. Keeping it even. Keeping it low. Will flinches, but he doesn’t step back again. Eddie still glares at Steve from behind the kid’s head.

“The Demogorgon,” Will says, “It got me.”

Part 15

[ferrstappen]

world champion/twins dad l Max Verstappen x reader

love note: HELLO LOVIESSSS! How are you all? it's been such a long time and for that I am so deeply sorry. To be honest it's not that I don't want to write because I've been dying to but for some reason inspiration just doesn't seem to come, but this request made me weak and awakened my mind a bit so I hope you enjoy it <3

i do feel up for little blurbs or scenarios if you want to come to my ask box and we can daydream endlessly <3

summary: the tragic chains of events before Luca Verstappen started feeling terrible. (dad!Max)

Mila & Luca Verstappen, age 6. Zandvoort.

Max warned Luca about the incoming rain the moment he noticed him shrugging off the official Red Bull rain jacket, favoring the tailored track jacket from the Dutch GP collection with his last name and dad’s number on the back, but of course his carbon copy complained, retaliating with things he learned in school, usually when it rains there’s clouds and it’s cold, and right now Luca Verstappen was seeing with his own two blue eyes the sun shining outside.

He repeated the same explanation when you told him he needed to wear his jacket.

“Your dad lived here, he knows the weather. Listen to him and out on the jacket,” you dictated before fixing Mila’s hair under her special Dutch GP cap.

Max shrugged before facing Luca, “You listened to mama, jacket it is! And I can’t be late so hurry up,” Luca huffed while grabbing and putting on the Red Bull jacket.

It seemed as if everyone was waiting for Max’s arrival to the track because the flashes were blinding, the tens listening to their papa when he told them to cover their faces. Knowing you wouldn’t be seeing much of Max today and taking advantage on the twins covered eyes you decided to leave a kiss on his lips, whispering congratulations on his full lips.

You grabbed the twins hands as Max made sure the cap covered most of Mila’s face and only showed part of her curls, but of course Luca still wasn’t convinced with the jacket.

“Papa, it itches,” Luca complained and you could still listen to the flashes and screams of your family surname.

“It’s a rain jacket, Luca. It’s not it itchy, and I am not requesting you to put it on, I am telling you to do it or I am going to do it,” Max never needed to change his voice or posture when reprimanding the kids, but usually his choice of words were enough to command the twins to comply.

That’s how you ended up in the Red Bull hospitality, with Luca running his hands through his hair after taking off the infamous jacket and letting the smell of caramel fill his nostrils.

Soon enough, stroopwafels were being served to the attendees, and especially everyone offering one to the Verstappen twins walking hand in hand, always supervised by you, or their grandmother, or their great grandmother.

"Mila, you can't say no to a stroopwafel," Luca told his sister showing off his dutch, especially since their Oma and super Oma were limiting English while in Holland.

"I am full so I am not accepting more food, Luca," Mila informed his brother as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"If you don't want them, give them to me,"

That was the first thing that went wrong.

The second one was when everybody was focused on the final laps before the red flag, your eyes glued to the screen and ears fully focused on Max’s radio. The perfect moment for Luca to take off the obnoxious jacket.

Thats when everything went wrong.

Max and you were woken up at the same time; head pounding from the celebrations and clothes thrown somewhere on the floor, but it didn't stop you from hearing your son crying while throwing up, waking his sister up in the process.

"Sweetheart, get dressed oh my God," Max said throwing you one of his shirts as he put on his discarded boxers before making your way to the twins bathroom.

You stayed with Mila, calming her down and assuring her nothing was wrong and his brother probably ate something and his body was reacting, while closely listening to Max comforting Luca trying to assure him he was going to feel better eventually.

You thought that was it, but of course it wasn't, because now neither you nor Max were sure of the headache was because of the adrenaline, the drinks or the lack of sleep from Luca's constant vomiting.

Gross.

But that was how you learned that it wasn't just the stroopwafels. The small version of Max Verstappen had a severe case of sweet tooth and didn't deny himself the flavors from his country with fresh poffertjes, a couple of pannenkoeken with sweet toppings, were on the top of Mila's head as you tried to understand how a six year old managed to fit so much food on his stomach.

Then came the fever and the dull pain in his ears.

The first thing you managed was to go back to Monte Carlo, at least that way he’d be sick on his own room and own place, where the older and more tired Jim and Sass would fall asleep on the feet of his bed.

For some miracle, the twins had managed to fall asleep during the short flight, allowing you to snuggle into Max’s side, who pulled a thick blanket on top to cover both your bodies, resting his head on top of yours while he enjoyed the relaxed motion of your fingertips drawing shapes on his shoulder.

“Max?” You softly pronounced his name, he softly groaned in acknowledgement. “When did we decide to have children?” You asked and Max laughed with his eyes closed.

He opened his blue eyes and left a kiss on you lips before he started falling asleep again, mumbling that maybe you two weren’t the best with decision making.

“Do you think we should leave M with the sitter and bring Luca to the ER?” Max questioned, this time it wasn’t your playful husband, it was the worried dad, the one who decided to leave his home celebrations, enjoying being the home hero with his entire family, the well deserved late nights partying after equaling Sebastian’s record.

“I’ll call the doctor but don’t worry, you have a couple of days to rest before Monza, and we weren’t even supposed to come back home so just enjoy the quiet days,” you kissed his temple. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to Holland? You know I’ll manage with the kids,”

“Don’t even say that again, i’m sorry I didn’t keep an eye on him, he didn’t listen to me and didn’t use the fucking jacket and then ate his entire weight on sugar,” Max sounded truly disappointed in himself.

“Are you going to make me tell you that you were working and barely had a moment to take a breath? Don’t be stupid, honey,” you said and Max smiled.

“I love it when you tell me off but call me honey,” He dedicated you his best sleepy smile.

A car was waiting for you in Nice to take you home, Max getting ahead of you and calling the twins doctor, and of course as soon as he saw the pale looks of the usually flushed Luca, his droopy eyes and constant shivering, he gave him some medication and gave the very stern order: no flying for Luca Verstappen until his ear infection was gone, meaning the plans for your family to go to Monza were postponed until further notice.

Little did you know that Mila was already plotting the tears to attend Monza, regardless of his brother’s illness.

[reythenerdypisces]

things that I overlooked in PJO the first time / small, funny things I noticed during my reread

Part 3: The Titan's Curse

The truth was I was kind of disappointed to hear that she liked her new school so much. It was the first time she'd gone to school in New York. I'd been hoping to see her more often.

I tried to concentrate on little things, like the crepe-paper streamers and the punch bowl - anything but that fact that Annabeth was taller than me, and my hands were sweaty and probably gross, and I kept stepping on her toes.

"The General?" I asked. Then I realised I'd said it in a French accent. "I mean... who's the General?" I want this part to be in the show

"Sweet! Let's go! [to CHB]" said Nico. this breaks my heart. he was so excited in this book

Tyson thought Annabeth was just about the coolest thing since peanut butter (and he seriously loved peanut butter).

"How would you kidnap an immortal goddess? Is that even possible?" "Well, yeah. I mean, it happened to Persephone." "But she was like, the goddess of flowers." Grover looked offended. "Springtime." you tell him grover

"That's some serious danger you're facing." Connor Stoll said. (I liked how he said you and not we.) I'm just imagining the rest of the campers not bothering to go on quests cause it's always the same few demigods and they don't care, they're just chilling safe at CHB while Percy and Annabeth do their things

The creature looked at me sadly. "Moooo!" But I couldn't understand his thoughts. I only speak horse. Percy Jackson speaks two languages: English and Horse

With a shiver, I realised that five hundred or a thousand years from now, Bianca di Angelo would look exactly the same as she did today. She might be having a conversation like this with some other half blood long after I was dead but Bianca would still look twelve years old. ouch

"It wants to kill us!" Thalia said. "Of course." Grover said. "It's wild!" "So how is that a blessing?" Bianca asked.

"That's us," he said. "Those five nuts right there." "Which one is me?" I asked. "The little deformed one," Zoe suggested.

When she smiled at me, just for a moment she looked a little like Annabeth. I know everyone talks about this part but I can't help but bring it up again, they are so cute

"Woah, first of all, I never said anything about love. And second, what's up with tragic!" little does he know. also, Percy is so incredibly insightful in this book but he's also so jealous of Annabeth and Luke and so upset about the idea of her joining the hunters yet still can't figure out that he likes her

"Seven hundred feet tall," I said. "Built in the 1930s." "Five million cubic acres of water," Thalia said. Grover sighed. "Largest construction project in the United States." Zoe stared at us. "How do you know all that?" "Annabeth," I said. "She liked architecture." I cannot explain how much this little bit means to me.

The girl I'd just tried to slice in half yelped and dropped her Kleenex. "Oh my god." she shouted. "Do you always kill people when they blow their nose?" Rachel's here!!! I love her

Five minutes later, Zoe had me outfitted in a ragged flannel shirt and jeans three sizes too big, bright red sneakers, and a floppy rainbow hat. someone draw this and tag me. what an outfit

Suddenly it occurred to me: this had happened to her before. She had been cornered on Half-Blood Hill. She'd willingly given her life for her friends. But this time, she couldn't save us. How could I let that happen to her? he is the most empathetic, wholesome guy, I love Percy

"Can't this go any faster?" Thalia demanded. Zoe glared at her. "I cannot control traffic." You both sound like my mother." I said. "Shut up!" they said in unison. I kind of wish we got more Thalia and Zoe interactions... they would've made such a great enemies to lovers dynamic, if Zoe didn't die

"Get away from my daughter!" Dr Chase called down, and his machine gun burst to life, peppering the ground with bullet holes and startling the whole group of monsters into scattering. "Dad?" yelled Annabeth in disbelief.

Grover went off with his satyr friends to spread the word about our strange encounter with the magic of Pan. Within an hour, the satyrs were all running around agitated, asking where the nearest espresso bar was.

"No," I said. "I choose the prophecy. It will be about me." "Why are you saying that?" she cried. "You want to be responsible for the whole world?" It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger." I said. might I remind you this boy is 13/14 and has the whole world on his shoulders (both literally at some point and figuratively)

I feel like these are just getting longer and longer but again, I will be back for part 4!

[another-lost-mc]

hey so im not the anon who requested the guys going to see barbie but i had legit just watched the movie today and it will mess you up emotionally like i am not kidding i almost started crying at the end some of the guys would be in LITERAL tears and then (maybe) laugh at the last moment quip they pulled at the end

A/N: I really want to see that movie, I’ve heard so many good things. 🥺 I will say, it was whiplash going to the movies with the Oppenheimer crowd and Barbie crowd mingling together. I would’ve preferred to see Barbie, but it wasn't my turn to pick the film. lol

When Movies Make Them Cry

THE DEMON BROTHERS & THE DATEABLES

0.5k words | SFW | gn!Reader

Content: Luke is mentioned in a platonic sense only, the other relationships can be read as platonic or romantic. Mostly emotional hurt/comfort.

Lucifer will cry watching movies but he hides it well. The giveaway will be his wet lashes and the slightly red, puffy skin around his eyes. Most of the tear tracks are wiped away before the lights come back on. He’s more likely to cry in private with you but not in a public crowd.

Mammon screams at horror movies, belly laughs at comedies, and sobs at tear-jerker moments—especially anything involving romance or tragedy. He often pictures you and him together as the romantic leads in the film, and that can be good or bad depending on the film.

Levi gets a little choked up but doesn’t usually cry. If he does cry, it’s in the privacy of his room when he thinks about the movie later on.

Satan and Asmo will both cry at touching romance or gut-wrenching tragedy. Satan comes prepared with tissues and Asmo dabs his face as delicately as he can so he can attempt to salvage his eye makeup (it doesn’t always work).

Beel might get choked up, but emotional movies linger in his thoughts for a while. He reflects on what he can learn from it to avoid more heartbreak in his life (he thinks they’ve all suffered enough).

Belphie might cry, but he cuddles into your shoulder so he can wipe the evidence on your shirt. He chuckles and pokes fun at his brothers for being so whiny but it doesn’t sound very convincing when his own voice sounds a little thick. (He won’t make fun of Beel if he cries.)

Diavolo’s the type that will cry at happy or sad endings. He doesn’t feel ashamed by it either, and he compliments movies that can draw out that type of reaction in him. He’s one of the first to offer you a comforting hug if you look like you need one. He also offers you tissues (he seems to have an endless supply).

Barbatos rarely cries at movies but similar to Beel, the emotional weight can linger with him for a while after. He has several packs of tissues to pass to the others should they need some (aka Diavolo’s endless supply of tissues).

Simeon is more likely to cry at happy endings than sad endings. He’s experienced so much heartache that it’s like a familiar friend rather than a shocking event. It’s the overwhelming love or joy characters share that touch him the most because he desperately wants to feel that for himself.

Luke cries but tries not to. He naturally gravitates to you or Simeon for comfort but tries not to be obvious about it—he doesn’t want the others to think he’s a baby.

Solomon is a mix of solemn contemplation after sad endings and joyful tears after happy endings. It’s difficult to find things that can touch those deep emotions in him after so much of his long life has passed by in a blur.

m.list | Related reading:

When They Go to the Movies [fluff] When Lucifer Watches Hachiko [emotional hurt/comfort] When Mammon Watches a Tragic Romance [angst]

[ramhaiba]

𝖧𝖺𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖵𝗈𝗐𝗌 (𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖯𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖬𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗆𝗂 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋)

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖, 𝕄𝕖𝕥𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕤

chapter contains- suggestive content, choking, mention of blood. SERIES TW: Violence, Sexual themes, major character death,tba.. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

previous chapter

There was something tragically ironic about wearing your murdered friend's cloak while kissing the man who stabbed him through the chest. By the time you decided to pull away, was when you realized how badly stained you were with Yuta's blood, dried red prints covering your hands and the hem of your nightgown. However, Megumi's face and neck were marked in it- due to your blood-stained hands holding his face while...- god you don't even want to think about it.

"Did he give you this," Megumi asked, most likely referring to Yuta as 'he' because Megumi wasn't aware of his name. You found that funny, Yuta who most likely spent countless hours to avenge his lover only to fail by a man who wasn't aware of his existence. 

You felt a cold breeze brush against your bare shoulders as Yuta's cloak wrapped around you was torn off. "What are you doing?" you asked. You watched as Megumi ripped a shaggy strip from Yuta's cloak, holding it horizontally in front of your face. "I don't want you to look at him as we walk past. It's not a sight you deserve to witness. " Megumi uttered, carefully covering your eyes with the rag, tying the ends together with a knot at the back of your head.

"How will I find my way back home if I can't see" you remarked. "I know, I'll lead you" Megumi advised, slowly locking his pale hands with yours, fingers interlocking, with a careful tug, he guided you forward.

He walked slowly, not wanting you to trip, but you couldn't help but pause at the damp feeling appearing on your feet, the liquid seeping through your slippers.

'This must be Yuta's blood' was the realization you came to, feeling your heart race, if your eyes weren't covered, you'd probably be facing his corpse, guilt washing over you.

"Don't think about it" Megumi uttered, tugging at your hand, forcing you to pull through your regrets.

Megumi only let you take off the blindfold the second you were in the hallways of the manor, finally indoors in the warmth. The proper lighting coming from the candle lamps hung on the walls gave you a better look at the aftermath, walking towards the mirror hung on the wall, analyze your distraught appearance. You glanced at Megumi through the mirror, noticing a slash on Megumi's side, skin around the wound stained with his dried blood. "You're hurt" you uttered, turning to look at him. "So are you" Megumi responded, clicking his tongue, his finger tilting up your head, wanting a better look at the nick on your neck.

"We can deal with this in the bathroom, we need to clean up anyway" Megumi added.

---

You watched the dried blood stains liquify as you washed them in the sink, diluted blood spilling out of your palms and into the drain. You switched your attention  away from the reminder of your sins, looking towards Megumi who had finished cleansing the blood off of his face, focusing his attention on drying the washed skin with a white towel. "Are you done yet, we should get started on disinfecting our cuts" he asked, disposing the rag into a bin. "Yeah- Yeah, let's do that" you responded, quickly shutting off the water.

Megumi walked over, sitting on the sink's counter, thighs spread apart, stripping his ruined white collar shirt off, and throwing it onto the floor as he leaned back. "Be quick" he uttered, as he watched you damp a white rag with alcohol. You leaned over to his abdomen, before lightly grazing his wound with the alcohol-laced cloth. The burning sensation caused Megumi to grip the counter, a quiet groan escaping through his lips. "How does this hurt more than being sliced with a sword" Megumi grunted. "I'm trying to be as gentle as possible" you replied, stepping back, satisfied with your work.

"Switch places with me, I'll do your neck" Megumi advised, wrapping a bandage around his torso and then landing off of the counter. "But it's really not a serve" you argued, interrupted by Megumi picking you up by your waist, resting you easily on the counter. "You should really learn not to argue with me" He mumbled, forcing your head to the side and then tracing his finger on the cut, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing just clean it already" you uttered, turning your head to look at him, only to be instantly shoved back to your original position. Then you felt it, the wet muscle of Megumi's tongue pressed against your cut, licking a straight vertical stripe of your wounded skin, his dark hair tickling your ear.

"M-Megumi, what are you doing" you yelped, placing your hands on his stern chest, pushing him away, face boiling with embarrassment.

Megumi placed your hands on both sides of his face, approaching you once again, his forehead leaning against yours.

"I want to feel it again" he mumbled, his tone soft, hooded eyes admiring your face. "What are you talking about" you responded. "I want to feel what it's was like to kiss you again" he panted, his hands sliding to wrap around your waist.

"Megumi- I- I don't think we should, I'm still trying to process what just happened" You responded. If you're being honest with yourself, you weren't very rational when you kissed Megumi- who thinks rationally when they just witnessed a murder? "Have you forgotten I had just murdered a man for you?" Megumi responded, his tone morphing into something much more harsh, nails slightly digging into your skin. Any argument in your head fails to form, words not daring to slip through your lips as you're filled with an undeniable guilt. Megumi could only smile at your silence, to his eyes, this was your way of claiming defeat.

"That's better" Megumi whispered, leaning his head, soft lips pressing against yours, his hands rubbing your waist. There comes that feeling once again, your heart beginning to race, the burning sensation coming from your cheeks, trying to keep up with his urgent movements. His lips- god- his lips are soft, everything about his physical appearance is undeniable attractive, the back of his hair brushing over your forearms as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his long fingers exploring your skin. 

"Open your mouth" he uttered against your lips, his hand crawling down to one of your thighs, lifting it against his waist causing the hem of your nightgown to slide closer to your stomach, revealing more thigh. You gulped, nervous as you hesitantly obeyed his command, his tongue slip through your lips. You could hate Megumi all you want, but kissing him brought your body a new sense of excitement. Maybe it was the feeling of closeness, your arms holding onto his neck, his hands getting familiar with every inch of skin visible to him. You've never seen Megumi so hungry for your affection- it's like he's been starved of this feeling for so long, that now that he has it, he doesn't want to let go. That's why you know you have to be the one to stop it, pulling away from the kiss, your breath panting.

"Megumi, we can't" you voiced, chest heaving, panting for air. "Can't what?" Megumi mumbled, lips kissing down your jawline, dark hair grazing your face.

"We can't be intimate , Megumi. You said it so yourself" you answered, averting your eyes from his, too embarrassed to witness his reaction to your words.

You heard Megumi sigh in annoyance, resting his forehead on the crook of your neck, " I fucking hate abstinence" he mumbled, his breath tickling your skin.

" Maybe it's time I go back to our bedroom chamber, we both need some rest" you advised, once again trying to push him off of you,

His hand griped yours, placing them down on the counter, " Just because we can't have sex, doesn't mean we can't indulge in other practices " Megumi uttered, pulling his face off of your neck to lock eyes with yours.

" Megumi--what are you implying" you stuttered, embarrassment written all over your face. He's silent again. God- you hated his silence, it's his twisted way of telling you 'I think you already know that answer.'

You watched in awe as your fiancé lowered himself down, his head snuck between your thighs as long fingers used to push the hem of your nightgown upwards, revealing your panties. His hands crawling up to hold your waist down as he lays kisses trailing up your inner thigh before his fingers slip under the waistband of your undergarments. Just as he was seconds from pulling them down a voice was heard from behind the door, "Megumi, are you in there? Hurry up, you have that hunting trip today" Mai shouted, banging her fist on the door. Just as you were about to let out a panicked whimper, Megumi's hand shot over your mouth, getting back on his two feet, his eyes narrowed in annoyance, "I'll be out in a moment" he replied, turning his head towards the door.

"Just don't take too long, pretty boy" Mai chuckled then you could hear the relieving sound of her footsteps walking away.

"Why am I-Why am I acting like this? I usually play it safe. I've always played it safe. What are you doing to me, Y/n?" Megumi spoke his thoughts out loud, his hands slowly descending off of your mouth.

"Megumi-" You uttered, unaware how to answer his dilemma. "You can't walk back to your room in a blood-stained nightgown. I'll go to your room and fetch you something decent to wear" Megumi responded, turning his back on you as he covered his bandaged torso with a bathrobe. Megumi opened the door, pausing in his action as his foot did not dare to step through, he shamefully looked over at you, "we can talk more about this tonight in my room" he muttered before leaving.

-----

You don't know what Megumi did with your nightgown or with Yuta's corpse. A guilty part of you is relief that your crimes were covered. You were aimlessly walking through the halls, trying to escape your thoughts by getting more familiar with the manor. However, in an instance, you were pulled to the side, the sudden act causing you to yelp. All fear in your body seemed to disappear as you realized the guilty culprits were just your concerned friends.

"Y/n! Where have you been" Nobara exclaimed, being the guilty culprit of grabbing you. "Just looking around the manor" you answered.

"We saw Megumi was in your room this morning. Do you think he suspects something" Yuuji asked. "He doesn't- he was just there for a favor" you replied, hands fidgeting to your side as you prayed your friends wouldn't notice your suspicion.

"What favor?" Yuuji questioned. "Oh- nothing too important. A boring one, in fact, something you don't want to hear about" You laughed, waving off Yuuji's concerns.

"Alright then.... We noticed you didn't come back to your room last night" Nobara commented, her eyes narrowing. "Y-you did?" you squeaked, suddenly the space between you and your friends felt anxiously smaller, their facial expressions shifting into disappointment.

"We didn't think you had it in you. You actually had that affair!" Yuuji laughed, playfully punching your shoulder, his joyful demeanor causing your anxieties to fade away.

"So where is Okkotsu, does that mean he's on our team now?" Yuuji added, an innocent smile on his face.

"Yuta is- Yuta isn't working at the Zenin manor anymore. Last night wasn't a confession it was a goodbye" you replied, guilt washing over you as you saw your friends physically show their disappointment. "This sucks, I was really starting to like that guy. How come he left?" Nobara sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"He has urgent family issues to attend to" you confessed. "C'mon guys don't look so gloomy. We still have each other, right?" Yuuji beamed. "I suppose so, it just would have been really like to have a knight that actually knows how to use a sword," Nobara remarked, batting her eyelashes innocently.

"I know how to use a sword. Satoru Gojo, himself, taught me" Yuuji argued. "Yeah but you were his worse student" Nobara added, sticking out her tongue. "Worse student? Well- I bet you were the worst student in uh- how to be ladylike university" Yuuji replied.

"That's not even a real thing dumbass"

"Oh, you know what I meant!"

---

When night came, so did your anxieties. A part of yourself hoped that Megumi would have just forgotten about the upcoming conversation he wanted to have with you tonight-

Maybe he'll be too tired from his hunting trip to talk!

Maybe he has some letters to write

Maybe-

Maybe you're just a goner. Once the whole manor was quiet, every resident fast asleep, you tip-toed down the hall, walking towards Megumi's room. You hesitated as you came face to face with the door, debating whether you should just go back to sleep or not. However, you knew things would be harder for yourself if you chose to ignore Megumi's demands. Thus, you slowly opened the door, a lingering creaking sound from the door causing you to cringe. You saw Megumi sitting on the edge of his bed, legs far apart, eyes narrowed as he focused on the book.

"Megumi?" you called out, interrupting him from his thoughts. "That took you long enough. I almost thought I had to come into your room and wake you up" Megumi uttered, putting his book on his night table.

"What are you waiting for? Sit down next to me" he voiced.

"Sorry," you muttered, walking towards the bed, trying to sit as far from him as possible. "I guess, we should talk about last night. Right?" you added. Megumi hummed in agreement.

"I took care of the body. Well, Maki did" Megumi informed. You weren't exactly too glad that Maki now knows the horrible truth about Yuta- but you rather have her know than Mai because who knows what Mai would do?

"W-what did she do with it?" you questioned.

"Burial site, next to that Rika girl" Megumi answered. A part of you felt at peace with that answer, knowing Yuta would most likely want that to be his final resting place.

"How did your little friends take the news that their knight friend is dead " Megumi questioned.

"I- I didn't tell them what happened to Yuta" you stuttered, picturing their imaginary disgusted faces if they knew what truly occurred that night.

"I suppose that is for the best. You can't let your friends know you're more like the Zenin family than you thought" Megumi voiced, finger trailing down your jawline, tilting your head up, getting a better look at your worried expression.

"A-are you going to tell them the truth" you questioned. "Do you want me to?" Megumi uttered, pleased as you shook your head, too worried to answer verbally.

"Then I'll do as my wife pleases" Megumi mumbled, voice soft, leaning his face forward, slowly closing the space between you and him, lips almost touching until he suddenly pulled back.

"What's wrong?" you asked, unaware of the change of atmosphere, analyzing Megumi's puzzled expression.

"A question just came to mind. Why were you there that night?" Megumi uttered, eyes narrowing. "What- what do you mean?" you laughed, trying to play dumb.

"For me- he slipped a letter at my door. In a letter, he pretended to be you and asked me to come to the greenhouse. Now. Why were you there?" Megumi voiced, getting up, towering over you, eyes hardening.

"H-he did the same thing with me. He pretended to be you and asked me to meet you there" you answered, his threatening appearance causing you to advert your eyes in fear. Suddenly he's leaning over, holding your jaw to look at his deranged expression, "Were you going to run off with him?" he hushed.

" Megumi-" you

Then you're pushed down, your back pressed against his bed, his hands on either side of your head, "I bet you were the one who slipped me that letter instead of him. It's all because you got cold feet. Am I correct?" Megumi interrupted, his hands finding their place around your neck, slightly squeezing.

"Megumi, you're hurting me" you huffed, trying to pull his grip off of your neck, legs thrashing in panic. "I don't fucking care" he shouted, lifting your head up and then slamming it back down, the movement causing an aching pain at the back of your head and nape.

"You're truly pathetic, you know that right? Expecting me to clean up your messes because you realized that you can't escape your fate- that you can't escape me" he voiced.

"I-I'm sorry- Please just stop" you stuttered, the tightness around your neck becoming unbearable, your sight slowly becoming blurry, the dreadful feeling of being lightheaded approaching.

Megumi hesitantly released his hands from their grip, getting off of you, and raising them to his face as he watched them angrily shake, his face filled with fright. But the second he glanced back at you, you could tell by his eyes that all guilt seemed to morph into unsympathetic coldness.

"I've been too easy on you" he mumbled. "What?" you asked in disbelief, chest still heaving as you desperately try to recover your breath.

"It's been a while since you had a trial correct? Let's change that"

[kykyonthemoon]

hi, kỳ kỳ!! i hope you're doing well 🤲❤

i just wanted to ask about how rafayel would react and comfort reader who is very insecure about their eyes because it's obviously asymmetrical and can be seen clearly in pictures? thank you so much in advance!!

also, you have a very pretty name 🤲❤

Dear Anon-san,

Thank you so much for the request, and your compliments <3 As a person who isn't so confident with my look, I do feel related so much to the reader/MC here in this fic.

I hope you like this piece too, and sorry it took a while to be published ^^

To anyone who are reading this, remember that you are always beautiful <3

In His Eyes

In his eyes, you are the most flawless creature.

ಇ. Rafayel x Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags: soft fluff, no established relationship yet, comfort, self-esteem issues

ಇ. Word count: 1k1

ಇ. Masterlist

ಇ. A big thanks to Tram Hoang for the cute Rafayel pic. Other pics are from X

You had never felt beautiful.

You had never looked in the mirror for more than three minutes.

You had never kept photos of yourself on the phone.

Since you were never confident with your appearance.

Everything about you was ordinary; which meant, you were not as hideous as a monster, yet not deemed lovely. The most dreadful thing on your body was, tragically, the most visible: your eyes.

They were asymmetrical. One of your eyes was smaller than the other, and it seemed as if the eyelid was dropping. Looking from the side, perhaps no one would notice it, but when facing you directly, they surely could not overlook your unequal eyes. That was also the reason you never dared to look anyone right in the eye.

For they would see how ugly you were.

You also avoided taking photos as much as possible. Looking at other people preserving their bright and happy moments, you only felt sorry for yourself. If only you could be a little more confident, enough to see yourself as beautiful.

That happened before you met him. Rafayel was the most flawless person you'd ever known. Everything about him seemed ethereal and exquisite. His hair, his face, his physique. His eyes. It's almost as if he strolled right out of a painting. And you could spend hours lost in those eyes, when he was not paying attention to you.

That day, as Rafayel and you were in his studio, you noticed a little clicking sound. Rafayel stood in a corner of the room, camera in hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

"I am taking a photograph of you. May I?" Rafayel tilted his head behind the lens and smiled pleasantly at you.

Your heart dropped a beat. You felt both nervous and scared.

“Why do you want to take a photo of me?”

“Because you are very beautiful.”

You never believed what he had just said.

"You're just saying that out of politeness." You shook your head, attempting to dispel any notion that someone as perfect as him would find you charming.

“If it was just out of politeness, I would compliment you by saying, “This shirt really suits you,” or “You look cute with that hairstyle.” When I declare that someone is beautiful, I truly mean it. Just the person, not anything else.”

Your cheeks heated up, contending for the color red with the bouquet of roses in your hands. You acted awkwardly as you placed them on the table. Rafayel had requested you to get some flowers for his new project. You unexpectedly became his reluctant model.

“So? May I take photos of you?”

Rafayel asked sincerely. After a moment of awkwardness, you nodded in agreement. He asked you to hold the bouquet and pose around the studio for him. But, out of habit, you did not dare to stare directly at him.

“Don't constantly turn your head to one side like that. I'm right here.” Rafayel approached as you sat in the chair. His hand raised your chin, forcing you to gaze directly into his eyes. But you lowered your eyes again.

“Um… I don't really like taking pictures…”

“Wait until you see the pictures I took of you. You will definitely think differently.”

You doubted that, but still agreed to let Rafayel take a few more shots of you in front.

Since then, it appeared that he enjoyed photographing you at any time and anywhere. Rafayel consistently stated you were lovely. You merely smiled out of politeness in response. You still lacked the courage to look at the photographs he shot. Every time you were around him, you felt pity within. He was perfect, and you were everything not.

You were hideous. You had low self-esteem. You did not dare to look at him in the way he anticipated. But, like a withered flower suddenly nurtured with sweet words of encouragement every day, you began to think that he saw something blooming in you, and it was beautiful.

"You don't have to lower your head every time you go out with me."

"Hey, you don't need to stand so far away from me. Otherwise, how will you protect me?"

"Look at me. I'm trying to capture your beauty through the lens.”

Day by day, he made you feel like you were the most beautiful creature in his eyes.

He hung all the photos he had taken of you on the corner of the wall in his studio. The photographs were also organized based on the shape of your portrait. You almost fainted with amazement. No one had ever done anything like that for you. No one had ever made you look at your own photos and realize, I'm so pretty!

“I know you don't like your eyes.” Rafayel's voice burst out immediately behind you as he approached. "But I really do."

"Why?…" You spoke as if choking up. You couldn't breathe after what Rafayel had done for you. “They are asymmetrical… They're ugly… My eyes are not perfect…”

Rafayel placed a palm on his chin, seeming puzzled. He looked to the photographs and said:

“What do you see when you look at these? For me, I don't see anything imperfect. I just see a very beautiful girl whose eyes always light up when she's close to me. Here…” His fingers ran over each frame. “This moment was when she arranged flowers for me while singing to herself. This was when she was so focused on her work that she didn't notice that I covertly took a snapshot. And this was taken when she laughed so hard because of the joke I told... I adore staring into her eyes, because I find my reflection in them. Her eyes always reveal her true feelings to me. I wish she would look at me a little longer.”

Rafayel halted. You had tears in the corners of your eyes. You felt you whole body shaking while attempting to suppress your feelings.

“I wish I could show her how amazing she is through my eyes.”

Rafayel's fingertips left the photographs, then delicately stroked your cheek. He drew a soft line below the eye, which you always thought was unattractive. You were about to burst into tears, but still did your best to convey these sincere words:

“Thank you… Thank you so much, Rafayel…”

He pulled you into his arms as your tears began to fall. Tears of happiness. He had helped you find your beauty, helped you love yourself more. Maybe the self-depreciation would not go away right away, but you resolved that from this point on, anytime you felt like resenting something about your body, you would remember every warm word he had for you.

[gayerthanevertbh]

labyrinth

pairings: older!natasha x young!reader

warnings: g!p natasha romanoff, oral sex, cum swallowing, and dirty talk - MINORS DNI.

summary: your sister cheated on her wife, so the broken wife takes an interest in you instead. was everything just a rebound between the two of you? or is there something more?

notes: i want to make this a series but i don’t know yet, i want to hear your opinion on this one shot first before i do anything else. i hope you enjoy reading!

navigation || masterlist || series masterlist

“Wanda and I agreed that we won’t see anyone until the divorce finalizes,” Natasha said with a sniffle, wiping her tears away from her eyes. Her therapist, Nora, only nods while soothing the woman’s back out of comfort. “S-She will be leaving my house once everything’s done.”

“Do you have a child with Wanda?” Nora asked her quietly; the woman shook her head. It was a relief for Natasha since it would’ve been a lot harder if they ever had a child – and they couldn’t have a child.

They just couldn’t, no matter how much Natasha wanted to.

“No.”

“Everything will be sorted out,” she tells her with a convincing voice, a voice that tells Natasha that everything will be fine when it won’t ever be fine. She soothes again, “You just need a lawyer, okay? Once you do, then we can go to court. Does Wanda have a lawyer?” the other woman nodded. “I see, well I have to give you some phone numbers that you could talk to, they’re the best in this state. Please contact them as soon as you get home.”

“What if I’m still in love with her?” Natasha sobs out, rubbing the back of her hair with so many questions and whys in her head. Why? Why did you cheat on me? Why ME? Why does it have to be like this? Is he better at fucking you? Does he have a lot of money? Why, why, why?

“You could never out-love someone, Natasha.”

Nora was right; she could never just out-love Wanda – how can she? Wanda was her first love, it was merely impossible at this point.

“I wish she never did it,” she mumbles, staring at the ground as more tears streamed down her face. Natasha felt angry, confused, and conflicted. One moment, she wanted to beg for her love and now all she could see was fire and red at the same time; Wanda was flammable, she was toxic for Natasha’s thirst; a venom. She grips her gray buttoned-up shirt and mumbles again with a seething tone, “I wish I could kill her. I wish she could die in a car crash so that I won’t have to think about her again.”

“Let it all out,” Nora said. “Just let it all out, Natasha.”

And she did.

hey tash, can i go to your place real quick? wanda is asking me to get some of her clothes. i think she’s going on a date.

Oh. Yeah, sure. You could stay for a bit if you want, I’m on my way home anyway.

where were you?

I went to see my therapist, Y/n.

i’m sorry, i just wanted to know how you’re doing. my sister is really unforgivable in this situation, I'm sorry you had to go through that tasha.

Can we talk more when I get there? I actually want to give you something :)

yay! what is it?

Just wait in my living room, I’m almost there.

Okay!

As I waited patiently in her living room, I thought about the brighter times when Natasha and Wanda were happy together. This home used to be so full of laughter and happiness that I couldn’t even begin how beautiful this home was. Now, it’s just quiet and lonely; tragic and sorrowful. Her plants at her door area were wilting, and her big living room lamp was broken; I could only see the metal rod was bent. This home is lonely, too lonely and quiet – I felt awkward staying on her couch.

“Been waiting for me?”

I turned around and saw Natasha bringing bags of groceries (she only brought two and they looked light) as she strode into the kitchen area, where she dispatches the things she needed for her refrigerator. I immediately stood up and followed her, giving me an instinct that I should help her out.

“Let me help you, Tash–”

“Go sit back down Y/n,” she said, smiling tightly at me. “I got this, okay? I’ll bring you a glass of apple juice, I can handle this.”

I sat back down and waited for her. Once she was finished, she walked back and sat down beside me, placing two glasses of apple juice on the wooden coffee table that she built for Wanda a few years ago. I could still remember the look on my sister’s face when Natasha gave her this table.

And now, the table looks depressing, as if a flower is wilting.

“I’m happy that you’re here,” she said with a smile; bringing the rim of her glass to her lips. “You know, I was supposed to ask you to come over so we could watch a movie together.”

“I’m glad we’re still close,” I said, holding the glass in both of my hands. “I know Wanda has been… irresponsible with your marriage, but I’m happy that you still choose to talk to me even though I’m her sister.”

“I mean, I’ve known you ever since you were just a little girl,” a chuckle came from Natasha’s lips. “And now you’ve blossomed into this… beautiful girl. Your mother has raised you well.”

“I guess you could say that.”

As we exchanged laughter, we clinked our glasses together and drank from them simultaneously. I was about to stand up when I felt her hand on my knee, suddenly pulling me to sit back down out of instinct.

“Is there anything you need?” I asked Natasha quietly.

She shakes her head. “Not really, I really could use some company right now.”

“How’s your therapy session? Did it go well?”

“Nora was alright,” she answered, leaning against the back of the couch. “I guess it helped a bit. I still want to murder your sister, that’s for sure.”

“I totally understand if you do,” I said. “She has been nothing but an ass lately.”

“She’s more of an ass than me?” quirked Natasha, raising her left eyebrow and looking at me with those damn hooded eyes – I could’ve sworn she was slightly flirting with me. Natasha Romanoff was known to be a jackass, an adult who likes to be an asshole for the laughs and giggles. But lately, she’s been vulnerable; helpless; hazed with anger. I could hardly blame her for being this angry with my older sister, Natasha has done nothing but treat Wanda as if she was the love of her life.

And maybe that’s why I get a little insecure whenever I see them together because I’ve always had a small crush on Natasha (that I still hope she doesn’t have an idea that I do have a crush on her) and maybe that’s a little unfortunate for me since there was no percentage of us being together or having that kind of fling where I could say that woman feels for me the same way I do.

It was merely impossible.

“You could say that.”

Natasha scoots closer to me until both of our thighs touch. After placing her glass back on the table, she yawned as the day began to clear. I try to think of other words to create a conversation with her; nothing comes across my head.

Finally, she asked: “How’s school? When will you be graduating?”

“In a few months,” I answered, fidgeting with my fingers.

“What university will you be going to?”

“Probably in New York so I could stay closer to Pietro.”

“And Wanda? Will she be in New York?”

“No, she’ll be staying here,” I replied. There was a look of relief on Natasha’s face that I can’t distinguish – it’s hard to tell whether she was satisfied with that information or not. I was about to ask why until she said, “I’ll be in New York for a couple of years, you know, to get away from this fucking madness.”

“I understand,” I said. “When will you be moving?”

“Once I finalize my divorce with Wanda, then I will go,” she replied, prompting her elbow on the couch and using her free hand to support her head. She was beautiful like this, natural and calm. It was short, really short. It’s almost as if she was pulling out “revenge hair” as her hair darkens, leaning on a brown color – which suits her perfectly well. Needless to say, she was beautiful; eye-catching.

I nodded deeply and looked away. But I felt her thumb and index finger holding my chin, turning me to look at her again; almost gazing at her. I dug my hands in between my thighs, and almost whimpered when her lips were close to mine.

She was about to kiss me, she was going to kiss me.

“Have you ever been kissed?”

“I-I have,” there was no reason for me to lie there, I simply have been honest with her ever since I walked into this house. There was a slash of disappointment plastered on her face, but immediately went away when she looked down at my gaped mouth. I was breathing hard, almost in an embarrassing way. If she kisses me now, I wouldn’t able to resist. What if I was a rebound? Who cares, I wanted her lips to kiss mine so that I could never–

“Let me kiss you?”

I’m a rebound, I’m a rebound, I’m a rebound–

“Yes.”

She didn’t waste time and pressed her mouth on mine, almost shuddering when both of our lips are being touched. Her lips were warm, and I could tell she was scrunching her eyebrows together. When her hand went behind my back and roughly pulled me closer to her, the spark between us went away. I almost yelped out of shock. But then, something eased on her – like a person telling her that I was a delicate little girl that was fragile, and she kissed me slowly but in a sloppy way.

Natasha pulls away with a string of saliva on both of our lips. “Your lips are so soft,” she murmured.

“I don’t think we should be doing this.”

She shakes her head, and pecked on my bottom lip so gently – I could hardly feel her lips. She used her other hand to stroke my jaw and whispered, “Wanda isn’t here, baby…”

“But you’re still married–” I moaned quietly when her lips were on my neck, kissing my skin with hunger while wrapping both of her arms around my small waist to pull me close on her lap. “Tasha, slow down.”

I wanted to tell her that she was going to use me as her rebound, that none of this was real to her. But I was so lost in her own world that I did not notice her unbuttoning her pants hastily; I had to push her chest away from me.

“You’re not thinking straight,” I said, trying my best to sound normal other than being heartbroken that I might be her rebound. “Y-You can’t be doing this with me, I’m her sister Tasha…”

“So do you want to stop?” she asked, still removing her pants all the way down to her midthighs. I closed my eyes, but she kissed my lips again to make sure I was still breathing. “Breathe baby, breathe. It’s okay, she’s not here–”

“She will go insane if I sleep with you!” I exclaimed.

“But she’s not here,” she whispers, like a smooth talker, as if everything will be alright; I was convinced. Natasha slowly trails her fingers inside my shirt and holds me down, feeling her tight erection on her loose boxers. She kisses my neck once more while her other hand was playing with my left breast, asking: “Have you ever slept with someone?”

“No,” I replied quickly, cursing myself that I’d answered her too fast. But she pulled away with a proud smile while still touching me through my shirt. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“That my parents would know–”

She immediately cuts me off mid-sentence, kissing my lips hard instead.

“No one will find out, okay? We don’t have to sleep together for now.”

“For… now?”

She nodded, inserting her tongue inside of my mouth until we were french kissing on her couch; on her lap. As soon as Natasha was about to remove my shirt, I slightly pulled away with a ragged breath. She squints her eyes, wondering why we stopped, and I did not say anything else but got onto my knees and pulled down her pants to her ankles.

“Baby,” she sighs loudly, her cock growing once more. “Y-You don’t have to do that–”

“I want to,” I assure her, my eyes are looking back up at the woman that has her legs open for me. Natasha could only nod and pulled her dick out of her boxers, her length proudly showing in the scene. She was hard, but not fully hard where her penis stands itself. I could see a bit of juice leaking out from its tip; I wish to lick it and suck her head as hard as I could watch her begging for more. “I’ve never given someone like this before.”

“A blowjob?”

Her cock was big; too big for my mouth. But my cunt clenches for it to be touched, I wanted her to slip her dick inside of me until I was a mess. Pogubi menya svoim rtom, Natasha.

“Y-Yeah…”

“It’s okay,” she coos, bringing her hand in the back of my hair and pulling me closer to her genitalia. “Go slow, okay? Just do what makes you comfortable, don’t use your teeth though.”

I’ve given myself a few more minutes before wrapping my hand around her shaft, gasping quietly about how utterly big she was; my fingers could barely wrap around her dick. Natasha threw her head back in the air and moved closer, half of her buttocks were exposed while having pleasure from my hand. I thought about those videos that my friends sent me, a woman jacking a guy off using her hands and mouth. So this gave me an idea and slowly brought my hand up and down on her length, watching her bulbous head carefully – I could see more of her juices coming out.

“Oh yeah,” she slurs as her eyes twitched while closed. “That’s so fuckin’ good, you’re hand is so warm.”

She was throbbing on my hand, and I couldn’t help but examine the way her member looked. The head was pinkish, with a mix of red; her cock was veiny but not in a gross way; it looked like it was reaching over her belly button, which made me wetter from the sight and the feeling of her dick. I slowly leaned closer to her penis and gave the tip a kiss, watching the woman have a reaction to it.

“Feels so good, Y/n… keep going.”

I took a deep breath and swallowed her head, my eyes widening when I could feel her juices dripping on my tongue. I closed my eyes instead and slowly let go of her cock with a loud pop! It made Natasha yell out of sexual frustration. I knew she was impatient – but I had to take my time. I could hear her murmuring, “Keep going, little girl… just keep your mouth on me.”

And I did, but it was a lot more difficult than it seems. The woman had a big dick, there was no denying that, and I tried my best to slurp the tip of her cock but instead; I choked. She averted her eyes from me and asked with a worried voice, “Shit–are you okay? You can stop–”

“Let me adjust,” I breathed out, slowly pumping her cock. Natasha could only nod and rest her head against the couch, watching me intently as I jerked her off. She was warm on my palm; I almost let out a tiny moan from the way it twitches. It just shows that it was begging for my attention, and I had to do something about it.

So I wrapped my mouth around the tip of her dick again and breathed, sinking my mouth further into her length. Natasha threads her fingers through my hair gently and pushes my head deeper into her cock, making me let out gurgling sounds.

“Your mouth is so good,” she whines, raising her hips a little to reach for my throat. “Suck it harder, baby girl. I’m so fuckin’ hard for you…” she shifts onto the couch and unbuttons her cardigan to release the tension inside of her. All she could think about was my mouth and my pussy. She wondered what it would feel like if she slipped her cock inside of me as I scream for mercy; yelling about how big her cock was.

“That’s it,” she coos, her breath hitching. “Lick my cock like that, what an obedient little girl you are.”

If it’s a guilty pleasure to be called a “little girl” by her, then I’d be damn proud to be called that by her. I closed my eyes again and sunk my mouth deeper, licking the underside of her dick repeatedly until I’ve gotten my rhythm. Natasha slowly humps my face as she uses both of her hands to guide my head up and down on her cock, making me create wet and pornographic noises that fill up the room too sweetly. The woman sighs blissfully, as if she couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Once the tip of her cock hit my throat; I gagged.

“Oh god!” she shuts her eyes tightly and keeps my head still while fucking my mouth slowly, her length popping in and out of my mouth. “So close baby, yeah… just suck my cock like that. You’re so good, little baby.”

I sucked her head vigorously while slurping on it, going deeper and deeper until half of her length was in my mouth. I felt her hand holding my neck as she continues to thrust into my mouth at a slow pace, making sure I wasn’t in too much pain. This was what she needed, what she wanted from me. It was this innocent slut that she wanted to take; I wanted to lick it and I wasn’t ashamed of any of it.

Natasha holds my head still and felt her hips twitching, as I hear her say, “I’m gonna cum–Oh fuck, take it!” and I felt two ropes of thick cum in my mouth; closing my eyes tight as she continues to let herself go inside of my mouth, giving everything that she needed. The woman sees stars behind her head and imagines my mouth being my cunt instead – the thrill of excitement burning inside of her passionately; she wanted to fuck me now or she wouldn’t able to live with herself.

“Oh god,” she moans as she spurts more cum on my tongue. “T-That’s it, oh fuck yeah…”

She was in heaven. But deep inside, she was in hell. While calming down from her firing orgasm, she realized that I was the sister of her wife – and she completely fucked up by fucking my mouth and coming on my tongue. Natasha couldn’t help but feel guilty, though the guilt washed away when I suddenly released the tip of her cock with a pop! From my mouth, and pulled myself up as I sat down beside her with some of her cum on the corners of my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to me, pulling my face closer as she kisses me deeply; tasting herself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I should’ve been more discreet–”

“It’s okay,” I cut her off with a frantic nod while touching her right cheek, which I almost fell apart when she leaned on my touch. “I-I don’t want Wanda to know, I don’t know what I’d do if she knew about this–I’m sorry, I don’t–”

“She won’t know anything about us,” she said, leaning her forehead against mine as she pecked on my lips with her wet mouth, pulling me closer to her once more. Something about her being so comforting is losing the worries that have been boiling inside of me; like a kettle bursting once it’s hot. “It’s only our secret, I promise.”

another note: natasha will be an asshole if this comes out as a series, but she will have a development of course! let me know how you guys feel about this one shot <3

[moochalove]

Last Nights Mistakes and New Beginnings (Pt. 2)

(yandere!kazuha x pregnant!reader x scaramouche)

Another part finished!!! This kinda scratches my brain but i need more…. so expect a part 3….

i got into some darker themes and I intend to keep them around so please be warned.

word count: idk but it’s pretty long 🗣️

not proofread 😋

TW: panic attacks, yandere themes, implied noncon but nothing detailed

Rolling over to stretch you notice the sun seeping through your curtains. Ah, that’s right, he’s still here. Well you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to drop him off wherever he needed to be, then come back and sleep some more. With one last stretch you stumble out of bed, heading to the living room you notice Scara curled up with the blankets surrounding him. He even sleeps weirdly….. You stop and think for a moment, should you wake him up? Or should you just let him sleep longer…

“It’s not nice to stare, Y/n.”

Cutoff from your thoughts you take a few steps back, eyes settling back down onto his now awake figure. “S-sorry, I was just trying to figure out whether to wake you or not- I…” Rubbing his eyes he throws the blankets off of himself. “Yeah yeah, save it.”

And you thought you were cranky when woken up early, huh.

“I’ll give you some time to get ready.” Turning on your heel you walk back to your personal bathroom wanting to wash up quickly, “By the way, hope you slept well.” You weren’t sure why you were inclined to say that. Shrugging it off you leave him to gather his stuff. Scara, on the other hand was taken aback by the comment. Was he a flustered? Maybe. Surprised? Definitely. Was he gonna reciprocate the act somehow? Hell no, it’s not like he owes you anything! Nope, nothing at all! Huffing he folds up the blanket before placing it back in the basket.

While reaching down he notices a funny looking book, “How to prepare for motherhood!” Did your sister leave it here? He was curious to ask you more questions but it definitely wasn’t his place. Shrugging he ignores it and tosses the somewhat neatly folded blanket onto the book.

Coming out of the bathroom your face was freshly clean, teeth: brushed, hair: combed, contacts in if needed. You were dressed casually, but still wearing a baggy shirt so no one would notice your baby bump. Grabbing your keys you jangle them around before teasing, “let’s go drop the baby off~!” “Ugh, as if!” his face is slightly red and churned. He combs his hand through his hair- you are reminded of a certain someone by this singular action.

Staring at him your mind floods back positively bad feelings. The way he treated you oh so gently, like a porcelain doll that would crack under too much pressure. And the way he pleased you like a lover should. As if he’d been a starving man and you, his first meal- but it seems you were just a side dish- an appetizer before the real meal he could ravish any other day.

Scaramouche stared back at you a little distraught, “Oh my g- What is it now? You look like a deer in headlights.” He’s already poking your face and shaking you slightly.

Your mind is retelling you the events of that night at a pace you can’t even comprehend. The tight feeling in the head that hurts so much yet feels hollow and empty is telling you something’s wrong but you haven’t been caught up to speed yet-

“Hey, this isn’t funny! What’s wrong?” he sounds genuinely concerned.

Once your mind starts running at a pace you can’t imagine, it starts linking certain events of your life together like it’s some tragic movie. A horrible one at that.

Scara is shaking you now he’s practically begging you to snap out of it. Oh, how you would laugh at the way he’s begging, the way he’s actually concerned. You wouldn’t think someone like him had it in him.

By the time you regain consciousness you’re lying on the couch with an ice pack on your head with a straw attached to a bottle of water. Trying to move and get up at the sudden reminder that you were supposed to drop Scara off you shoot up only for your head to pound in return, “Ow… what the f-“ this action causes you to lay back down.

Scara is practically inches away from you, eyes wide with relief and a small smile plastered on his dumb looking face. “You’re awake! I was sooooo- um..” he quickly backs off with a sigh, “I was just getting tired of being here, was just about to call someone to come pick me up. But it seems sleeping beauty has finally woken up!”

“What the hell happened?” you reach to hold your head, slowly recounting the events that led up to a blank space in your mind. Your face scrunches up, realizing you had a panic attack in front of Scaramouche…. You contemplated on telling him the truth of making up some random bullshit. Both of you look like you’re about to say something, “So-“ “I’m-“, with a small chuckle of you both wait to see who will speak first.

“I just wanted to say that i’m.. I’m sorry for whatever that was earlier. I don’t know what came over me. Perhaps I didn’t get enough sleep.” Your words trail off and your ears start to feel a little warm. “It’s okay, Y/n, I-I was worried about you, you know?” Scaramouche trailed his last words, looking off at some painting you have hanging up on your wall, “Anyways… I’m not too sure what happened with you but it’s none of my business so don’t try n explain yourself because I really don’t care ,” you could only feel a little guilty and embarrassed but you nodded along, “Let’s go grab some dinner.” Huh? Why did he wanna get dinner? Perhaps he felt bad about what he said? Oh well, it’s free food! Surely you would need to replenish all your engere after this whole ordeal. Plus, you needed to stay healthy so the growing life within you can stay alive and healthy.

You’re hit with a sudden realization that you’re not wearing an oversized shirt or sweater of some sort. Had he removed it in attempt to see if there was something physically wrong? Like a wound of some sort? Okay- maybe if you get up slow enough he surely won’t notice? right? RIGHT? Just act natural- slow and steady does it! Or do you just look awkward slowly rising? Hit with a sudden way of embarrassment you shoot up before turning to run to your room to change, “O-oh no…. I forgot my phone… in my room… haha… i’ll be back….!” slamming the door behind you you’re sliding the oversized hoodie on and grabbing your phone then putting some casual slip-ons. When you walk out you notice the previous hoodie folded up to where you were laid.

“O-okay! let’s go!” He can tell you’re still frazzled just by the way you’re so inconsistent with your actions and moods. Maybe it was just “that time of the month” for you. Scara knows how scary women can become during that time. It’s best if he just ignores it and goes along like nothings wrong, lest you end up berating him like his sister did that one time.

The car ride was silent, only asking where he wanted to eat and some small talk.

When your food comes out, piping hot and steaming, you’re fighting the urge to cool it the best you can before shoving it in your mouth, very well knowing that choice would result in a burnt tongue, and the roof of your mouth scorched. Scaramouche on the other hand- he’s taking his time cutting the food up into nice bite-sized pieces, although you see he’s also fighting the urge to scarf down uncut meat that’s laid on his plate. You both hadn’t eaten all day after all so of course you’re making an excessive amount of noise with exaggerated huffs and puffs, blowing your food cold. The way you’re both chugging your drinks down. I’m sure you would both regret ordering the amount of drinks you did when the bill is shown.

Both of you stare at each other while the bill sits in the middle of the pile of plates that would soon be taken away.

“Well, I take this is your treat? Of course for making me stay longer than I wanted to-“ before he can finish you’re cutting him off with a overdramatic voice, “Oh thank you! I’m so relieved knowing that you are paying tonight!” He can only scoff, he’s using an unopened straw and pushing towards you. Your face churns as you can practically feel your hairs popping out but you still put on a cocky smile, “I’m sure you’re well aware of what you just did? Whoever comes in contact with the bill must pay-“ “IT WASNT DIRECT CONTACT!” With another overdramatized action you’re pulling out your wallet with a slight ‘sigh’. All the while Scara is watching joyfully.

On the way back to the car you get a phone call.

Maybe it was a work related issue? Not wanting to risk it being an important call you answered it.

What happened next you could’ve never anticipated would happen.

All you really remember was that the call consisted of Kazuha, who was clearly drunk, and busying himself with a woman as you could hear giggles, moans and whimpers coming from himself and the other participant. He claimed you left with Scaramouche and he was still with you. Claiming how he must’ve left with you, since he went missing after you both got kicked out, and how he never came back to their shared apartment. The way he kept reiterating that he “wasn’t upset, just disappointed” I mean, he wasn’t wrong- you did leave with him but it’s not like you guys did anything? It scared you a bit how controlling he was trying to be even though you weren’t even in a relationship with him. The last thing he said before he hung up was that he would be over soon and that he didn’t want to hear any excuses. It scared you even more how he kept his calm and collected demeanor up. If it weren’t for the context you’re sure you’d be excited to see him.

Scaramouche is already waiting in the car, growing impatient by the second. Once you sit down your mind starts to slowly pick up the pace. What do you do? He said he would be there soon? How soon? Was he just planning to talk it out? Was he worried about his friend? Should you be honest? What if- A hand placed on your shoulder snaps you from thoughts. “Knock it off. You’re doing that thing again.” Hah, it was obvious that you were freaking out. Taking a deep breath you start to explain the situation. By the time you get halfway through explaining Scara is urging you to drop him off at his house and for you to get home and lock up, or go to a friends house.

The car ride was… something to say the least…. Speeding when nobody was around then acting like normal law-abiding citizens the next second.

Tires screech loudly from when you slammed on the brakes. Scara practically went flying and hit the window. He’s unbuckling the once neglected seatbelt, before he you exchange numbers in case anything happens, like if he needs to contact the authorities if you can’t. Stumbling to the backyard to sneak in. You, on the other hand, you’re speeding back home on the back roads. You had planned on parking inside the garage and locking up. From what Scara had told you, every now and then Kazuha will get absolutely wasted and make the worst decisions possible.

Also mentioning that ever since his friend’s death he’s been a lot more controlling of certain people. Like apparently one time he was so invested in the woman he was practically bat-shit-crazy over her, tracking her every move, monitoring who she spoke with, what she wore, and even some of her actions. Once she had enough and wanted a break from him he let her go, surprisingly he let her go, but soon after she was allegedly admitted to a mental hospital. Surely these are just rumors, right? There’s no way that someone like sweet and caring Kazuha would actually be like this? Right?

Once you’re parked you’re heading inside and locking everything up. One thing you should’ve did was let a friend know of the situation but it totally slipped your mind.

You decide to wait it out in your room. Laying on your back and gently rubbing your stomach, “It’s okay. Mommy is gonna be okay. So please, don’t worry..” Your skin is stretching every day, it’s an uncomfortable process but a needed change. It’s not like anyone was gonna see your body again after this. Nope, the one time you drop the “strong independent young woman destined to be the next ceo act” you end up pregnant, and the father also happens to be a sleazy alcoholic who was also crazy.

You could feel the sorrow in your heart. Eventually, you would have to tell your child that he shouldn’t be the kind of man his father was. Well, that can be something you worry about in the far distant future, for now you just gotta keep him alive and well.

There’s a gentle knock at the door.

You just have to wait it out.

It turns louder, more impatient.

It’s now a loud pounding. You can hear your name being called gently despite the knock being the opposite.

•

•

•

It stopped. Maybe he’s finally regained his composure and is willing to give up. Huh? Is the door know rattling? Really? Is he really trying to do what you think he’s doing? Crap. You don’t have enough time to hide.

Once the door swings open you’re locking your bedroom door and reach for your phone. Hell. you need help. Oh god. He’s already at the door, rattling the door handle and banging on the door. You’ve barely opened the keypad. You’re frantically tapping the screen.

Once the call goes through you feel as if you’ve been saved! Surely they’ll come help!

A hand is placed over your mouth firmly, “Ah, i’m so sorry, it seems my girlfriend’s sister dialed this number! Yes. I assure you everything is alright! No, no need to send someone over. I understand, we’ll give her a thorough talking. Thank you.”

Once you hear the call end your blood runs cold. You want to scream and make a break for the door but you’re not sure if you can make it.

Kazuha lets out a huff before combing through his hair, “I wish you would just talk to me, Y/n. I wish you would just listen.” He tosses the phone off into some corner before he’s pushing you down on the mattress.

You try protesting to his attempts to undress you, yelling at him saying he’s drunk and that he’s being delusional. It seems to go through one ear out the other, he’s not listening. But his calm and lover-like demeanor is present all the while. He’s kissing you gently and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, he’s feeling up and down your body, squeezing whatever his hands can grab. You hate how he’s acting like he didn’t do anything wrong. You want to scream and disappear from the face of the earth, hoping to never see his face again.

Kissing your neck seems to draw you from your thoughts, “My sweet little princess, be honest with me. What did you do with him?” you gulp nervously (or is it from fear?) you reply, “After we got kicked out, I dropped him off at his moms place. I swear baby- we didn’t do anything. It’s not him I love, it’s you!” oh how you wished to rip your tongue out and scrub it clean. With a ‘tsk’ Kazuha is starting to fiddle with his pants, “I already told you to not make excuses. Please, sweetheart, just tell me what you did and i’ll forgive you.” Covering your face, hiding your eyes, threatening to spill unwanted tears you try refuting but he seems to stuck on the idea you “cheated” even though you did nothing wrong.

The rest of the night is another blurry one, but not from the alcohol, from unwanted memories. From that day on you tell yourself you’re gonna take a break from work and fly home to spend the rest of your pregnancy with your family. Sure it seemed irresponsible and you didn’t exactly have the funds for it but you’re sure once you tell your parents your situation they’ll understand and lend a helping hand.

•

•

•

Scaramouche on the other hand, he’s sitting in his younger self’s bedroom, everything is outdated to his likings now but some things remain to what he still enjoys. A cracked phone lays before him, wondering if he should call to see if you’re alright, perhaps the situation has changed? Biting the skin of his inner cheek he decided against it, ultimately deciding to call in a few days.

Fiddling with the cheap metal rings on his fingers his mind keeps wandering back to the idea of you. Had you really caught his interest? You? Of all people? Pfft, as if some lowly scum such as yourself could dare to invade his mind! Yet, here you are. The way you laugh, your smile, your everything. It truly captivated him.

He thinks back to how you both practically agreed to take care of your new baby, Meowmeow. Hopefully you would be able to feed her tonight. He needs to consult his mother about his new cat so he can get all the finical support he needs. Although he’s sure she’ll just flash him a dumb smile saying, “Oh, such a silly thing to want to invest in. Well, it’s not like you ask for much so i’ll be a good mom and help my son!” or at least something along those lines.

His mind also plagued him with not so happy thoughts, like the idea of you truly disliking him and pushing him away. Maybe revoking his rights to care for your stray animal and shutting him out forever. No use in worrying about it now, it’d be best to do something else for now. Even when his mind would slip in images of you here and there. Oh well, it’s not like he didn’t mind.

[necroromantics]

🪓 — “Ticci” Toby Rogers

the boy with mudded sneakers and peach juice on his lips

- a tragic boy. loss runs deep in his bones, rotting him from the inside out. his young muddy eyes have seen so much they resemble ones of a veteran returning home from war. atrocities coat his arms, stained red.

- he’s brunette, his like mother, he also has her heart. he has his fathers nose though, and his temper. the violence sparks from his tongue, while his heartstrings tug. nobody knows if he’s weak, or the strongest boy they’ve ever met.

- feral. rabid. like a bad dog who hasn’t been fed from a caring hand in years. he has been deprived for so long he has only learnt to take it by force. in a dog eat dog world, he will bare his teeth and go for the throat. its how he grew up, its all he knows.

- in another world, he could’ve been kind. maybe he could’ve even been a good person. but not here, goodness is not found in the ground beneath his feet or the smokey air he breaths. fire fills his lungs and pours from his mouth. the boy will destroy everything he touches. people around him know better than to get too close, for they know he bites.

- and when he bites, he bites hard. many have tried to muzzle him, sedate the rage that he holds clenched between his teeth like a medal of dishonour. he will scream, kick, fight. he will hurt others without shame or remorse. and when he brings you to your knees, you will look up to see a twisted smile twitching on his face. you know he likes the power.

- so you can say he’s a monster, a horrible person. he is a killer after all, the worst of the worst. you cannot teach an old dog new tricks, and sometimes people can’t be saved. the boy will dig his own grave as he’s done with bodies upon bodies before him. mud and blood coats his scarred hands and his ripped up jeans. and he will one day lay six feet under where he knew he should’ve been all those years.

- toby should’ve been dead. and by all means, he is dead. a sick ruthless rot consumes him, like a maggot filled corpse. there are ropes around his limbs, attached to the unknown which commands him. he wakes up with blood on his hands, not knowing where he has been. he isn’t scared. he has nothing to lose.

- he has a taste for peaches. this fondness is the most human you’ll see the boy become. his late sister had peach scented perfume. he always hated the scent. but despite this, you will find the pits in abandoned cabins or littered around the forest grounds, being picked up by squirrels, and you know. you know he’s been here. you know he still has a taste for all he’s lost.

- sometimes, people will play with the idea the boy isn’t as bad as he seems. he has been hurt, more than you could imagine. they will twirl the concept of a troubled boy, a victim of his history, a poor soul, like a lit match in their hands. and soon they will realize it only burns.

- toby rogers is not a good person. he could’ve been. god knows he could’ve. but he has torn families apart, hurt innocents, destroyed things that were once so loved. he reeks of smoke and loss. the smell is pungent, it trickles down your throat and chokes you. his cigarettes burn holes into your favourite shirt, he will cut your hair, smash your new cd. again and again, he will destroy in any new way. and he gets creative.

[vampirebloodie]

Playing Dangerous | Mark Hoffman x Reader

Summary: An interrogation by Hoffman makes the two of you playing a dangerous and fiery game inside his cop car

Warning: NSFW Smut 18+, creampie, masturbation, oral sex (f on m), daddykink, unprotected sex, age gap!

You were being investigated for being suspected of being an apprentice of the serial killer Jigsaw, well, the police were right about that accusation, but anyway they didn't have enough evidence to send you behind bars. Instead they sent a detective who was on the case to talk to you, homicide detective Mark Hoffman, you didn't know him personally yet, but John had been keeping an eye on him for some time due to some mistakes he made.

You set a trap just as John had requested, but somehow something went wrong and ended up causing an explosion that quickly caught the attention of nearby authorities, you managed to escape but left behind a personal item that unfortunately was not consumed by the flames and through it they found your DNA from your marked fingers.

The police sent you to a small room to wait until he arrived, you were bored as you listened to the clock on the wall, until you heard the sound of footsteps and soon the door was opened revealing who the much talked about detective was, he was better than you imagined, he wasn't as tall, but he had strong arms, large hands and a serious expression on his face, in addition to being clearly much older than you, which made you instantly attracted.

“Y/n, im detective Mark Hoffman.”

He entered the room where there was only a table and two chairs, he sat in front of you.

“I’m Y/n, but you already know that”

"Yeah, i know."

He said as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, showing off his toned arms and big hands, making your mouth water. He noticed you looking and twisted his neck. Was he married?

“How do you feel, y/n?”

“Well, im a little shaken but im fine, thanks for asking”

You smiled.

“Well, you know why you’re here, you know about the accusations, don’t you?”

You sighed.

“I know, i wouldn't do a thing like that. That’s for sure.”

“You were there when it all happened and at the scene of the crime.”

“It was just a coincidence, the house was already on fire, i swear, im not a liar”

“How could i believe that?”

“Everybody knows that im a good girl, officer”

“I don’t know you well enough to believe you’re a good girl.”

“I can prove to you that im a good girl, officer...”

You noticed him licking his lips and thought you could emerge victorious from the situation, but soon you heard the noise of the handcuffs holding your hands.

“Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on?”

“You can ask your lawyer about that tomorrow, come on.”

He got up from the chair and pulled you out of the room, the hallways were empty, it was night and there were probably just the two of you there at the police station.

“Tell me do you always work alone so late?”

You tried to bring up a topic as you walked to a cell.

“More than you think, i have a lot of work to do. Especially with people like you.”

You ignored the offense and noticed him trying to hide his gaze at your body now that you were no longer behind that table, the police caught you in the middle of the night, you were already asleep, so you ended up wearing just a red lace nightgown, a robe and shoes, it would even be funny if it weren't tragic.

“Gosh, im a little shy staying here in my night gown, im so sorry officer”

You pouted, pretending to be sad.

“I think you should talk less and walk more.”

He opened the cell with a key and made you go in there, before he could close it and leave you called him again after noticing his hands one last time, he took a deep breath. You knew he was starting to get annoyed.

“Officer, do you have a girl? i don't see a ring on your finger”

You asked with a dirty smile on your face and he looked at his fingers before looking at you again.

“As i said, i have a lot of work, so no. You should rest, good night, Y/n”

He turned his back to leave.

“Well that's interesting, have you ever thought of dating a younger girl?”

He turned around again and you opened your silk robe, revealing your short nightgown.

“What do you want with me, girl?”

“I've been bad, i've been wrong, playing a dangerous game. But now i wanna play with you.”

He ran his hands over his face, you knew he was one step away from not resisting anymore. You walked up to him again, placing your mouth close to his ear.

“Let's get in the back of your cop car, officer. There you can ask me anything you want anything, anything”

You whispered. Before you could have any kind of reaction, he kissed you, his mouth was so soft and your sweet lipstick made everything got better, his mouth kissed your neck leaving a lot of marks, his hands pulled you out of the cell again, you walked with quick and rough steps to the police station parking lot, where Hoffman practically threw you into the police car, you groaned at the impact.

“You’re going to regret teasing me, slut.”

He threatened and you laughed, but soon let out a moan of pain when you felt his hands grab your hair tightly, pulling your head back, his hand grabbed your chin, making you face him.

“Don’t think im joking, Y/n.”

“You don’t seem to be, officer”

You pulled your head back, taking his hand off your chin, pushing him, which made him get more angry and tighten his hold on your hair, making you let out another moan of pain. You couldn't deny it, you were loving his aggressive way against you.

“You’re going to prove that you’re a good girl, hm?”

“Yes, i am, daddy”

He ran his finger across your lips and smiled sideways, he liked the way you had just called him, you licked his finger.

"Yea? So be a good girl, you know what i want.”

He made a small caress on your cheek.

"Yes"

"Yes what?"

“Yes, daddy.”

You spoke and saw his blue eyes darken with excitement. He uncuffed your hands, Hoffman sat in front of you and you started to undo his pants, you could already feel how hard he was, pulling down his underwear his member practically jumped in your face, he pulled your head down and you grabbed his dick and started making movements masturbating him, Hoffman was breathing heavily and you could already feel your insides starting to get wet. You ran your tongue along the entire length, wetting it before putting it all in your mouth and starting to suck, listening to Mark's low moans. Your saliva ran all over his cock, from the head to his balls. Luckily the vehicle was a larger size than normal, which didn't make you two so cramped and uncomfortable.

Mark grabbed your hair and started to fuck your mouth quickly and moved his hips up several times, you felt his member hitting your throat, making you feel nauseas, tears covered your face and the worn makeup stained your skin. The detective enjoyed watching his suffering while pleasuring him.

“That’s it, little bitch. Suck it properly, hm?”

When Mark felt that he was close to cumming, he removed his cock from your mouth and pulled you by your arms, placing you against the window with your back to him, you moaned when your body hit the glass, his big hands roamed your body until you reached your ass, where he pulled your nightie up and pulled down your panties, Hoffman's long, thick fingers caressed your pussy and clit before pushing themselves inside your core, you gasped when he began to move them quickly, making a wet sound due to your high natural lubricity.

“A-ah, Mark”

You moaned and screamed when you felt a hard slap on your ass, which had definitely left the mark of his hand.

“Mark no.”

“Sorry, daddy”

He rubbed the head of his cock against your wet entrance for a few seconds before sinking fully inside you, making you scream due to the burn of his huge cock opening your tight insides. His hand went to your neck, starting to squeeze and holding your breath.

“That slut can handle everything, yea? You’re daddy’s good girl, hm?”

He said as he moved roughly inside you, the sound of his balls hitting your inner thighs, his free hand squeezing your flesh, where he would probably leave bruises for the next few days. You couldn't respond due to the lack of air that was turning your face a purple shade, Mark let go of your neck giving you space to breathe, he pulled you and placed you against the bench, leaving you upright, he took your right leg and placed it on top of the backseat headrest, leaving you completely open to him.

Hoffman thrust himself into you again, pressing your head against the bench and thrusting inside you again, his fingers began to massage your clit, you were almost crying from so much excitement as you moaned against the bench, Hoffman pulled your hair back making your back hit his chest while he held your leg to keep you still open.

Your stomach contracted and you squeezed him inside you tightly, the head of his cock hit your G-spot over and over again, feeling his legs tremble and yours too, with a scream you came on Mark's cock which he hadn't finished yet and he continued pushing inside you, you felt like you could pass out at any moment, Hoffman growled before you felt his liquid filling you completely, leaving your insides hot. You both caught your breath and he pulled out of you, your legs gave way and he caught you before you fell to the floor of the car.

“Now you’re going to answer my questions, cunt.”