#try not to stab yourself in the ear i guess

[mylittleredgirl]

so one of my skills in life is that i test very well, largely because of pattern recognition, and i realized today that it’s pretty detrimental to the medical evaluation process. i basically scored perfect on a hearing test today that ruled out some diagnoses, and i am only now going back over the process in my mind and realizing that i didn’t actually hear a bunch of stuff i said i did, i just knew the right answer because the pattern of words and beeps was a consistent speed and pattern and they told me in advance what words they were going to use so like? yeah?? of course i knew when to raise my hand and could figure out what word you were saying? anyway i got an A in hearing which is normal to want yet perhaps detrimental to achieve.

and i can’t really call them and go “sorry i think i outsmarted your test, like a dumbass” so if i notice my hearing getting worse i’ll call them back and get re-tested, and bring someone with me to be like “your goal is not to pass the test. repeat after me. your goal is not to pass the test.”

[rynbutt]

pierced. | spencer reid.

Moving into a new apartment in a new city is stressful, what's even more stressful is when there's a fucking murder in the apartment across from yours... at least the fbi agent is cute.

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ piercing, fluffyish, reader has pierced tiddies, flirting, wondering if i should do a part 2 fr

a/n: coming from a pierced nipple girly who wants a cute boy to knock on her door. also enjoy <3 and follow >:) also yay for the first thing i've posted :3

You let out an exasperated sigh as you collapsed another cardboard box.

Moving into a new apartment was fun in theory, but the practice of filtering through everything you own and finding a neat little spot for it? not so much. You took a long sip from your now cold cup of coffee before glancing across the room at the looming pile of cardboard boxes that just stood there and mocked you.

You picked up the next box of what was probably clothes and took a box cutter to the almost twenty layers of tape across the seam (it wouldn't stay closed, in retrospect you should have made up another box but you were really determined to make it fit at the time).

You ripped the rest of the tape off and put your hands on your hips, glancing at your cat Tofu on the couch.

"Care to help?" you asked... the cat. Tofu proceeded to curl into herself and begin grooming tubby belly. "I guess not."

There was an abrupt knock on your apartment door, Tofu scattering to the wind at the sudden sound. You furrowed your brows, confused as to why anyone would be knocking on your door.

You had moved here a matter of days ago, knew no one and were far too broke for doordash. You ignored it for a moment, thinking whoever resided on the other side of the door had the wrong apartment. When the knock came again, you thought you'd better answer this time.

You opened the door ajar, just in case it was someone who wanted to steal any of the maybe four things you'd managed to unpack. A tall darker skinned man looked down at you, "Yes?"

"Hi ma'am, I'm Agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we're with the FBI," he introduced himself, holding up his credentials for you to peek at. You opened the door the rest of the way, glancing at the second tall man standing in your door way. He had messy hair just below his ears and was wearing a collared shirt with two black pens tucked into the pocket over his chest, he was cute. He pulled his lips into a tight line and held his hand up in a wave.

Spencer's eyes glanced down your body briefly. He has certainly seen some strange outfits when people answer their doors but none that made his skin run hot like this.

You wore a baby blue tank top and grey adidas shorts, he could see a small sliver of skin between your two garments but that's not what caught his eye. You had your nipples pierced.

Now, Spencer really didn't mean to stare but they were right there. The air of your apartment was clearly chilly given how your nipples pressed against the fabric. He could see the little studs on either side of your hardened nipples and he felt like a Victorian boy seeing an ankle for the first time.

"Oh no, you found me," you joked, laughing at yourself lightly. They didn't laugh. Your smile dropped, "I'm joking. Uh, come in, please." You stood aside, letting the two men into your basically bare apartment.

"Just move in?" Morgan asked, looking around your small living room.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I'm starting a new job in a week," You replied, trying to make small talk. "What exactly are you here for?"

"There was a murder in the apartment across from yours," Dr. Reid said abruptly, stealing the air from your lungs.

Your eyes were blown wide, "What?"

"Young woman like you, stabbed to death-"

"Reid," Morgan warned, shaking his head softly at the younger man.

"Shit, that sucks," you replied, glancing between the two men. "I assume you're talking to me because I live close by, huh?"

"It's just procedure," Morgan replied. "Can you tell me where you were around 11pm last night?"

"Uh, yeah. I was here, I had a lot to unpack, you know?" You replied honestly, wondering how you didn't hear that someone was being murdered across the hall.

"And you didn't hear anything?" Morgan asked, eyebrows furrowed as he stood to face you.

"No, no I honestly didn't. I had my headphones on while I was unpacking, I went to bed around midnight." Were you incriminating yourself? Maybe you should make some friends so you don't get caught up in this kind of stuff.

"The UnSub we're looking for is white male, mid 20s to 30s, seems out of place. Have you seen anyone like that around?" Dr. Reid asked.

"No, I mean, I just moved here, I don't know anyone. I haven't left my apartment since I got here," you replied, looking Dr. Reid in the eye. You caught him glancing down at your boobs for a moment before he caught himself, clearing his throat.

It was only then that you realised what you were wearing. Fuck. Two FBI agents, one of whom was your type to a T came to question you about a murder and your nipples were gazing upon the world like a deer in headlights.

You quickly crossed your arms across your chest before scampering across the room to grab your hoodie off your couch. You pulled it over your head before staring at the two men awkwardly, your skin feeling hot.

"I'm sorry about... my attire, I didn't even-"

Morgan smiled, chucking softly, "Please, this is your home, sweetheart." Morgan glanced at Spencer, who suddenly found the ceiling utterly fascinating. "You mind if I have a look around? We suspect he used the fire escape."

"Of course, yeah. You can see it from the bedroom," you replied, being left alone with the cute doctor. "You seem young to be a doctor," you said softly, trying to make small talk.

"Scarring, tearing and nerve damage is possible when you get your," he coughed, "nipples pierced... infections and bleeding are also common," he quickly said, lips pulled into a tight line.

"Mm, cute and smart... well, I've had them for five years so... I think I'm safe, Dr. Reid," you replied with a chuckle.

"Spencer," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"Spencer, it's my name. Spencer Reid," he said, hands clutched tightly around the strap of his leather satchel.

"Spencer," you smiled, "I'm Y/N."

"Well, we better get out of your hair," Morgan returned from your room, glancing between you and Spencer for a moment. "Let's go, Reid."

You opened the door for them, Morgan thanked you as he left and started down the hall to the elevator. Spencer paused for a moment, glancing at you for briefly before walking out the door.

"Hey," you called softly. Spencer spun around to look at you and you definitely couldn't let him escape without your number. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Uh, girlfriend? I, uhm-"

"He doesn't!" Morgan called from down the hall, making you smile.

"You don't know that!" Spencer retorted, making a face at Morgan who was grinning.

"So... you do?" You asked.

"...No, I don't." He muttered.

"Okay, well," you laughed, plucking the pen from the pocket of Spencer's shirt. "Call me sometime," you scribbled your name and number with a little heart onto a scrap piece of paper that once wrapped your toaster.

"Yes... Okay, I will," he replied nervously, holding your number in his hands gently. He glanced at it, a smile beaming across his handsome face.

"You, uh, might wanna go before your partner loses it," you giggled after a beat. Spencer muttered a quick 'oh' before walking quickly toward the elevators.

"Bye," Spencer said softly, waving at you with a little smile.

"Bye, Dr. Reid!"

Spencer stepped into the elevator with Morgan, the silence palpable in the tiny mental container.

"'Bye, Dr. Reid~'," Morgan raised his voice an octave, planning to tease Spencer relentlessly and text the group chat as soon as they got to the car.

"Shut up!"

reblog and follow me :3 also come chat, i love to yap.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[yandere-daydreams]

file #4: the body mod fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!wriothesley x reader (genshin).

length: 3.1k.

warnings: non/con touching + groping, nonconsensual piecing, dubiously consensual tattoos, permanent body modification, intimidation, needles, obsessive behavior, and unbalanced power dynamics.

“Just one?”

The question had been hushed, meek, directed more towards your lap than the man sitting across from you. The warden – Wriothesley, you chided yourself, biting the inside of your cheek and attempting to remember what he’d asked you to call him, Wriothesley – broke into a wry smile, but nodded, leaning back in his armchair. “Just one,” he reassured. “And you’ll taken care of until your release date.”

You didn’t respond, but he must’ve seen the way you paled at the suggestion. “Having second thoughts?”

“No, it’s just—” You grit your teeth. Your eyes flitted up momentarily, but fell back to your legs just as quickly. “I… I’ve never really liked needles, I guess.”

You could see his eyes light up, his grin broadening as he tried to stifle his laughter. You scowled, but couldn’t blame him. He was used to dealing with hardened criminals, the scum of Teyvat, thieves and spies and murderers, and here you were – on the verge of fainting because he asked you to get a tattoo. “I promise, you don’t have anything to worry about.” At least he was trying to sound comforting, even if it was clearly a half-hearted effort. “I’ll make sure you’re in good hands.”

And he had, in a way.

You just wished he would’ve mentioned that those hands would be his own.

Calloused fingertips dug into your bicep as a scarred palm pressed into your skin, keeping one of your arms loosely secured against the mattress of the cot while the other was pinned between the bedframe and his chest (the placement unintentional, or so you hoped). You’d been shaking when he brought out that terrible machine – a vial of dark ink trapped inside of a cage of copper and steel; a single, silver needle protruding out of one end and a leather grip wrapped around the other – but it’d only taken an hour for fear to fade into boredom, another for boredom to drag on into a rotting, discolored sort of exhaustion. For as much as you’d been dreading it, there was more pressure than pain. It was repetitive, if anything – a monotonous pierce, stab, pierce, stab that you could only try your best not to focus on. You could already feel an ache settling below the skin of your shoulder, already knew that you wouldn’t be able to lift your arm for days, but you tried not to—

His needle stabbed into the thin skin over your shoulder blade, and you couldn’t stop yourself – letting out a low hiss as you flinched into the cot’s thin mattress. You expected Wriothesley to laugh, to drag a damp cloth over the affected area and mutter something like ‘bear with me’ or ‘my bad, love, my bad’ like he had a dozen times before, but instead, there was a muffled click as he switched off his awful machine, a dull clatter as he dropped it onto a bedside table already crowded with bottles of disinfectant and the nurse’s bizarre tools. “We’ll stop here. It’ll take another session, but I think you’ve been through enough for one day. For a virgin, especially.”

You were only half-listening; the phantom of his machine still buzzing in your ears. “Are you sure?” You asked, trying to hide how desperate you were not to spend another night in the empty infirmary with a man you barely knew. “It’s not that bad, I can go for another—”

“I’m sure. Sit up, I’ll let you have a look.”

You pursed your lips, but didn’t protest. You could see how Wriothesley had gotten into such an authoritative position. The way he spoke, his constant undertone of stern stability – it was hard to so much as imagine talking back to him, let alone breaking one of the rules that’d been meticulously and painstakingly drilled into you when you’d arrived at the Fortress of Meropide a little under a week ago. Still, you’d been terrified – too scared to so much as speak to another prisoner for the first two days. You weren’t dangerous. You couldn’t hold your own in a fight, or protect yourself if someone else, someone stronger decided they had a problem with you. You could barely even call yourself a criminal, but apparently, the Iudex hadn’t agreed. You’d been on your way to the fortress before he could finish reading out your sentence, and now, you were trapped in the darkest, deepest place in all of Fontaine, alone and so, so painfully vulnerable. If it hadn’t been for Wriothesley, you probably would’ve requested to forgo your imprisonment entirely and be sent straight to the gallows.

A hand on your shoulder, a softened lull to his voice. “You can sit up, can’t you? I’ll have to call Sigewinne, if you’re in that much pain.”

“Right, I— uh, sorry,” You stammered as you shook your head and pushed yourself up, careful to keep the thick, overly starched cot sheet pressed to your chest. The infirmary was empty, the door locked and sealed, and while Wriothesley hadn’t seemed to think much of ordering you to take off your shirt and lay face-down, you couldn’t bring yourself to brush off the stark, damp chill that came with any amount of exposure in the fortress so easily. You guessed that, after enough time, you’d get used to it. You guessed that, when you did, the thought of not being so cold so constantly wouldn’t make you feel so sick. “I…  I think I’m still getting used to this,” you went on, with a strained smile. “Still a little out of it, I guess.”

“That’s alright, love. We all take a few months to find a way to cope.” When you glanced over your shoulder, there was already a mirror in his hand – a compact, small enough to fit in his palm. You had to crane your neck to see it, but Wriothesley knew how to strike the right angle, and soon enough, the sprawling, spiraling pattern stretching from the lower curve of your shoulder blade to the ball of your shoulder came into view. It took you a moment to make out the pattern, but relief accompanied the delayed realization. Lumidouce bells, all blossoming and linked together by a single vine. He’d finished the linework, and there was a smattering of color in the bottom corner – only, oh, he’d gotten the shade wrong. Rather than deep violet, he’d used a light blue, more similar to ice than the water nearly everything in Fontaine stole its palette from. Judging by his expression, though, all beaming pride and low-brewing mirth, he hadn’t caught the mistake. “What do you think? Don’t keep me in suspense, now.”

“It’s… nice,” you said, the sentiment sincere despite your hesitance. And then, laughing, “I was—Well, it feels a little silly now, but I was terrified you’d leave me with, I don’t know, a sea monster or a giant wolf or something.”

“Maybe next time. Not a wolf, though - you don’t strike me as that vicious.” You bit your tongue, forcing yourself not to tell him there wouldn’t be a next time and opting to focus on the soreness starting to knot in your shoulder, instead. You swung your legs over the side of the cot, moving towards where you’d left your shirt draped over an unopened crate, but Wriothesley caught your wrist, tugging you gently back onto the thin mattress. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his playfulness suddenly more irritating than it had been, a few second ago. “I don’t think we’re finished, yet.”

Not for the first time, your smile wavered. “I… I thought we only agreed to one, sir.”

“Of course.” He squeezed your wrist teasingly. “One of each.”

Something heavy and spiked dropped into the pit of your stomach. This time, you couldn’t help the way your expression dropped. “Sir, that’s really not what I—”

“It’ll be worse the longer you put it off.” You weren’t dangerous. You weren’t a criminal. You weren’t strong, but Wriothesley was. Before you could so much as push yourself to your feet, his arm was around your waist and he was perched on the edge of the cot, one leg tucked underneath him to make more room for your body, soon pulled between his thighs. The back of your shoulder screamed where it pressed into his chest, but you managed to swallow the little, pitiful sound threatening to bubble past your lips and clung to your sheet – suddenly so much thinner than it’d seemed, seconds prior. If Wriothesley noticed your apparent panic, the distress of his prisoners was an inconvenience he was willing to endure. Only half-consciously, you tried to shove yourself away from him, but his muscle-bound arm was snaked around your waist before you could gain any distance, keeping you flush against his broad chest. He was so much bigger than you’d realized, when he was on the other side of that desk, when he was engraving something intrusive and permanent into the very fabric of your being. This had been a bad idea. Trusting anyone here had been a bad idea. You should never have—

Your elbow slammed into his diaphragm, and Wriothesley let out a slow grunt, his fingers burrowing into the plush of your side. “Easy now, love,” he half-muttered, half-breathed, bowing his head to speak into the side of your throat. “We had a deal, remember? Can you tell me what it was?”

“You—you said I wouldn’t get hurt if—” You forced yourself to stop, to swallow, to breathe. “But, I only agreed to get one tattoo, and you—”

“I said I’d take care of you. Get you a nice, cushy job with the fortress administrator, keep you out of any over-crowded bunks, make sure the other prisoners don’t cause you any trouble – that kind of thing. I’m really not supposed to play favorites, so even doing that much is going to take more than a little discretion on my part.”

“But, you offered to—”

“I said I’d take care of you, and I’m going to.” You could see him fishing something off of the bedside table with his free hand, but you forced yourself not to look, not to make the ever-growing pit in your stomach feel that much more hollow. “You’ve heard a few stories about what it’s like in the underworld, right? I try to keep all of you nice n’ safe, but a few are bound to fall through the cracks. Rehabilitation can only do so much and—well, I’m sure you know all about how bloodthirsty desperation can make someone.” There was a pause, an ebbing lull to the tenderness in his voice. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, sweetheart. Are you going to help me get a little practice in, while I do that?”

Practice. If he wanted practice, you were sure there were another hundred prisoners who’d willingly lay down and let him carve a hole through whatever he wanted to. Still, you did your best to calm yourself down, to stop thrashing, to shut your eyes and try to ignore the large, pulsing thing you could feel pressing into your ass. You didn’t nod, didn’t give him permission, but when his fist balled around the infirmary sheet and tugged it away from you, the only resistance you managed to scrape up was a slight frown and a wary glance in his direction. “You’re already in for a rough night,” he explained, as if that was any excuse. “Might as well get the hardest one out of the way first, right?”

You refused to let yourself linger on the implication that this wasn’t going to be the last, too.

You clenched your eyes shut as his large hand pawed at the right side of your chest, kneading into the softened flesh with an almost delicate sort of care. “It’s easier after a little stimulation,” he murmured, as if that meant he had to spend so long circling your nipple with a calloused thumb, occasionally swiping over the sensitive bud in a way that made your thighs twitch and your face burn. When your nipple was stiff and pebbled, he pulled away, but it was a momentary reprieve – torn away from you with a splash of freezing disinfectant. It dripped down your chest and filled the stagnant air with a thick, chemical haze as Wriothesley caught your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching tightly. You felt the long, curved tip of his piercing needle against your skin, and braced yourself for the pain. Wriothesley wasn’t kind enough not to drag it out, though. “Wanna count me down?”

You shook your head, pushing yourself that much closer to his chest, desperate for any kind of stability. You’d hoped that Wriothesley would take your clear obstinance as a sign not to drag it out any longer, but he seemed to savor it – the agony of the wait, the way the dread seemed to multiply tenfold every time you forced yourself to suck in a ragged inhale. Seconds seemed to pass like frozen honey, only just beginning to drip. You’d started to think he wouldn’t do it, that he’d just laugh and admit this was all part of some bizarre, invasive hazing ritual when Wriothesley let out an airy chuckle and plunged his needle into you.

Oh, archons.

You really thought the tattoo would’ve been worse.

It was faster, at least; a bright shock of pain followed immediately by a steady, throbbing sort of ache that seemed to drown out every other sensation and fill your mind with a buzzing, numbing static. You didn’t realize your eyes had shot open on reflex until tears blurred your vision, until you glanced down just in time to watch as he dragged the needle through and replaced it with a small, silver stud – a barbell, as wrong as it felt to think of yourself having something so vulgar attached to you. You were crying unabashedly by the time he finished, pain and humiliation dripping down your cheeks in hot, wet streams, but Wriothesley’s shallow pool of sympathy must’ve run dry. “Ah, don’t make that face, sweetheart – we’re only halfway done.” You felt him panting into the crook of your neck as his hand found the other side of your chest. The last threads of his veil of composure frayed and broke apart as he groped unabashedly at your chest, toying with your nipple as your sobs echoed off of the clinic walls. You felt something thick and hot and wet crash against your collarbone and drip down the curve of your chest, and forced yourself to believe it was only disinfectant. That there was nothing it could’ve been except disinfectant.

Wriothesley’s hips rocked against your ass, the rigid outline of his cock pressing into you, incinerating any lingering delusions you might’ve had of helpful prison wardens exchanging one favor for another. Five fingers bit into the plush of your chest as he brought his needle to your unmutilated nipple, his hand surprisingly steady despite the airy, drawling moans he was pouring into your throat. “P-please don’t,” you managed, fighting to speak above the pathetic cries and choking fear doing their best to strangle out your voice. “Please, I can’t—I don’t want to—”

But, Wriothesley wasn’t listening. It wasn’t a spark, this time, but a red-hot knife, stabbed deep into your chest and twisted as far as it could go. You heard Wriothesley let out a rough groan, felt something warm and damp against your ass, and then, you were gone.

~

You startled awake hours later; bolting upright as you heaved in jolting, uneven inhales. Immediately, pain knocked you out of your panicked daze – sharp and piercing, imbedded into the back of your shoulder and either side of your chest, strong enough to remind you to measure out your breathing and calm down before you blindly threw yourself back into a seething pit of violent criminals. It took you a second to realize that you weren’t on an undersized infirmary cot, anymore, and another to piece together where he’d taken you – a bedroom nearly triple the size of your bunk. The warden’s chambers, you figured, as you scanned over the limited decoration and piles of dust-coated paperwork stacked onto every possible surface. Wriothesley’s room.

Wriothesley’s bed, at that. A cold chill ran down your spine as you realized that he’d taken the time to strip you out of your ill-fitting coveralls and redress you in a shirt sizes too big to be one of yours – the bleached, threadbare material a stark contrast to the satin sheets draped over your legs. You started to push them away and move towards the edge of the mattress, but froze as a door on the far side of the room creaked open – Wriothesley slipping inside and letting the door shut behind him. He moved away from it quickly, but as it closed, you could’ve sworn you heard the muffled, deafening click of a lock sliding into place and cutting you off from the rest of the world – or, the rest of the underworld, rather. As if there was anyone out there who would bother to save you, even if they could try.

“There’s my sleeping beauty.” He grinned as he lowered himself on the side of the bed, positioning himself closer to you than he absolutely had to. He reached out, moving to cup your face, but quickly let his hand fall back to his side when you flinched away. His smile dimmed, but didn’t fall away. “Get a chance to see the improvements, yet?”

After a second of hesitation, you shook your head, and he nodded to your chest - the gesture more of an order than a suggestion. Reluctantly, you pinched your collar between two fingers and peeled away from your skin. Through the narrow sliver, you could see his handiwork: a pair of twin rings hanging from either nipple, connected by a thin, lax, silver chain – so light, you could barely feel it brushing your diaphragm as the air caught in your chest.

You dropped the collar before you could give in to the nausea beginning to coil in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t bear to look at Wriothesley, so you kept your eyes on the sheets, kneading at the fabric half-consciously as you struggled to find your voice. “That wasn’t what we agreed to,” you muttered, mostly under your breath. “Can I go back to my bunk, now?”

His smile took on an almost apologetic note. You tried again. “Am I... Am I going to be able to leave?”

This time, when he reached out, flinching away wasn’t enough to stop him – his hand catching your chin and drawing you that much closer to him. You tried to lurch away, but it was too late, his lips were already crashing into yours, his tongue already slipping past your teeth and raking over your own. While your eyes widened in shock, his went half-lidded, closing just a second too late. Abruptly, it occurred to you that you’d never really noticed the color of his eyes – a pale, faded blue. The color of the half-formed flowers currently stretching across your back.

Wriothesley’s hand slipped to the nape of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut, and did your best not to think at all.

[iris-qt]

𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗

"Dancing, dancing... Oh, with you, with you"

ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

✧ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ | 2.1ᴋ

✧ ᴀ/ɴ: ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ...might do a pt. 2 idk..

✧ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ʜᴇʟʟ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴜʟᴇ ʙᴀʟʟ? ʜᴏᴡ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇ ꜰɪx ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ..

“I wish he’d just choke on his cigarette ashes,” you mutter as you kick rocks across the gravel road, walking as far from the Great Hall as possible. The hems of your gown were catching mud and sticks, but you could hardly care. You kick off your heels leaving them behind as you storm off into the dark night.

What did you expect?

That Mattheo Riddle would just let you be happy for once?

No.

His sole purpose in life seemed to be agitating you beyond compare, whether it was "accidentally" brushing past your desk and knocking over your books, or starting some embarrassing rumor about a nonexistent rash you had in unlikely places.

Perhaps it was your fault for retaliating and giving him the reactions he so loved to coax from you. Unfortunately, you could never stop yourself from firing back at him, fueling the sick pleasure he found in his annoying deeds.

This time, he had gone too far. 

You had been asked to the Yule Ball by none other than the swoon-worthy Cedric Diggory. The thing is, you’d been so caught up with the stress of school and your constant scheming in order to get back at Mattheo, that you hadn’t even noticed Cedric’s advances. Looking back, it seemed quite obvious.

He had constantly been popping up to study with you in the library, not to mention buying you a book you had been prattling on about with a sweet note inside telling you he hoped you’d enjoy it.

It was all coming together and life was sweet roses.

Until Mattheo Riddle happened.

As soon as you stepped into the ballroom, he “accidentally” tripped over your dress, spilling his bright red drink on your pale coloured dress.

He grinned wickedly, eyeing you up and down as if relishing in your body shaking with anger.

“Oops! Didn’t see you there, love.”

“Mattheo fucking Riddle you better start walking before I stab my stiletto into your leg until you’re stained red too,” you grit your teeth, fighting the urge to punch that smirk off his face. 

“Matching stains? How romantic,” he leans close, smug smile on full display.

It takes every shred of maturity in you to take a deep breath and walk away, trying to focus on the fun night ahead of you. Casting a quick scourgify on the stain, you walk off, spotting Cedric strolling up to you with two drinks in hand and a shy smile on his face.

You both spent the night laughing and chatting. Yes, you usually never went for the sweet boys, but you thought that was silly after spending time with Cedric. He was so genuine…it was refreshing. You never had to second guess the things he said. 

Ok, maybeee it was slightly boring…but no matter. At least he’d treat you right.

A slow song comes on, and Cedric grins at you sheepishly, holding out his hand. You happily take it as he leads you onto the dance floor, his hands on your waist and yours around his neck, side-stepping to the slow melody. You'd been anticipating a slow dance, even practicing for it beforehand.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mattheo creeping up to the DJ and whispering something in his ear. You narrow your eyes as you observe him...and then the DJ suddenly switches the song to some random Metallica-esque heavy-metal song that leaves Cedric surprised and you seething.

The final straw occurred when Riddle slipped a joke candy from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes into your tart, and as you went to eat it, it made your whole face swell up like a balloon as Cedric gasped, wide-eyed.

You abruptly stood up from the table, everyone eyeing you in surprise and amusement, and started striding out of the hall, tears welling in your eyes. The swelling immediately started going down, but the damage was done. When you reach the exit, Mattheo is leaning against the wall, arms folded and face smug.

“Looking a little bloated there, y/l/n.”

Your eyes flash with anger and you walk straight up to him, noses almost touching, as you spit your words out to him with the strongest venom.

“Drop dead.”

And with that you storm out.

So here you are, striding down to the Black Lake, feet bare and eyes red from your tears of anger.

You ponder drowning yourself in it rather than being condemned to facing Cedric after that disaster.

The full moon is bright as it reflects on the lake, the reflection blinding you with its brilliance.

“Even the moon wants to annoy me tonight,” you mutter, sitting down on the grass, knees to your chest. “Nature itself is after me.”

“Nah, it’s just me.”

You swivel your head and see Riddle, standing behind you with a look of pure guilt. He seems to be holding your stiletto heels that you’d kicked off in your rage several yards back. The same rage that comes roaring back at the sight of him.

You swiftly stand up, whipping out your wand and pointing it straight at him.

“Dumb move, Riddle. No witnesses here to stop me,” you glower at him, rage blinding you as blatantly as the moon’s reflection.

He simply sighs in return, holding up his hands, heels dangling in the air.

“I come in peace.”

“You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

“Please? Look..” he holds up your favorite chocolate you hadn’t gotten the chance to nab from the snack table. “I come bearing gifts,” he grins sheepishly.

You’re too distracted by anger and disappointment in the night to wonder how Mattheo even knew your favorite candy. Nonetheless, you lower your wand, eyeing him suspiciously.

“How do I know you didn’t spike the chocolate or something.”

“I solemnly swear,” he puts up a hand as if pledging himself.

“Your word is worth as much as dirt,” you scoff, but take a seat on the grass again after snatching the candy from Riddle’s hand.

A fond smile forms on his face as he sits down next to you, keeping a respectable distance as you start stress-eating the chocolate.

“Listen, I know I went too far with the whole sabotage thing..”

“Oh, do you now?” you glare at him, furiously chewing your chocolate.

“It’s just that…seeing you with Cedric, it-”

“It made you jealous,” you put down the wrapper turning your body to face him, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

Mattheo looks baffled, and internally you feel quite surprised as well. You’d never suspected Mattheo actually harbored any feelings towards you, but tonight after your deep thinking, this seemed to be the only reasonable answer to the question of why he made your life a living hell. 

He just wanted your attention.

Mattheo hides his face in his hands groaning from embarrassment.

“Was it that obvious..”

“Yeah, Riddle. You consistently trying to ruin my life definitely made it obvious you were obsessed with me,” your voice drips with sarcasm as you roll your eyes. “No. It’s just the only explanation for you neglecting everything to ruin my date.”

You guys sit in silence as Mattheo attempts to recollect his thoughts, guilt still gnawing away at his heart. The soft sound of music swirls around them, wafting in from the Yule Ball. He had never meant to take his teasing this far. After several minutes, he speaks.

“Do you like him?”

You sigh, aware that question was coming eventually. You had assumed it would be from your friends after the ball during your nightly gossip session, matching spa face masks and burning candles making it seem like a satanic summoning.

And you had your honest answer already prepared. You were nothing if not blunt and honest.

“No.”

Mattheo glances at you, eyes flashing with surprise and hope.

You continue, “He was kinda boring.”

Mattheo lets out a breathy laugh at that; almost sounding like a sigh of relief.

“Guess you just need someone more interesting in your life, “ he grinned like an idiot, pointing his fingers at himself as you snorted, shaking your head in disbelief.

“If by interesting you mean Satan himself then yes, that would be you,” you scoff, “but I’d rather not have a bloody git as a partner.”

“Oh c’mon.”

“You do realize you haven’t even apologized.”

“I’m not good at apologies..”

“And I’m not good at goodbyes, but I’d be happy to give you one if you don’t apologize.”

He shakes his hand, mind reeling from your words. You were the only one who could leave him speechless. Whether it was your biting wit, or the way you looked like a goddess as he watched you walk down the stairs in that gorgeous gown of yours just a few hours ago.

“I’m sorry for taking my teasing too far. And I’m especially sorry about tonight. I know you were so excited for this ball,” he averts his gaze, picking at the verdant grass near his fingers.

“And how did you know that?”

“Oh gee, it’s not like you talked about it incessantly the past few weeks,” he scoffs fondly.

You laugh at that, not aware he was paying attention.

“Yeah, I took ballroom dance lessons with my friends,” your laugh turns into a sigh, “not like they came in handy.”

Mattheo feels a pang of guilt hearing that. He wishes he could rewind time to make sure he asked you to the ball first. To make sure he would be the one you would have that slow dance with.

A mournful violin tune floats through the wind, and, looking through the tall Great Hall windows, Mattheo could see couples slowly dancing to the music, ballroom skirts flowing in unison.

And he got an idea. 

Leaping up and brushing some grass from his suit, Mattheo stretches out a hand to you, a shy smile on his usually sardonic face. 

It’s too late to take back what he did, but not too late to try to make things right.

“May I have this dance, princess?”

You just stare at him from your spot on the ground, wide-eyed, knees still to your chest, not being able to comprehend what was going on. Nonetheless, you hesitatingly give him your hand as he kisses it gently, lips lingering on your ring-clad knuckles. With that, Mattheo pulls you up with great care, unraveling you from your depressed, cocoon-like position on the ground.

Your feet still bare against the soft grass, he wraps an arm around your waist and you place one around his shoulder; the other free mirrored hands meeting as you clasp them together. He begins spinning you around on the grass, and you recall your ballroom dancing lessons as you step to the sounds of the soft classical music floating in from the Great Hall in the backdrop. He spins you with grace, and you’re both lost in this magical moment, lost in the reflection of the moon in his reflective onyx eyes. Despite your few weeks of lessons, you get lost at some points in which Mattheo expertly guides you. You simply follow in his lead as he religiously fulfills every step.

“I never thought the Slytherin tough guy Mattheo Riddle would be an expert dancer,” you whisper, smirking slightly.

He rolls his eyes fondly as he twirls you, reeling you back in with the utmost care. As if you were a porcelain artifact he had managed to procure. “I grew up in a rich, pure-blood household. Of course I know how to ballroom dance.”

You laugh softly, and then the magical moment comes to an end. The gentle sounds of the violin are replaced with upbeat dance music, and you break apart from Mattheo.

“Well, I suppose I got the dance I wished for,” you say, a bright smile on your face, forgetting all of Mattheo’s wrongdoings towards you for a moment.

He smiles at you achingly, missing your proximity. “I hope you’ll forgive me someday.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” you scoff, still stubborn as reality hits you.

“Y/n...give me a chance? Would you?” His puppy-like eyes do little to help you maintain your pride and composure, but you’re not about to forget his indecent treatment of you. Treatment you had to endure for years.

You eye him skeptically.

“Go on a date with me. I promise you won’t regret it,” he whispers, involuntarily reaching out for your hands. You shake your head. You don’t know what for. Whether it’s a response to his request or a way to ward off the alluring thoughts of being able to call Mattheo Riddle yours.

“You’ll have to do more than that to convince me,” you glare, not willing to be a pushover. “I can’t forget everything you did.”

Mattheo sees it coming, and, frankly, finds it endearing that you’re sticking by your pride. It's insanely attractive. Mattheo Riddle loves a challenge. And he loves you. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to be able to call you his. Whatever it takes.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Illness

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: You hide an illness

If you weren't delirious with a fever and sweating bullets, you would have described this moment as the most embarrassing moment of your life.

The semi-final El Clásico was one of the most important of the season and it was such bad luck that you had fallen ill the week before. It was most likely the flu but you never went to any doctor to get it checked out. Instead, you hunkered down in your apartment and refused to leave until you got better.

Only, you never did get fully better. Your immune system was as strong as a wall of feathers so you just decided to channel your inner Oscar winner and pretend you were fine.

You arrived at training every day after taking enough painkillers to fell an ox and hydrate yourself to the point that you were sure that your bladder had to force itself to grow.

It paid off though because you were part of the squad going to Madrid and you caught up on sleep during the train ride so could keep up your façade all the way up to the match day.

Your head was pounding as you finally stepped onto the pitch about ten minutes after half time, sliding easily into Lucy's position as the ball went back into play.

Thankfully, football was an instinct rather than a conscious thought at this point and even with a banging headache, achy limbs and a blocked nose, you played without much issue.

"Hey," Irene said as you took a little break from running to walk over to the corner that was being set up," You okay? You're slower than usual today."

You fanned yourself with your jersey. "Just a little hot."

She gave you an odd look. "It isn't that hot. You haven't been on the pitch for long."

You gave her a shrug and lied straight to her face," Really? I guess I'm just running warm today." You picked up the pace and slotted yourself between Athenea and Olga.

It was almost slow motion as Salma sent a cross into the box. Olga tried to push you forward and away while Athenea's elbow stabbed you straight in the eye.

You dropped like a brick backwards into Olga, who surprised by your sudden weight, dropped you on the floor. Your head banged painfully against the grass and you groaned.

There was a slight ringing in your ears but you couldn't focus on anything but the desperate churning of your stomach. You squeezed your eyes tight to try to stem the swirling but it just made stars explode behind your eyelids as your face throbbed from Athenea's elbow.

Your stomach bubbled up and you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, kid, you okay?" It was Irene and she jostled you slightly.

That was what did it and you rolled over onto your stomach just in time to surrender your dinner.

You burst into tears, sobbing into the grass.

"Holy shit, y/n," Mariona said," You're burning up! Are you sick?"

"You're sick?!"

You continued to cry into the grass. With your usual caretaker (Alexia) out of the team for the rest of the month, it meant Irene was in charge of you.

You couldn't decide if you would rather Alexia at this moment.

"Go away," You cried into the grass.

"Can't do that," Ingrid said as she crouched over you," The medics are coming to get you."

You turned your head to look at her.

"She got you good, huh?" Ingrid said, her fingers ghosting over your swollen eye.

"Ingrid," You croaked out," My head hurts."

"I'm sure. That was a nasty fall."

"Hurt before that too."

She made a sympathetic noise as she helped you sit up for the medics to have a proper look at you.

You were escorted straight off when they checked the dilation of your pupils.

Lucy trailed back with you along with Marta, who looked to already be on the phone with Alexia. You knew your caretaker would be watching the match so it wasn't a surprise that she had already called someone the moment you went down.

"Got quite the shiner there," Lucy commented as she inspected your bruised eye," Trying to look like Mapi?"

"At least it isn't bleeding," You said before descending into a coughing fit, thumping at your chest to try and regain your breath.

Lucy laughed but quietened when Marta held the phone out to you. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling you felt when you saw Alexia's contact picture.

You cleared your throat.

"Hola?"

"I knew it!" Alexia declared.

"Know what?" You tried to play dumb even though your whole body protested.

"When I saw you yesterday and you told me you were back to full health! I knew you were lying to me! You're still sick!"

"Barely." Your defence didn't help when you started coughing again.

"You sound horrible," Alexia said bluntly," You're not playing the final. I'll have you benched."

"I'll be benched anyway. I've got a bruise the size of my fucking country on my eye and a concussion, probably."

"We'll have a talk about hiding illness when you get home," Alexia said," And I'll have to leave a message for your captain."

You would have rolled your eyes if it didn't cause a whole new pain to shoot through your skull. Your nose was all blocked up again so the pressure in your head was only mounting. "You're my captain."

"Your national captain."

"Oh, what? You can't tell Leah! She'll go barmy! I'll be lectured for hours!"

"You're being lectured regardless, by me," Alexia said," Now, rest up, drinks lots and I'll see you in a few days."

You didn't even get the chance to watch the end of the match because Marta forced you back to the hotel and into your room.

"No screens," She said when you moved to turn on the tv.

"Well, what else am I meant to do?" You complained, blowing out your nose.

"Well, for one, you can use the bucket on the floor if you feel like you're going to be sick."

"I'm not going to throw up."

"You threw up on the pitch." Marta just had to remind you of the most embarrassing moment of your life and your cheeks flushed red out of embarrassment now instead of your fever.

"But I won't now."

Marta didn't get time to respond because the door to your room got thrown open and Patri sprawled herself next to you on the bed.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," She teased, dumping some chocolate onto your lap.

"Patri," Marta groaned," She's sick and injured. She needs rest."

"She needs company. She's still human. You can't just lock her in her room like she's Rapunzel."

Marta rolled her eyes and swatted at Patri. "She doesn't need you hindering her recovery. Go on, out with you."

"Nah," Patri said as she got comfortable," I think I'll stay here. Besides, y/n wants me to stay."

You sent Marta your most pathetic and sad look.

"Please, Marta?" You begged," I promise she'll help me. It'll be nice to have some company."

Marta sighed deeply. "Fine but just for now. This all might change by the time Alexia gets her."

You groaned and flopped back to lay against your pillows properly. "Don't remind me."

[jordanstrophe]

Abandoned whumpee

CW: Whumper turned caretaker, injured whumpee, defiant, restrained, angst

[Previous] -- [Masterlist] -- [Next]

Whumpee awoke in their enemies infirmary.

An IV was pricking their arm and the lights were dimmed. They twitched as their wrist ached from the handcuff binding them to the bed.

"You're awake? I was getting worried about you." Whumper hummed, sitting by their bedside with a large cup of coffee. Whumpee shakily rose their hand as the handcuff clinked.

"This isn't necessary." Whumpee tiredly mumbled.

"My my, you've been awake for ten seconds and already making demands." Whumper chuckled. "But I'm afraid we're not on that level of trust yet, I can get you something for the bruise."

Whumpee tried to sit up, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. 

"I'm a w-wounded prisoner. It's not like I know my w-way around here-" Their voice hitched as their arm gave in as they collapsed. Whumper was quick to pull them up and put a pillow behind their back.

"Easy now, you're still healing. -And don't downgrade yourself, you could still pack a punch, I know how you were trained." Whumper scolded, fixing the blanket around them.

"How could you possibly know that." Whumpee squinted. Whumper ignored their question and waved someone over; they were handed something whumpee couldn't see from the bed. Whumper moved towards them whumpee tried to scamper as far as the handcuff could go.

"Hey! Hey, calm down. It's not going to hurt you." Whumper lulled, placing a plate with a full meal on their lap. "Look, it's just a peace offering."

Whumpee's face flushed with a hint of pink as they lowered their shoulders. Hospitality was the least they expected from their enemy's leader. "You're feeding me?" Whumpee tilted their head.

"Of course I'm feeding you. I saved your life, I'm not going to waste it all by starving you. Gracious, eat your dinner." Whumper scoffed. 

"This is dinner? How long did you sedate me?" Whumpee suddenly perked up.

"I didn't sedate you, you were exhausted. That's just how long you slept. Now eat, you'll feel better." They nudged, taking their wrist and putting a plastic fork in whumpee's hand.

"If I didn't know any better," Whumper chuckled, "I would guess your beloved team wasn't feeding you either-"

Whumper felt movement and grabbed whumpee's arm before they attempted to plummet the fork into whumper's neck. They glared at each other as Whumpee was panting and pouring with sweat.

"Sweetheart, that is a plastic fork you're holding." Whumper glared.

"I know. But it's got three sh-sharp points and that's good enough f-for me." Whumpee grunted, still attempting to stab them. Whumper grabbed their collar and yanked them mere inches away. Whumpee pushed and tried to back-peddle as whumper held their collar.

"That was a cute try." Whumper whispered in their ear. "But you don't have the strength to fight just yet, little lamb. Should have eaten first." They plucked the fork out of Whumpee's hand and released them. Whumpee fell back and winced, holding their wound as it pulsed. They could feel the stitches underneath their shirt, staying intact at least...

"You honestly can't believe you'll keep me here like this! I don't want to be here- I'm not your pet to tease!" Whumpee shouted at them.

"You're not my pet. If you want to be that way, then sure; you're like a lamb running for the cliffs that I have to keep pulling you away from." Whumper straightened their jacket and rubbed their neck.

"You're only keeping me alive so you can torture me later, I've told you from the start I won't ever give up my team-"

"-No." Whumper cut them off.

Whumpee suddenly quieted and closed their lips. "... What do you mean no?" They quietly asked.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, your head is so full of lies it sickens me to know what they've taught you! You want to know why I stayed by your side all day? You woke up throughout the night and cried yourself right back to sleep!"

"I wasn't crying!" Whumpee sobbed, covering their face and fell silent. Whumper shut their mouth and leaned back, realizing they had corned them. "I'm sorry. I uh ... I'll give you some space. I'll come check on you later." Whumper quickly stood. They craned their head back to see whumpee was now curled on their side facing away from them.

Whumpee flinched when they heard a "clink" as the handcuff fell off their wrist. It was a feeling of pure light and relief. It was a surprising gesture, even for the stunt they pulled with the now-revoked plastic fork.

This wasn't the ruthless enemy whumpee was expecting; whumper speaks as if they know more about their own team than whumpee does. If they got trusted enough to freely walk around, they would get to find their own answers deep in the core of their enemies base. 

 Perhaps this was an opportunity.

[Previous] -- [Masterlist] -- [Next]

@parasitebunny @starzabove @frog-hat-fa-ggot @morning-star-whump @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @mommymarichatfurever​  @isita-torrrres @tobiaslut

[hyperactively-me]

Okay but king ghost if his queen was kidnapped or held for ransom?? I just want some protective ghost in my life

the way i had this idea planned for a while already, but anon, our brainwaves are connecting. i’ve gotten literally countless requests for this same idea. if you sent in a request similar to this, i’m so sorry, i wasn’t ignoring you, i've just had this planned for a while! (word count: 5.8k)

king!ghost x reader -- taken

warnings: kidnapping, physical fighting, physical injuries/blood/bruises, semi-vague descriptions of torture, torture tactics, throw up, restraints, heavy angst, i guess a happy ending? maybe??? idk 😭, ummmm idk what else... please please please let me know if there's anything i've missed. this is a dark chapter! check your media consumption based off the warnings!

It was a quiet night. Eerily quiet. The sounds of the summer insects ceased, the hot air still, unmoving. You were in bed, trying to sleep. You had no clue what time it was, all you knew is that you were hot and exhausted.

You roll onto your side, huffing as you throw the covers off your body. You close your eyes again, trying to will yourself to sleep.

A moment later, you hear a creak coming from the far side of the room where the doors to the balcony are. 

You immediately sit up, scanning the room.

“Hello?” you call out, your voice wavering as you slip out of bed. You immediately grab your knife from the drawer of your bedside table, walking around the side of your bed to stare at your slightly ajar balcony door. 

Your heart drops in your chest, but before you can say anything, a hand holding a rag clamps around your mouth. Soap was right outside your door. If you could just— Your scream is muffled as you try to fight off the intruder, swinging your knife back and hitting flesh, trying to stomp on their foot, kick them, anything. The intruder lets out a strangled cry from your stab, pulling your head back farther. You know you’ve made contact when you feel blood trickle down your hand. Serves them right for trying to kidnap you. The intruder wraps their arm around your torso, yanking you back as they shove the rag over your nose, forcing you to inhale the fumes. 

Your movements become more sloppy as the fumes enter your nostrils, your eyes fluttering as you fight with everything in you to stay awake. Your knife clatters on the ground as you become limp. 

“That’s it, go to sleep,” a man’s voice whispers in your ear, sending a cold chill throughout your body. And with that, you succumb to unconsciousness.

. . .

You wake up in a cold, damp cell. You go to rub your eyes, but are stopped by the clanking of metal chains. You look down, and your hands are bound together by heavy, metal manacles. 

“What the—” you say, pulling at the restraints multiple times to no avail, the iron bolted into the wall to prevent you from running. “No, no, no no no—” you cry out, flailing as you try to free yourself from the cuffs. Your heart is racing in your chest, how could this happen? The overwhelming urge to cry washes over you, but you bite your lip to stop yourself.

Your body shivers at the low temperature of the cell, the stone keeping the cold air stale in your cell. You’re still in what you wore to bed which was…not much. You push yourself to standing, walking up to the bars of the cell, trying your best to peek out into the hallway. 

The hallway is dimly lit, revealing the cold, unforgiving walls of what appears to be an underground dungeon of some sort. The air is cool, and the distant sound of footsteps echoes through the corridors. Panic tightens its grip on you as you assess your surroundings.

“Hey! Is anyone there?” you shout, your voice bouncing off the stone walls. There's no response, just the eerie silence of the place. You take a deep breath, fighting against the rising sense of despair.

As you peer down the hallway, you catch a glimpse of movement. Footsteps approach, and your heart races anew. A figure emerges from the shadows, wearing a uniform that tells you all you need to know. It’s a uniform from the Southern Kingdom. You back away from the bars, pressing your back up against the wall behind you. 

“Your majesty,” the figure says, their voice devoid of any emotion. “You won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

Your mind races with questions, but the figure remains stoic, indifferent to you cowering in the corner. The reality of your situation sets in, and a mix of fear and frustration swirls within you.

“Who are you? Why am I here?” you demand, desperation lacing your words.

The person ignores your questions, producing a set of keys to unlock the cell door. The heavy door creaks open, revealing a corridor lined with more cells. The person steps inside the cell, much to your dismay. Your breathing picks up as he steps towards you, afraid of retaliation. Instead, he makes his way towards the wall where your manacles are attached. With a key, he releases the chain from the wall and takes it in his grip. Shortening the length of the chain, he yanks on it, causing you to stumble forward. 

“Walk,” he commands, basically dragging you behind him out of your cell. You contemplate pulling against him, but not before you spot the sword on his hip. Without further thought, you lunge forward, pushing the man to the ground in front of you as you reach for his sword with your bound hands. 

The man grunts as he hits the cold, stone floor. Seizing the opportunity, you manage to grab the hilt of his sword with your restrained hands, the metal feeling cold against your skin. Adrenaline surges through you as you pull the sword free from its scabbard.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you point the weapon at the man. “Who are you? Why am I here?” you demand again, your voice trembling with fear and anger.

The man on the floor looks up at you, a hint of surprise crossing his face. Despite the advantage of the sword in your hands, he doesn’t seem intimidated in the slightest. The nonchalant look on his face makes you even angrier, and you don’t hesitate pressing the tip of the sword against his shoulder. “You won’t find answers by waving that around,” he states calmly.

Before you can react, the man kicks you out from under your feet, causing you to drop the sword as your hands instinctively go to catch yourself – that is, catch yourself the best cuffed hands can. 

You hit the ground hard, the impact jarring through your body. Groaning, you roll onto your side, the cold stones digging into your skin, surely leaving a bruise where you fell. The man swiftly rises to his feet, his expression unchanged.

“Come along, now,” he says as he yanks the chains, completely unbothered. 

You struggle to your feet, the manacles limiting your movements. Glaring at the man, you reluctantly follow as he leads you through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground dungeon. The man, seemingly unfazed, leads you through the dark, winding corridors of the underground dungeon. The chill in the air makes you shiver, both from the cold and the anxiety that tightens your chest.

As you walk, you try to gather your thoughts. How did you end up in the hands of the Southern Kingdom? How did the man breach the castle walls and enter your bedroom? How long have you been gone? Where are you? Where is Simon? Johnny? The questions swirl in your mind, but the stoic silence of your captor offers no answers.

The dimly lit passageways seem endless, twisting and turning without rhyme or reason. Eventually, you arrive at a heavy, iron door guarded by two Southern Kingdom soldiers. They exchange a nod with your captor, who proceeds to unlock the door. It creaks open, revealing a dimly lit room.

The room is adorned with flickering torches, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. A wooden table sits in the center, surrounded by a few mismatched chairs. You notice there’s a guard standing watch in the corner of the room, and two other people sitting in chairs, most likely waiting for your arrival. The air is thick with tension as you’re pushed into one of the chairs.

“Watch it,” you growl, slightly folding into yourself in the chair. 

The figure steps back, motioning to the other two people in the room. One of them is wearing a mask that conceals their features, leaving only their cold, calculating eyes visible. You try to read any emotion in their eyes, but they remain expressionless. 

“Who are you, and why am I here?” you demand for the third time, your voice wavering between defiance and desperation. You look between the three people, anger bubbling up within you. 

The man who brought you here remains silent for a moment, studying you with an unsettling intensity. Finally, he speaks, his words measured and devoid of any warmth. “You wouldn’t have gone with us willingly, so I am sorry you have to be here this way.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. 

The figure’s eyes narrow at your display of defiance. “Your insolence won't change your circumstances.” 

You move to stand up from the chair, but you’re pushed back down by the guard lingering in the room. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t resist.”

You stare at him, the glare still plainly visible on your face. He seems satisfied enough with your cooperation. 

“Now, you’re here because your kingdom has assets and resources we need. Your husband, the great King Ghost, won’t give up easily, but we have leverage now, don’t we?” 

You should’ve known.

A chill runs down your spine. You clench your fists, frustration and fear fueling your determination.

“Tell me what you want,” you demand, your voice firm despite the tension in the room.

The figure leans forward, resting their hands on the table, their face just inches from yours. “Your cooperation, your majesty. Tell us what you know, and we won’t hurt you.” 

Your blood runs cold at that. Hurt you? Now that caught your attention. 

You raise an eyebrow. “So, what? You plan to use me as a bargaining chip to force Ghost’s hand?”

“Yes. You’re one of his only weaknesses,” says the man who hasn’t spoken until now. “Ever since you sent your reinforcements, our army has been experiencing some… setbacks. We were going to come to this as a last resort, but the time came to use you in our strategy.”

He’s rolling up his sleeves with care, pulling some intimidating tools out of the drawer of the table. 

He notices you eyeing the tools warily. “Oh, don’t worry. We won’t be using these unless you really won’t listen.”

“And, just a brief mention before we start the questioning, you should really do more thorough background checks on your staff. You were given over to us by one of your own. Within the palace, might I add.” 

With a swift motion, the man wearing the mask pulls it off their head, revealing a face you didn’t expect. It's someone you recognize, someone from your own court—an advisor you thought was loyal, someone who had been with you especially over the past few weeks. 

“Edmund?” you gasp, disbelief and betrayal coloring your voice. “How could you?”

Edmund avoids your gaze, his eyes fixed on the table. “It was never personal, your majesty. The Southern Kingdom made an offer, and I couldn’t refuse.”

You seethe with anger, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “Greater good? Kidnapping me in the middle of the night? Betraying me? What greater good could possibly justify this?”

He shrugs. “Money.” 

With that, Edmund slinks out of the room. 

The word echoes through the room, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Money. The one thing that could corrupt even the seemingly loyal. Edmund’s betrayal stings deeper than any blade, and you struggle to comprehend how someone you trusted could sell you out.

“Cooperate, and you won’t have to endure unnecessary pain,” one of the men states coldly, motioning to the tools.

Your eyes narrow at the proposition. “And if I refuse?”

A hand slaps your cheek, the sharp sound echoing through the room. “Refusing won't make this any easier for you.”

Your cheek throbs from the slap, but you meet his gaze defiantly. You won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break. You can’t. 

The man with the tools takes a step forward, his gaze fixed on you like a predator closing in on its prey. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

You glance at the guard, a mixture of anger and disappointment in your eyes.

“Now, let’s start with something simple. Kastron’s silver supply. Where is it located?” he demands, his patience wearing thin. “Start talking, little princess.”

. . . 

You’re not sure how long it’s been since you were dragged into this interrogation room, but all you know is that your body positively aches. You were treated relentlessly, punched to your gut and slapped at the expense of one of your captor’s short tempers. Thankfully they haven’t used the tools on you, but you can’t help but be weary of them. Your body slumps in the chair, pain radiating from your abdomen. The cold, harsh reality of your situation weighs heavily on your shoulders. Sweat beads on your forehead, a mixture of fear and physical exertion.

The interrogators stand around you, unsatisfied with the information you've provided so far. The room feels suffocating, the air thick with tension and the acrid scent of burning torches.

“Last chance,” he sneers, the coldness in his eyes sending shivers down your spine.

You grit your teeth, your jaw aching from the force of their blows. The loyalty to your kingdom surges within you. You won't betray your people, no matter the cost.

“I won’t... betray... Kastron,” you manage to spit out, defiance in your eyes.

The interrogator scowls, and without warning, delivers another brutal blow to your stomach. The pain is unbearable, and you gasp for breath.

“Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” the man with the tools taunts, a sadistic grin on his face.

As the interrogators prepare for another round of questioning, the heavy door to the room swings open. A new figure enters, their silhouette backlit by the torchlight. The men exchange glances, a hint of surprise in their eyes.

“Alright, that is enough for today,” a commanding voice echoes through the room.

The figure steps forward, revealing a man, dressed in military attire. His eyes are stern and hold no compassion.

“Release her,” he orders, her voice brooking no argument.

The interrogators, albeit reluctantly, step back. The guard unlocks your restraints, and you slump forward, breathing heavily.

The man turns to the interrogators, his expression stern. “That’s enough, you may go.”

The two men scowl but don’t argue. They exit the room, leaving you alone with the mysterious man.

He turns to you, his gaze assessing. “You’ve endured more than necessary. My apologies.”

“You’re not sorry. Go straight to hell,” you spit. 

The man’s stern expression falters for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure. “I understand your anger, but I’m here to explain to you what’s going on. I’m General Shepherd. I lead the Southern Kingdom’s military.”

You’re silent. You recognize the name from a few brief mentions around the castle whilst receiving intel about the war, but you’ve never seen him before.

“We’re not here to hurt you—” 

You glare at him, still seething with anger and distrust. “Do you hear yourself? What the fuck are you talking about, when I’ve been kidnapped and tortured? Why should I hear anything you have to say?” 

Shepherd grabs your jaw harshly, fingers squeezing your cheeks. You claw at his wrist gripping your face, but he doesn’t let go. 

“If you would listen to what I’m telling you, then you wouldn’t be sitting in this room. Don’t wear my patience thin, your majesty.” 

His words are sharp, and you can feel the intensity in his grip on your jaw. Shepherd releases you, allowing you to lean back into the chair. You shoot him a venomous look, but he seems unfazed.

“Your husband, King Ghost, has been a thorn in our side for far too long. Quite the nuisance. The war between our kingdoms has dragged on, costing our side quite a lot. We need a resolution, and we need it soon,” Shepherd explains, his gaze locking onto yours.

“So, what? You think kidnapping me and torturing me is going to make Ghost surrender?” you scoff, annoyance evident in your voice. “He won’t surrender, if that’s what you want. He’s going to fight back harder, and you’re going to wish you never had me here.” 

“Still, it’s a means to an end. A desperate attempt to force his hand,” Shepherd replies, frustration in his voice. “We have leverage now, and we plan to use it to bring about a swift end to Kastron’s military. We’re not heartless, your majesty. We aim to minimize bloodshed.”

You can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Minimize bloodshed? By kidnapping me and using me as a bargaining tool? Very noble and humanitarian of you.”

Shepherd narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t respond to your sarcasm. “Your husband won’t let harm come to you. He'll do whatever it takes to secure your safety.”

“He’s not going to surrender,” you mutter under your breath. He’s going to do much, much worse than anyone could ever imagine. 

“He will. This war has dragged on for too long. We need a resolution, and we need it now,” Shepherd emphasizes, his tone stern. 

Your mind races, considering the weight of the situation. You hate Shepherd for this, subjecting you to a cruel game that you never wanted to be part of in the first place. It wasn’t even Kastron that started this war, it was the Southern Kingdom. The hypocrisy of the Southern Kingdom and unjust treatment of your own kingdom has driven you up the wall. You think about your people, your kingdom, and the lives at stake.

Your gaze pierces through Shepherd’s cold exterior.

Shepherd sighs, as if he anticipated your skepticism. “You don’t have to trust me. But you should consider the bigger picture. Your cooperation can save lives, including your own.”

A conflicted expression crosses your face. The idea of cooperating with your captors goes against every instinct, but the desire for an end to the war lingers in the back of your mind. You weigh your options, knowing that every decision carries significant consequences.

“What do you expect from me?” you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Shepherd studies you for a moment before responding, “Information. Insight into Kastron's military strategies, resources, weaknesses. Anything that can expedite the end of the war and give Kastron over to us.”

You laugh humorlessly. “See, that’s exactly what I don’t want.” 

Shepherd’s gaze remains unwavering. “Your wants are not the priority here. The fate of your kingdom is on your shoulders. If you truly care about your people and your husband, you’ll consider the bigger picture.”

Your jaw clenches, frustration boiling within you. You know Shepherd is partially right, but the resentment toward the Southern Kingdom clouds your judgment. You take a deep breath, attempting to push aside your anger.

“What guarantee do I have that you won’t just use me and murder me when it’s convenient?” you challenge, searching for any sign of honesty in Shepherd’s eyes.

He leans in, his expression serious. “My word. Betraying the terms of our agreement would not serve the interests of either of our kingdoms.”

Agreement, you scoff inside your head. As if I had any choice in the first place. 

You find his words hard to believe. The events leading up to this point have shattered your trust in anyone associated with the Southern Kingdom. However, you can’t deny the urgency of the situation.

You decide to not say anything. Shepherd nods, seemingly satisfied with your response. “All we ask is that you provide us with information. I’ll give you time to think this over.” 

Shepherd motions for you to stand, and you do so with a glare. Your body protests, every movement sending pain coursing through you. He leads you out of the room, the guards following closely behind. The dimly lit corridors of the underground dungeon stretch ahead, and you realize that you’re not being taken to the same cell you were initially in. 

Eventually, you arrive at a somewhat more comfortable room. It's still a cell, cold iron bars keeping you prisoner, but there's a cot and a small table. 

Shepherd removes the manacles from your wrists, allowing you to rub your raw skin. 

“I’m going to leave these off. Don’t get smart.” 

The heavy door clanks shut behind you, finally leaving you alone with your thoughts. A guard stands watch outside your cell, giving you no privacy. 

The reality of your situation settles in, and you can't help but feel powerlessness. The fate of Kastron rests, in part, on your shoulders. You sit on the cot, your mind racing with questions and uncertainties. 

As you ponder the road ahead of you, a small opening in the door slides open, and a guard hands you a meager meal. The gesture is cold, impersonal, but you accept it nonetheless. The guard retreats, leaving you alone again.

The hours pass slowly in the dimly lit cell. You wrestle with conflicting emotions—anger, fear, determination. The echoes of Shepherd’s words linger in your mind, and you can’t help but have doubts in your mind. Would Simon come rescue you? Or would you have to escape on your own? You don’t even know where you are being kept. Your thoughts flicker to Kastron, what Johnny must be doing right now. Surely they’re looking for you. 

As the torches flicker and the dungeon remains shrouded in darkness, you brace yourself for the challenges that will come with tomorrow. Shepherd needs your cooperation, and you’re not going to give it to him, no matter the cost. The journey ahead is uncertain, but one thing is clear—you will not surrender easily, and the fight for Kastron is far from over.

. . . 

The next two days, you’re dragged back to the same room for interrogation. Again, you refuse to speak, each blow raining down harder on you. Your nose was bloodied, face battered and red, and ribs surely bruised from the blows. You’ve been in a perpetual state of fight or flight, adrenaline and pain racking your body in devastating amounts. You were plain exhausted, body reaching its limit. 

But you didn’t really care. You wanted to keep Kastron and Simon safe, so you stayed silent. Save for your screams of pain. 

On the third night, you found yourself alone in the dungeons. It was unusual, as there was usually a guard in place to make sure you didn’t do anything out of line. 

You move to the iron bars, trying your best to peek both ways before pulling out a stolen fork from one of your meals. The metal of the fork feels strangely empowering in your hands as you work on the lock. The dim light in the dungeon barely illuminates your surroundings, but you're determined to seize any opportunity for escape. The occasional distant sound of footsteps echoes through the corridor, reminding you of the ever-present threat of getting caught. 

As you manipulate the lock with the makeshift tool, you can’t shake off the nagging feeling that this might be a setup. Perhaps Shepherd or someone else in the Southern Kingdom’s monarchy is testing your resolve, observing whether you’d take advantage of a momentary lapse in surveillance. You can’t bring yourself to care that much. 

The lock finally clicks, and the cell door creaks open. You hesitate for a moment, listening intently for any signs of approaching footsteps. The dungeon remains eerily quiet. Slipping the fork into your clothing, you step out cautiously, avoiding the patches of cold, damp floor. Your battered body protests with every movement, but the urgency of your situation fuels your determination. 

You move silently, keenly aware that any noise could betray your escape. The cool air sends shivers down your spine as you head towards the direction you’re taken in for interrogation. It’s a risky venture, and most likely a stupid venture, but you don’t want to be holed up in this godforsaken hell hole for much longer. 

After what feels like an eternity, you reach a heavy, iron door. It's slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of dim light from the other side. Your heart pounds in your chest as you inch it open, revealing a narrow staircase leading upward. The ascent is slow and agonizing, each step a reminder of the physical toll the past days of torture have taken on your body. You wince with each step, taking deep, steadying breaths. As you approach the top, you hear hushed voices and the occasional clank of armor.

Peeking through the crack in the door, you spot a guard stationed at the top of the stairs, seemingly engrossed in conversation with another. Their attention is diverted, providing you with a small window of opportunity.

Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you push the door open just enough to slip through without making a sound. The corridor beyond is dimly lit, and you stick to the shadows, hugging the cold stone wall. Pressing yourself against the wall, you listen carefully to the conversations around you, trying to piece together an escape route. Your gaze falls upon an entryway that has the last hints of the sunset pouring through the crevices. 

You reach the entryway, and a sense of trepidation washes over you. Before you could push open the door and make a run for it, a hand grabs your upper arm. Without hesitation, you clench your fork in your hand and stab the perpetrator with the prongs. 

The guard lets out a pained scream as your makeshift weapon finds its mark. They release their grip on your arm, stumbling back in pain.

“You bitch!” They cry, and a few more guards appear on the scene after hearing their scream. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you realize that your window of escape is rapidly closing. Without waiting any further, you burst through the entryway, darting into the fading light of the setting sun.

You bolt as fast as you can across the cobblestones, the sounds of yelling guards and footsteps hot on your tail. Every step makes it feel as though fire is shooting up your body, but you push through. Just as you think you’re about to make a clean getaway into the forest outside the bunker, you’re side tackled to the ground. 

The impact is brutal, and pain shoots through your battered body as you collide with the hard ground. The guards quickly swarm around you, their faces contorted with anger. One of them wrestles the stolen fork from your hand, while the others pin you down, restraining your limbs.

“Bloody rebel,” one of the guards snarls, spittle flying as they speak.

“Get the fuck– off of me!” you scream, trying to swipe and hit at anyone in your reach. 

Your attempt at escape only intensifies their aggression. The guard you wounded with the fork clutches their side, a seething expression of pain etched across their face.

The leader of the guards, a stern-faced man with a scar running across his cheek, steps forward. “Thought you could just waltz out of here, did ya?”

He delivers a swift kick to your ribs, making you howl in pain. The guards show no mercy as they haul you to your feet. You go deadweight in their grasp, making it harder for them to drag you back to your cell. When they manage to pull you halfway back to your cell, you start kicking and screaming again, not wanting to make this easy for them.

“Fuck all of you, let go of me!” you scream, trying to yank your wrists from their grasp. 

“Shut the fuck up,” a guard yells at you, digging their fingernails into your wrist. 

As you're thrown back into your dark, dank cell, the manacles are back on, alongside chains on each ankle. The heavy door clangs shut behind you, and the bitter taste of defeat settles in your mouth. Two guards now stand outside your cell, watching you intently. 

A few minutes go by, and General Shepherd strides into the hallway. His eyes, devoid of warmth, fixate on your battered form.

“Leave us,” his voice commands, and the guards retreat from the dungeon.

He stands just outside the iron bars, his gaze cold and calculating. 

“You’re a persistent one,” he remarks, his tone devoid of empathy.

Despite your battered state, you summon what strength remains within you and glare defiantly at Shepherd. 

You glare at him, defiance burning despite the exhaustion. “Fuck off.”

He doesn’t say anything, which enrages you.

“I said, fuck. Off. Leave me alone!” you yell. Shepherd's stoic expression doesn’t waver. Instead, he observes you with an unsettling calmness that sends shivers down your spine. The silence stretches, and you can feel the weight of his gaze.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and measured. “You have spirit, I'll give you that. But it's time to realize the futility of your resistance. It’s been nearly four days. More than half a week. I don’t have the time or patience to keep you around.” 

“I’ll never bow to the likes of you,” you retort.

Shepherd sighs, almost as if he’s disappointed. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture here. Your defiance only prolongs the suffering. Kastron can have peace, Ghost won’t have to face such difficult decisions. All we need is your cooperation.” 

“I’d rather die,” you spit out, every word laced with venom. “And I don’t think Ghost would appreciate it if I turned up dead. You think he’ll surrender just because you beat me to a pulp? Think again. He’s coming to get me any day now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll show you mercy or pull back the troops. You’ll see. And you’ll be sorry you even looked at Kastron’s borders.” 

His gaze doesn’t falter. “Perhaps. But, death is a choice, too. And it’s not just your life at stake, is it? There’s a kingdom relying on your decisions.”

You clench your fists, the chains rattling with your restrained anger. “I won't betray my people for your false promises.”

Shepherd leans against the cold stone wall, crossing his arms. “Think about it. Reflect on where you are right now. I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early. I hope you’ll have come to your senses by then.”

Without waiting for your response, he turns and leaves the dungeon, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. Alone in the cold darkness, you curl up on the cot as best you can given the heavy chains.

. . .

Shepherd keeps his promise, returning in the morning. 

“Well?” he prompts, a hint of impatience in his tone.

You meet his gaze with defiance. “Go. To. Hell.”

His expression remains unreadable. “Very well. You’ve made your choice.”

You’re dragged back to the interrogation room, only this time you’re silent. 

You’re met with the tools set right in front of your chair, and a scary looking person you’ve never seen before. 

As you’re restrained to a chair, your eyes glaze over. 

For once in your life, you’re quiet. No snarky comments, no sharp words. You’re silent.

Because you’re truly afraid.

. . . 

The metallic scent of blood fills the air. You don’t think you’ve ever lost as much blood in your life. 

The room is spinning, and your body feels detached from your consciousness. The pain, once sharp and immediate, has dulled into a throbbing ache that permeates every fiber of your being. The interrogator’s methods have taken a drastic toll, and you’re teetering on the edge of consciousness. 

You think your wrist is sprained, if not broken. You glance down at it, the swollen and bruised flesh causing your stomach to churn. You definitely look worse for wear right now. 

Eventually, they tire of their methods, leaving you slumped in the chair, bloodied and broken. The tools they used on you lie abandoned on a nearby table. Every movement, no matter how slight, sends waves of pain through your form.

As the interrogator steps away, their job seemingly done, a faint groan pushes past your split upper lip. The throbbing in your head matches the rhythm of your heartbeat, each pulse amplifying the pain. Your vision swims, and you struggle to keep your eyes open.

Shepherd approaches, crouching to meet your gaze. 

“I had hoped you would see reason," he says, almost conversationally. “The pain will continue until you cooperate.”

You manage a hoarse chuckle, the sound more bitter than amused. “Sorry I can’t be of use to you.”

He straightens, his gaze unwavering. “I have all the time in the world. You however… I’m not so sure. I suggest you reconsider. Your defiance harms not only you but those you claim to protect.”

With that, Shepherd turns and exits the room, motioning the guards to take you back to your cell. 

The guards, their expressions cold and indifferent, unshackle you from the blood-stained chair. Your body protests as you’re hoisted up, pain shooting through every limb. They guide you out of the interrogation room, each step a painful shuffle. Your vision is blurring, and you lose your footing a few times. As they lead you back to your cell, you catch glimpses of other new prisoners, faces worn and defeated. The stench of dampness and decay fills your nostrils, and you throw up on the floor in front of you. You think some of it has traces of blood. 

The guards show no reaction to your vomit, their faces remaining stoic and indifferent. You stumble forward, the world spinning around you, and your steps become increasingly unsteady.

The door to your cell creaks open, and you’re unceremoniously thrown inside. The manacles and chains are back on, securing you in the darkness. The guards, their duty done, exit without a word, leaving you alone with your pain.

You lie on the floor for who knows how long, focusing on your breathing and attempting to not fall asleep in the fear that you won’t wake up for a long time due to the severity of your injuries. 

In, and out.

In, and out. 

In, and out. 

A few hours pass, and you manage to calm your swirling vision and headache. With a grunt, you pull yourself up to your cot with your good hand, dropping onto the solid mattress with a grunt. 

You’re not sure how much longer you could go on like this. It was all too much. 

As you lay there in the dimness of your cell, a distant noise catches your attention. Footsteps, echoing through the dungeon. At first, you dismiss it as another patrol, but the rhythm and urgency in the steps hinted at something different. A figure emerges in front of your bars, and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the return of the guards or another round of interrogation. 

To your surprise, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Dove?”

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[existslikepristin]

Hey @worldsover. Happy birthday.

Tags: NSFW, smut, Dreamcatcher, teacher!Jiu, student!Gahyeon, male reader, threesome, big ol’ noncon warning here, or is it dubcon?... no don’t fool yourself this is noncon, mysteeerious circumstances ooOOooOOh *finger wiggles*, no beta read and no editing I had to go fast cuz this is for a birthday and it’s already late by two days, blowjob, deepthroat, a little fluff, a little romance, a really poorly thought out B plot, absurdity, hypocritical “protagonists”, Jiu is stronk and rips clothes, the relationship is toxic but not the usual way, also butt stuff babyyy

B-Side: [title] ft. Gahyeon, Jiu

~~~~~

“Honestly,” Jiu says, slapping a bead of sweat off her forehead, “She's heavier than she looks. Must be a lot of muscle under there.”

You stare at Jiu, then at the other girl on your bed. What’s her name again? Gabriella? No, there’s no way that’s it. That’s a stupid guess.

“Gahyeon,” Jiu reminds you, as if reading your mind, “Do you remember what I told you about her? Well she did it again. She came into class drunk!”

Still in a certain amount of disbelief, you can only hope that Jiu’s telling you the truth, and that it’s the whole truth. If not, there will be no small amount of trouble stemming from this night. Jiu knows things. Specifically, she knows things because you’ve demonstrated them for her. You’ve regretted that for a while now, because Jiu is also impetuous, to put it mildly. If she managed to replicate—

“Turns out it’s really easy to do what you taught me on someone who’s already in a receptive and reduced state of mind like drunkenness.”

Fuck.

“Jiu, you can’t just…” you struggle for the words.

To describe how what she’s done is wrong? No.

To describe the harm Jiu may have inflicted? No.

To describe how absolutely fucked you may be here? Yeah, that’s probably the one.

“Can’t?” Jiu asks, “But it worked, didn’t it? I mean, I think it worked. Here…” Before you can stop her, she slaps Gahyeon’s thigh. “‘Ey! Get up and show us your tits, slut!”

You choke on your spit and flinch backward. This is bad. It’s not too late to run and remove yourself from any direct implication. Gahyeon’s starting to sit up, so you pivot around and take a stride toward the door.

“Damn,” Jiu half whispers, “Those are nice.”

No way.

Surely, your ears and eyes deceive you. When you turn back around, you’re assaulted with the view of what will most likely be considered assault. Gahyeon is upright, her sweater bunched up around her collarbone. Jiu is palming her bare chest, bouncing a boob as if she’s estimating its weight. To say that you’re mesmerized would not quite be accurate for a couple of reasons. For one, you’re terrified. Gahyeon’s half-lidded—but open—eyes take in your countenance, probably forming a permanent mental image that can and will be used against you in court. And for another, it’s Gahyeon that’s mesmerized in a sense. You can’t just claim to be in a state that someone else in the room is actively in. That would be asinine.

“Jiu…” you start, trying somehow to save face, “Jiu, stop, oh my go—”

“She always comes into class without a bra, and… well, this sweater isn’t the norm. Usually, it’s cleavage all the way down, or nips stabbing through a sheer tank top. So fucking distracting,” Jiu definitely doesn’t stop at your insistence. She ignores you entirely, groping, squeezing, pinching, every little motion sparking a twitch in your face. “Not that a pair of tits is inherently distracting, obviously. I’m no prude. Free the nipple, right? But she flaunts these! Pushing them together in my face when she hands in papers. Calls attention to them every chance she gets. Just the other day, she asked me to borrow a pencil, put it down her shirt in front of me, and then went back to her table and used a fucking G2! We’re working with volatile chemicals! She doesn’t have to be courteous, she just needs to think about some damn safety!”

You blink, suddenly realizing that you waited for an entire rant to finish while doing nothing but stare at the mammary glands in your girlfriend’s hands. Maybe you’re mesmerized after all. Mesmer was a hack, so any word coming from his name is likely an accurate description for a half-assed (or full-boobed, in this case) party trick.

“Alright Jiu, you’ve had your fun,” you blurt out in the brief moment of clarity you can find, “Don’t you think the nice girl should be on her way?”

“Gahyeon? Nice girl? This slut? I’ve told you all the shit she pulls in class.”

“Including in the last thirty or so seconds, yes.”

“And you think she should just get to go?”

“I mean, morally speaking, we haven’t heard her say a word of consent here, so yeah, perhaps it would be best to—”

Jiu cuts you off with a cock-browed stink eye that reeks of the sentence: Are you fucking kidding me?

“Are we gonna have a problem here?” Jiu asks, out loud this time.

“Whaaat?” you creak, “Nooo, no. I’m just saying, what if she…” You pause, trying to indicate nonverbally some deeper implication to your words with a series of bonkers facial expressions. Jiu hasn’t always been the most reliable at catching on to double entendres though. “What if she’s not into it?”

Jiu squints. “What? Are you saying all those other people have been into it? I sure didn’t hear them consenting.”

Fucking holy shit fuck, you’re fucked. Jiu’s fucked. You’re both so fucking fucked.

“NO.” You try to contain your volume, but it still comes out a bit loud, even through your gritted teeth. “I’m saying… what if… someone were to think… that perhaps… they might discuss this… with an official?”

There is a cursed moment of silence while Jiu simultaneously judges you and mulls over your words. Finally, she clicks her tongue, “You think I didn’t do it right, don’t you?”

You put your hands up, unsure of how to respond without giving everything away to the potentially fully aware Gahyeon.

“You really think I fucked it up, huh? Hey Gahyeon, what are you gonna remember later?”

The silence is palpable.

“See? Nothing. You always say they can’t talk back like this, right?”

“Because…” You pause to develop a new double entend—Who are you kidding? You’re already fucking fucked, as previously stated. “Because I tell them not to talk back! It’s not an inherent factor! Did you tell her not to talk back?!”

“Oh…” Jiu says.

“OH?!”

“Yeah I’m pretty sure I built that in.”

“Pretty sure?!”

“Look, like it or not, I’m gonna keep on keeping on with these titties. If you don’t think I did it right, you can run away. Otherwise, you can get your cock out of your pants.”

“And the memory?!”

“Same diff. Built that in.”

“How?!”

Jiu sighs and climbs further onto the bed, behind Gahyeon. She snakes her hands around and continues groping away. Something that she whispers into Gahyeon’s ear gets Gahyeon to finish removing her sweater, and she merely sits, politely, silently, while continuing to be assaulted before your very eyes.

Suddenly, Gahyeon’s head is thrown back. It's not her doing it, it's Jiu with fingers entwined in her hair.

“Look at her,” Jiu hisses at you, “I don't even care if she does remember. She's a stupid hot slut who teases me every day, and has no respect for my cooking class. If anyone needs to get their pretty little throat fucked, it's her.”

Hang on, what?

“I'm going to get my strap and I'm going to fuck her so raw that she won't even be able to come into class for a week. Maybe then the other students can actually get something done for once—”

“Don't you teach chemistry?” you ask.

Jiu pauses her gripping of Gahyeon’s body. “Yeah…”

“I could have sworn you just said cooking.”

“What? That would sure be a silly class to teach!”

“I mean, not really. That would actually be pretty cool if you taught cooking. You're really good at it.”

Jiu’s head fully pokes out from behind Gahyeon. her eyes are glistening with tears. “Oh my gosh, you really think that?”

“Of course. Babe,” you pause, and move to stroke her cheek, “you've always been passionate about your cooking, and I just want you to pursue your career the way you want to. Cooking, chemistry, it's all the same to me as long as you're happy.”

She sniffs hard, clearing out her nose. “Aw, honey… You'd support me if all I taught was cooking? Really?”

“Absolutely.”

She gives you a pouty-lipped stare for a few seconds, clearly holding back the waterworks. “O-oooh, get over here!” She shoves Gahyeon over and holds out her arms.

With a smile, you take Jiu up on the embrace, squeezing her tightly and basking in her warmth.

Sniffling even harder directly into your ear, Jiu babbles little nothings for a moment, and then says, “You sweety, you… can I suck your cock?”

“Sure, babe,” you say, pulling her back a little so you can give her a brief kiss.

Jiu gets your pants off fast. She's always quick at that. Lots of practice. Your dick hangs free until she gets it in her hand, working you up to full mast while she kisses your neck. It only takes a quick pull from her on the hem of your shirt to remind you to take it off for her. As soon as you do, her kisses go lower, and lower, and lower. Your eyes naturally flutter closed and your hand alights on her head, not so much guiding her as petting her.

Then, you’re inside her. Her lips, so incredibly tender, wrap the head of your cock, and her tongue pulls you in deeper. It’s sensual, slow, relaxing even. All of your worries fade away. You stroke her hair, and look down at your lover to take in her beaut—fucking dammit, the girl’s still here! How the fuck did you forget?! She’s literally lying down, half naked, between you and Jiu, and this is very concerning, obviously!

“Jiu! Jiu, wait! We’ve got to do something with her!”

She pulls back, still rolling your cockhead over her tongue. “Oh. Yeah. Let’s fuck her! Sit up, slut!”

Gahyeon does as she’s instructed, slowly sitting straight back up and slotting herself between you and Jiu. Her tits end up smushed against your pelvis, hugging your dick. It’s not quite as good as a blowjob, but her boobs are big enough to fully engulf you, and that’s pretty great… but you can’t think about that right now.

“No, babe, we need her to—”

You just can’t get a word in today, can you? Jiu’s mouth covers yours. Her tongue dives in, stealing away whatever you were going to say and the throat on your dick turns any thoughts into pleasured moans. But that is a problem in and of itself, the throat on your dick. Because it’s not Jiu’s.

Sneaking a glance down, you see that it is in fact Gahyeon whose head has been shoved and is now deepthroating you with no resistance. Her hair is bunched up in Jiu’s hand, and she’s bent over at one hell of a severe angle. Her ass looks real good in those tiny, tight shorts from up here.

“Please, wait for just a second, Jiu.”

She backs off, but only barely. Her eyes capture yours, lock them in place, and throw away the keys. “Yes, honey?” Jiu has never been good at hiding her smiles.

“Okay, let’s fuck her.”

“Yeah!” Jiu jumps with joy, and would have continued the alliteration if allotted adequate hours, but instead she kisses you again, on the nose, cheek, and lips before falling onto her back to undress.

Ignoring the storm of projectiles that Jiu’s clothes become, you actually take a good look at Gahyeon. Her eyes are still half closed, just like before. In fact, her whole face is slack, fully relaxed, not something you often see when your cock (or anyone’s) is fully stuffed down their esophagus. A light bidirectional breeze tickles your stomach at a steady rate though, so if there’s a lesson to be taken away here, it seems the real secret to comfortable deepthroat is to be entirely unresponsive to the dick you’re sucking. Both arms are resting to her right side, where they landed after she was told to sit up.

Once Jiu is naked though, things change up rapidly. She grabs Gahyeon by the hips and yanks backward. Being the ragdoll that she currently is, Gahyeon limply falls forward and end up with one cheek shoved up against your hip. Miraculously, your dick being so far down her throat is what prevents her from face planting at the foot of the bed. Jiu pays this awkward positioning no mind as she, bare-handed, rips apart the sides of Gahyeon’s shorts and the underwear beneath, as if you needed the reminder that she’s both the beauty and the beast in your relationship. If it turns out she pulled everything off correctly today, she might be the brains too… Nah, she’ll always be your favorite dumbass. How on Earth did she convince you that she taught university level chemistry?

You politely readjust Gahyeon so she’s flush with your pelvis again, and you start to thrust. “Gabriella…” you start.

“Gahyeon,” Jiu corrects you as she yanks Gahyeon’s legs back again, diving between them and hungrily pressing her face into Gahyeon’s ass crack.

“Right. Gahyeon, hold yourself up and suck.”

Oddly, she doesn’t do as she’s told. That’s not how this normally goes. You continue thrusting down her throat, kind of monotonously. “Gahyeon?”

Jiu comes up from Gahyeon’s ass for a breath and to let you know, “Oh. Yeah, sorry. I forgot to mention, you need to say the trigger word.”

“You gave her a trigger word?” you ask, actually somewhat impressed, “Nice! What is it?”

Jiu beams a cheesy smile. “It’s ‘titties!’”

FUCK.

“TITTIES?!” you can’t contain the shout. Gahyeon twitches, but otherwise remains unresponsive.

“Hehehe, yup!” Jiu looks so pleased with herself.

“It’s supposed to be something that she’s not likely to hear!”

Jiu cocks that eyebrow again and waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, no decent person says ‘titties’ in public.”

You palm your face with both hands. One isn’t enough. Gahyeon slides off your cock and face plants at the foot of the bed. So much for avoiding that. “Dammit, everybody says ‘titties’ in public these days! More and more people every day!”

“But…” Jiu takes a quick breath. “If more people are saying it every day, that means not everyone is saying it in public yet.”

Claw down your cheeks, leaving red streaks. “That’s not the fucking point, Jiu! Lots and lots of people say it these days, especially on college campuses!”

Jiu screws up her face the way she does when she tries really hard to find the answer to a tough question. “Okay, how do we get rid of it?”

“Just tell her, but it doesn’t go away immediately. Every time she hears it, it lasts a little longer.”

“Oh. Easy. Ey, Gahyeon! Forget about ‘titties’ okay? It’s not your trigger word anymore.”

You glare at Jiu, but she ignores it, happily going back to devouring whichever hole she was working on before.

“Okay,” you whisper, “okay okay okay. Gahyeon, get up on your elbows.”

This time, Gahyeon does as she’s told, propping herself up. Excellent. You lift her head by the chin. You’ve always had a thing for a good pair of lips—it’s no wonder that you’re dating Jiu (for that, among her many other qualities)—so you find yourself rather taken with Gahyeon’s. They’re very slightly thinner than Jiu’s, but they’re curvy, like the rest of the girl. You run your thumb over her lower lip, simply taking the time to admire her. Jiu has good taste. And if what Jiu’s told you about the attempted seductions is accurate, so does Gahyeon.

“Tell me if you can talk now,” you mumble.

“I can,” Gahyeon mumbles back. Her voice is kind of… creaky.

“Are you any good at sucking cock?”

“Yes.”

“And do you enjoy sucking cock?”

“Sometimes.”

You roll your eyes at the lukewarm answer and straighten up so that your dick is directly in front of Gahyeon’s lips again. “Tonight, you love sucking cock. So take it deep.”

It’s still a requirement to place your dick to Gahyeon’s lips before she starts. In the state she’s in, she can only really react to physical touch and sounds consistently. She should be able to see, but what she sees may not be exactly the same as what she perceives. You’d be very curious to know what she is currently perceiving, but her ability to describe it is most likely inadequate, or even entirely inaccurate.

Regardless, she does as she was told. Just like before, she gets all the way down, but now it’s intentional (technically). And she is loving it (technically). There’s not a gag to be heard as she takes your cock as far down her throat as it will go, backs away until the tip is at her lips, and the process repeats. The corners of her lips curl up into the tiniest smile (at least, more than usual).

“Honey? Mind if I use this slut’s mouth?” Jiu asks you after a bit.

You’re tempted to say no and follow through with this face fuck until completion, but you know what they say: Always let your girlfriend do whatever she wants with the sluts that she brings into the house under mysterious circumstances. It’s common courtesy.

“Sure thing, babe. Gahyeon, get on your back so you can service Jiu.”

Gahyeon’s movement is suspiciously sluggish, as she slowly extracts your cock from her throat. She blinks a few times before pushing herself onto her hands and knees.

“What’s taking you so long?” you ask.

“I don’t understand,” Gahyeon responds, stopping her movement altogether.

“What part?”

“I don’t know a Jiu.”

You’re briefly puzzled, but you figure out the problem in the moment immediately before Jiu clears the air.

“My students call me Ms. Kim.”

You scowl. “Not even ‘Professor’ Kim, huh?”

Jiu shakes her head and shrugs.

Annoyed, you grab Gahyeon by the arm. She has no mechanism to resist. “Don’t you respect your professors, Gahyeon?”

“No,” she says simply.

Annoyance justified, you continue, “Why not?”

“They claim authority that they don’t generally deserve.”

“What if they work really hard?”

“It doesn’t matter if their ability to teach is hampered by the school.”

“Then why go to school?!”

“Taking down an establishment is impossible without knowing it intimately.”

You and Jiu both blink in surprise.

“Well, okay… What about your cooking professor?”

“I love Ms. Kim.”

Jiu puts her hand to her mouth and squeaks out, “You do?”

“Yes.”

Well now you’re getting somewhere. You lay Gahyeon down on her back and release her arm. The handprint fades slowly. “Why do you love Ms. Kim?”

“She teaches a valuable, practical skill without being pretentious and doesn’t shill fascist propaganda to her students. She is also extremely attractive.”

You smirk at Jiu, but continue addressing Gahyeon, “Have you tried to seduce Ms. Kim?”

“Yes, with minimal effort to avoid disrupting her work.”

“How would you feel if you did disrupt her?”

“I would feel the need to apologize.”

Jiu’s lower lip quivers and her eyes glisten with tears yet again. Crying is not an incredibly uncommon occurrence for her.

“Would you consider being her slutty little sex slave?”

“No.”

What a fucking downer! All that build up only for her to reject the proposal! You and Jiu gawk at each other incredulously.

“What?!” you demand, “Why not?! You just said you tried seducing her and find her extremely attractive, both of which are totally valid!”

“Unbalanced power dynamics in sexual relationships are morally reprehensible.”

Jiu and you share a look down at Gahyeon’s supine form and back, and then you both burst into laughter. Forget her being a downer, this girl’s hilarious!

You give Gahyeon’s bare thigh a couple of hearty slaps. “Sure, sure! That’s a good one, Gahyeon. You want to be a slut for Jiu!”

Then you remember that Gahyeon doesn’t know Jiu as “Jiu,” so you open you mouth to course correct, but Jiu goes first.

“Yeah, you little slut! You are going to get weak in the knees for Ms. Kim from now on. Hearing her voice will make you uncontrollably horny. Her spit will be a delicacy to you.”

You smile broadly. Jiu really has learned a lot. She’s incepting Gahyeon correctly, using the second person future tense without contractions! What a fantastic, sinister girlfriend you found yourself!

“Your ‘morals’ will always be worth compromising when it comes to Ms. Kim,” Jiu keeps going, voice curiously peppy for something so dark, “Ms. Kim will own your holes, and your desire to please her in every way will rival your desire to undo the societal imbalances caused by authoritarian capitalists. You will do anything for Ms. Kim.”

Clap for that devious performance. Applaud, even. Jiu grins from ear to ear. “How was that, honey?”

“Excellent, babe! And for a first attempt, too? Incredible.”

Jiu blushes, “Well, I did try it once before on another student.”

You nod approvingly. “Did that one go just as well?”

“He hasn’t left his work station without first cleaning it in the last two weeks, so it seems to have been good!”

“Oh, that guy? I was wondering where all the complaints about him had gone.”

Jiu slips her hands beneath Gahyeon’s shoulders and yanks her to the side, finding a good position to straddle her head. “I can fill you in on the details later, but for now I think you should hurry up. Don’t want to let my new slut’s ass dry out.”

You hoist Gahyeon’s legs out of the way, dipping down to investigate. Indeed, her tiny rosebud is gleaming with saliva. So it was her asshole that Jiu was eating out! No sense in allowing such a lovely, courteous thing go to waste! Before you get back up and line up your cock, you give it a quick lick. You can’t help yourself. Jiu’s spit is delectable. Fitting, for such a good cook.

Speaking of fitting, your cock and Gahyeon’s ass? Fantastic fit. The preparation provided by Jiu is what really seals the deal though. The entry is a dream, metaphorically for you and something close to literally for Gahyeon. You expect you’ll have an absolute blast once you start fucking in earnest, but you want to wait for Jiu to get settled in first.

And Jiu does just that. She faces you and settles in on Gahyeon’s face, as expected, humming cheerfully. It’s hard to believe just how enamored you are with the way she wiggles side to side, getting a feel for the facial contours most suited to being seating.

“Get a taste of Ms. Kim’s pussy, Gahyeon, and tell her what you think of it,” you suggest, already knowing that Gahyeon is in for a treat.

Gahyeon sticks out her tongue, and immediately recoils with a gasp. “You taste so much better than I imagined!”

She knocked it out of the park with that one. It’s uncommon for anybody to show much of any enthusiasm in this state of mind unless they’re specifically told to.

“Awww!” Jiu coos, “You little sweetheart! Eat me out, deeply.”

Gahyeon seemed quite unbothered about sucking your cock, but she seems downright pumped about this. Her arms even leap up, blindly falling over Jiu’s thighs. Jiu squeals with delight as Gahyeon’s tongue flies over her clit, through her petals, and straight inside her. You can see the sparks in Jiu’s eyes before they shut tight, the instability in her legs before she presses her palms into Gahyeon’s breasts, and the crack of a smile before she groans in blissful passion. 

Oh, Jiu. Such a good woman, doing such bad things.

Suddenly, you remember you’re balls deep inside this girl’s ass. Right. You can admire Jiu and still get yourself off.

Pull back a stroke and slam back in. It doesn’t matter one bit to Gahyeon how rough you are, but you don’t want to do anything that would ruin Jiu’s enjoyment, so you push down on Gahyeon’s hips, pinning her mostly in place (it’s not perfectly effective) while you fuck her. 

That puts you and Jiu face to face. Heavy breaths hit each other over and over. You kiss. You lean into each other, nipping lips and necks, giggling darkly. Sharing a little sex toy like this is perfect for affirming your affection for each other. Jiu stares into your eyes, trying desperately not to blink as she reaches climax.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, caressing her trembling jawline.

When she manages to get a lungful of air, Jiu whimpers back, “I love you, honey.”

“Love you too,” you return. You punctuate with a new kiss, firmly gripping the back of Jiu’s head to ensure you can stay attached while you both pound and grind away. You even give her hair a tight little tug, which seems to give her a miniature, aftershock sort of orgasm.

Surely, you imagine, she must be all but drowning Gahyeon, but that’s no reason to stop. Not when the girl’s neurons are registering the fulfillment of her fantasies (whether they be brand new fantasies or older ones), and her body reacts accordingly, her pussy grooling all over your cock and making your ass-smashing even smoother. You even detect moment or two of slight tightening. All these orgasms urge you to join in, and you have no reason not to.

Except, perhaps, one.

You take Jiu’s hand and give her knuckles a quick kiss. “Jiu…”

She already knows. With a completely unnecessary seductive lip bite, she slips off of Gahyeon’s face and down until she’s fully on top of the girl, back to Gahyeon’s stomach, legs spread to fold around you.

Pull out of Gahyeon. The toy doesn’t matter anymore, not when you have Jiu below you. Your cum is for her. Without looking, you find her pussy easily, naturally, even. It’s unclear to you whether you were this close to cumming already or if it’s just Jiu’s body that speeds you along that path, but it begins as soon as you reach her furthest depths. Now this is a perfect fit. You drop on top of her, desperate for her mouth on yours again as you fill her with pump after pump after pump of your crème de la penis. She moans your name repeatedly between hitched breaths, and you repeat hers as well, voices indicative of a need that falls on every level of the hierarchy. Only once you’ve been thoroughly depleted do you notice the little sharp pains of Jiu’s nails digging into your shoulder and back.

Neither of you move, if you don’t include your heaving chests, focusing on each other’s eyes and bathing in each other’s auras. This time, you say it first, “I love you, Jiu.”

“I love you,” she tells you back.

The three words practically turn into a chant, until each of you is smiling uncontrollably and rubbing your noses together as if you can’t come up with something more interesting to do.

Eventually, as all things must end, you break apart with a last giggle. You’ve gone soft, but you don’t know when exactly your spent dick fell out of Jiu. Taking a quick look, she’s leaking an incredible amount of cum directly onto her student’s pussy.

Sighing wistfully, Jiu reaches back over her shoulder to stroke Gahyeon’s hair. “Well, how long do you think it will be before she’s begging me to use her?”

“Well, normally it takes a few months for someone to mull it over, but every time she goes under it’ll speed things up. If someone were to give her a super common trigger that she’ll hear accidentally multiple times a day… maybe two, three weeks?”

Jiu whines incoherently and rolls off of Gahyeon’s body, casually grabbing a boob and rolling it about. “Oh, I’m sorry for having faith in humanity, that people would have the decency not to say ‘titties’ in public. Anyway… I guess I’ll just have to keep her close while I wait.”

You nod approvingly and massage the back of Jiu’s leg.

“Hey, since you said she wants to be my slut tonight, what do you think would happen if I woke her up right now?” Jiu asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Gahyeon, wak—”

Your anxiety spikes.

[bonniebird]

Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader Requested by Anon

Make a request Request: Anonymous asked: Can you do one of billy loomis with female reader instead of killing sydney he gets distracted by how obsessed he becomes with the reader and starts killing people that get in the way of their relationship. Thanks.

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF MURDER, IMPLIED STALKING, IMPLIED KIDNAPPING, STABBING, MENTIONS OF BLOOD.

Read on Wattpad

Read on AO3

.

Sydney heard your feet slamming on the concrete tiled floor before she saw you. Raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked up at you, she could see that you were bursting to tell them something.

“What is it?” Tatum said as she leaned against Stu.

“The cops came! They were talking to Allen Fletcher during the last period. They think he did it. You know! The killings. Everyone is saying he did it!” You gushed out. Syd sighed and leaned back on her elbow, enjoying the sun. She didn’t want to hear about what had happened. Poor Casey and Steve. Stu and Billy glanced at each other and you saw Billy shaking his head, probably trying to dissuade Stu from making an inappropriate joke.

“Why would the cops think Allen Fletcher did it?” Tatum asked. You shrugged and glanced over at the doors where Allen was being led out by Tatum’s older brother.

“How should I know? Everyone is talking about it. I guess we’ll find out when Dewey tells you later.” You said as you glanced at Syd and Tatum then back at Allen, who glared at you when he saw you staring at him. Stu got up and leaned on your shoulder as you watched Allen. When Allen’s glare seemed to harden you jolted a little, feeling the unpleasant prickle of being watched. Stu laughed in your ear and pulled on your arm.

“Come one (Y/N). You keep staring at murderers, you're going to get yourself in some serious shit.” He said and laughed again as he sat back on the grass next to Tatum.

“Stu.” Billy said. You glanced at him. He wasn’t watching you or looking at anyone in the group. He was watching the cops putting Allen in the back of the police cruiser and fiddling with a blade of grass. His jaw tensed and untensed as he glanced at Stu again.

“What? There are plenty of movies where people get killed for looking at a guy wrong.” Stu said quickly and pulled a face at you.

“Rear window!” Randy said suddenly. He stood up and started to explain the movie's plot. You pulled a face and shook your head.

“Don’t tell me what happens.” You said quickly, cutting him off before he got too far in.

“It’s not bad.” Randy said quickly. You shook your head again and stepped closer to the group.

“No! That’s what you said last time you had a movie night and we watched that lady get stabbed so much. It was so gross. So much blood.” You complained. Tatum kicked at the air pretending to swing for Randy who held his hands up, laughing as he relented and finally stopped, sitting down again as Syd started scolding him, recalling having to have several sleepovers after you’d watched that movie with him. She’d lost a lot of sleep trying to convince you there wasn’t a shadowy figure outside.

“Well, there’s going to be a lot of blood when you get stabbed.” Stu said and grabbed you, pulling you down to sit on the grass next to him, legs over his lap. He made hand gestures as if spurts of blood were shooting everywhere. “We’re losing her!” He yelled. Several people walking past looked his way and gave him a disapproving look while Billy shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Stop it! That’s really insensitive.” Syd scolded before Billy could speak. You looked at Stu and tried not to giggle which only made him snort out a laugh.

“Sorry, Syd.” He muttered, sounding almost sarcastic.

“I bet Allen did it.” You said when the group went quiet. “He looks like a killer.” 

“Oh yeah? What do killers look like?” Billy asked and leaned over. You looked over at the police cruiser still parked in the school parking lot and shrugged.

“The eyes I guess? I don’t know! Some people just look like killers.” You said and shrugged. Billy and Stu looked at each other before laughing.

“That is so not true. Ok. It’s mean.” Syd muttered as she stood up. 

“Come on (Y/N). Let’s get out of here before these two idiots rub off on you.” Tatum said as she stood up and pulled you up. Stu made a few rude jokes but stopped when Billy nudged him.

“We’ll catch up with you.” Billy called out. Tatum waved him off and hurried you along to catch up with Syd while Randy hesitated and decided he’d rather stick with your group than Billy and Stu.

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

Everyone was on edge the next day. You went to the usual meeting place but found no one. Hurrying to find the group, you found some of them gathered in front of Tatum’s locker.

“You’re late… you know you may as well have not come in.” Tatum said. You frowned at her. She nodded her head up the hall to where Billy and Syd were talking.

“What happened?” You asked. Stu leaned down onto Tatum’s shoulder.

“Another attack. Syd thinks it was Billy.” Stu said quickly. 

“They’re sending us home for the rest of the day.” Tatum said as she slammed her locker. You all waited for Billy and Syd to stop talking but Syd stormed off and Tatum hurried after her, leaving you alone with Stu who hurried up the corridor to talk with Billy.

“Hey!” You jumped at the sudden sound and then found yourself shoved back against the locker behind you. “Did you tell Prescott I was a killer?”

“What?” You said in surprise. Allen had come out of nowhere and grabbed at your shirt. Your back hurt from being slammed against the locker and he was staring down at you coldly, almost lifting you off the floor by your shirt. 

“You heard me!” He yelled. If you hadn’t believed the rumours that he’d been the killer before. You were starting to consider them now.

“Why don’t you let (Y/N) go.” Billy said. You hadn’t noticed him or Stu hurrying back towards you. Billy stared at Allen who looked between him and Stu. Something about the way Billy looked at Allen seemed to make him incredibly uncomfortable and he let you go. Stu yanked you under his arm, shoving you between him and Billy. 

“We both know you’re the killer. Even your little girlfriend thinks so.” Allen said. Billy scoffed and shook his head, stepping closer which seemed to make Allen shrink and back up a little.

“Get out of here before we have a problem.” Billy warned. His voice was low and the way he spoke made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle unpleasantly.

“Whatever you say, killer.” Allen said and stormed off. Stu turned to you and quickly looked around the corridor. A teacher stopped to check if you were ok. When you said that you were and that you were planning on going home, they hurried after Allen.

“Come on. We’ll get you home.” Stu said and glanced at Billy who was still staring the way Allen had retreated. Stu slapped at Billy’s chest with the back of his hand. “Hey! You good?” He asked in a way that made you think there was something more to what he was asking. Billy seemed to snap out of his thoughts and nodded, going quiet and Stu led the way out to the parking lot. You spotted Tatum looking for you and thanked the boys before hurrying over to tell her and Syd what had happened. 

“Are you ok?” Syd asked as you crammed into Tatum’s car.

“Yeah. Just kind of creeped out. It was so weird and scary.” You said and they both hummed in agreement.

“Everything is weird and creepy right now.” Tatum explained. You looked curiously at them and Syd started to explain what she’d gone through the night before. By the time she had finished, Tatum pulled up outside your house and looked over at you. “You sure you want to go home? I bet you’d be able to stay at mine with me and Syd!” 

“Nah. I’ll be ok. It’s not like I’m home alone. Besides, if it gets weirder I’ll call.” You promised. They waved as you got out and hurried down your driveway and let yourself into your house. As soon as you went inside you could hear your parents arguing. You snuck past them to your room, not wanting to be forced into taking sides again. They’d been arguing for weeks. Eventually, the arguing stopped. It was starting to get dark. You’d been watching a portable TV set that you’d saved up and got from Randy at the video store. There was the distinct sound of someone leaving, the door slamming and one of the cars pulling away. Going to see what had happened you walked out of your bedroom to find the living room and kitchen empty.

“They really left me alone! After everything that happened!” You complained. Going to grab the phone you paused as it rang suddenly. There was a thump at the side of the house and you were certain that you heard one of the windows sliding open. Grabbing at a metal candle stick that sat on the coffee table in the middle of your living room, you ignored the phone and slowly walked through the house. The bathroom, your bedroom and the spare room all had the windows shut and locked. Continuing to your parent's room, the last room left, you slowly opened the door. The window was wide open. Flicking on the light you looked around. The bedclothes swayed in the breeze that came through the window making you jump. The door to the closet in the corner of the room was cracked a little while the large closet with a sliding door built into the wall on the other side was closed all the way. You could see clothes strewn on the floor as if someone had left in a hurry. Slowly getting close to the window you leaned over and tried to see if there was any disturbance to the closer below. The door in the corner creaked and you turned quickly, almost dropping the candlestick. Turning while looking out the window, your head sticking past the windowsill allowed you to see a large boot print on the white trim of the window. In a panic you slammed the window shut and hurried out of the room, rushing to the phone. Before you could pick it up it started ringing. Your heart was pounding. It was pounding so hard that your head began to hurt. As soon as it stopped ringing you picked it up but before you could dial a number it rang again. Slamming it back into the cradle you panicked, hearing the sound of the sliding doors of the second closet clearly enough that fear made your mouth water and your body start to sweat. You spotted a tin of loose change on the side table by the front door and grabbed it. Yanking the door open you ran. Despite ragged breath and your body screaming at you to slow down you didn’t stop until you reached the nearest pay phone. Most of the money in the tin, spilled on the floor as your shaking hands tried to scoop it out and show it into the coin slot on the pay phone. The candlestick was still in your clammy hands as you waited for someone to pick it up.

“Hey?” Tatum said as she picked up the phone. Why had you phoned her and not the police? You thought to yourself.

“Killer! My house! Help!” You wheezed out. Tatum screamed out to her brother and he quickly took the phone. You could hear the fumbling.

“You’re sure?” He asked. You could hear Tatum filling him in and yelling at him for not sending help right away even though he’d taken the phone from her.

“Yes. Please help.” You said quietly. Dewey handed the phone back to Tatum who talked to you while Dewey spoke quickly in the background.

“Ok. There are cops on the way! Dewey’s just left. Stay on the phone with me ok?” Tatum asked. Something in the distance caught your eye and you squished yourself down as small as the phone cord on the payphone would let you.

“I’m really scared.” You admitted quietly. She continued talking to you until Dewey pulled up at the phone booth and hurried you to his car. He drove you the rest of the way up to your house where you found a huge number of police hurrying around. One of them was holding a mask that looked familiar. 

“(Y/N)?” One of them asked the boss you thought from the way Dewey straightened up and tried to look serious. You nodded. “We talked to your dad and he said that this might be yours. Is it?” He held up the mask and you swallowed. It was the same kind of mask Syd had described.

“No sir.” You answered quietly. He looked at you for a moment and then nodded as if he believed you.

“We’re going to have to look around a little more. You might want to find somewhere else to stay for the night.” He said before walking off. Tatum pulled up at that exact moment with Syd flinging herself out of the car and hurting over to you.

“Are you ok?” You both asked as they hugged you.

“I’m ok.” You said quietly.

“Tatum. Take (Y/N) back home with you. I’ll try and find her parents.” Dewey said quietly. Syd sat in the back with you as Tatum drove home. You slowly filled them in on what happened. 

“Fuck. That must have been so scary!” Tatum gasped out.

“We’re glad you’re ok.” Syd said and smiled at you. You tried to smile back but found it rather hard. You were grateful to slump down on Tatum’s spare bed. You were asleep fairly quickly. Syd untied your shoes and moved you fully onto the bed while Tatum found you a blanket. They stayed up most of the night talking about what was happening.

You went home the next day. Your dad showed up, complaining about the cops being all over his house. He didn’t bother telling you that he and your mum had broken up that same night until you got home and asked him where she was. 

Deciding that it was all too much you went to your room. For a few weeks, nothing terribly eventful happened. There were a few more killings. Your mum moved out for good and you started to think you were going crazy. There was a smell in your room that was familiar but didn’t belong in your room. Almost like a perfume or a cologne that you couldn’t place. Furthermore, things seemed to move around your room, clothes went missing and sometimes you couldn’t remember if you’d left your window open or shut it. You only opened it during the day because of the heat. Dewey said it was normal, due to your hypervigilance that you were getting mixed up. You weren’t so sure. At one point during the night, you’d rolled over and thought you’d caught sight of someone kneeling at the side of your bed watching you sleep. You had hurried to turn your bedside light on but found that there was no one there and decided it was probably just the position of your chair in the corner of the room.

“I just feel super jumpy.” You explained to Syd and Tatum. You were gathered in the new section of the video store. 

“I am too. You’re going to be.” Syd comforted while Tatum nodded and agreed. You saw Syd glance across the store and saw Stu and Billy looking over at you both.

“You still think it could be him, Syd?” Tatum asked. She shrugged and continued talking. You were distracted by the unpleasant prickling feeling of being watched. Turning round the corner to the next aisle you found Allen at the other end. You hurried back to join the girls and insisted that you leave.

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

Allen started to follow the three of you when Billy grabbed his shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Why? Couldn’t get your fix the other day? Can't stand the competition?” Allen asked smugly. Billy stared at him in a way that made Allen shift nervously and back up, only to find Stu trapping him between the two of them and a row of shelves on either side.

“Watch your mouth.” Billy said slowly. 

“Scared they’ll know what you are? That I’ll blow your cover?” Allen snapped and smiled. Billy laughed a little, Stu mimicked the sound as if echoing Billy. 

“No. Just annoyed that you think you can take what’s mine.” Billy said coldly. He made Allen jerk back and slammed his back into Stu’s chest, making Stu grunt and complain, as Billy’s hand dug into Allen’s pocket. He pulled out a lump of fabric. When the last few customers knew them headed to the till Billy dangled the fabric from his fingers. A pair of your underwear. “You want to watch from a distance, take pictures from the window, that's fine. But you don’t come inside. We are the only ones that go inside.”

“You can’t stop me. I have pictures of you creeping around (Y/N)’s room that I know the cops would like.” Allen said confidently.

“Oh yeah, Fletcher! We have pictures too.” Stu said. He pulled a small polaroid from his back pocket and held it over Allen’s shoulder so that all three of them could see it.

“I think the cops would be more interested in knowing why you have a shed with that big padlock on it. Why would you need a bathroom and a bed with ropes and handcuffs in a shed?” Billy asked and glared at Allen who swallowed nervously.

“You just want to play with (Y/N). To snuff her out. I want to keep her forever!” Allen whispered. Stu let out a loud laugh and Billy showed the underwear in his pocket. 

“Stay away or we snitch on your love nest in the woods.” Billy warned. He and Stu left Allen nervously standing in the horror section as they left.

“You don’t think he’ll say anything do you?” Stu asked Billy as they headed out into the street. After the murder at the school, cops were everywhere. He tried not to think about it as he paused and turned to Stu. “I mean… he said he has pictures of you. Is it really worth it? Changing your plan to go after (Y/N). We tried once already and she got away. Why don’t we go back to the original plan?” 

“Tatum said that (Y/N)’s parents are both away until Monday. They’re splitting up over some woman. She’s spending the weekend with Tatum. So we have tonight to deal with (Y/N). You just have to keep Tatum distracted until we can deal with Syd.” Billy said quietly as he looked around to make sure that no one heard him. Stu looked uncertain for a moment and then nodded.

“Sure. Sounds like a plan.” Stu said and grinned.

They made new plans and managed to sneak up to your house without being spotted. Your parents were the only ones home and they were arguing loudly enough that Billy was able to use one of the knives they had with them to loosen the lock on your bedroom window. He opened it just a crack so he could let himself in later. Trying to loosen the lock in the dark had proven frustratingly difficult. They found a place to stow some supplies and then headed down to Billy’s car. The rest of the day passed by slowly. It made Billy irritable. 

“Why don’t we try and find those pictures Fletcher said he had?” Stu offered. Billy sighed and then shrugged.

“I guess we don’t have anything to do until (Y/N)’s parents leave.” He muttered. The two of them headed to Allen’s house and parked in an off-road. They slowly picked their way down a dirt path through woods that backed up onto the shed they’d found days before. It was locked with a padlock and a short walk from Allen’s house. They stopped before they got too close and tried to see if there was anyone home. An older lady was cooking in the kitchen. She passed by the window every now and then. They moved closer and rounded the corner of the house. A man, who looked a couple of years older than her, was watching tv in a living room that they passed. The window to a bedroom that they assumed was Allen’s was shut and they couldn’t get it open. But there was a window open next to it. It led to a bathroom making it difficult to quietly climb in.

“Ok. We get into the room, find the pictures and then take the ones with me in them. We should be able to get out through the window in there. As long as we don’t make any noise we should be fine.” Billy muttered quietly as Stu managed to drop down through the window after him.

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

You found it hard to get to sleep at first. You’d checked the house several times to see if it was still locked up. Your dad had left to spend the night with his new girlfriend. Your mum had gone out of town that morning. You’d finally had enough of them fighting with each other and yelled at them for leaving you alone when someone had tried to break into your house weeks before. They’d only coughed up another twenty in cash and told you to be careful. 

There was a high squeaking noise that woke you. It sounded like one of the windows was opening. You froze in your bed and listened carefully, hoping that it was nothing. But there was more movement and you got up. Carefully you opened your door and stepped out to the corridor. You crept into the living room and hopped to make it to the kitchen where the phone was hung in the cradle on the wall. There was the distinct sound of footsteps which made you panic and look around in the dark, trying to see where it was coming from. You screamed when a figure lurched out of the dark of the kitchen and charged at you. Magangind to grab an armchair and fling it in the way you bought yourself enough time to run back to your room and slam the door shut. You pressed your back against it as you reached for the light switch. Turning when the door started to rattle you didn’t see Billy pulling the door open.

Billy glanced back at Stu who lifted his mask off and looked at Billy who motioned for him to stay quiet. “Go scare him off.” Billy whispered. He yanked the Ghostface mask off and tossed it along with the robes to Stu who hurried to hide them and ran round to the kitchen window. 

“Hey!” Billy whispered. You turned and looked at him with a fear in your eyes that sent a sick thrill through Billy. He had to remind himself to look nervous.

“W-what are you doing here?” You asked. Billy paused for just a moment and his face darkened and then he stepped closer and smiled a little.

“Stu and I were getting some cheap beers at the corner store down the road. We heard a scream and remembered that Tatum said you were out here alone tonight. Luckily we did. We almost went straight home, thought it was an animal or something.” As Billy spoke he leaned his weight on the door to help keep it from opening. There was a loud crash and a scuffling. 

“Where’s Stu?” You asked suddenly. Billy looked down at you and looked at the window. 

“He urm. Went to get help.” Billy said stiffly. The house went quiet again and you looked out the window. He glanced at it and moved away from you.

“I’ll go and see if the coast is clear.” Billy offered and moved you away from the door. You stared at him, terrified that whoever had run at you would knock down Billy and get you. He stepped out into the hall and looked around. He couldn't see anyone but it was quiet and no one else had gotten into the room with you so he assumed everything was fine. 

“They’ve gone. Must have heard me saying that Stu went for help and got scared.” Billy shut the door behind him and you looked relieved. He walked around you in a circle, watching you closely. You seemed to be entirely relaxed even being alone with him. It was strange, the way that you had no problem being near him but Syd’s skin would crawl. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him. It fascinated him. You really had no idea about what he wanted to do to you. He reached down to the knife holstered to his leg and went to pull it out when you suddenly ran at him. He panicked for a moment until he felt your arms crush around him tightly as you hugged him, face pressed against his shoulder. He inhaled your soft smell. The urge to sink the blade in his hand into your side screamed through his head. But you made pathetic soft noises and he found himself letting the knife drop to the floor with two quiet thunks as the blade and then the handle hit the floor. His arms moved around you, his hand resting at the back of your neck as you leaned in more. He stared across the room, seeing himself in a small mirror on your bedside table. Staring at himself he realised he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill you. At least not right now. You needed him. That meant that you would leave him. He liked the idea of that. You. Not being able to leave.

“Billy? You get it… done?” Stu said as he hurried in. Billy squeezed you tighter so you wouldn’t turn and see Stu in his Ghostface costume. Stu pulled his mask off and gave Billy a look.

“Did you find that help we needed?” Billy asked. Stu stared at him for a moment and sighed.

“I couldn’t get anyone to help us but I… chased off whoever broke in. I’ll go and check if the phones working now.” Stu said slowly. Billy raised his eyebrows and gave a small nod. Stu hurried out and Billy loosened his grip. You stepped back and sighed. Then you turned away and dropped onto your bed. He took the opportunity to grab at the knife on the floor and hide it in the holster. He was going to sit and talk to you but Stu shouted for help. Billy said to stay where you were but there was such a loud commotion outside that you couldn’t help but go and see what was happening. Maybe you could help if the attacker came back. Maybe you could make a break for it. You stopped as you watched Billy and Stu trying to shove Allen Fletcher into the boot of Billy’s car.

“What the fuck!” You gasped. They both turned. Billy looked annoyed while Stu looked surprised but tried to play it off. You glanced down at Billy’s leg. His trousers had ridden up a little and caught on his boot. You could see the knife strapped to his leg. Stu moved his left leg so you couldn’t see it. But that drew your attention to the ghost face masks on the floor next to the car.

“No.” Billy said firmly as you panicked and then bolted. You could hear him running after you as you darted into the dark woods. It was darker when you got further in and you had to slow down a little to find your way. Even though you knew the woods well enough you found it hard without any landmarks being visible. Billy suddenly lurched out of the dark, knocking you down. Your head smacked against a tree as you both went down. Your vision swam. You lost your bearings, and falling to the floor felt almost as if you were rolling. Then Billy was on top of you, his weight holding you down as he brandished the knife in his hand. Realising you couldn’t get away again you froze up.

Billy tutted and moved your head inspecting the wound on it. “Look what you did. Now you’re hurt. That’s why you shouldn’t run away.” His voice became deeper as he looked down at you, even in the dim light you could see the cold look in his eyes. “You get hurt when you try and leave me.”

“You. You killed Allen.” You said quietly. Billy looked at you as if he found it rather funny that you were so scared. 

“No. We just… helped him decide to leave you alone.” Billy said slowly. You stared up at him helplessly as your head burned with pain. You yelped when he was suddenly up on his feet and started dragging you along after him, his hand twisted in your shirt. Your feet skidded along the dirt as he pulled you along. Stu joined the two of you, pulling something behind him, Allan you assumed. They muttered to each other, stopping at a shed. He shoved you towards Stu who kept a hold of you with one arm. Billy fumbled around in the grass around the shed until he found a rock and broke the lock off. He yanked the door open and shoved Allen inside. He grunted and moved around as Billy found the light and pulled the cord. You took in the room. There was a small sink and camping stove on a table. A bed in the corner and in the middle of the room was a series of chains sunk into the concrete floor. You looked up at Stu with panic and found that he was watching Billy intently.

“You have… a creepy dungeon?” You asked quietly. You honestly didn’t want an answer but really hadn’t been able to stop yourself from talking.

“No! No. He had a creepy dungeon. This is where you were going to be kept like a dog. I saved you!” Billy said. His voice was drawn out, gravelled and unkind. It made you shiver unpleasantly. Allen started to say something and Billy’s face stiffened. You jumped as he turned suddenly and crossed the room with just a few strides. He stabbed Allen several times in the stomach and then sighed and turned back to you. He sighed as if Allen speaking up had frustrated him and jabbed the knife in the air towards you. “I saved you and now you owe me (Y/N). You’re going to do what I want from now on. Understand?” He walked closer and closer until he was close enough that you had to flinch backwards towards Stu to avoid the tip of the knife in Billy’s hand from picking your skin. You nodded and Billy’s eyes flashed with an angry look.

“Y-Yes. I understand.” You said quietly. He smiled at that and nodded. Then he looked at Stu who giggled in a way that made you even more uncomfortable. “Happy? Now we can finish our plans.”

Tag list:

@the-caravello-post@killing-gremlin@aegonandaemondtargaryenslut18@lchufflepuffcorn @savagemickey03@kaitieskidmore1

[faeriichaii]

Hello! May I request Aragorn realising his feelings towards reader who is cold and distant and regal, and how he would try to get to know them better? Preferably male reader, but gender-neutral is fine, too. If you don’t write for either, then I’m sorry to ask. I only want you to write what you’re comfortable with. Thank you for your time.

Worthy Enough ~ Aragorn x GN!Reader

A/N: Omg I am finally back!! I'm so sorry that it took me soooo long to work on this request but work completely took over my life and I basically had no free time whatsoever- But now I have a lil vacation so I will try to work on most of my requests and push through them haha. I also am quite surprised cause this was sooooo hard for me to write (probably also cause I took a break from writing and all rip) But I still hope you like it! And lmk if you do (and lmk if you don't haha)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: tbh idk? ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 912 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ Summary: Aragorn slowly begins to understand you and tries to find out even more about you

Not even a wince left your lips as Aragorn put the green balm on top of a stab wound you received during the last battle you encountered. The only sign to let him know that the concoction stung upon your skin was the twitch of your eyebrow. Aragorn has known you for a while now. The two of you traveling far and wide until Frodo and his friends stumbled upon you. Since then, you have been wandering the lands with the purpose of destroying the ring. “How come you let the arrow struck you? Normally you are more careful than that.” Your eyes were focused on the ground, thinking about how this arrow wasn’t even meant for you.

“I guess my mind was occupied by the Orc in front of me.” Aragorn nodded at your answer. He knew that it was a lie. Normally you could handle up to three of them simultaneously, without getting your own blood spilled. So, it was a real surprise to him as he spotted you, hand on your shoulder and a slightly pain filled grimace gracing your face. Taking the gauze, he carefully wrapped the wound, making sure that it wasn’t to lose and neither too tight. A slight grunt left your lips, as you tried to rotate your arm. “Make sure to change the gauze at least twice a day.” Aragorn said, before leaving your side and joining the others for some dinner.

His thoughts were occupied by you. He knows that you tend to keep to yourself and rarely join in when it comes to conversations. This doesn’t make you less liked by the company. Quite the opposite. Sometimes Frodo takes a little stroll with you, just so he could talk to you and have you listen to his burdens or any thoughts on his mind. Legolas also quite enjoys gathering herbs with you. You’re so calm and collected, that it really helps him focus on his surroundings and get in touch easier with nature. Aragorn also can’t deny that you are his favourite partner, when it comes to keeping watch during the night. Especially as he remembers the talk of a few weeks ago.

Both of you were watching the flames dance, while keeping your ears strained for any unfamiliar noise that might signal an approaching enemy. Your sword was leaning on the log you were sitting on. “How come you let me join you?” Your voice cut through the silence, making Aragorn turn his attention from the fire to you. “What do you mean?” “You could have declined my offer when I asked you if I could accompany you. But you didn’t. Why?” He thought about your words carefully. He had declined any other offer he received of company. Of friends who wanted to join him. Of people who wanted to be by his side. But your offer seemed different to him.

“I think it was the way you asked me. You never really asked me to begin with. You joined in a brawl I unluckily got myself caught in and helped me. And since then, we have travelled together.” A hum left your lips, as you analysed his answer while watching the flames wrap around the darkness of the night. “I just had this urge to help you. It almost felt like something was calling me to your aid.” Aragorn leaned forward, intrigued in your words. “Back then I was searching for a purpose of my existence. For something I could do with my life. I had no home and neither did I have a family. It has always just been me in this godforsaken world.” A sigh left your lips. You have never opened up to someone, but it felt strangely nice.

“I fought to survive and I fought even harder for people who couldn’t defend themselves. I knew I wanted to protect people. And I knew I wanted to find someone who was in my eyes worthy enough to protect. Someone who I knew would do anything to change the world and form it into a better place.” You looked at Aragorn, a gentle smile on your lips. “I knew that when I saw you fight off these men, which caused ruckus in that tavern, that you were this one person I was meant to travel with.”

Aragorn back then was very surprised to have you open up to him. In all these years prior of you both travelling together, you never initiated any kind of deep talk with him. Especially when it came to your past. Of course, he asked in the beginning, but most times you tried to switch the topic to something else. Which is another reason, as to why he started analysing you and your decisions. He tried to understand you more and see things in your perspective. Which is why he knew exactly how you received the wound from battle.

The hours passed quickly and most of the company already went to bed, except for you and Aragorn, who decided to spend the first watch together. Your hands were behind you, supporting part of your weight while you leaned back and watched the various stars on the night sky. “I know that you lied to me.” Your attention drifted from the lights to Aragorn, who was still sitting on one of the logs by the campfire. Tilting your head, he just gave you a smile before continuing. “Thank you for deeming me worthy enough.”

[eddiemunsonw]

None of your business | PART 1

PART 1 - PART 2

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

Summary: It's none of your business what Gator's doing at the bar you work at. But at the same time, it is.

CW/Disclaimer: Alcohol consumption, smut (handjob)

Words: 2346

On Wednesdays it was rarely crowded in the bar you worked at. There were always some regulars, those that fled from their wives (more commonly known as waste aways who should have never married nor had children) and those that loved alcohol more than life. Sometimes you can't blame them. 

This also meant that you spent most of your time with people, usually men, twice your age. You had built up quite some strength against their sexist remarks, their misogyny and the way they often tried to undress you with their eyes. Every now and then one would even actually lay a hand on you but by now your boss knew you needed no help taking care of those. 

Often, a glare would do. Sometimes they needed to be spoken to very clearly to get the message. Other times, you simply stabbed their hand with a fork. Painful, not lethal, easy solution.

Looking around the bar now, you noticed it was far busier than your usual Wednesday. There were more couples, surprisingly, as it was a rare sight at your bar. Also some new faces. Maybe there was something to do nearby? A festival, a concert? You no longer had any time to dwell on it when Brutal Bob called you over for a refill. You still didn’t know what he had done to earn that nickname.

“Same as usual?”

“You know it dearie!”

You gave him a friendly smile and took his glass, replacing it with another whiskey. After adding his drink to his tab, you did some dishes until a very obvious “clearing of throat” caught your attention. The polished badge caught your attention before anything else. It was rare to see anyone of “importance” step in here. Those visits were usually reserved for when there was trouble. Warily, you made your way over to the deputy sheriff.

“What can I get you, Deputy?” you asked, trying to read his expression to figure out whether he was here for business or pleasure.

“Anything strong will do,” he mumbled, not really looking at you as he was focused on cleaning off some specks of dust from his badge.

“How’s whiskey on the rocks sound?”

“Alright.”

“Coming right up.”

By the time you returned with his drink, his attention had shifted to his left hand that rested on the bar. Other than noticing he had big hands and long, quite slender fingers, you didn’t see why a hand would be so much more interesting to look at than the person serving you a drink.

“There you go,” you sighed before naming the price. Absentmindedly, he reached into his breast pocket and fished a couple dollar bills out. Normally you wouldn’t go out of your way to talk to customers, but his deep sighs made it impossible not to.

“What’s on your mind? You look like you don’t even wanna be here sipping expensive whiskey.”

Gator looked up, barely moving his head so it was more of a glare in your direction under his dark brows.

“None of your business.”

“Ooookay, sorry to step on your toes, sir.”

You tried to fight it but your eyes rolled back into their sockets anyway as you turned away from him. The noise that came out of him as a reaction to that was almost funny.

“Who do you think you’re rolling your eyes at?”

As you gave yourself a moment to think, you slowly turned back around again. His eyes narrowingly followed you as you approached him, leaning over the bar before you softly told him;

“None of your business.”

His eyes were almost slits as he narrowed them further and you quipped a quick smile.

“Not so fun, is it? Being on the other end?”

Gator mumbled something incoherent to your ears and turned his gaze down into his glass. You were surprised at his defeated nature, knowing he’d normally go out of his way to demand an answer, as unfair as it would be. He seemed to have lost his attitude a little lately. It was impossible to guess what was going on in your town. It felt like everyone carried big, heavy secrets around. Everyone had their secrets of course, but with the way some people were looking… it sometimes felt there was a lot at stake.

You left him alone after that, only walked back to give him another drink, and another. After a few of them you started giving him water alongside it and surprisingly he took it with no snide remarks and actually drank it. Many people came and went, yet Gator seemed to be very stuck on his stool holding his drink or vape (which smelled disgustingly sweet, by the way), occasionally taking a break for the bathroom. The crowd slowly started to thin out, which wasn’t very surprising at this late hour. You were just busying yourself with doing some dishes when you heard Gator curse and slam his fist on the bar. Slowly, you made your way over with a new glass of water.

“Might not wanna do that too often, you know. Unless you want both your arms in a cast,” you tried to joke lightly. He maintained his frown which he had kept for most of the night. It wouldn’t surprise you if he was already suffering from a headache. When he didn’t respond, you hummed softly in thought.

“You left or right handed?”

“Right.”

���Oof. That’s a bummer. Must be frustrating, y’know, during…”

You had no idea what came over you to even move into that direction, but it surely caught Gator’s attention at last. His eyes flicked up at you, waiting.

“I mean,” you continued airily, “unless you like using your left for the pretense that it’s someone else doing it.”

It was impossible to miss how his eyes shifted down to your hands and a smile crept on your lips. You waited for his eyes to shift back to you, making sure he would realize you caught him. This must have been the first time you had seen Gator Tillman blush since… ever. He didn’t say anything however, which gave you the feeling it was your que to leave.

“I can’t. Doesn’t work for me.”

Oh. Oh. Maybe that’s why he was so grumpy. You cocked your head and fought to mockingly pout a little. But god was it tempting. As you took a sip of your coke, you watched him squirm with the nervous anticipation of your response.

“No wonder you’re in such a bad mood. No one to help you out a little?”

Gator shook his head and took a sip of his water before catching your gaze.

“Is that a hint?”

Hmm… was it a hint? Maybe. It all depended on his behavior, really. He was cute when his father wasn’t breathing down his neck. Made him seem a little more human rather than a shell chasing some unattractive ideals. You knew he was all talk and how whatever came out of his mouth was rarely true. That didn’t mean you weren’t cautious.

“Do you wish it’s a hint?”

Gator’s hand tightened around his glass, lips pressed tightly together as he seemed to be fighting some inner demons. Whatever they were telling him, you weren’t sure. Eventually, he nodded, a defeated sigh leaving him.

“Yeah…”

As you looked around the bar, you noticed that the last two people were gathering their stuff, knowing well enough you were about to close the bar. You nodded your head at them.

“If you wait ‘till they’re gone, I’ll see what I can do.”

Gator turned his head followed by a wordless nod. Even under the dim light, it was impossible to hide his rosy cheeks. He excused himself for the bathroom, as if he wanted to make sure you knew he wasn’t leaving. By the time he came back, the last customers were gone and you had already locked the door.

“So…” he started unsurely. “How do we do this?”

“Uh… you know, how it usually goes?”

“I-I haven’t, uh. I’ve never—”

Ah. That explained a lot as well.

“Had sex?”

“Not so loud!” he huffed and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t you worry, no one can hear us. A virgin huh, who would’ve thought.”

“I just haven’t found anyone- anyone worthy.”

“And a random girl serving you some drinks at the bar is?”

Gator shrugged.

“If she’s hot.”

“I have a hard time believing it’s about my looks here. I’m sure you’d say yes to just about anyone at this point.”

“Are you gonna jerk me off or are you just gonna keep making fun of me?!” Gator retorted, his patience thinning rapidly. You sighed and tapped on the bar.

“Hands.”

“What are you…” he started, confusion etching in his brows.

“Hands.”

Gator put his hands on the bar and almost swallowed audibly as you moved behind him, pulling his hips slightly backwards. You wasted no time undoing his belt and dropped his pants down. One glance downwards confirmed his erection was outlined perfectly in his boxer briefs.

“Luckily you didn’t drink so much to the point that you couldn’t get it up anymore, hm?”

He was ready to comment on it when he felt your hand grope him lightly. A shaky moan left his lips instantly and you could see how the knuckles of his left hand whitened as he tightened his grip on the bar.

“Good?” you asked softly, mouth close to his ear. He nodded rapidly, a whimper leaving him as you moved your hand up and down along the fabric. A damp spot was already forming on the dark green fabric and you figured it would be cruel to make him wait any longer. His moan was ushered out painfully when you exposed him to the airy room temperature and wrapped your hand around him. You were about to move when you thought of something. With your front pressed up against his back you lifted your hand to his mouth.

“Spit.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never spit on your hand before to make it glide easier?”

“You want me to uh… Why don’t you do it?”

You smiled and leaned closer to his ear again.

“Cause this is a team effort, Gator.”

With some reluctance he swirled his tongue around to gather some saliva in his mouth before he spat it onto your hand. Before the generous amount could slide off your palm you brought it down to his cock, immediately feeling the ease with which your hand moved up and down.

“Oh shit,” he hissed, hips bucking into your hand until you stilled him with your other hand. You pumped him faster and relished in the sounds of his desperate whimpers.

“F-Fuck I can feel your tits— Can I, can I touch them?”

You ignored the request in favor of jerking him off faster and he didn’t ask again. His breath quickened and although you could tell he tried not to, his hips bucked forward again. He let his head hang down and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that that might be a dangerous position to have his head in as he seemed so lost in the pleasure your hand was giving him. His voice cracked, the octave of his voice rising as thick white ropes came out of his reddened cock, one effectively landing on his face. He flinched, but he was too lost in the high to let it distract him fully.

As soon as he turned around you were met with the most love sick puppy eyes you had seen on a man in a long while. He leaned in closer with a dazed expression as if to kiss you, but you quickly stopped him by putting a clean dish rag in between you two to wipe his face off.

“Oh uh, thanks,” he mumbled awkwardly, glancing back at the bar which definitely needed a thorough cleaning again. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“No worries. So… feeling better now?” you asked as you noticed his frown had gone. He nodded and let go of a big sigh he didn’t seem to know he was holding.

“Yeah… much.”

“Good. Well then, I gotta clean this up and close off so—”

“Wait. What about you?” he asked, the surprise in his voice genuine.

“Oh honey that’s sweet, but you and I both know you won’t get me there on the first try.”

You didn’t mean to sound condescending, it was just… men, right?

“I could try,” he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it when I’m home.”

Gator’s expression was an open book on what these words did to his brain.

“Fine. Can we uh, do this again sometime?” he asked eventually, finally able to look at you again. You glanced at him, considering.

“Maybe. But no more “none of your business” bullshit. You could have stopped moping around a lot sooner if you had just told me what was up,” you mumbled.

“What was I supposed to say? I’m horny but I can’t jerk myself off?”

Judging by his expression, that was definitely not all that had made his mood turn so sour, but you decided not to press it and smiled softly instead.

“Something like that, yeah. Honesty goes a long way. You should try it sometime.”

“I really like your tits,” he said earnestly, putting your advice to work. A helpless chuckle left you. God he was hopeless.

“Okay, maybe not like that. With a bit more nuance, maybe. We can work on that.”

“Okay… sure.”

“Sure?”

“Yes. We can. Ma’am.”

“Good. Lose the ma’am.”

“Alright…” he checked your name tag, just to make sure, “Y/N.”

“I’ve got the closing shift again on Saturday. Do with that what you want.”

Gator nodded and hastily put his pants back on as you ushered him to the exit. He seemed to have a lot more to say, but since you knew it was guaranteed that he’d be back on Saturday and you were extremely tired from work, it could wait.

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

[fushironi]

Okay scratch my itch 🥺👉👈

I don’t feel like working so can we imagine coworker Toji fucking his work crush like an animal in the supply closet 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ maybe her date hits her up and cancels (again) so she feels unattractive and he decides to remind her just how attracted he is towards her 😩 (she thought he was kidding before)

Okay, okay, so we’re going THIS route😏

If this sucks, I am sorry 😢 This is my first ask soooo yes. I love you! 💕

Tw: mndi, cursing, use of pet names, a little bit of self-hatred, sex in a closet, oral(m!receiving), fingering, edging, spit kink, Toji forcing you to eat because he cares,

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿

“Seriously, again?” your voice was just loud enough for you and anyone else that was close to hear as you read the message on your screen. Your date had cancelled on you again, and you couldn’t help but feel defeated, upset, and unattractive. You weren’t always the nicest to yourself when it came to your looks, but you had woken up feeling good about yourself- not so much anymore.

You let out a small sigh, shoving your phone back into the pocket of your jacket that hung on the back of your chair. You had worn something nice to work as you would be leaving right after; a black pencil skirt that hugs your curves in all the right places, a red blouse that fits just a little snug at the top, and some black pumps-the perfect feel good outfit.

“What’s the matter?” A familiar deep voice rings in your ear, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You smile as you look up to your handsome coworker Toji, the expression on his face reading concern.

“Nothing. My date just cancelled on me and I-” “Isn’t that the fourth time this month?” Toji interjects, his eyebrow raising. “Yea, but it’s okay..” your voice trails off as you look at your feet, not wanting to make eye contact. Toji shifted on his feet, not really knowing what to do. He has always had a thing for you ever since you started working at the company, but you already had someone you were “seeing” so he didn’t advance. On the other hand, he could always tell when something was bothering you when it came to anything really, but especially this date of yours. Always flaking on you and making you sad.

“You look great, but the way.” Toji says after a few moments, trying to break the silence. “Eh. I guess.” You reply as you shrug your shoulders, going back to the file on your desk. Toji frowns at your response, hating that you didn’t see what he saw. “Want to get lunch with me? My treat.” He was trying to get you to look back at him, to show that beautiful smile he adored. You let out a sigh, rubbing your temples.

“Thanks,but I’m good, Toji. Besides, there are prettier girls than me that you can take to lunch. I’ll just embarrass you just by being there.” Your words stabbed him like a knife. Why would you say that? Is that how that scumbag makes you feel about yourself? “Y/N, please I just-” “I have to get back to work. Thanks for the offer, I’m okay.” You give him a tight lipped smile, trying to convince him to leave. Every bit of you wanted to say yes, hell-who wouldn’t say yes to a man like him-but you just weren’t feeling it. You felt ugly and a little on the heavier side (more than normal) and didn’t want the hottest man in the building being seen with someone as lowly as yourself. You shouldn’t talk about yourself the way you do, but you don’t know how to feel any other way at the moment.

As your lunch hour rolls around, you continue to work as you keep your mind busy. It was harder than normal when you can feel-and hear- your empty stomach, but again, you didn’t bother. You sigh as you dig through your desk drawer, trying to find something to satiate the feeling in your stomach. You come across some chips, shrugging your shoulders as you take them out. Something is better than nothing, so you happily munch on the not-so-filling snack. Your jolted out of your thoughts as you hear a cough come off from the side. You look up to see Toji sitting on the edge of your desk. “Here.” His voice was strained as he handed you a bento box, your eyes floating between him and the food. “I’m okay. Th-” “Take it, little girl,” his voice left no room for arguing as he spoke. You discreetly pull your thighs together at his words and take the box. Has he always had that affect on you? If he had, you never really paid attention until now.

“Th-thanks.” You stutter as you clear your throat. You shouldn’t being getting hot and bothered by your coworker, considering you were actively seeing someone-if you can even call it that. He lets out a grunt as he pushes off your desk, satisfied that you accepted the food. Toji usually wasn’t pushy with stuff like this, but it was different for you and he didn’t know why.

»»———-　　———-——————-———-　　———-««

“See you Monday!” You call out to your coworkers as they leave the building, the work day finally over. You were still working away, not really having anything to rush off to. Your cat ca essentially take care of itself. You get a few emails typed up and sent before getting up to go pull another file. “You’re still here?” Toji’s voice startles you as you make your way back to your desk. You place a hand over your chest to steady your heartbeat, not expecting anyone to be here. “Yeah. I am. My date bailed so here I am. Now if you’ll excuse me, I would like to get back to work and not have to curse you with my looks any longer.” Your words came out harsh, probably more than they should have. You try to push passed his large frame, but he wasn’t having it.

“Come’ere.” He growls as he forcefully grabs your hand, pulling you into the supply closet. Before you have a chance to protest, your back is pushed against the wooden door and your lips are trapped in a hot and heavy kiss. You feel your body move on its own as you melt into his frame, your fingers going to grab at the nape of his neck. His lips, although scared, feel like clouds against your own, his hands holding your hips firmly against his. After what feels like forever, you two break away, a string of saliva the only thing connecting you.

“I’m sick of that scumbag treating you like shit and making you feel anything less than beautiful. So, I’m going to show you.” Toji grins, his voice low as he spoke. You didn’t have much time to protest before his lips capture your neck, causing soft moans to ripple through you. He quickly discards your shirt and bra, a low growl leaving his lips as he starts to suck on your nipple. Your hands find his hair once more as you tug slightly, the feeling of his lips on your skin making you dizzy. You feel Toji tugging at your skirt, silently cursing when it doesn’t pull down. “Here. Let me help,” you breathe as you reach behind and unzip the tight fabric. You felt exposed standing there in front of him, trying to hide your body.

“I want to see you. You’re beautiful and for those who think otherwise, fuck them.” Toji purrs as he presses his lips back to yours. He lifts you with ease as he settles you on his hips, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Off,” you mumble against his kiss as you tug at his button down that was way too tight for his muscular body. He smirks as he takes off the thin fabric, a low groan falling from your lips as you bask at the beauty that is your coworker. “Like what you see?” Toji held a smug look on his face as he loomed over your form, simply nodding ‘yes’. You’re sure he’s just a beautiful beneath the belt and you didn’t waste much time trying to figure it out. You have him set you on the ground as you drop to your knees, pulling down his pants as you go.

He was much bigger than you thought and you felt your core grow wetter the more you examined his length. He was thick, long, and girthy. The veins standing out perfectly along his shaft. “It’s all yours. Take it,” Toji purrs as he pets your cheek, encouraging you to make a move. You do so without hesitation, licking the swollen mushroom tip. The precum that sat there was salty, but slightly sweet all in the same note. You tease his tip with your tongue, watching him squirm above you. You could tell he was trying to keep from fucking your face right then and there, not wanting to ruin your pretty makeup-not yet. You give in and slowly take him down your throat, a long and breathy moan falling fro his lips at the feeling. “Ahhh, that’s right. Such a good girl,” Toji praises as you start to bob your head, stroking what can’t fit in your mouth. You begin to build up confidence as you watch the beast of a man above you become like puddy in your hands all thanks to your warm mouth. You were the type of girl who got horny from giving head, so you wanted to make sure to treat him right.

You push Toji deeper down your throat, earning an audible growl from him. This made your pussy throb as you began to deep throat him, gagging every so often as he bucked his hips. “Fuck it,” he groans as he grabs a fistful of hair, beginning his assault on your face. You happily let him take over, batting your eyelashes up at him as you keep eye contact. “Fuck me you look beautiful right now. My cock destroying that pretty little mouth of yours. So willing to drop to her knees for me,” His words have your head spinning and pussy throbbing and he fucks your face faster and harder, your mascara starting to run. Your hand travels between your thighs as you desperately try to relive some of the throbbing, only to have Toji forcefully jerk you from his cock. “Don’t even think about it. That’s my job,” he growls, a smirk evident on his face. You nod sheepishly, your face hot and wet from all of the spit that trickled from your lips. “Good girl. Now open,” he orders, your tongue shooting out from your mouth. You let a man escape your lips as you feel his spit it your tongue, your body instinctively swallowing. “So fucking hot,” he purrs as he taps his dick against your lips, your mouth willingly opening.

Toji could get drunk off the feeling of his dick in your warm mouth, especially with the way you take his length with such ease. You definitely knew what you were doing, relaxing your tongue flat against the underside of his cock as he rocked his hips into your face. “Such a pretty girl” he groans as he holds you down at the base of his shaft, watching as you swallow around him instinctively. “Good girl,” he breathes as he pulls you off for air, standing you up by your hair. You were a mess, but a beautiful one. He made note to see you like this more often, not wanting anyone else to make you this way. You let out a whine as his lips find yours once more, his fingers sliding over your sensitive numb. You were coating his fingers in slick easily, the previous actions getting you wound up. He dips his long digits inside of you, eliciting a moan from your pretty little lips. “Fuucck,” you breathe, your fingers digging into his biceps . Toji just smirks as he adds another finger, stretching your walls in order to take him properly. He didn’t want to damage his little toy, now does he?

His fingers expertly work your insides and your clit, changing pace every so often. Moans fill the small space as you rock your hips against his hand, trying to chase your own high. “Want you to fuck me, Toji.” You whine, wanting more than just his hands to get you off. Toji lets out a dark chuckle as he continue to work your pussy like a pro, small moans leaving your lips. “Oh yeah? Think you can handle it?” His voice was cocky as he worked his fingers faster inside your, your body reacting to his touch a he found that special spot that can have you falling over in seconds. “Bingo.” He smirks to himself as he abuses your gspot with his fingers, wanting to watch you lose yourself. The little whimpers and whines that fall from you are like music to his ears, his thumb circling your clit. You buck your hips at the added stimulation, your nails digging further into his skin. You let out a constant string of moans as you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter, your walls clenching around his fingers. “So close Toji,” you purr in his ear, your head falling forward to rest on his shoulder.

“Not so fast.” He breathed as he yanked his fingers from your center, a gasp falling from your lips at the emptiness. You watch as he tastes your slick off his fingers, a moan falling from your lips at the sight. “Tastes so good baby. Wanna try?” Toji smirks as he looks over your face. You nod your head eagerly as you wrap your lips around his finger, sucking on it gently. You moan around his thick digit at the taste of yourself, your eyes never leaving his. “Such a dirty little whore,” his words shot straight to your pussy, loving how he talks to you in such a filthy yet endearing way. “Does the little girl want my cock? Hm?” You nod your head as his lips find your neck once more, his teeth all but breaking the skin. You let out a string of moans as he assaults your neck, already feeling the bruising surface. “Jump.” He orders, his hands finding your waist as you do so. You whimper as the tip of his cock brushes your clit ever so slightly at the action, Toji chuckling in response.

“You’re so beautiful to me and I want to show you, okay?” His voice was softer now as he looked into your eyes, rubbing the tip of his cock over your folds. You smile and nod your head, pressing your lips together as he slowly sinks you down on his cock. You try to break away to let out a small scream, but Toji holds you firm against his lips, swallowing the sound. The stretch was a blissful pain, the burning of it all just making you dizzy. You take a breath as you both pull away, Toji’s eyes scanning your face. Once he could tell you were okay, he slowly works his hips, thrusting into you slow and hard. “Fuck, right there.” You breathe as he finds that sweet spot of yours. Toji smirks as he picks up the pace, watching your head lull backwards against the door as he bounces you on his cock. You brain became hazy as his thick cock worked its way inside you, pressing your cervix with each thrust.

“Such a pretty little pussy. Taking my cock like a champ.” his words make your head spin and your pussy clench as he continues Toji assault you in the most beautiful way. His lips find your breasts again, beginning another assault there. They were beautiful to him, bouncing ever so slightly as you moved on his cock. His lips find your nipples, going back and forth as he sucked on the little nubs. You gasps as you feel Toji go deeper as he raises your leg, opening you wider. “Feel good, princess?” He smirks as he picks up speed, never once letting his eyes leave your face. All you could do is nod as your nails rake down his arm, the new angle allowing him to hit your a-spot. “Fu-fuck Toji, feels s’good.” You moan as you find his lips once more, wanting to taste him on your tongue. Your pussy clenches as his hand finds your clit, rubbing hard and fast circles against the sensitive bud. Your body felt like jelly as he used you, his lips leaving marks in every possible place on your skin. You didn’t mind though, nor could you really think straight to care. Your mouth falls open as you let out constant moans at the feeling of his hands and cock working your body.

Your fucked out expression is one that will burn in Toji’s brain for the rest of his life. Seeing you like this has only ever been a dream of his, so to be able to witness this in person has his head spinning. He could feel you getting closer to your high, your body reacting to his like it was nothing. Your head begins to go blank as you walls squeeze his cock, his assault on your pussy bringing you closer to the edge. “Gonna cum Toji,” you whine as you dig your nails into his shoulder, your tits rubbing against his. He chuckles darkly as he pushes your other leg higher on the wall, a small scream falling from your lips. “I want a better view for when you lose your mind,” he teased as he fucks into you hard. Between the new position and this mans ungodly pace, your brain goes white as you let out a mix of babbles and moans, feeling absolutely fucked out of this world. You don’t know why you never had this man use you before, but you know now that he would be for the rests of your life if he’d want. You felt the coil in your stomach grow tighter as your walls sucked Toji in like a vacuum, chasing your climax. “Please. C-can’t hold on” your sweet voice was enough to push him over, but he refused to finish first. He wanted to finish with you. “Just hold it a little longer baby. Almost there,” Toji groaned as he moved his hips faster.

Your lower body was beyond numb as you became a fuck toy to the man in front of you. Your cunt squelched as he bullied his way to his high, your tongue falling from your lips. You knew it would be damn near impossible to walk, let alone drive, after this, but that was beside the point. The fact of the matter was, this man isn’t going anywhere. “T-Toji, please. Oh fuck- I can’t” you moan repeatedly, his lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss. “Cum.” He breathed, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You let out an inaudible scream as your body shook, coating his cock in a pretty shade of white. Toji followed just a few seconds later, his hips still rutting into you as he fucked you through your highs, coating your walls white. His hips move slower as he rides out his high, your body shaking ever so slightly with each movement. Toji rests his head on your shoulder as he finally stops, his hands lowering your legs to wrap around his waist.

You both take a moment to catch your breath, both of your brains in another world. “Fuck,” Toji curses as he lifts his head, strands of ebony locks sticking to his forehead. He places a gentle kiss to your lips, slowly lowering you to the ground. He keeps a tight hold on you as you steady yourself, not wanting you to fall. “I hope this isn’t the last time I get this chance. You’re beautiful to me and I want to show you everyday.” Toji whispers against your lips. You press a soft kiss to the edge of his mouth, your eyes meeting his. “I think we can make that happen.”

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[catt-leya]

Omg hi!

Could I request something?

Could it be something like reader being super shy ( like rlly shy) but also super horny. And Rick just knows and decides to act upon it- arghqufnekxwn

God I can’t with this man😩💕

Ur writing is so good💕

Yes, Daddy || Rick Grimes 18+

Hey sweetheart 💗 don't worry we're all horny for him hihi 👉🏼👈🏼💗 thank you for your kind words and I hope you like it 🤭💗 it's a mix of your request an THIS one 💗 they go so well together that I couldn't resist 🤭💗

Warnings: daddy kink, age gap, dirty talk, degrading, fingering, praise kink, masturbation and my usual smutty stuff (I guess Rick is slightly darker than normal❣)

"Come on!", Rick's voice echoes across the yard and can be heard well above the groans of the walkers. 

The situation is completely out of control and you don't see half your people at all, only Rick you somehow notice on the periphery.

You dodge a rotting dead man and now lose sight of Rick completely.

A small stab of panic floods through you and you frantically try to find him in the jumble of bodies.

Everywhere a walker tries to grab you and you fight your way inch by inch to the spot where you last saw your leader.

Panicking, you chop off a walker's hand with your axe, and that's when one grabs you from behind and you lunge with your leg to free yourself.

"It's me," Rick is out of breath and instead of letting go of you, he lifts you up, half dragging you with him as he pushes you through the masses of walkers.

Though you're still not safe, you feel much calmer now that you're back with Rick and no longer in danger of drowning alone in the crowd.

Like a doll, he pushes you toward the fence that surrounds everything and growls, "Go."

His hand is low on the small of your back as you grab the top of the fence and pull yourself up.

Rick is taking this all way too slow and he shoots into the collection of walkers one last time before putting his hands on your plump butt and pushing you over the fence before throwing his gun over and launching himself to the other side.

His ungentlemanly push that sends you to the other side of the fence has you landing inelegantly and now sitting on the ground breathing heavily as Rick immediately picks himself up.

Now that you're reasonably safe and your friends surround you, the thought that Rick carried you and had to push you to the other side as well brings a blush of shame to your face, and you dare not look at Rick, who reaches out his hand to help you up.

Waiting, he looks down at you and has to stifle a grin as he sees you getting redder and redder, staring at the floor as you grab his hand and let him pull you up.

It's so easy for him to tease you, and he has to admit that unfortunately he also gets great pleasure out of making you blush.

At first it's always just your cheeks, but the further he goes, the more the blush always spreads down your neck to the pretty base of your tits.

He bites his lower lip and leans forward so that you can feel his lips against your ear.

Your wince, only makes his voice deepen with satisfaction and he murmurs softly, "You look pretty with flushed cheeks."

That's all it takes to make you blush like you've been out in the sun for days, and a quick glance at your cleavage gives him confirmation that your tits have taken a beating, too.

He straightens up again, but his hand slides from your hand to your back and he pushes you forward as he says to the others, "We need to get to the bags."

Not too long ago you were tied up and practically on a slaughter bench to be eaten, and now Rick is already shooing everyone through the woods again.

You can barely catch your breath and you have to admit you're glad Glenn is able to talk Rick out of it and no matter what other ideas Rick might have come up with, he's then interrupted by Carol.

Now that you've actually lost everything, you also have little choice at this point but to wander the woods until you find somewhere to settle down to live.

Even now, as you stare at Rick's back, you can see the tension, and with each step you all take deeper into the woods, it becomes clear how much Rick resents not having wiped out every last asshole of the people in Terminus.

But like a good leader does, he's listened to the group's plea and is hopefully leading you all to a good home rather than a Terminator action where maybe one of you would have died.

Rick can feel your gaze on him and without turning around, he calls out, "Come here, sweetheart."

He could really use a distraction or he might just turn around and slaughter all of these sick bastards after all. 

As you come up beside him, he sighs contentedly and gently teases you, "Didn't think you'd react when I called you 'sweetheart'."

And there it is again. Your cheeks turn so gorgeous pink and you stammer, "I...uh...didn't you mean me? I...I can go again, too. You know, I really should go." 

Rick rolls his eyes and pulls you close to put an arm around your shoulders, "Relax. I've talked to you. Who else would I be talking to?"

It's definitely not all his weight that he's putting on you, but still, his arm is so heavy on your shoulders that you can't help but think of how he might just bury you under his body.

Just the thought of how he might feel over you makes you go all horny.

When you don't answer, Rick looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. 

His eyes slide to your hands digging into your thin shirt and then back up to your chest where he can clearly see your nipples through your shirt, "What are you thinking about?"

With the question he snaps you out of your dirty thoughts and you squint at him for a moment still, "Nothing special."

How you hate that your voice always sounds so squeaky around him and you try to pull away from him but his grip tightens, "Stay here."

He's way too close to you and you can barely think straight, let alone look at anything but your clasped hands.

"I like having you with me."

Oh god your hands get all sweaty at his words and you gasp embarrassingly loud as he slides his arm over your shoulders a little further and reaches over your shoulder with his hand to tug at the low-slung collar of your top, "Don't you, sweetheart?"

Silently, you nod and wince as his knuckles graze your bare skin. 

You're never sure if Rick is actually flirting with you, or if you're just imagining it because you so wish he were.

Many times you've wanted to make the first move or more than hint at it, but you just don't dare. The fear is too great that he would just laugh at you, especially since he's almost twice your age and might not even look at you the way you always look at him. 

Even now, when he's barely touching you in a pretentious or lewd way, you notice how you'd like to reach between your legs.

Shit, it's been forever since you've had enough peace to slide your own fingers into your pussy and imagine it was Rick's cock. 

Your cheeks turn pink again and Rick lets go of your shirt to grab your chin and turn your head in his direction.

God, how easy it is for him to direct you and how obedient you are to him.

With huge eyes you look at him and his eyes slide to your plump lips as he says softly, "Relax, it’s just me."

You've known each other for a long time and he knows full well not to look at you that way. Even though you're of age and a whole woman, it feels dirty and forbidden when he jerks off thinking about your little body.

But on the other hand, that's exactly what attracts him to you so much. You're soft and young and crushing on him that it's hard to miss.

Your voice is soft and high, "I know, Rick." 

And it trails right into his cock.

He lets go of your chin and calls over his shoulder, "We'll find a place to sleep here and go on tomorrow."

Not for a second does he leave your side, and you always feel his presence. 

Whether you're leaning down to spread a blanket on the floor and he's standing close behind you, calling out to Daryl to take first watch, or you're walking over to Maggie's to pick up your food.

His presence makes you all jittery and wet as hell between your legs. 

You blame this intense reaction on the long dry spell you've been on and groan in frustration.

Somehow, it's perverse how much Rick enjoys getting on your back so much that you squirm once your eyes meet.

His eyes slide over your ass as you kneel down to get comfortable on your spread blanket. Your every curve stands out through your clothes and as you sit down, he can't stop looking at your pretty tits that are literally screaming for his mouth.

Fuck, if someone would have told him a few years ago that he would be camping in the woods after stabbing a few cannibals and then wanting to fuck a 20 year old dumb, he would have called them crazy.

But here he is, still staring at your boobs as you hoarsely mumble, "Rick?"

You're so incredibly anxious and dependent on him that he can't help but take some advantage, "Move over."

Your whole body freezes and you chirp, "What?"

In disbelief you watch him set the rifle down on the ground and look to you through his curls that have fallen into his face, "Sweetheart, I think you heard me."

Sluggishly you slide to the side a bit and he drops onto his back with a sigh, "Good girl."

A whimper slips from your lips at the praise and Rick looks at you impassively. 

You can't look at him without starting to rub your pussy on the floor, you're sure of it. 

That's why you stare at the floor in front of you and squeeze your legs tightly together.

God, you're so incredibly horny for him and you're way too shy to do anything about it and then instead of at least avoiding him when you're already too scared to be honest, you're now sitting inches away from him and you feel his big hand on your hip, "Lie down."

You pull your head in, "Rick-"

"Do as I say, sweetheart," his voice is sharp and doesn't tolerate back talk, so you let him pull you onto the blanket before he spreads a second one over you.

Even though it's incredibly cold without the sun, you're on fire and you can feel Rick's heavy arm on your stomach abundantly.

You won't be able to fall asleep like this or even relax.

Rick tries his best not to laugh out loud as he looks at your panicked face that you're stubbornly pointing toward the sky, and he pulls you a little closer so that your shoulder is pressed against his chest and he can stay on your side to continue watching you.

He wonders how far he'd have to pull himself up before you'd admit you wanted him.

Gently he squeezes your soft hip and you almost jump up because it feels so good.

Shit, he should do this more often.

He's taller than you and lowers his head a little to bury his nose in your shoulder and growls, "Just sleep."

Easier said than done.

Your whole left side is pressed against his body and his warm, steady breath keeps hitting your neck, causing goosebumps after goosebumps.

Even when Rick has long since fallen asleep next to you and there's nothing he could actively do to drive you out of your mind, he turns you on so incredibly that you could cry.

His soft snoring reaches your ear and his beard scratches your shoulder as he moves a little, unconsciously sliding his hand a little lower as well.

You squint your eyes, trying to think of dead puppies but your pussy is treacherous, dripping in anticipation that Rick's hand will find a way into its damp walls after all.

No, you correct: wet walls.

Your stupid cunt just won't stop throbbing and pulling, no matter how hard you try to suppress it, which is solely because of Rick's proximity and how good he feels against your body.

With a quick glance to the side, you see that Rick is deep asleep and the others are barely moving either. Besides, the blanket is over you, so no one should see it anyway if you just very briefly....

You reach over Rick's arm to your pants and hesitate for a moment.

It's incredibly inappropriate while Rick is sleeping pressed up against you, but he'd never know, and masturbating while he's touching you is still a very different thrill than just thinking about him.

As carefully as you can, you slide your hand between your legs and bite your lip hard to stifle a moan.

Your panties stick wetly between your thighs, and the soft sound of you pushing the wet fabric aside resounds in your ears far too loudly in the forest.

Your breath catches as you slide your finger through your wetness and Rick presses his chest firmly against your arm as he takes a deep breath.

You shouldn't, but you can't help it and slide a finger into your slippery hole.

Your body tenses and you push the air out of your lungs, panting.

Holy shit, does that feel good.

Rick's hand is still low on your hip and as you slide your thumb over your clit you have to press your other hand firmly over your mouth to dim the soft, "Rick" that you can't hold back.

Asleep, he presses his nose harder against your neck again and his lips gently graze your pounding pulse.

Moving slowly, you imagine Rick's weight settling between your legs and moan his name again.

After all this time it feels so incredibly good and in your head you hear him ask harshly, "Are you fingering yourself babygirl? I can help you."

Your legs twitch and your cunt leaks as you still moan through your hand, "Yes, Daddy."

You hear a suppressed giggle and it runs ice cold down your spine.

No, no.

Please don't.

Oh, God, no.

You don't even dare to look. 

Maybe a hole in the ground will open up and swallow you.

You'd do anything to avoid the humiliation of looking Rick in the face after he asked you, not just in your mind, if you were fingering yourself and of course you had to answer, "Yes Daddy."

Getting caught is bad, but saying that to him is a whole different kind of ordeal.

You keep your eyes closed and pray that you'll just vanish into thin air, avoiding even the slightest movement and keep your hand between your legs, perhaps not to draw attention to it after all.

You stop breathing as he deliberately slides his lips over your neck now, "Have you been thinking about me, babygirl?"

No sound passes your lips. 

Maybe Rick will forget you're there.

"Tell me," his soft tone is deceptive because he bites your neck in response and you whimper, "Yes."

"Hmmm," he licks over the spot he had between his teeth earlier and slides to your tense jaw, "Go on then."

His hand that was on your hip slides to your hand between your legs and he grips your wrist almost painfully tight, "Go on."

Tears gather in your eyes from humiliation and you cry softly, "Please don't make me do this."

The leaves beneath you rustle softly as Rick props himself up on his elbow and purrs, "Look at me, sweetheart."

You shake your head and want to pull your hand out of your pants, but his grip is too tight and your bottom lip starts to tremble.

You look so pathetic and small as you duck your head and refuse to open your eyes, as if it's all just a dream.

Sighing, he leans forward and takes your lower lip between his teeth and gently pulls on it.

A jolt goes through your whole body and you tear your eyes open, making him chuckle softly again, "There you go. It's not that hard."

Your whole face is hot with embarrassment and you stare into his abnormally blue eyes as you mumble in intimidation, "Please, Rick."

You're not sure what you're actually asking him to do. To replace your hand with his? Or to let you go so you can wallow in self-pity and shame?

But he just tilts his head a little and grumbles hoarsely, "Try again."

You shake your head and he squeezes your wrist tighter in warning, making you cry "Please, Daddy."

His bright eyes slide over your face and you see the mischievousness in them, "Didn't think you were into that. But I don't mind it."

He leans forward until his lips are hovering over yours again and you can barely breathe: "Is it because I'm so much older than you?"

God, you wish he'd stop talking about it, but your prayers aren't being answered in the last few minutes anyway, "I...please...can we pretend nothing happened?" 

Your cheeks burn like fire and he breathes a kiss on one cheek, "Why? Don't you want to make me proud?"

Your pussy responds to his words and he knows it for sure because your hand twitches between your legs.

Shit, it's so humiliating that his choice of words alone turns you on so much, but some primitive part of your brain forces your head to nod.

It has nothing to do with being an emancipated woman or willpower anymore that he says "Pull down your shirt. I want to see your tits" and you, breathing heavily, do exactly what he asks.

Your boobs bounce in the cool air and he looks greedily at the little peaks that form as you tremble.

"Now pick up for me where you left off"

Completely blinded with arousal you beg, "You do it please."

Just the thought of his hand between your now even wet thighs makes your eyes flutter shut and he kisses you softly on the lips, "If you're a good girl and do what I want now, I'll help you later."

Sluggishly you blink up at him and slide your fingers back into your throbbing cunt.

Immediately you push through your back and gasp.

"That's it, babygirl," his sleeping presence was already arousing but this? For God's sake, it's tearing you apart.

Slowly you fuck your pussy and when Rick is sure you won't pull your hand away, he lets go of your wrist and reaches for your tits.

Your eyes look like they're about to pop right out of your head, and he watches as your mouth hangs half-open and you press your body further and further against his.

Like you need every inch of him.

"Needy little girl," teasing you is so incredibly easy and your reaction to him makes his cock harden so much that he presses his pelvis hard against your thigh to ease the pain.

Your hips on the other hand circles against your palm and you bring out a hoarse, "Please, Rick," to which he pinches your nipple warningly and you cry softly, "Oh God, I mean Daddy...Daddy," you gasp breathlessly, "I need you...oh God, I need-"

By then his lips are on yours and you try to press against him so you can slide under him, but he just growls, "I got you. Easy."

Your pussy tightens around your fingers and you bite his lower lip so hard that he groans harshly.

His moan completely shuts down your brain and you pant as your legs shake, "Closer...please."

Your whole hand is slippery and wet between your legs, but you can't bring yourself any further than to keep clenching around your fingers.

He's sucking on your jaw when he finally complies with your request and pushes himself between your legs.

His hips press heavily against your hand, pushing your fingers deeper into you again, "Keep going."

His free hand slides lower from your chest and your heart skips a beat.

Maybe he would...

You whimper loud enough for him to lift his head, and with the best puppy-dog eyes you can muster, you bat your eyelashes begging.

Your eyes look way too big in your face, and with those puffy lips, you look like you've stepped out of his personal porn movie.

Rick knows exactly what you want and shit, looking at him like that he would give you anything, "Do you need my help to cum for me babygirl?"

Hectically you nod and might burst into tears as he pulls your hand out of your pants and slides his between your thighs in return.

"Fuck," his curse resounds loudly in the silence of the forest, but you don't care because rough fingers finally brush over your pussy and you grab tightly at his neck to pull him back to your lips.

"You're so fucking wet. Shir, you'd take my cock so good," he's also breathing much harder now and has to pull himself together to keep from rubbing against you like a teenager.

He doesn't do more than stroke through your wetness, but you're already squirming and shaking all over.

Gently he taps your leaking entrance with one finger and again you moan his name.

He applies minimal pressure and you thrust your hips against his hand, but he doesn't penetrate you a bit and your clit throbs as it is ignored.

He can tell how much you need it and as you tug on his hair much harder than necessary he growls, "You want the fingers of a guy twice your age inside you? "Pathetic, babygirl."

Willy-nilly, you nod and whine, "Yes, Daddy."

It's the exact words you used at the very beginning and as a reward, Rick slides his finger inside you very slowly.

Immediately you clench around him and he has to push harder to get his thick finger between your tight walls, "Fuck, you're tight. I would have to squeeze my cock inside you to even fit. Is that what you want? Would you let me fuck your hole?"

In circular motions, he moves his finger inside you and you dig your nails into his neck as you snort, "Yes...Oh God, yes."

You grind down on his hand and then as he forces his second finger inside you, you press your boobs against his torso and your whole body tenses.

You're so close. 

If only he would touch your throbbing clit.

In slow movements he fucks your tight cunt and with each thrust you suck his hand in more and more.

He has never touched a cunt that was that wet.

And fuck yes, it turns him on that it's just for him.

With your eyes half closed you look at him and he lowers his lips to yours.

The moment they touch he presses his thumb against your clit and you rebel.

In rhythmic pulses you clench his fingers tighter and fall.

You fall so incredibly low.

"My good girl. Cum for me," a final praise blows in you and your insides explode, "Yes, yes, yes...I'm Daddy's good girl. I'm your good girl...I...Rick."

A long drawn out moan comes from the depths of your body and it would have been way too loud if he hadn't put his mouth back on yours to swallow it.

With each squeeze of your pussy it feels like you're trying to pull his fingers deeper inside of you and he growls, "That's right. I'm proud of you, babygirl."

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and with one final jerk your body collapses and your head goes blank.

With a soft smack, Rick pulls his fingers out of your abused cunt and rolls back onto his side.

You don't even see him lick his fingers clean and his cock twitches in protest at the taste on his tongue.

Sluggishly, you turn your head in his direction and stare into his handsome face.

The thought of what just happened immediately makes you hot again and you want to turn your face away, but he grabs your chin and shakes his head, "It's all good. I promise. Just come here."

Uncertainly, you slide a little closer and he pulls you half onto his chest with a sigh.

With your ear pressed to his pounding heart, you murmur shyly, "Is there anything you want me to do? I'd do anything."

Your soft words almost make him groan, but Rick pulls himself together and brushes your hair out of your face, "No."

You tense up at the rejection and tears come to your eyes, but he's already continuing, "Not now, but believe me I'm far from done with you, babygirl. My cock will be fucking your tight pussy. Don't worry."

@hail-yourselves   @bean-is-reading   @chanlvr2   @criminalwalkingsupernatural   @sunshinevirus   @toxic-ink    @kingtwhiddleston    @bloodycherry22    @vane28282    @bamslover    @revesephemeres    @emo-potato-virgil    @mrsashleybarnes18-blog @starsaroundmyscxrss @starkstiless  @easystreet07 @darylsonlylove @your-shifting-gurl @strnqer

[ddejavvu]

hiiii

soulmate au with Aaron Hotchner in which your scars show up on each other’s bodies?

love you 🤍🤍

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

love you too my darling <3

--

You'd almost fallen over before your shower this morning. There was no warning, no pain in the night, you'd gone to sleep with a bare torso and woken up with scars. Nine of them, dotted around your abdomen like polka dots, but much less whimsical and far more sinister. They warp and glisten as you twist in the mirror, and you wonder how they look on whoever was unfortunate enough to receive them. While you only got the end result, surely wounds like this hadn't healed all too well on the actual victim.

Your phone rings, and you realized you've spent ten minutes surveying your new body.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Emily's on the other line, "I know you're not coming in for a bit, but can you call Hotch? He's not answering, and it's really weird for him to withdraw like this. I've gotta go, we've got a case, but I'll fill you in when you get here."

"Oh! Uh, yeah," You nod, hastily navigating your way to Hotch's contact before she hangs up so that you don't forget, "Bye, Em."

"Bye," You hear the click of the phone, then she's gone. You try to forget about your new scars, hoping that they weren't fatal to a victim. Bearing the scars of an attack that killed your soulmate would be emotional torture on you.

The line rings as you dial Aaron's number, but he doesn't pick up. His overly formal voicemail 'greets' you, and your voice is slightly shaky as you shake out your hair in preparation to wash it in the shower.

"Hey, Hotch," You tuck the phone to your ear, tugging off your sock as you speak, "Prentiss asked me to call you, she said you didn't pick up when she called, either. I, uh- I hope everything's alright, she says we've got a case. Are you going to be in later? Just- let us know, okay? See you then."

You're minorly worried about Hotch. You ponder in the shower, soaping up your hair and wincing as you feel the tender skin of your scars burn in the hot water, He's never late. Never. And he's never MIA either, completely detached from his phone and out of contact. You hope for his sake that he's just sleeping in, or maybe he's taken a vacation you haven't heard about.

Fortunately for you, a stalking case makes one hell of a distraction. Hotch's presence is definitely missed during the investigation, but Rossi and Morgan trade off authority, and you function fine without him. You're just debating a curious call to Strauss about him when you get one from Emily, and you pick up assuming she's got a new lead.

"Y/N," She pants, and you're instantly worried, "It's- it's Hotch. He's hurt, he-" Your eyes widen, and your stomach drops as she speaks, "He's been stabbed, nine times."

"In the torso," You breathe, nearly crushing the phone in your grip, "Emily, get him to a hospital, now. He- he has to be okay."

"Yeah, yeah, I- How... how did you know where he got stabbed?" She trails off, and you have two options. Reveal yourself as his soulmate, or implicate that you'd stabbed him yourself."

"Uh, lucky guess." You throw a protective hand over your stomach, real slick, "Just- I'll meet you there, okay? Don't you dare let him die on me, Prentiss."

[eldritch-spouse]

An idea of mine-

Vesper's match, freshly turned concubine, thinks she can take on Kalymir and his dick (maybe she read Vesper's rating of him, maybe she just lusts the big red motherfucker <3), and gets overconfident.

She goes too far and realizes she made a mistake once she feels those spikes. The pain overwhelms them, and she is sobbing her eyes out, crying out for Vesper for help (maybe he is watching, maybe he isn't, whatever sounds better!). All it does is just make Kalymir more excited, more rough.

I hope this doesn't sound like too much-.

[Not at all, the blog warnings are there for a reason.]

TW: Noncon; Genital harm; Gore; Verbal degradation.

If it were possible for Kalymir to smile any wider, he'd have to split the muscles of his cheeks.

Seeing the fight leave your eyes, the defeat and panic washing over. That perfect moment where you turn into nothing more than slick prey speared on his dick. You call for Vesper the same way a wounded animal yips for its pack leader, like you're crying for mommy to come save you, and it gets him so hard he might just accidentally tear your poor cunt a bit more.

It's so hot that he lets you painfully squirm a few inches off his length, delightedly feeling his extended barbs drag on the soft walls of your pussy. Not even the whore's magic can save you from your own human weakness.

Then, chuckling, Kalymir grips the back of your knees hard enough to sink his claws into that tender meat, your shaky groan rising to a truly hellish shriek when he stabs you onto his throbbing cock and snarls his sick pleasure.

" AWW, DOES IT HURT? "

You spasm on the ground, outstretched hand still uselessly trying to pull the rest of you forward even as you lie there with bulged out eyes and a gaping mouth like a fish out of water, barely able to process the trauma your genitals are enduring.

The smell of blood hits Kalymir's nostrils and he moans, feeling it coat his girth, dripping to the floor and marking both your thighs.

Oh how he'd love to gut you right here right now, you're practically begging for it, crying like a baby on the ground- Putting you out of your shame would be mercy from his part.

You nod, because that's all you can do right now, and he barks out a cackle.

" GOOD. FEEL IT. FEEL WHAT HAPPENS WHEN ROACHES LIKE YOU GET COCKY. "

He thrusts, but really, it's more accurate to say he's stabbing you.

" YOU THINK YOU'RE ONE OF US- YOU THINK YOU CAN WALK IN HERE AND TOSS YOURSELF AT ME LIKE YOU OWN THE PLACE. LOOK AT YOU NOW... "

The more he talks, the faster his pace gets, and you know the slapping ringing out isn't wetness, it's the crimson that's splattering on the walls. The smell of metal encompasses the room, and the burning of your tormented womanhood spreads to your limbs. Your stomach flips, and you wonder faintly if you're going to vomit from the pain. You dare not look down. Dare not guess the gore, the tissue hanging off your entrance that you feel loosely dangling.

Would Vesper be proud of you if you died this way?

Gathering what little composure you can scrap together, you try to utter his name again.

" DO YOU THINK YOUR STUPID SLUT IS GOING TO COME SAVE YOU? "

Yes, yes.

He needs to.

When you fail to respond, a heavy crimson paw grabs a fistful of your head and lifts it. You can barely gasp before he crashes it to the roughly tiled floor. It must have been the equivalent of a tap to him, but you feel a couple of teeth chip and your nose bending at an odd angle, foreign warmth spreading across your face.

" FUCK'S SAKE, IT'S LIKE YOU DON'T WANT TO LIVE. " He snorts. " ANSWER OR I'LL PANCAKE THE BRAINS OUT OF THAT WET PAPER SKULL. "

" Y... " You cough a mouthful of blood, disgusted when you feel him pulse inside you. " Y- Yesh... "

He stops then, figure shaking behind you as he holds something in. Kalymir bends further down, holding a palm to where his ear would be.

" NAH, YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME, WHAT WAS THAT? "

Exasperated, you sob. " Nnh... Yes! "

A fist slams right next to your head as Kalymir steadies himself and starts guffawing wildly at the impassioned response.

" OH YOU'RE PATHETIC- I ALMOST FEEL BAD! YOU TIGHT, DUMB FUCKING ANIMAL! "

The pain is starting to fade, as is your overall lower body sensation. He might have damaged important nerves, you can't tell anymore, it's increasingly hard to think when the world appears to be slowing down, and you can't muster the energy to react.

" DON'T PASS OUT JUST YET, BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO KNOW SOMETHING. "

You can feel the toothy grin against your scalp widen.

" YOUR DARLING DEGENERATE OF A KING IS GOING TO FIND ME USING YOUR BROKEN LITTLE BODY LIKE A COCKSLEEVE. AND INSTEAD OF HELPING YOU... "

The fist from before coils around the top of your neck, stealing the last bits of oxygen out of you.

" HE'S GOING TO STROKE HIS WORTHLESS COCKS UNTIL I COME IN YOUR GUTS. "

[soullessdianthus]

Soft!Bo Sinclair X Fem!Reader | Headcanons

>> PART 2

Author's note: Basically, how Bo's heart softened and spared you from death. And yeah I'm kinda fucked in the head for writing him this way, but HEAR ME OUT━ I consider doing a part 2 to extend the topic hihi (like, what life in Ambrose with him later looks like or smth + NSFW obviously), but these are my first headcanons, so please be considerate. <3

Warnings: it's a bit lenghty, sorry, canon typical violence, SFW (lot's of comfort)

Word count: 1.1k

Before your first "visit" to Ambrose, you and your friends set up a camp in the nearby woods - you were on a camping trip around Louisiana, for fun I guess or maybe during some break in your school/work

Bo watched your group from the tree line that night, he saw how poorly they treated you, how ignoring and demeaning they were towards you, why on Earth would you spend time with them?

He formed a strong opinion about those people right then and somehow took a little, tiny bit pity on you

When the car mysteriously broke down during the night, you along your companions took a walk to the small town nearby, searching the local mechanic

He was quick to find you, sitting on a pavement in front of a gas station

The man was charming, you admitted to yourself finally, especially when his bright irises traced your every step around the station

Bo looked enchanted, amazed by your personality, the way you talked, your appearance or all at once

But when some of your friends began to disappear few hours later, the true horror began

You stuck between the weirdly abandoned houses with two of your companions who were quick to seal your fate

They used handcuffs they found on the policeman wax figure to strap you to the metal pipe on the gas station - as a fucking offering to the killers chasing after the tourists

"Wh- THE HELL YOU'RE DOING?!"

"Creating a distraction I guess" they responded, trying to justify their actions, before running off, abandoning you to die alone

No matter how hard you struggled against the tube or the handcuffs, there was no way you could escape this without cutting your palm off

Obviously you wanted to avoid that option

And then, out of bloom, he appeared - dressed in a blue coverall, sweat drops shining over his forehead, tousled hair sticking to his temple - clearly running after your "friends"

Bo noticed you in an instant and a wide smile twisted his face - such a prize as you, being placed (offered even) in front of him like a gift? best day ever for our man Bo

And if you are considerably way younger than him, let's say early twenties - he would take an extra intrest in you (being more vulnerable for manipulation *COUGHS*), also extra points if you have daddy issues

Come on, this guy just wants to be worshiped by younger girl and tells her what to do, okay?

"My, my, what do we have 'ere?" he asked rhetorically, slowly lurching toward you "Little fuckers left ya behind? Tsk, tsk"

You froze in place petrified, but... he didn't seem to want to hurt you

Bo swooped your loose hair behind your ear, before carefully examining your form - all this time you stood still

Because what else could you do? You were immobilized, ffs

"Don't worry darlin', Imma take care of 'em, yeah? Just stay right here"

He placed a goodbye-kiss on top of your head, before returning to his "duties", the hunt wasn't over yet

So you stood there helpless, bound to the metal pipe outside of the gas station for God knows how long, wondering what will happen to your friends and what will happen to you

You took a peek inside the wax museum and soon enough you found out the town was in fact empty - there had to be a correlation, right?

Besides you saw the man with a weird mask and long black hair stab one of your companions in the neck - so the conclusion was quite simple

When Beauregard came back with a pair of tiny keys looped on his thumb, you gave him a merciful stare with glossy eyes, non verbally expressing the thought "please, don't kill me"

"You're a smart girl, ain'tcha? Gonna be good, yeah? That means 'no troubles', got it?" Bo spoke softly, his voice enchanting you with sweet venom

He unlocked the handcuffs and set you free, while you gently nodded your head, agreeing to being "good".

"T-Thanks" you massaged the bruised wrist, devouring feeling of "freedom", before he placed his big palm on your lower back

It was so warm

"Come, you must be tired, huh?" Sinclair guided you to walk along him, heading to the house on a hill

His house

Bo invited you inside, opening the doors and guiding you once again with his hand

If he only could, he would hold you, touch you, fondle your flesh all the time - you were fucking magnetic

You politely entered the house, feeling his presence on your back - at this point you wanted to punch yourself in the face for thinking that you're safe now, that he wouldn't hurt you - he probably just killed your friends

But the man took a weird liking to you, maybe it was your bargaining chip to survival?

It was already dark outside when Bo led you to his room upstairs

He caught a clean t-shirt from the drawer and placed it in your hands

"Why are you doing this? Why are you kind to me?" you kept your head down, fingers digging into the material of his shirt

There was a dead silence for a seconds before he responded

"Such a girl like you doesn't deserve to be treated like trash, yeah? You had shitty friends, doll"

You finally looked up at him

He was smiling, it was a gentle smile, a caring one

"Now, maybe we should finally rest, hm? It was a long day"

You did not protest when he pointed with his finger to the bathroom, where you could change into the clean clothes

Neither when he changed into his pajama and guided you towards his bed

The adrenaline and emotions from the whole day kept you on a constant survival mode - but of course, you thought about escape

Yet you didn't

Somehow you made it this far

But now you were lying in bed beside him, under one sheet

You tried to remain calmness, but the tears overfilled your tired eyes - you started crying, trying to remain as still as possible

But Bo felt your curled up form shaking and a few weeps could be heard though you tried to hide it

"Come 'ere" he spoke through the darkness of his room "come, sweetheart. There's no need to cry"

When you turned around to face him, his arm was already opened, inviting you into his embrace

And you foolishly succumbed into his touch

This should feel wrong, but it didn't

He was so warm

Bo brought you even closer to his chest, letting his heat radiate through you

Oh, to have him take care of you &lt;3

You melted into his touch and soon after fall asleep in his arms

Bo never wish for his precious girl to cry like this again